Page 104 of Winter's End

“I’m okay, Big Guy.” She shuddered, but didn’t shrink away from my assessing stare. “We’re okay. Get us out of here and we’ll fill you in later. Please?”

Her muted plea spurred me into action. I drove one-handed, not willing to release her touch. Shane held her tightly to his chest, and every few minutes, one of the men in the back reached out to feel her.

No one slept, but the cab remained a silent tomb. I imagined we were all reflecting on the past several months of our lives.

Tonight had been too dangerous—too close to real damage for comfort. We’d never be able to go back to our lives as they were, but we’d known this; for most of us, there wasn’t much of a life to return to.

We were driving toward our new lives. A man could only pray this version had the good fortune of being better than our last one.

Several hours later, we stopped at a gas station three hundred miles north of Carlisle just as dawn broke up the night sky.

Winter cleaned herself up in the woman’s bathroom and everyone else changed into fresh clothes. Shane stocked up on breakfast snacks and I double-checked the coordinates on my GPS.

Luckily, the single bored teenager working the cash register that morning had no interest in the six fugitives using their facility.

I stopped Travis in his tracks before we both reentered the truck.

“I’m really glad you’re alive, brother.”

My throat tightened at the thought of losing him. My closest friend, my blood relation, and now—something short of a life-partnership in a group setting. This man knew parts of me I hadn’t shared with anyone. He knew the sins that marred my soul and the scars that adorned my body.

His eyes held the haunted gaze of a man who walked with ghosts, but he managed a tired smile. “Me too, man.”

I clasped his shoulders and drew him in for a tight hug. My words would not be enough, but my hold would convey my worries, my relief, and the friendship I held for him in my heart.

He knew. He squeezed me back with the same vigor before pulling away to help Winter back into the cab.

When Shane took over the driving, we slowly came to life as the sun rose. We couldn’t continue on the journey in silence. We were hungry for answers and the reassurance we were heading toward peace.

With some coaxing, Winter explained Carson’s attack and how close he had come to raping her. Unadulterated wrath detonated through the cab from five live grenades; despite the need to get to Hillary’s, we stopped the vehicle to downgrade its destroying power.

I paced the length of the truck several times, my love for Shane the only reason I didn’t put my fist through the hood. If Logan hadn’t gotten there in time…

Logan. I had never been so grateful for the preppy asshat who’d entrenched himself into our lives.

I opened the rear truck door and yanked him out of the cab onto the pavement beside me.

“What the fuck, Chase!” Logan exclaimed in surprised irritation. “What do you?—”

I crushed the smaller man to my chest and held him tight, inhaling his ridiculously expensive cologne as I conceded the damage that disturbed man would have inflicted without intervention.

“Thank you for rescuing her.”

Logan’s forceful shoving to get out of my grasp immediately faltered, and he relaxed slightly in my grip.

“Uh—you’re welcome,” he answered as if he were asking a question and wrenched out of my assaulting hug.

Logan straightened his sweater. “It’s our job to keep her safe.” Then he climbed back into the truck, though not before shooting me an acknowledging nod of solidarity.

Yes, it was. For as long as she would have me, I would keep this woman safe at all costs.

Another hit of rage flooded my bloodstream; I craved the feeling of Carson’s blood dripping down my fists. Our calculating brother’s plan would destroy Carson’s future, but I wanted the man dead.

We would explore that option later.

We each took turns holding Winter in our arms, convincing ourselves she was safe and unharmed. My little violet would not be leaving my sight for the foreseeable future, and I’d bet the men surrounding me felt the same.

She hated the smothering, but it wasn’t a choice—it was a necessity to protect the one person we cherished above all else.

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