Page 89 of Infinite

Chapter Twenty

Hale

The dogs hurry to greet me when I open the door. Their tails wag as if it’s been days, not hours, since they last saw me. I pop the bag of barbecue on the counter and rub their fur.

“What’s wrong? Thought I wasn’t coming back? Thought I was leaving y’all?”

I almost laugh. How did I go from big boss with a bite back to a country boy with two furballs with no bite at all? But the laugh that stirs from greeting these pups and from finding a sense of peace with my family doesn’t quite come. Becca’s not answering my texts or calls.

“Our puppies,” as we’ve grown to call them, prance beside me as I open the back door to let them out. I check my phone again. There’s a text from Trin telling me Becca isn’t answering her, either. It does nothing to ease my worry. If she was called back to Charlotte, she would have sent a quick text.

I start to pocket my phone when it buzzes. My brief relief from thinking it’s finally Becca is quickly squashed.

It’s a text from Mason, urging me to call him right away.

I let the dogs in and call Mason. He picks up just as I spot the note Becca left on the counter.

“Hey,” Mason says. “I have incredible news for you.”

I barely hear his voice as my eyes focus on the note.

Momma called. Daddy is close to death. I have to go.

“Hale?” Mason says. “Are you there?”

“I can’t talk right now,” I say. I snag my keys and take off in a sprint toward the mud room, the dogs trailing me like they know something is wrong.

“Hale, it’s important.”

“Becca’s daddy’s dying. She’s with him now.”

There’s an abrupt silence and I almost think he disconnected. “Don’t go there, Hale. A fight is the last thing you need right now.”

I stop in the middle of setting the alarm. “Mason, remember what they did to her last time? What they put her through? Her father broke her nose and left her almost unconscious. Then he and her pussy cousins left her fucking bleeding on the sand. You think that brutality’s going to end just because he’s dying? With all her cousins there to do his fucking bidding?”

Mason hisses out a curse. “Take Callahan with you. Landon, too. Don’t be showing up there by yourself, Hale. There’s no telling what those fools will do when they see you.”

I disconnect and give up on the alarm, slamming my hand against the garage door opener. I don’t care what happens to me. All I care about is Becca and what they might do. Her cousins, I don’t think they would physically touch her. But they don’t have to throw hands to harm her. Her momma will be no help. And her daddy . . . just because he’s dying doesn’t mean he isn’t that same mean son of a bitch.

I reach for my driver’s side door when Becca’s Mercedes pulls up to the front of the house. My heart just about tanks into my stomach. I jog toward her, what little relief her sudden presence offers shooting out of my lungs in a pained exhale when I see her.

Her face is beet red and swollen. I can’t tell if she’s bruised or if her skin tone is due to how hard she’s crying. I’ve never her seen her like this. Those motherfuckers hurt her badly. I’m ready to rage, to find them.

I throw the door open the remainder of the way when she tries to step out and haul her to me. “What happened?” I ask.

She buries her face against my chest, gripping me as if I’m the only thing keeping her upright. I don’t know compassion. Not now. All I know is the need to avenge her.

I’m so terrified of what they did to her, the tenderness I demonstrate stuns me. I stroke away her tears and sweat-drenched hair. “Did they hurt you, baby?” I ask. “Did they touch you?”

I don’t ask if her father’s dead. These aren’t tears of pain that accompany grief. This is the agony of a battered spirit, something she didn’t deserve.

She tries to speak, but all that comes out are jumbled sounds and syllables that make no sense. I kiss her face and tuck her against me. Then, with as much care as I can, I reach for her keys and purse and lock her car.

I should take her in through the front. There’s more space there. But I go through the garage and close it, setting the alarm as fast as I can.

The need to secure her inside, to make sure she’s safe from any possible harm, overwhelms me. Becca’s hurt, broken. I’ll be damned if I let anything else happen to her.

The dogs whine, circling us as I lead her inside and up to our bedroom. They’re frightened by what they sense in Becca. I am, too. It’s all I can do not to pay those people she calls her family a visit.

---