Duke’s hand was rough on my chin, jerking it upward so he could get a better look at what I guessed was yet another bruise blossoming quite nicely. He was careful not to touch the cut on my lip.
Still holding me, but not looking at me, he focused on Rosie. “You let him fuckin’ touch her?”
He didn’t yell. It was the quietest I’d ever heard him speak. In fact, I’d never heard this tone in his voice. It wasn’t Duke. I’d seen glimpses of a darker side in him, the side that killed, that did things he’d never speak about. But this was something else entirely. Goosebumps erupted on my arms with the chill this stranger brought to the room.
Rosie wasn’t ruffled, of course. The woman was covered in blood and didn’t seem to be worried at all. “I had to get him close enough to let his guard down,” she said.
Duke moved in a flash.
One second he was holding my chin in that brutal grip, the next his was right up in Rosie’s face. Even Luke, who I expected had fucking good reflexes didn’t have time to move to protect his wife.
Not that she needed protection.
“You let him touch her!” This time it wasn’t a whisper. It was a roar, right in Rosie’s face.
Luke moved quickly then, with a danger of his own—one that wasn’t the same as Duke’s, but it was still scary.
“You back away from my wife now,” he said. Words of steel, full of threats.
Rosie rolled her eyes at both of them.
“You.” She looked at her husband. “You’ve known me for how long now? So what makes you think I’ve somehow changed drastically in the last few hours that you can go around fighting my battles for me, making threats for me? I fight my own battles, follow through on my own threats.” She didn’t wait for Luke to respond. Her eyes went to Duke. “And you. I get you’ve got the whole ‘alpha male in love’ thing going on. I get that you’re one of the last in our group to get it. You’re overexcited. Whatever. But you are not stupid. Nor are you anywhere near as misogynistic as you’re acting right now. You know that your woman has and can take a punch just as well, if not better than a man can take it. You also know that justice is a dirty business. Revenge is even dirtier. Despite what all the movies tell us—even her movies—it’s not a business that leaves anyone unscathed. Anastasia is a grown woman. She’s a smart one at that. Smart mostly because she called me. And because she knew exactly what she was getting herself into and what could come of it. She was prepared for that. She handled it. Her face will heal. So get over yourself.”
Rosie delivered the speech the same casual way she had delivered everything these past couple of days. She was probably one of the most impressive people I’d ever met.
Despite this, there was a tense moment, one that even the most badass of females couldn’t break.
Then Duke stepped back.
I exhaled.
Luke glowered.
Rosie grinned.
Duke didn’t say anything else, just snatched my arm and dragged us out of there.
I had been shocked to see Tanner and Andrew in the next room, both of them holding handguns and harsh glares.
They were still wearing their fucking boots and cowboy hats, milling with bikers.
Both of their gazes turned to stone when they saw me, more specifically saw what I was guessing was the already large bruise on my cheek.
Duke seemed to struggle to let me go when they both approached, but had no choice when I was engulfed in two different cowboy, macho-men hugs.
Andrew cupped my face when he finally let me go. He did it in the gentlest way a man could touch a woman, like a father might. That and the shimmer in his eyes hit me square in the stomach.
“You scared the crap out of me, darlin’,” he said, a rasp in his voice.
“You came all the way here?” I asked, stupidly. Obviously they were here.
He smiled, but there was sadness and love in it. “You’re family.”
It was that. That sentence right there, delivered from the patriarch that got me. That shattered me. I had planned on saving my breakdown for the privacy of my own mansion. But it started here, in front of all the bikers, Tanner, and Duke.
My sobs racked my body, and Andrew held on to me the entire time.
At some point, I got a hold of myself. The well ran dry.
Andrew let me go, kissed my forehead, and stepped back.
He looked behind me.
I knew who was behind me, who hadn’t touched me or said a word during all of this.
“You good, son?”
“Good.” Duke uttered the single word with a deadness to his tone. “We’ve got somewhere for the both of you to stay, but I need to get Anastasia sorted.”
Andrew nodded. “You go, take care of our girl. I think we can handle ourselves here.” He looked around. “I need to buy some of these guys a beer.”
I wanted to smile at that, wanted to stay and watch Andrew and Tanner drink beers and shoot the shit with the bikers.
But Duke wasn’t having that. He snatched my hand again and all but dragged me outside. There were no words, no caresses, just his grip on my wrist.
I’d done it.
I’d gotten what I wanted. I’d pushed Duke away. I was going to get my life back.
And it killed me.
He hadn’t looked at me since he’d got here. Not since the first moment he’d run his eyes over my body, assessing the injuries. He’d done that for practical reasons, obviously. But since then, nothing. He’d asked me if I needed painkillers, if I wanted anything to eat. I’d said no to both of those things.
He’d done all the things to ensure my comfort and health, like any good security expert or body guard would do. There was a chill to his voice that cut through layers of skin, muscle and bone, right to the core of me. It struck me harder than any blow had today.
I’d expected this, hadn’t I? I’d wanted this?
Had a little part of me hoped he’d rush in, kiss me, hug me, declare his undying love for me like countless men had done on countless sets throughout my career?
Yeah.
A tiny, naive part of me that he’d brought to life had hoped for that. My inner cynic chastised her for that toxic hope.
It didn’t work that way.
I’d gotten the best possible result from this. The bad guy was dead. Justice was served. I could safely go back to my life in LA like none of this had ever happened.
The mere thought filled me with dread.
I’d been so deep in my self-pity, I hadn’t realized we’d stopped. We weren’t at a gas station on our way back to LA, not on the interstate. Somehow, we were still in Amber and I hadn’t noticed.
We were parked in front of a beautiful B&B that I recognized from an article somewhere. It was right in front of the ocean, the sunset reflecting off it with a beauty that happened regardless of the ugliness in the world, inside of this car.
“What are we doing?” I asked.
Still, Duke didn’t look at me. “I had a long drive getting here, haven’t slept. Don’t suppose you have either. It’s late. We’re not drivin’ through the night, nor are we stayin’ at some shitty motel on the side of the road. I know this place, know that the food is out of this world, rooms are nice, and the staff discreet.”
He delivered that while looking straight ahead. In that same tone that bruised every part of me left unscathed throughout all of this.