Page 116 of Unstoppable Love

Ava.

Where in the hell was she?

I almost expected to see her standing at the sliding doors to the pickup area, pacing back and forth with her hair braided and down her back. I imagined the sweet relief in her eyes—probably tears—when she saw me.

Instead, my breath caught and stalled as I saw who was there to pick me up.

And there was no relief in Isaiah’s eyes as he caught sight of me.

“What is it?” I barked. Because that look wasn’t for me. If it were, he’d be giving me shit. Teasing the hell out of me despite the mess I was in.

“We gotta talk,” he said. He yanked off his ball cap, swiped his forehead, and resettled his hat on his head. “It’s about Ava.”

Jimmy Morton was fucking dead. Isaiah had to be thinking the same thoughts as me because he hadn’t even warned me not to voice that thought to an officer of the law. He was going to be a fucking dead man if I ever laid my eyes on him again, and it wouldn’t be a quick gunshot death.

It would be a slow, painful, choking-the-life-out-of-him-one-squeeze-at-a-time-until-his-lifeless-eyes-stared-back-into-mine kind of death.

It was a blessing and a curse that I was stuck in that stupid chair, my leg all broken and twisted and wrecked. It was the only thing stopping me from heading my ass to the sheriff’s office and doing exactly that, too.

“Tell me again,” I demanded. “How bad she looks.”

I needed to know. Had to be prepared. As soon as Isaiah said the words, “Ava was attacked,” I knew it was Jimmy. Knew it’d be bad, but thank Christ, it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. Thank God Isaiah had the sense to go back and check on her. Thank God he’d done it exactly when he did and didn’t hesitate another moment.

“Her jeans were unbuttoned, but that was it,” he’d said. I’d slammed my fist against his dashboard.

“Bruised throat. Lump at her temple that’ll probably bruise at some point too. That’s it, Cameron. It could have been worse.”

“I know that,” I gritted through my teeth. “I fucking know it could have been worse. Fucking hell.”

We turned to her parents’ driveway, where Isaiah said she was going to be staying, but fuck. I had to get back to Denver and had a calendar full of already-scheduled doctor’s appointments coming up. I couldn’t leave her here. Not even with her parents. Not in the same damn county where Jimmy was, at least until he was moved to District Court if he was charged with a felony.

If he wasn’t?

I would raze the entire damn town.

“She didn’t want you to hear her voice,” Isaiah said, pulling his truck to a stop. “She sounds worse than she looks. Can barely talk, and when she does, it’s like her throat was sliced with razor blades. But besides the prints on her throat, that’s the worst.”

Prints on her throat. From Jimmy’s hand. His fingers.

“I’m going to fucking kill him,” I muttered and swung open my door.

“I’d help,” Isaiah muttered and then glanced at me as I glanced at him. “Need my help for something else?” Smart-ass.

“My crutches. Maybe the pain in my leg will distract me from my losing my shit when I see her.”

“Good call.”

Isaiah climbed out, came around, and once I was settled, leaning over my crutches and hobbling, oh so slowly, over their gravel driveway, he helped me up the stairs to the porch and opened the door.

“Got someone who couldn’t wait to see you,” he said, and then he stepped back.

And holy shit.

It was better than I imagined, still worse than I expected.

Ava’s entire throat carried the bruised marks of a hand that had been intent on squeezing the very life out of her.

“I’m going to fucking kill him,” I said, and Ava flinched.

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