Page 62 of Savage Game
Screaming and cursing like a madman, Liam slammed a fist into Byron’s right kidney, and immediately, muscle spasms shot up Byron’s spine, a wave of nausea hitting him. With Charlotte in his arms, he was virtually defenseless because he wasn’t going to let go of her or turn away from the madman. He threw himself forward through the door and relief washed over him when he spotted Earl racing toward them, one hand on his earpiece—no doubt calling for back-up.
“You give her back to me, you bastard!” Liam yelled. Flailing his arms, he shoved Dan again, before punching the kind older man in the face.
“No!” Charlotte struggled in his arms.
Did she want to take the bastard on and defend the doorman? Oh yes, she would. Not knowing if he should be irritated or proud, Byron tightened his grip on her and shushed, “Shh, baby, Earl and the others will take care of this.”
He winced as Earl sidestepped a wild swing and planted a well-aimed punch in Liam’s soft belly. The asshole folded in half on an “Oomph,” and two other security workers rushed outside to secure the lunatic.
“Sir,” Earl’s voice carried into the building, “do you want to press charges?”
“Absolutely, can you look after Dan as well?” He pressed Charlotte’s face against the crook of his neck. “I need to take care of my woman.”
“Of course, Sir.”
Limping more pronouncedly than normal, he carried Charlotte through the private hallway to the elevator and punched in the code. He peered down at the trembling woman he held close and flexed his arms when she voiced her concern for him and demanded to be let down. He frowned and shook his head admonishingly. “I’m not letting you put weight on that foot, and did you just give me an order?”
“Just shoot me now.” Still trembling from the encounter and the explosion of violence, she tried to glare at him. “He punched you in the back, and you worry about a twisted ankle? It barely hurts. And what about your doorman? He’s just a sweet old guy, who has done nothing to no one.”
“Earl and his team will take care of Dan, the cops, and your asshole-ex. I’m taking care of you!”
The elevator doors slid open, and Byron stepped inside without letting go of her—beloved, stubborn, domineering man. Fearing that if she struggled, she would hurt him even more, Charlotte swallowed her protest and kept herself very still.
The elevator whooshed to the penthouse silently, and neither of them spoke as Byron carried her straight through to the bathroom before lowering her to the floor, making sure she kept the weight off her injured leg.
He bent to close the lid to the toilet seat, winced, and contorted his back as he shuddered with pain. “Sit,” he ordered.
She braced herself on the vanity. “You should sit down yourself.”
“Kitten.”
She sighed, performed a half pirouette on her uninjured foot, and planted her butt on the closed toilet. “Will you at least let me check your back when you’ve had your way?”
He knelt and shrugged. “Sure.” With careful but sure hands, he removed her shoe and checked the damage.
“Don’t worry, I had worse from Liam.”
A low growl escaped his throat.
Uh oh, wrong thing to say.
Despite her protests, Byron insisted on wrapping her ankle and getting an icepack from the kitchen.
Finally satisfied and sure she was sufficiently taken care of, Byron relented and allowed her to take care of him.
Charlotte slipped her hands over his chest and to the buttons of his shirt. Maintaining eye contact, she unfastened the first button. Trailing her finger up the exposed skin, she worked her way down until she’d unbuttoned each one. Byron tried to look impassive, but she didn’t miss his wince when he shrugged out of the shirt.
“I can see you’re hurting, darling.” She leaned forward and pressed a tender kiss over his heart. “Please turn around.” Her eyes watered as he did, and she could see the fist-size bruising already forming on his lower back. “It’s a wonder he didn’t take out your kidney.”
Byron nodded. “Yeah, he got me good.”
“Tell me what I can do to make it better.”
He half turned and gave her a lopsided smile. “I can survive a bruised kidney, Kittycat, because you’re with me.”
She inwardly melted.
“Having you with me settles me,” Byron continued. “Having you with me means you’re not with that abusive asshole. You’re safe and I can take care of you.”
