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Lucky

I hadn't fucked in a truck since high school.

Honest to god, at the age of thirty-one, I should have felt stupid as hell. I would have, if it weren't for the fabulous fucking company I was keeping. The sex was mind-blowing – at least, I had thought so.

The way Hope had reacted told me different.

One minute, she was coming around my dick, and the next she was crying.

I had no fucking clue what I'd done wrong, and she wouldn’t fuckingtellme.

"Hope," I continued to say, trying and failing to comfort her. "Tell me what's wrong and I'll fix it, sweetheart."

She shook her head and started to sob into her hands.

Jesus Christ.

I was two fucking seconds away from losing my goddamn mind.

She needed to start talking, and fast.

If someone had hurt her – ifhehurt her – then she needed to tell me.

"Fuck this," I snarled, running my hands through my hair in sheer frustration. I slipped my shirt back on and threw open the truck door. "I’m going over there." Climbing out, I stalked back towards the alley. "If you won't tell me what's wrong, then I'll fucking makehimtell me."

"No," she hissed, scrambling out of the truck to chase after me. "You need to stay away from him."

"Why?" Pain and anger churned inside of me. "Why,Hope?"

"Because…." She paused and exhaled a shuddering breath. "If you go over there, he'll know I've been with you and go to –" she quickly snapped her mouth closed, eyes wide. "Just… just don’t go over there, okay?"

"And what?" I shot back heatedly. "He'll throw a tantrum? Pick a fight? Let him. See if I give a fuck."

"Igive a fuck," she strangled out.

Rushing to step in front of me, Hope pressed her hands against my chest. "I ambeggingyou not to go over there." Tears filled her big, blue eyes as she looked up at me and said, "Hunter, if you care about me at all, you will stayawayfrom Jordan...Please."

It took everything inside of me to keep my feet on the ground and not move my ass in the direction of the nearest cab.

Every instinct in my body demanded I do just that.

Red flags were flying up in my brain right about now, and my automatic reaction was to fix whatever was wrong.

Protect her.

"I had a moment," she continued to say. "A flashback. From that night…in the kitchen. Nothing to do withhim."

With the whiskey clouding my brain, it took me a little longer than normal to comprehend what she was telling me, but once I did, a different kind of rage enveloped me.

One directed solely at David fucking Henderson.

"I'm taking care of that," I assured her. "He won't ever hurt you again, sweetheart. I fucking promise you that."

The hands she had pressed against my chest moved to my sides as Hope wrapped her arms around my body in a hug. "I don’t want anything bad to happen to you."

"It won't."

"It already has," she sobbed and then pressed her hand to my stomach.

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