I don’t want Bea to see it.
It’s one thing for her to know I’ve killed. But to actually see it?
I don’t want that for her.
I don’t want her to look at me differently.
So I swallow back the murderous rage boiling inside me.
And I punch Mack instead.
In the faint light, I watch his eyes flutter shut.
He goes limp.
Then I flip him over, ready to restrain him.
But, shit. My arm. My hand. Of all the things I can do one-handed, tying a man up isn’t one of them.
“Indy!” Bea rushes towards me, scooping up my prosthetic on the way.“Indy.”
Her voice is louder than normal and thick with tears.
She holds out my prosthetic as she drops to her knees beside me. “I’m sorry,” she sobs. “I should have come back sooner. I’m so sorry. What do you want me to do?”
I’m torn between admonishing her for being so reckless and praising her courage.
“Just hold the flashlight while I tie him up,” I finally settle on. Then I wrestle my prosthetic on as quickly as I can and pull out the wad of zip ties I never go anywhere without. In less than a minute, Mack is fully restrained, with his wrists and ankles bound and hogtied behind him.
“I’m sorry,” she repeats. “You told me to stay. But the yelling. I was so scared. I couldn’t leave you alone. I couldn’t. I’m sorry.”
Her tears are breaking my heart.
“Bea. Sweetie.” Standing, I drag Bea into my arms and hug her hand. “Shit. Don’t be sorry.I’msorry. This shouldn’t have happened. I’m so fucking sorry.”
She clings to me, crying hard. Then she jerks back and shines the flashlight at me.
“Indy. Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” Her gaze moves to my chin. “You’re hurt!”
“I’m fine.” Taking the flashlight from her, I turn her head from side to side, searching for injuries. And there. A lump already swelling behind her ear.
Rage erupts again.
He fuckinghurther.
And her implant.
“Wait.” I say. Then I move the light across the ground until I see it. I rush over to her implant and snatch it up, then hurry back to Bea.
I’ve seen her put them on enough times now to know what to do.
So I push her hair aside, pressing a gentle kiss to her bruised skin before attaching the implant again. “Is this okay?” I ask.
She blinks at me. Fresh tears fill her eyes. Then she nods. In a quieter tone, she replies, “It’s okay.”
I shift the flashlight to my right hand and cup her cheek with my left. As I look into Bea’s watery gaze, emotion wells up so quickly, I’m breathless from it. “Shit, Bea.” I lean my forehead against hers. “Shit.”
Her voice wobbles. “I’m okay.”
