Roxy nodded and Blondie stepped back before heading back into the bar. A group of curious onlookers had congregated outside the doors a while ago, but the officers had ushered them back inside to give Roxy privacy while recounting the events of the night. As he’d listened, he’d gotten more and more angry at the motherfucker. All those times he’d witnessed Roxy being jumpy, the constant looking over her shoulder… his gut had been right after all. She was scared of someone. And that someone had hurt her, on more than one occasion. A monster.
Again, he flexed his fingers wide at his side, letting the ache in his hand anchor him. He was a monster, too. A different kind of monster.
I may be a monster, he admitted,but I’ll fight like hell to protect her.
Stepping forward, he settled his hand at the small of her back. “Ready?”
She glanced up at him finally, those hazel eyes far away until they connected with his, and she seemed to come back into herself a little. “Thank you, Travis.”
His eyes swept over her face; the battered cheek that already had a bruise blooming beneath her eye, the smudges of mascara beneath her lashes, that jagged white scar that bisected her bottom lip. “You don’t thank me for this, Red. I’ve got you, okay?”
She nodded, taking a deep, shuddering breath in and letting it out in a slow exhale. “My head hurts.”
“I wish you would let me take you to get checked out,” he murmured gently, pressing with his hand at her back to urge her to move forward. He guided her toward his vehicle. “You could have a concussion.”
She shook her head as he opened the passenger door of his Bronco and assisted her up into the seat. He reached over her and buckled her in, since she was still trembling slightly. “I doubt it. He didn’t hit me as hard as he has before. I just need some Tylenol.”
His back molars ground together as he clenched his jaw so tightly together it ached. “He’s lucky I didn’t kill him tonight.”
He closed the passenger door and rounded the hood, climbing in behind the wheel and starting the vehicle. He adjusted the heat inside the car—the late May evening air was chilly, and he knew from experience she hated the cold—and sighed in relief when moments later she stopped shaking, settling into the seat.
“You… you said something to Neal…” she started, and he tightened his fingers around the steering wheel as he steered them out of the parking lot.
“Which way?” he asked gruffly, and she pointed toward the left. She told him her address and he nodded, heading that direction.
“You told Neal you’d killed someone… Was that true?” she asked quietly, and he could feel her stare through the dark interior of the car. He sighed again, running a hand over his mouth and chin, scratching at the beard that covered his lower face.
“Yes,” he said simply, his voice low. “Yes, I killed a man with my bare hands once.” Turning to look at her, he said earnestly, “You have no reason to be afraid of me though, Red. I may be a monster, but I won’t ever hurt you. I promise.”
He heard her swallow hard in the quiet between them. “I’m not afraid of you, Travis. I can see that you’re a good man. If you did that to someone… I’m sure that it was deserved.”
He stared ahead at the lines of the road that blurred in the headlights and flexed his fingers around the steering wheel again. He had never talked about this with anyone, other than the police, his lawyer, and his therapist. Regular people didn’t understand. “It was deserved. But that doesn’t make me a good man, Red.”
Twenty
“You don’t have to come inside,” she said quietly, too quietly. Travis hated the defeat in her tone, in every muscle in her body. As if all the fire and fight had been leeched out of her at the hands of that asshole. Travis flexed his hand again, relishing the ache that still burned in his knuckles. He would have caved the man’s skull in if it meant she would never have to look at him with that soul wrenching fear again. It gutted him.
“I’m not leaving you alone tonight, so you’re stuck with me, Red,” he murmured gently through the darkness of the vehicle as he put it in park in her driveway, next to her Toyota 4Runner. She stared at him for a long moment, the moonlight luminous in her eyes, and then she nodded. “Good girl. Wait for me.”
She did as he asked, surprisingly, and waited for him to round the hood of the Bronco and open the passenger door. He witnessed the wince of pain as she reached across herself to unbuckle and fought back the growl of fury that roiled through him at the sight of it. He stepped forward, placing his hands on either side of her waist to help her out of the seat and down to the ground. Her hands rested on his chest, lightly, her fingers curled slightly in on the fabric of his shirt.
“Would you like me to carry you?” he asked quietly, though he already knew the answer. She shook her head no and he nodded, stepping back enough for her to lead the way. She shocked him when she reached for his hand, curling her fingers into his and squeezing lightly. He squeezed back.
Her house was small, a dim porch light illuminating the pathway up to the stone front porch. She unlocked the door, flipping a light on as soon as she entered. Fingers still entwined around hers, he felt her stiffen and then begin to tremble as the light revealed the quaint kitchen, and a bouquet of roses situated in the center of the kitchen counter.
Her breathing accelerated at the sight of those flowers, and he drew her behind him on instinct, his gaze scanning the still darkened living room and hallway beyond. He stepped forward, his eyes lighting on a scrap of neon orange shoved between heads of the blood red roses. Roxy reached for it, her hand trembling violently, plucking the neon post it note out of the bouquet. His eyes scanned it as hers did, his blood boiling in his veins and heart pounding in his ears at the words written there.
I can’t keep apologizing for the things you do that make me mad. I don’t know what you expected to happen tonight. You know how to fix this, how to fix us. We both make mistakes, I forgive you, Rox.
“Doyou think he’s still here?” He could barely form the words past the fury in him. She shook her head.
“I doubt it. I’ve never seen him in here, after the notes show up. This is what he does. Sends flowers in lieu of an apology, when he knows he’s fucked up. He’s probably watching, though.”She shivered. “I’m sure he knows you’re here with me, which is just going to make it worse.”
Travis planted his hands on her shoulders and spun her to look at him. “Please tell me you’re joking.” He watched as her throat worked with the swallow she took. He squeezed his eyes shut and took a long, steadying breath in before releasing it slowly, and then opened his eyes. “How many times has this happened?”
She shrugged, her shoulders bobbing up and down beneath his hands. Gesturing to her face, she admitted quietly, “This? Three times, though this one wasn’t as bad as the second time. Since he’s been back, I’d have to guess that he’s been here five or six times. Possibly more. I don’t know. I changed the locks, but he’s still getting in, somehow.”
“He’s been inside?” Travis growled, rage boiling inside him like a fucking battering ram. “Why haven’t you called the police, Roxy?”
