For two, though, it was eventually going to get out that Shy hadn't killed me. And when it did? Shit, I didn't even want to think about it. It wasn't going to be good.
I figured once she got some food and sleep, it might occur to her on her own that things weren't as wrapped up in a bow like she wanted. Like we all wanted.
For their sake and our own.
But if there was one thing I learned early on, it was to roll with the punches. It was rare that shit went to plan. We just had to adjust. Once the girls were feeling up to it, we would explain to them what was going on, how things needed to go until we could track down the assholes and put them down for what they'd done.
I was hoping that, eventually, Belle would be able to give us more than Shy had been able to. Names, descriptions, possible observations about where she'd been kept.
We would need every little bit of information we could get if we were going to find these guys. Sure, Arty was on the case again. And maybe he would luck out with the car model and one letter of the license plate—assuming the plate was legit—, catching them on some security camera or something somewhere. I wasn't going to hold my breath for that one, though.
"No!" Shy cried out in her sleep.
She might have outwardly been seeming relieved and relaxed, but there was clearly some internalized stress and fear still. She'd been tossing and turning and fighting invisible foe since she'd passed out hours before.
"Shh," I said, wrapping my arm around her shoulders. She'd somehow flipped to my side of the couch while doing said dream-fighting, leaving her with her face pressed into the side of my arm.
A better, bigger man would have gently pressed her back onto her side of the couch. Or, better yet, would have gotten up, given her the whole damn thing.
But I didn't do either of those things.
I sat there and pretended like it wasn't affecting me as much as it was, having her so close. Close enough that I could smell a hint of that perfume I'd found on her bedroom dresser clinging to her skin. Close enough that I could feel the outline of her soft curves.
Too fucking close.
That was what she was.
Because my fucking cock was hard just by sitting next to her.
I hadn't exactly been truthful when Huck teased me about Shy. I was absolutely not indifferent to her. In fact, I was so far from indifferent that I should have asked someone else to take over.
I don't know what stopped me. Pride. Stubbornness. Jealousy. A heady concoction of all three, maybe.
I'd be damned if it was Remy, Donovan, Seeley, Alaric, or Eddie in my place, getting to feel and smell and hear her.
No fucking way.
The thing was, it made no sense.
Sure, the attraction did. That was easy to understand. She was beautiful. It was easy to be interested in that. But it was more than that, as much as I didn't want to admit that even to myself. Because I didn't go out of my way to help a woman I barely knew recover her missing sister. I didn't come at the drop of a hat to bring hydration products. I didn't order food for them and sit with them while they slept to make sure they were okay.
I didn't do that for chicks I just wanted to sleep with.
I didn't do that for any woman.
But maybe she wasn't just any woman.
Whatever course that train of thought was about to go barreling down got interrupted by the soft footsteps of Belle coming out of the bedroom, a little bleary-eyed, but looking a lot less pale and stronger than she'd been the night before.
You could see the family resemblance between them. They had similarly curly hair, the same golden-brown skin, the same face shape and eyes. Hell, they both even had the freckles over their noses.
The big differences were really just about their bodies. Where Shy was tall and lean, Belle was a bit shorter and thicker.
"Hey," she said, giving me a soft smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.
My finger rose to my lips, silently demanding she stay quiet.
"Oh, no. It's fine. She could sleep through a drive-by right outside," Belle told me. "Coffee?" she asked, making her way toward the kitchen.
"That'd be good," I agreed. "Thanks."
"It's literally the least I could do," she said, shaking her head as she went about making a pot. "Did you get any sleep?"
"Nodded off here and there. Your sister is training to become a MMA fighter," I told her, getting a big smile out of the girl.
"She's always been like that. It's why I always crash on the couch when I stay over. She kicked me clear off the bed the last time we attempted to share it. I sprained my wrist," she added. "And she didn't even wake up. Cream? Sugar?" she asked, grabbing some mugs.
"No thanks. How'd you sleep?"
"Like the dead. It was actually kind of scary how tired I was. I was almost afraid to sleep."
"You've had a rough week," I said as I took the cup from her, watching as she pulled one of the nail desk chairs over to sit down on.
She ignored that, clearly not in the mood to talk about it. Which made sense. She didn't know me from Adam.
"Can you tell me what happened?" she asked. "I mean from Shy's side of things. I love her, but she tends to try to baby me. And she wouldn't give me all the ugly details."
"Alright," I agreed, taking a sip of the too-hot coffee. "The guys who took you made Shy agree to kill me. Well, one of the members of my club."
"Why?"
"That's a question I intend to ask them one day. Best guess, so it can't trace back to them."
"Shy would never kill someone."
"You'd be surprised what people will do for their loved ones. I walked into my bedroom to find Shy in my bathroom. And as soon as she saw me, she raised a gun and shot me," I told her, balancing my coffee mug on my thigh as I lifted my sleeve to show her proof.
"Oh my God," Belle said, eyes going huge. "But... but why are you here then?"
"My club, we're not in the business of hurting women. So we sat Shy down and asked her what was going on."
"But why would you help after she tried to kill you?"
"It was partially for the greater good, but also because helping Shy find you was the only way we were going to get access to these fuckers."
"Oh," Belle said, gaze lowering.
"Sorry if that is dark for you," I said, shrugging. "But it's the truth."
"It would have been," she said, glancing toward the door. "A week or so ago, it would have been too dark for me."
"But now?"
"But now I want first-row seats to one of you ripping their cold, evil hearts out of their chests," she declared, making my stomach drop at the ferocity in her voice. There weren't many things that would make a woman who—by their loved one's description—was soft and sweet and shy go dark and livid like that.
"Belle..."
"Don't," she said, looking up, shaking her head. There was a shimmer in her eyes, but the tears didn't fall. "Don't pity me."
"I don't pity you."
"They didn't... they didn't rape me," she said, face twisting up at the word on her lips. "But there were things."
"I'm going to make them pay for that."