Page 17 of Protector

Defeated, I made my way back inside, stopping at the kitchen sink to try to catch my breath. I’d made the decision to hand over the keys to the kingdom; there was nothing I could do to change it now.

I let my head drop onto my forearms, somehow managing to knock over a drinking glass with my elbow. “Fuck,” I muttered, before searching for a dish towel to mop up the mess.

After checking several drawers, I found one and swiped it over the counter before scanning the kitchen with a frown. The sink was overflowing with dirty dishes, something Celia never would’ve allowed.

It didn’t make sense.

“Jamie?”

I slowly turned to face Angel. “You said the girls didn’t know anything had happened, right?”

He nodded. “Richard said they were still asleep when he showed up. They had no idea.”

“What time did this happen?”

“Early mornin’? I couldn’t get much out of her.”

I was overthinking things. Maybe she’d just been tired and decided to leave it for the morning. Hell, I’d been up for over twenty-four hours; anything was possible at this point.

“The bite marks…”

Angel gnawed at the corner of his lower lip, following my stare. “What about them?”

“It doesn’t strike you as odd? When have we ever done that to someone we wanted to get information from?” I took a deep breath and forced myself to say it. “There’s something you’re keepin’ from me. Just put me out of my misery… please.”

That was the thing about love. It had torn down my walls, only to leave me defenseless in the end; begging for answers to questions I could never ask.

Whatever Angel said was only going to send me into a downward spiral. It was already taking everything in me not to drink myself into a stupor.

“I bet Lucy’s finishing up. Me and the guys are gonna stay on watch… why don’t you get some sleep?” He clenched his jaw and kept his eyes trained on my boots. “We’re gonna take care of this.”

“Thank you… for being here for her.”

He squeezed my shoulder and led me back to the bedroom. “She’s gonna be okay, kid.”

I nodded and pushed the door open. Celia lay on her side, fast asleep and wearing one of my old sweatshirts.

My clothes were still in the dresser drawers; just another cruel reminder of how close we’d been to freedom. Tonight should’ve been a celebration.

Lucy hurriedly closed her bag and stood up. “I gave her a little something to control the pain and help her relax. How are you holding up?”

I bit down on the inside of my cheek and shook my head. “Don’t worry about me, Luce. Is she—does she need a hospital?”

“She just needs to rest so her body can heal. Um, I heard Wolverine’s bike—”

“He’s out back.”

Celia’s lashes twitched against her cheeks, leaving me wondering what it was she was dreaming about.

Was she seeing the men who’d hurt her, or imagining the girls and me? Maybe there wasn’t enough good left to outweigh the hell she’d endured. I brushed a damp curl back and kissed her forehead.

“Did she shower?”

Lucy tightened her grip on the bag as if she was afraid someone was going to take it from her. “I gave her a bath. If you’re good with her, I’m just going to find Wolverine… you should try to sleep.”

Everyone wanted me to sit or sleep, but I couldn’t. The ticking from the clock on the nightstand was a reminder that the bastards who’d done this to my family were still out there. Each second that passed was another missed opportunity for vengeance.

I suddenly found that I didn’t care if every MC in the country knew I was alive. There was no more hiding… no more running. I hadn’t wanted a war back then, but now?

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