Page 50 of Fractured Fear

“I promise,” I whisper breathlessly.

“Good girl,” Rio praises in my ear.

“Let me check your head, then we’ll go and let you get some sleep,” Zane says.

“Okay,” I acquiesce.

He makes quick work of poking and prodding gently while asking some medical questions. Have I gotten dizzy lately, how’s my headache, etc. I answer each one correctly to get them to leave. All the while Rio is behind me playing with my hair, brushing the rough pads off his fingertips over my neck and shoulders. His actions wreak havoc on my concentration. More than once I stumble over my answers.

When Zane is done with his assessment, I realize he’s leaning close while he studies the bump on the side of my head. Perfectly close.

I turn my face to him, and he goes from analyzing my injury to zeroing in on my lips. Anxious to see what he’ll do, I hold my breath. Rio’s hands find my waist and he gives me a whisper of touch to the underside of my breasts. Discreetly, I squirm and squeeze my thighs together. Zane’s gaze drops and his eyes shine with an impish glimmer.

Shit. Caught red handed. More like caught wet pantied.

He leans closer so our lips touch as he says, “Call me if you need me. For anything.”

A whimper escapes my lips and Rio places a soft kiss on my neck in that sweet spot, but then they draw back and head out. On shaky legs I follow them to the door to say goodnight.

Zane lingers over the threshold. “Tomorrow we’re going to have to talk about what happened.”

A hesitant nod is all I can give as a wave of acid wells up in my stomach.

“Lock the door behind us,” Zane instructs.

“Have a good night,” Rio says.

My legs almost give out when they’re gone.

What are these men doing to me? In less than a few weeks they have managed to break down my walls and set up camp. I never let men get close. Let alone close enough to touch. Each caress from them sends the best chills down my spine, and more than that, it’s always a kind touch. There’s no malice behind it. I would know.Hetouched me with anger. His grip was like a vice when he got in my face and yelled with a rage I had never seen before—or since.

Zane and Rio may be safe, but I can’t go there with them. No matter how much my body and heart ache for the security they give me.

CHAPTER 19

ZANE

She thinks we’re leaving, and we are.

Sort of.

We’re leaving her apartment, but we’re not leaving the street. Another night in my car is going to suck ass, but sacrifices are made for angels all the time.

Sliding into my car, I answer my phone when it rings and put it on speaker.

“Where the hell are you?” Asher’s greeting is filled with a special kind of love. I haven’t seen him since he got in, which isn’t like me.

“Where the hell are we? Where the hell are you?” Rio answers.

“I’m at the Black Horse.”

“Why?” Rio and I ask in unison.

“What do you mean why? I’m waiting for my welcome home drinks that we get every time I come home,” Asher responds outraged.

When all three of us met, I had stopped searching for where I belonged. I had given up, thinking that was my lot in life. My parents didn’t want me. My foster parents had thoroughly fucked me up. I figured no one else needed to deal with myshitshow of a life, but Rio wouldn’t take no for an answer. It helped that he was my roommate and was around twenty-four-seven. He helped me embrace my desires and accepted me forme. Then we met Asher and he fit right in. We were all forged in the fires of Hell, but we fought our way out and found each other.

“Something came up,” I explain oh-so-thoroughly.

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