“You’re giving me access to your safe?” Confusion furrows her delicate brows. “You barely know me.”
I lift her hand and press her finger to the glass square. “Hope, I was trained to read people. To know when they’re lying and when they’re not. Everything you just shared with me? I believe you, and there’s no fucking way I’m going to let you deal with this alone. So put the memory card in the safe, and tomorrow, we’ll go to the General Store, get you some clothes that actually fit, and I’ll call one of the few men in this world I trust. West lives in Seattle. He and his team—they’re all former military—can make sure Simon never hurts you again and keep you safe until he’s been neutralized.”
“N-neutralized?” Hope takes a step back, her voice cracking. “What do you mean?”
“Exactly what you think I mean. Men like that...prison doesn’t stop them. Threats only make them more determined. Sometimes, there’s no other way.”
Fear steals the color from her cheeks, and she holds her injured arm close. “I used to pray he’d just...die. Or that one of his rivals would come for him. Even if that meant I died too.” She shakes her head, tears glistening in her eyes. “But I never wanted to be responsible.”
“You won’t be.”
“In what universe?” Holding up the memory card, she chokes back a sob. “I wanted him in jail. Somewhere he couldn’t hurt me.”
“And how did you expect that to work?” I arch my brows, and when she doesn’t have an answer, I pluck the card from her hand and put it on the second shelf. “There is no place he can’t get to you. Not if he’s as connected as you say he is. If he has FBI agents on his payroll, he won’t spend more than a single night behind bars. Men like that have contingency plans in place if anyone dares come after them. You’re a financial planner. You deal in numbers. In black and white. I don’t. I live in the gray—or I used to. This? This is firmly in the gray. You want to survive? See another Christmas? Another birthday? Be able to walk down the street without constantly looking over your shoulder? This is what needs to happen.”
Slamming the safe door, I set the lock and rehang the painting.
Hope’s strength, her defiance, and the shred of control she was holding onto crumble into dust, and she backs up until she hits the bed. “I can’t… He’ll never stop…” Covering her face with her hands, she breaks, her shoulders heaving with each silent sob.
Did you have to be so fucking blunt? This is why you’re better off alone.
I don’t know how to comfort her. Or if she’ll even let me. I told her the truth, but that’s not what she needed. Hope needed me to protect her. To reassure her. Before I can sink down next to her, Murphy pads into the room, jumps up onto the bed, and presses his whole body to hers. Taking a seat on her other side, I drape my arm around her. Hope curls into me, and fuck. It’s the most natural thing in the world to have her in my arms. Every moment I spend with her makes me want more, and I’d do anything to stop her tears—except lie about the danger she’s in.
“Shhh. It’s gonna be okay.” I’m not sure I believe my own words. How can I when I know so little about this Arrens shithead? But there’s one thing I do know. He’s not getting to her when I’m around.
She peers up at me. Splotched cheeks, red-rimmed eyes, her lip quivering—desperate for reassurance I don’t know how to give. “How? You’re right. He’s too powerful.”
“I have some damn powerful friends of my own, Hope. Friends who don’t mind getting their hands dirty.”
She doesn’t look like she believes me, and fuck if I don’t want to promise her I’ll die before I let her ex-turned-captor hurt her again. I need to get the hell out of here. Put some space between us so I can think straight.
“We’re safe for tonight. No one’s getting through all that snow. It’s late, and you’re exhausted. I need to change your dressing, then you should rest.”
She doesn’t protest when I push to my feet and head for the kitchen for the first aid kit. And then I see her half-full dinner plate. Dammit.
I stop to pull another pound of bacon out of the freezer. She’s going to regain her strength if it’s the last thing I do. I’m not sure how many more meals I’ll have with her, but I’m gonna make them count.
By the time I return to the bedroom, Hope’s already under the covers, fast asleep. My robe is draped across the end of the bed, and Murphy’s curled up next to her.
Setting the first aid kit on the nightstand, I lean down and ghost my lips over her forehead. “Sleep well, darlin’. I’ll change that dressing in the morning.”
Before I cross the threshold back to the living room, I pause, one hand braced on the door jamb. “Never thought I’d say this, but I’m gonna miss you when I have to let you go.”
Hope
I rise up on an elbow, blinking hard at the dull, orange glow coming from the small wood stove in the corner of the room. My arm aches, but it wasn’t the pain that woke me.
Murphy’s solid weight is gone, and only a hint of his warmth remains next to me. He whines from the next room, the sound immediately followed by a deep moan.
Wyatt.
Shit. I scramble to my feet, but the room spins. Throwing my hand out, I catch the wall and force myself to breathe.
“Take cover!” Wyatt’s muffled shout—and the overwhelming pain in his voice—helps me focus, and I stumble out of the bedroom. Murphy stands in front of the couch, nosing Wyatt’s shoulder. He whines again, finally pawing at the man’s leg. But Wyatt fights against the blanket tangled around his hips.
“Wyatt? Wake up. You’re scaring me.” I lean down, my hand inches from his shoulder until Murphy grabs the loose flannel next to my knee and tries to pull me back.
Wyatt sits up with a shout, fists clenched. His wild swing misses me by only a few inches, and I yelp.
