Chapter 13
Saint
Heavy is the hand that holds the weight…or in this case, the knowledge and names of the men who hurt my woman.
After spending the evening with both families, I sent Lake to bed, noticing her exhaustion.
But before leaving for the night, I made my request for her to move in with me.
I want her in my space. Decorating how she likes.
Breathing in the air of a home that holds no expectations, gaining the privacy we’re both eager for.
When she hesitated, I encouraged her to sleep on it, insisting there was no rush. I’ve spent my whole life without her sleeping in my arms, I can handle a couple more nights. I hope.
About an hour after I returned home, which was somewhere around midnight, Nolan, Holden, and Bishop showed up, and we went on the hunt for the names on Lake’s list.
Jeremy Boyce, the ringleader, lives in Montgomery, Alabama. He has a wife and two kids and is employed at his father-in-law’s car dealership.
Holt Flay is still single and living in Destin. He’s jumped from job to job for years. Drinking problem, gambling addiction, and can’t rub two pennies together.
Caleb Underwood and Craig Rice live together right here in Pensacola.
From all accounts, they’re inseparable and attend church regularly, where they also volunteer and sometimes go door-to-door recruiting new believers.
It’s possible they’re part of a cult, and I don’t care.
The fact that they found God after terrorizing Lake and changing her life forever matters little to me.
They’ll all die, slowly and painfully, once I get my hands on them. It’ll take time and a lot of plotting, planning, and patience, but it’ll get done, and by the time they realize I’m there, their lives will be forfeit.
The sun is beginning to rise now, and as Bishop readies to leave, he turns to look at me, contemplative, before asking, “You bringing her to your next fight?”
“No.” Lake doesn’t need to witness that kind of violence. She also doesn’t need to be in Destin when I take out Holt.
Nodding his understanding, he leaves, and I head to the kitchen to put together lasagna soup for Lake when I bring her over later. Not many people are aware of my enjoyment of cooking.
As a child, my mom often had Scotlyn and me in the kitchen with her. As I grew older and my certainty that Lake would become an important presence in my adult life, I realized I should know how to take care of her.
When Texas happened, it became even more important to me to learn what constitutes a good, hearty meal because there was no doubt that Lake was not only injured but suffering right down to her soul.
Food was how I ensured she could be taken care of, especially in those first few months when she lost so much weight and was hospitalized more than once for malnutrition.
Lake starved herself, and it physically hurt to watch her so despondent.
Expanding my food knowledge to slow cookers has helped immensely; now I can toss everything in and carry on with my day. Such as today. I need to buy some things for Lake so she’s more comfortable here, as well as the ingredients to bake her garlic knots, and something else for dessert.
If the men in my family knew just how proficient I’ve become in the kitchen to provide for my woman, they’d likely tease me endlessly. I don’t care, though. The only person who matters is Lake, and whether she enjoys the way I take care of her.
I still remember the day I received the call after Luther and Nolan learned of her assault. Where I was, what I was doing, the feeling of rage and helplessness.
I sit on my bunk, sleep, the only thing on my mind after a three-day mission in the jungle, waiting on a target to pass by my scope.
No sleep, no food, as little water as possible, all for me to be notified of a location change.
I happily handed the mission over to another sniper team.
It’s not that I didn’t want to assassinate the leader of a human trafficking ring, but I would have preferred to do it with my bare hands.
There is no better feeling than that of a man’s life draining in the palm of your hands. The release after a kill is cathartic and pleasurable, but I can take a shot from a mile away without a problem, too; I just find it to be more anti-climactic.
Before my head hits the pillow, my phone rings, and if not for Nolan’s name flashing on the screen, I would have ignored it.
“This better be fucking good.” My eyes close as silence meets my words. “Nol?” Typically, the man never shuts up.
“It’s Lake.” Those two words freeze every cell of my being as I bolt up to a standing position.
“What happened?” I snarl, ready to kill anyone who gets in my way of leaving.
“A chopper will be there soon. Get on it.” The line dies before I can grill him, and it’s probably for the best because how the fuck am I supposed to wait on the endless red tape it’ll take to get me the fuck out of here if I know details.
Guilt eats at me over what could have happened. A million scenarios run through my mind as I imagine what’s happened and how bad it could be that Nolan had Danny-Boy and Dimitri pull strings to get me back to Florida.
What I could never imagine is what greets me when I finally make it to the hospital. Lake looks like she’s been put through a meat grinder. Bruised flesh, bandages everywhere. Fear in her eyes, her pores, the tense way she lies when anyone enters her room.
Never has she been afraid of me, and I don’t like that she is now. She’s not the sweet girl I left six months ago, with a contagious laugh and curious nature. She’s a shell. A broken version of herself that shouldn’t exist.
The memories of when I came home haunt me continually. The look in her eyes, empty and terrified, while she shrank away from anyone who had ever loved her, that was my undoing.
Retiring was an easy choice after that. My squad tried their best to get me to stay, but there was nothing left for me there. Nothing in the world would ever get me to leave Lake again. I made her a promise that day, and I’ll never break it.
Her safety and happiness are the only crucial things in my life right now.
Next to that belief, however, is the moment we had yesterday—a brief moment where I implied that we would have children.
Whether we do or not doesn’t matter; all I want or need is Lake.
Nonetheless, I am curious what life with a child who looks just like her would be.
Is that something Lake would want? If she does, I’ll give it to her. But I’d be satisfied with being the protective uncle to all the nieces and nephews in our family as well.
Before leaving the house, I send Lake a quick good morning text, feeling weird because I’ve never sent one to anyone in my life before. Expecting her to be asleep, I’m surprised to receive a speedy response.
Sweet Haven: Morning
Sweet Haven: What are you doing today?
Me: Making you dinner.
Sweet Haven: Oh! What are we having?
Me: It’s a surprise…
There’s a pause in texting, so I get in my truck and drive into the city to shop. She sends me little emoji texts that I have no idea of their meaning or what to do with, and I finally pause in the middle of the grocery store, which happens to be in the aisle with condoms.
Without much thought, I grab a box marked “top-rated” and toss it into the cart. Moving on to the baking aisle, I decide on brownies and ice cream for dessert, with chocolate and caramel syrup.
Wandering around the store searching for my other items, I halt when I spot a newly-familiar face, laughing and joking with a woman I assume might be his mother.
Caleb Underwood.
Lake hasn’t told me what each guy did to her, so I’ve been left to assume they all did the same things, and right now, I don’t think it would really matter what he’s done. His death remains imminent.
He turns around mid-laugh and stops when he notices me staring holes into his head. Imagining all the ways I could kill him right here and just how much blood would be left in his wake.
Fear enters his eyes, and he audibly swallows hard. The woman with him notices his attitude change and turns towards me. She pales and seems to back away slightly, like she knows she could be a casualty of my revenge.
“Lake Sutton.” My tone is low but no less deadly than if I’d shouted in his face.
Caleb vibrates with alarm and shakes his head, like he can’t believe that someone knows what he did. Unfortunately…well, at least for her…when the woman speaks, another soul is added to my list. “Is that the girl you boys…?” She doesn’t finish as a ferocious growl expels from my lungs.
The only thing holding me back from lunging and killing them both is that I have a date with my woman tonight, and she’d be disappointed if I wound up behind bars because I couldn’t control myself in public.