“You okay, baby?” Stone’s touching my hair, touching my face—gently, as if I’m made of spun glass. Light as his touches are, I can feel him trembling. “Tell me you’re okay,” he gusts frantically. “Say you’re okay.”
“I’m okay.” I don’t know whether that’s true or not. Am I okay? All I know is that Stone looks sick with worry, and I don’t want him to worry. He shouldn’t ever have to be afraid.
The trucker is up, though. And coming for Stone.
Before I can even utter a warning, Stone is whirling on him. The trucker is bigger than Stone by far, but Stone goes at him with explosive fury like I’ve never seen. He drives the trucker back into the wall. The trucker’s body jolts from the impact. But he recovers fast enough to slam a fist into Stone’s jaw.
I back up, looking around for a weapon, some way to help Stone, because the trucker is so huge and scary, and he’s hitting Stone again and again, but Stone slips the next hit and drives his knuckles into the man’s jaw, and then he punches hard, right into the man’s neck.
The man starts coughing and staggering, holding his neck.
“You think you can touch her like that? Her?” Stone’s voice sounds funny. Like a demon got into him. “Make her cry?”
Stone is merciless now, hitting and punching.
No longer bothering even to protect himself, the trucker falls to his knees, clutching at his neck. I know with a weird certainty that something inside that man is broken, and I mean, really broken. He might die. One hand flies up in surrender.
Stone kicks him in the face. The man’s head hits the floor.
“Stone!” I scream.
Stone is on his knees, wild, raining down hits on the guy. He sees nothing. Hears nothing. “You would hurt her?” Craaack. “Hurt her?” Craaack. “Make her cry?” Craaack. Craaack.
The puddles on the floor are turning pink.
I scream because I think the man might be dead.
“Stone! Stop!” I grab him by the shirt. “Please! Don’t kill him.”
“He deserves it,” he growls, pulling his arm back for another blow. I latch onto his arms from behind, holding him with all the strength in me.
My toes brush the ground as he lifts me. That’s how intensely he’s fighting right now—he can turn, and my whole body lifts. I’m riding him instead of pulling him away.
It must register, though, because he twists to look at me. His brows are low, eyes glowing with fury. He looks like a demon, something that rises from hell to drag men down.
“Please,” I say softly.
For a long moment we remain frozen, and I think I’m going to watch this man die. Then Stone’s fist unclenches. He releases the man, who falls in an unmoving heap onto the floor.
Stone straightens, but I stay with him. I won’t let go.
“He deserves it,” Stone says again, quieter this time.
“I know, but you don’t deserve to do it.”
He looks bemused. “It doesn’t hurt me.”
It does hurt him, but I don’t only mean physically. I press my hand to his chest, feel the ragged rise and fall. I wish I could calm him, soothe him. “It hurts you here.”
“Ah, sweetheart.” He covers my small, pale hand with his big rough one, knuckles dark with blood. “There’s nothing in there. Nothing at all.”
I won’t believe it. I rise up on tiptoes, reaching for him. I’m not tall enough, not strong enough, but he meets me halfway, his lips impossibly soft in contrast to the hardness of his body. Our kiss isn’t one that moves, not with lips or tongue, only a press of mouths—something moves inside me instead. I know he feels it too, in that heart he claims not to have.
It’s dirty and dangerous that we’re kissing in this dark rest-stop bathroom, a man’s blood drawing a pink trail toward the drain in the floor. This is the life Stone has led, and I can’t flinch away from it any more than I can turn away from him.
When I pull away, his eyes search mine. “Did he touch you?”
My shoulders still ache from his harsh touch, the skin on my face crawls from when he pried my mouth open. I want to tell him no, to lie to him, but a shudder works its way through me, revealing the truth.
Chapter 14
Stone
Rage shakes me from deep inside as I watch the fear flash through Brooke’s pretty eyes. All I want to do is crack every bone in this man’s body. I want to run him over with his fucking 18-wheeler, forward and back, again and again until he’s paid the price.
Something deeper than vengeance keeps me steady.
I know too well the kind of pain, the shame that can follow an experience like this. And I’m more concerned with making sure Brooke is okay than with beating this man even more.
The realization takes me by surprise—her well-being is more important than the darkness inside me.
“We’re leaving,” I tell her. “I’ll take you back to school.”
She lets me lead her out of that dirty bathroom, a place she never should have been. Even the air here doesn’t have the right to touch her.
I’m trying not to limp, not to show her how messed up I am. Nate would have a fit if he knew I went out beating on a guy in this condition. Kind of a shock the man didn’t rearrange my face. Well, he would’ve had to do more to get through me to Brooke.
Sunlight beams onto the sidewalk, almost blinding, unaware of what tragedies unfolded only a few yards away. This is where we stood when I told Brooke I’d never see her again, when I mocked her school uniform and little-girl problems.
Guilt is acid in my veins. If I hadn’t said that, she wouldn’t have felt the need to get away from me. She would have stayed near me.
I guide her to the passenger door and open it. Is this what it feels like to be a gentleman? To take care of a young lady, to have her look at me with trust shining in her eyes.
“I’m not driving?” she asks, her voice small.
She’s not in any shape to drive. And somehow I feel compelled to take care of her. Not to order her around, to tell her where to go, but to kill for her. Except a bloody body is the opposite of what she needs…much as I’d like to end that guy in there. “Get in.”
“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” she asks.
She’s worried about me? “I was hurt already. Now get in.”
Her eyes turn shiny. Is she going to cry? She should. She’s been abducted by me, multiple times. Attacked by that fucker in the bathroom. This girl who deserves only silk and lace. It’s a miracle she’s lasted this long by my side. I never should have gone near her.
She surprises me by straightening her spine. Not a single tear escapes down her cheeks. “Is this the last time I see you?”
I wouldn’t have thought less of her if she’d cried. My brothers in the basement cried when they were little. It’s how humans cope with horrible things, which is how I know I don’t have a heart. I’ve never shed a tear. I don’t think I would know how. My body isn’t built that way.
“I told you this would be the last time.” The words rip out of me. It’s not what I want. It’s what she needs.
She turns, eyes huge. Wary.