Page 16 of My Broken Bodyguard 2: Ritchie & Tori

“Ritchie, I know you do. I knew you were in love with her when you found out she was in the hospital.”

“What are we doing, Catch? We’re on the front line. Our job is to take a bullet for our bosses.”

“Yeah, well, now we’re taking bullets for our women. And these women are into some very dangerous shit.”

“The women should return home with us,” I stated.

Catch chuckled. “Easier said than done, Ritchie. Tori won’t leave Chicago. And my woman was very adamant about not leaving her. They all were.”

Shit, how could I forget about Tori’s demons? We’d have to work through her issues together.

“I’ll talk to Tori.” I sat on the edge of the bed, kicking off my boots.

“Rest up, Ritchie. We’ll land in Chicago soon.”

I didn’t waste time moving next to Tori and gingerly pushing my nose into her hair. The new pain penetrating my side felt like it was trying to drill a hole into my stomach. Telling Opal about the wound would’ve been the intelligent thing to do, but earlier I had one person on my mind. Tori. This woman would literally be the death of me if I wasn’t careful. Maybe my actions proved just how much I loved Tori. I was willing to die for her.

Lying beside her, I realized just how much I needed to be in her presence. A life with her would be so much sweeter.

“Opal, I have a new injury,” I yelled throughout the plane.

Catch appeared before Opal.

“I fucking knew something wasn’t right,” my cousin roared, running his fingers through his blond hair.

“What made you speak up?” Catch gritted out.

His eyes darted to Tori. “Never mind. I know the answer.”

Opal burst into the room, medical kit in tow.

“Ritchie.” Tori’s eyes fluttered open.

“I’m here,” I whispered, trying to take my mind off the pain.

Opal inspected the wound.

Tori’s eyes opened wide. And her lower lip trembled. “Don’t leave me.”

My gaze locked on hers as I felt my heart lurch in my chest as the pain took me under.

CHAPTER SIX

RITCHIE

THE CLEANSING

My eyes slowly opened. Taking in the room, I glanced at the warm fingers the color of cinnamon curled around my tan colored hand. Her long eyelash brushed her cheek. I swept a hand over her blonde hair sprawled across my shoulder.

“Tori, how do you feel?”

“The pain,” she yawned, releasing my hand to cover her mouth.

“It’s excruciating. Feels like someone shoved a hot blade in my chest that won’t stop throbbing.”

She turned her head, peering up at me through her one good eye. Her battered face was a constant reminder of what he did to her. I looked forward to torturing him.

“How are you doing?”

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