The drive wasn’t long, not with us having a central location close enough to Mare’s living arrangements. Since she fell asleep before we even reached our safe house, Jensen maneuvered out of the back seat with Mare safely cradled in his arms, and I darted to the door, more focused on getting her inside and out of the cold than anything else.
“Take her to the first bedroom,” Ian commanded as Jensen started towards his own room. Jensen grumbled under his breath, shooting our leader a glare over his shoulder. “Your bed is the smallest of all of them, and I don’t want to risk her rolling out of it and hurting herself.”
With that logic, Jensen reluctantly agreed, changing directions to Ian’s bedroom and laying her gently on the king-sized bed.
She looked so peaceful despite the tear tracks staining her cheeks where the obscene amount of makeup had streaked. Her lightened hair flared out around her slightly, the two ribbons that had held it in twin pigtails tangling in the soft tresses. Ian dug around in his dresser, I assumed for something to put her in. Stepping forward, I made quick work of the coat buttons, my throat going dry when I saw her creamy skin barely covered in a lacy white bra and matching thong.
It had been half a decade since we’d been this close, half a decade since getting to taste and play. Of course, we had seen her both in her clothed and unclothed glory over the years, but it was always watching, never getting to touch and enjoy. Unable to stop myself, I brushed my fingers over her exposed thigh and hip. A trail of goosebumps flared after my feather light touch, and I noted that even asleep, her body responded to mine. As it should.
“Jensen, get a washcloth and clean her face. I can’t stand to see all that shit on her,” I told him quietly, my lip curling up as I untied the ribbons. Mare was naturally beautiful; she didn’t need makeup and ridiculous outfits to be attractive. Ian stepped up to help me get Mare out of the coat and into a pair of sweats and a shirt, while Jensen headed to the bathroom.
When she was cleaned and dressed, we tucked her in and walked out of the room, hoping she would sleep for a while longer. As soon as the door was mostly shut, we filed down the hall and into the kitchen. None of us talked for a while, not wanting to wake Mare. We each went about doing our own thing; Jensen made a cup of coffee before yanking out something to snack on from the cupboard; Ian stood stoic against the counter, his glare focused on the far wall. Trying to keep my questions contained, I reached in and grabbed a beer. As soon as the tab was off, I chugged, hoping it would calm the last of the adrenaline that had flooded me at the strip club.
After another twenty minutes and a second beer, I couldn’t stop the urge any longer. “What happened tonight?” I demanded, my voice hard as I turned to Ian.
“Doesn’t matter,” he bit out, finally moving away from the counter and focusing on pulling out a bottle of water from the refrigerator. My blood boiled at his brush-off.
“I get that you beat the shit out of him and it’s been dealt with, but I think we deserve to know exactly why we left him bloody and broken in the alleyway,” I snapped, reining in my words when I realized I was nearly shouting. “Did he work for her father? Is it possible he was sent to take her out?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“You don’t think so?” I barked. “How the hell are we supposed to keep her safe if we don’t know what he was doing to her? If we don’t know what kind of threats we’re up against.”
“I’m sure you’re capable of figuring it out for yourself, but since you need me to spell it out for you, he had her pinned in the dressing room,” Ian ground out, muscles taut as his voice shook with rage. “I don’t know what the fuck he was on, but he didn’t work for her father. I do know he was intending to rape her. Who he was outside of that or what he was on doesn’t matter. That’s all you need to know. It had nothing to do with any intelligence we’ve gotten on her father.”
My stomach churned, acid burning my throat. Rage flooded me, and my muscles clenched in response. I knew it was bad, but hearing exactly what Ian had seen only solidified it. A beating hadn’t been nearly enough. A bullet between the eyes would have been better because the only ones who could touch America Perelli were us.
“She shouldn’t have been there in the first place,” Jensen hissed, “and that man shouldn’t ever have been able to lay a hand on her at all.”
“I said I took care of it.” Ian’s tone conveyed that he was done with the conversation. He tilted his head slightly, eyes moving towards the hall as he did so. Ian remained quiet for a moment as if he were listening to whatever had piqued his attention. “Besides, our little bird is listening.”
I couldn’t stop the smile that spread over my face, the anger at the previous conversation dulling at the thought of her. Always eavesdropping.
“Took long enough.” I chuckled, leaning to the side so I could look into the hall.
There she was, our girl’s eyes wide as she realized she was caught. I frowned as I looked down her frame. Now that she wasn’t covered in a black jacket in the darkened interior of the SUV, I was finally able to see what had been pointed out. Jensen was right; she had lost weight. Ian’s clothing draped off her thin frame even more than they had five years ago.
“You don’t have to creep around or hide,” I reassured her as I held out my hand. My heart thudded with anticipation. She’s right here, right within my reach. “Come on, Mare. Time to face the music.”
8
Mare
Groggy and disoriented, a loud noise brought me from the depths of sleep. My mind struggled to figure out why the bed I was lying on felt different, why it felt softer than mine, because I knew, for sure, I couldn’t afford something this luxurious. Maybe it just felt softer because I was more exhausted than usual.
I shook away that thought when I realized my face felt abnormally stiff and puffy. Maybe I was getting sick. Without opening my eyes, I reached up and scrubbed my fingers down my cheeks. How late had I gotten in last night? I wondered idly.
As I tried to recall what had happened and how I’d ended up getting home, I peeled open my dry, sore eyes. What I saw sent me into hyperawareness, my throat closing in my panic as I shot up in the notably unfamiliar bed. I turned my head, scanning the room. The bedroom itself was dark, but in the dim glow from the cracked hallway door, I could see that it wasn’t my basement studio. The walls were a deep, rich blue, and the bed was large, dwarfing me in an abundance of sheets. My thoughts raced through my head, reminding me of all the things that could have happened. My father, the drunk from the bar … but then I remembered.
Ian, Archer, and Jensen.
“Fuck me,” I muttered shakily, trying to calm my racing heart.
What the hell am I supposed to do now? I thought as my eyes finally adjusted to the dark. No one was nearby, but they had always been good at moving silently, sneaking up on me before I realized they were even there. Not wanting to wait around, I slipped off of the king-sized mattress. Someone had taken the time to change me into a pair of too long sweatpants and a plain white t-shirt.
Of course, they’d dressed me. I sighed, unable to stop myself from being irritated. With them, there was never any privacy, no boundaries that they wouldn’t cross, even now. The adrenaline from my startling wake up faded from my system as I moved quietly around the room. Heading to the door, I listened briefly against the wooden barrier before sticking my head out. I had two choices: go further down the hall or head to where I heard the whispers. Curbing the urge to go creeping around where they’d been living, knowing they would find out if I touched anything, I decided to go left and follow the voices.