“There are some calls I have to make,” I told her, brushing a thumb across her cheek. Her skin was cold and damp. “Can I leave you?”
Her lips wobbled into a brave smile. “I’m fine.”
But her eyes gave her away. She wasn’t fine. She was shaking, her fingers knotted in her lap, her breath short and sharp.
I leaned closer, my hand still cupping her cheek. She leaned into it, just a fraction, but enough. The trust there hit me harder than any punch tonight.
“Only be a minute.”
I kissed her cheek, the gesture instinctive, grounding. Her skin was salty from tears, soft against my mouth.
I reached for my phone and sent a text.
Me: Call me
Then I turned toward the trailer again, jaw set. My phone buzzed in my back pocket, Gideon’s name lighting the screen. I answered without looking away from the mess.
“Where are you?” The voice on the other end of the line demanded.
“Boarding lot,” I said, voice rough. “We’ve got a problem, I need a clean-up and bring the truck, you’ll be taking a drive.
“On the way.” He wasn’t a talker, but when I’d made a mess, I needed help fixing, it was always him.
I hung up and stared down at the man on the floor. He was still breathing, shallow and ugly. I crouched, grabbed a rag from the counter, and wiped my hands. The blood didn’t want to come off.
Behind me, I heard Kristin’s quiet sob, the sound so small it nearly broke me in two.
When I turned back, she was watching me from the open truck door. Her face looked fragile in the light, her eyes wide but clearer now.
“Linc,” she whispered.
I walked back to her, slow this time, careful not to startle her. I rested a hand on the doorframe, close enough that she could see me but not feel cornered.
“It’s over,” I said softly.
She nodded, her chin trembling. “I was so scared.”
“I know.” My voice cracked, the words rough. “You’re safe now. I swear to God you’re safe.” I took her by the hand and led her back to the truck.
Her breath shuddered out, her eyes closing. I climbed into the driver’s seat beside her and sat for a long minute, letting the silence settle. The hum of the engine from my truck carried faintly across the lot. Somewhere in the distance, I heard sirens, maybe from the call Kipp had already made.
I looked at her again. The faint bruise on her temple, the tear tracks, the trembling hands, every mark would fade, but I’d never forget.
“You’re with me from now on,” I said quietly. “I’m not letting you go again.”
She looked at me, the fight still somewhere deep in her eyes, but softer now. “You say that like I have a choice.”
A laugh broke out of me, low and tired. “You don’t.”
Her hand found mine on the console, small and cold. Our fingers locked, her pulse racing against my thumb.
When the others arrived, headlights sweeping the lot, I didn’t move. I just sat there with her hand in mine, both of us breathing the same bruised air, both of us alive.
And for the first time in three years, that was enough.
CHAPTER FIVE
KRISTIN
