“Be safe, my boy,” he remarks, backing away and opening the front door for us.
“I will.”
Jude and I walk down the steps and slip into the car. I start it and waste no time pulling out of the drive, kicking gravel up along the way.
The drive is silent. Jude doesn’t mutter a word at all, and I’m thankful. Right now, all I want to do is make it to Arloe and see she’s okay. It’s such a foreign concept to me to care because I’ve never felt the way I do with her. She gets me in the most fucked-up way. I don’t have to explain why I am the way I am or why I do the things I do.
Maybe it’s because she’s so used to reading about men like me. She has the home advantage, too, because every book she’s ever picked up shows these powerful women tearing down their hero’s walls and learning to love them. But that’s the thing…
I don’t think she ever needed to tear mine down. I blasted through them alone just to make sure she could come inside. I wanted her to live in the darkness with me. I just never expected the light she would bring.
Although the motel isn’t far, it feels like it’s taking centuries. Almost like time is slowing down. I zip through the city, watching the storefronts and other cars go by. Even though I know I’m going as fast as I can, it still feels like I’m barely moving at a snail’s pace.
Finally, the motel sign flashes above the horizon, and all of the adrenaline and nerves I felt before disappear. I’m in my element and I’m ready to crack skulls.
When I push the car into park, I look at Jude. “I don’t want to deal with the cops, so just hold back and watch.”
He shakes his head. “There are two of them.”
I give him a smile. “I know.”
He huffs with the same kind of smile. “I’ll be waiting.” He reaches behind him and tugs the gun he keeps in the back of his waistband. When it’s free, he hands it to me. “Fuck ’em up.”
I give him a nod and step out of my car. I tuck the gun behind me then start undoing the buttons on my blazer before removing it, leaving it on the driver’s seat.
I glide across the parking lot, then start up the two flights of stairs I saw the men pull Arloe up. When I make it to the door that reads 213, I suck in a breath then roll up the sleeves of my shirt. Once they’re secure around my elbows, I lean my head to one side and then the other, stretching out my neck.
These men—whoever the fuck they are—have no idea how badly they just fucked up.
I remove the Glock from behind me and grip it tightly, making sure my finger is on the trigger. Pulling in one more breath, I hold it then raise my leg and kick it into the door. Every ounce of anger and frustration is put into my foot as it lands on the wood. I can hear it split and crack when the chain holding it closed is ripped from the wall.
When I step inside, I see Arloe blindfolded with her hands behind her and bound to a chair. Other than being visibly shaken, she seems fine, so I get to work.
I don’t even give the two dumbasses time to respond before I aim the gun directly at the short one’s head and fire. Once the blood oozes from the small hole in his head and his body crumples to the floor, the tall one drops his own weapon and holds up his hands. What a fucking coward. But he won’t get out of this that easy. I move the barrel to his head and squeeze the trigger. When his blood splatters back and hits my cheek, I smile.
I had the intention to come in here and try to talk. To send a message by torture or threats, but seeing Arloe just sent me over the edge. How fucking dare someone who isn’t me bind her wrists. I don’t even want to imagine if they touched her any more than that. Because the thought of their dirty hands on her soft, delicate skin makes me want to puke.
“I got you, amore,” I say, pushing the thoughts of what these pigs did to her away as I step forward and get to work on the ties around her wrists.
“Easton?” Her voice is strained and low, almost like she can’t believe it’s me.
Once her arms are free, she jerks the blindfold from her eyes and throws them around me.
I pet her hair as sobs rack her body. “Did they hurt you?”
I can feel her head shake, but it isn’t enough for me. I need to hear her say the words. I need her to calm the beast that’s awoken to defend her. I need her light.
“Talk to me. I need to hear you say it,” I whisper.
“Just take me home. Please.”
As much as I want to protest, I keep my lips sealed and nod. I scoop her into my arms and walk out of the motel. When we make it to the bottom of the stairs, Jude is waiting. His eyes shoot to mine, and I know it’s a silent question. The same one I just asked Arloe, but I can’t answer it.
“Find out who they were before you call Buffy at the crematorium. I want to know every detail about them. Their names, their lawyer who put them in contact with Barron, I want to know it all. And make sure to save their heads. I’ll be delivering it to their mothers.”
He nods without question and heads up the stairs while I continue across the parking lot to my car.
I place Arloe upright only long enough to open the door then help her sink into the seat. When she’s secure, I round the vehicle and open my door. Snatching my blazer from the seat, I slip in and start it.
“Arloe, I know this isn’t the best situation, but I need you to trust me, okay?”
Her eyes meet mine, and they’re full of worry and fear. “Trust you?”
I nod gently and lay my blazer across her lap. “I promise nothing like this will happen again, but you’re coming home with me. I don’t know who they are, and until I get to the bottom of it, you’re not safe. I need to figure out what kind of people are going to be pissed off about this.”
She nods like she understands, but her eyes are glazed over. Shock. It’s a look I know all too well, living the life I do.
“Amore?”
“I— I need some of my own things. My phone. I need to talk to my dad.” The words are coming out in rapid succession.
“Hey. Don’t worry about anything right now. We can go by and get some of your things, but everything else can wait.” I grip her thigh over the console, trying to ground her. To bring her back and calm her nerves I’m sure are haywire.
She nods again then moves her hand over mine. Her breathing steadies, and the stream of tears finally slows, so I take that as my sign she agrees.
I keep my hand locked around her thigh, not too tight, and back out of the motel parking lot, then start toward her apartment.
Chapter Twenty
Arloe
“I’m okay, Easton. I can walk to my door just fine on my own.” I swipe his hands away, but mainly to keep him from seeing how shaken up I am over this whole ordeal.
My nerves are shot, and I imagine my face is puffy and my eyes are bloodshot red. My mind hasn’t stopped racing, and all I can think about now is rest. This has been an emotional day, and my body is still sore from my night with Easton. It’s funny how with everything that went down today, not once did I think about the bruises that still mark my body.
I guess adrenaline will do that to you. It has a way of pumping you up and pushing all the things that hurt you to the back burner. Pain, deceit, betrayal, none of it holds a candle to the rush you get when your life’s on the line.