Page 42 of Ink

“Sutton,” I try again, this time giving her a little squeeze. I watch her long lashes slowly flutter open, revealing her round hazel eyes that are quickly becoming my escape from reality. My gut clenches as I see the torment swirling in the depths.

Her nose scrunches up as she tries to snap out of the fog. She looks fucking exhausted. My jaw clenches as part of the evidence from what happened to her looks me right in the face.

“You’re okay,” I try to softly murmur, but it comes out gruff, even to my ears. Her brow lowers as confusion sets in. “It’s Ink. Your uh, boss.” Fuck, what else am I supposed to say? I’m sure me bringing her here is breaking some type of boss/employee rule, but when have I ever been one to do anything by the book? Her body tenses in my arms as she starts to squirm, trying to break free.

Afraid I’m going to drop her because she won’t stop moving, I quickly set her on the bathroom counter. “Sutton, it’s Ink,” I say, not trying to be gentle anymore. Gentle isn’t going to snap through this.

What the fuck do I do?

The familiar pain in my chest starts to tighten as the same feelings I had growing up with my mom slam into me full force. I promised myself I would never feel helpless like this again. I promised myself I would always have a plan and know what’s going on with the people I care about, so I’m never blindsided.

I didn’t plan on a woman who doesn’t belong in my world unexpectedly knocking me on my ass.

I rub my chest, trying to ease the ache that has me damn near doubling over. The ache doesn’t lessen, instead it intensifies, permanently burrowing in. The longer I watch her tremble and stare at me like she doesn’t know who I am, the harder it is for me to breathe. She might as well be the one choking me out, cutting off my life right along with hers.

Fuck.

Remembering a trick I learned when this used to happen growing up comes back to mind. Acknowledge five things I can see around myself. My eyes frantically dart around the bathroom. Towel on the rack. Dirty clothes on the floor. The Harley Davidson bathmat Evan bought all the brothers when she found out no one had one in their bathroom.

My breathing is coming in short pants.

It feels like I have one hundred pounds pressing in as the tightening sensation spreads from my chest to my throat in a vise grip. The empty bottle of body wash I threw on the floor during a shower and never picked up. A startling noise comes from Sutton, pulling my attention from finding my last object. I zero in on her lips. The subtle pout draws me in, making me wish I could sink into her and never leave. Sutton.

The ache lessens enough for me to feel like I can finally breathe again, drawing my focus back on her.

She’s trembling like a fucking leaf.

She’s looking at me, but she might as well be a million miles away.

“Sutton.” I place my hands on top of her shoulders, trying to get her to come back to me.

At the feel of my hands pressing into her skin, she starts violently thrashing, blindly kicking and hitting me at any chance she can get.

“No!” she screams. “No, no, no!”

“Sutton, stop! You’re safe! You’re fuckin’ safe!”

She doesn’t stop. Doesn’t even fucking pause to look at me. I’m not sure if she realizes I spoke.

I hiss as her nails slice across my forearm, deep enough to draw blood. Grabbing both of her wrists, I pin them behind her. “Sutton! Fuckin’ chill out!” She thrashes harder. This time, a foot kicks me square in the balls. “Motherfucker,” I grunt, my legs turning inward on defense. By some miracle, I still manage to keep a hold on her wrists as I clear the white spots from my vision.

Wrapping my arms around her in a bear hug, I squeeze her tight, hoping the pressure from me will bring her some sort of comfort, even if it’s just enough to calm down for a minute.

“You’re okay,” I roughly whisper in her ear over and over again, never letting up on my hold I have on her. Just as I start to lose hope that something weighted would help her like it helped me so many times, her fighting me starts to settle until only her chest is rapidly rising and falling. “You’re safe. They’re not goin’ to get you. And if they try, they’ll have to go through me and my brothers first.”

A high-pitched hiccup abruptly escapes Sutton. “He took it all! It’s all gone!”

“What’s all gone, bunny?” She lets me tuck her head into my chest as I slowly rock her back and forth, aware of the wet spot on my henley from tears rolling off the leather of my cut that she’s crying now.

A few more hiccups come in short bursts as she tries to speak and catch her breath at the same time. “The money. The money’s gone.”

The money?

“What money?”

“My paycheck that you gave me early.”

Motherfucker.