In a normal world, going to the hospital would go a long way in helping the police find her assailants by using whatever DNA they left behind.
Problem is, this is far, far,farfrom a normal world and if she does do all of those normal things, my form of justice won’t be served. And I can’t have that. Not on my fucking watch.
I’m about to change the subject, hoping to distract her from the shit she should be doing, when she continues to speak.
“They told me they’d come back for me if I went to the police.” Shaking her head, eyes wide with fear and indecision, she looks to me like I have all the answers. LikeI’mthe reasonable one.
“I’ll follow your lead, Berkleigh.” I really willnotbut she doesn’t need to know that. “But for now, let’s concentrate on getting you healed up, okay?” Furrowing her brow like she can’t make sense of my words, she opens her mouth to speak, but I cut her off. “So, ice or not?”
Blinking at the sudden change of subject, she nods.
Thank fuck it’s easy to derail her. I’m really not good in social settings and even less when feelings are involved. There’s no telling my reaction once I’ve reached my limit of faking it ‘till I make it.
“Do you know who the guy is?” Walking to the fridge, I press the lever. Two ice cubes fall, the sound almost aggressive in the quiet of the early morning. It’s imperative I keep my face hidden when she answers or my rage might scare her all over again.
Berkleigh has always been a gentle soul with fire in her veins. She’s got a smart mouth and high principles, but too much reality—especially when it doesn’t fit her narrative—sends her in a spiral.
A calm Berk is a malleable Berk.
“Not really. I met him at the club the other night and he didn’t appreciate me saying no to him then, either.”
Handing her the glass of water, I nod at the memory of her coming home drunk with ripped pants and a fat lip. This guy just keeps on adding to his torture bill.
Maybe I should reassure her? I mean, what I really want to say is that I’ll catch him and cut his fucking dick off so she can throw it in the river, but I have a feeling that’s not acceptable behavior. “Karma has a way of balancing out the evil shit in the world.”
Remember, it’s me. I’m Karma. And I’ll make sure these assholes never breathe again.
“I don’t want Karma to do the job,” she says, voice strong and determined. “I want to be the one to do it.”
When I look up at her, our eyes locking and our bodies freezing at her words, I realize something.
Berkleigh Brigham isn’t as pure and innocent as I thought, and that realization shouldn’t make me this fucking happy.
Chapter Eight
Berkleigh
“Ineed to go to work.” Every bone and muscle in my body aches, but I can’t stay here all day being waited on by Tanner.
His sudden change in personality reminds me of the boy I once knew, but it’s jarring and it’s weird. I’m used to the scowls, the cruel words, the veiled insults, and I had expected him to scold me about my choice in extra-curriculars. To blame what happened on my own foolish actions. Maybe I’m still waiting for the other shoe to drop, for that venom to be spat at me at any moment, so I’m essentially protecting myself by leaving.
“No.”
“You can’t tell me no, Tanner.” I sit up from where I’ve been lying on the couch in front of the TV—albeit tentatively—and place my feet on the soft carpet. Our conversation in the kitchen died a quick death when I said I wanted to do karma’s job, like some avenging warrior. Pretty sure he thinks I’m crazy now because he carried me to the couch in a determined silence, covered me in a blanket, handed me the remote control, and disappeared for a few hours.
“I just did.” That smirk I haven’t seen for a couple of days is back, and I realize how much I missed it. He lowers his head again, tapping away at his phone as he sits down where my feet just were.
“I appreciate everything you’ve done, but I can’t stay here.” Although I really want to because just the thought of being in my own house, alone, makes the ball of dread in my stomach do flip flops. “I also need to get a new cell phone. Mine’s…” I grip the edge of the seat on either side of my tense thighs and lower my head. Taking a deep breath and swallowing down my emotions, I look back up again, but not at Tanner. His kindness is near-debilitating. It’s too much and not enough and I can’t allow myself to get used to the way he makes me feel. “My phone is in pieces on my stairs.” With a tight-lipped smile and a straight back, I risk facing him before I push up to standing, making sure all my weight is on my left foot because fuck, the other one hurts. “You can go back to hating me from a distance.”
“Sit the fuck back down and stop being a brat.” He tilts his head, an eyebrow raised and a look in his eyes that says he knows best.
“Did you just call me a brat? Like a naughty child?” He’s lucky I can’t stomp my foot to demonstrate how ridiculous his insult was. “Wow.” I blow out a breath and search out things to lean on so I can hobble to the front door.
Nada…
Hopping it is.
I make it halfway before my feet are whisked from under me and Tanner is carrying me for the third time in less than twenty-four hours. The natural thing to do is wrap my arms around his neck. For support, of course. Being this close to him is too confusing and he smells so damn good, like my favorite pear body wash…
