Page 95 of Vengeful Rotten Casualties

He drifts off, but I get the gist. “Yeah, that’s probably for the best,” I say.

He eyes me carefully. “You want to meet her?”

I bite down on my tongue until blood floods my mouth. I close my eyes and inhale a deep breath. “Not right now,” I say after a beat. “Maybe once I’m cleaned up and not—” Covered in blood and wearing some dude’s clothes that I beat half to death.

Dean lifts a hand and cuts me off. “Say no more.” His hand lowers and he presses both palms into his pants. “She’s young and though she doesn’t really understand what’s going on, she thinks she’s having a sleepover. The agent is really Marcus’ problem. I was originally going to send him and Clover, but Brax ended up going in his stead. The report they brought back … well, suffice it to say, the Hayes weren’t exactly equipped to be taking care of a small child and they released her to our custody easily enough.”

“In it for the money?” I guess.Should we have gone after her sooner? Would that have been better?

As if sensing my thoughts, Dean reaches up and clamps a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t think about that now,” he tells me. “Abel is so fucking ready to be a dad, he’s driving the rest of us fucking insane. He’s overjoyed to have a little girl to spoil. She’s taken care of and she’s happy. You can meet her on your own terms. Viks is facilitating the paperwork too. She’ll be in therapy and under your guardianship within the next forty-eight hours.”

A feat that would normally take weeks. Money talks, though. Money and connections. Thank fuck I’ve got both.

“Thanks.” The word feels awkward in my mouth, but it’s necessary. I’m not so fucking egotistical that I don’t know when I’m out of my depth, and even I have to admit without Dean and his crew, I’d probably be rotting in a jail cell right now—or at the very least sitting in an uncomfortable office or interrogation room with a very expensive lawyer at my side.

Having money saves me the headache. Having Dean … saves a hell of a lot of time and effort.

At my uncomfortable gratitude, Dean smirks and shakes his head. “Come on,” he says, nodding back to the waiting SUV across the parking lot. “Let’s get you to the hospital. I’ve got Dr. Rivera on standby. I want him to check the two of you out before you head home.”

I shift away from the vehicle I’m leaning against and the scratchy wool blanket falls away from my shoulders. In her sleep, Micki shivers and presses against me, seeking warmth.

In the long run, she’ll need a hell of a lot more than a hospital visit, but for now, it’s a start. The sooner we can heal, the sooner she can mourn, the better life will be for both of us.

40

MICKI

A concussion.A few slight hairline fractures along my forearm and ribs. And a massive, pounding headache courtesy of the sob-fest I had before passing out against Luc. That’s what I wake up to. That and the knowledge that my careful plan has eroded away beneath me, blown up in my face, and disappeared into thin air all in one breath.

None of it compares to the wounds festering on the inside.

It’s not fucking fair, but then again, nothing in life is. It’s not fair that I slipped through the system’s cracks, allowing a psycho-pervert and his buddies to take advantage of me. It’s not fair that my mother was practically murdered by that same man.

It’s not fair that even though he’s gone—even though they’re all gone—I still don’t feel relief. I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t this … emptiness. This void that consumes me, takes over my thoughts, and drives my mind.

Luc checks both of us out of the private hospital that Dean Carter arranged. I move like a zombie as I trail behind the two of them and into a waiting car. Dean mentions Avalon wanting to stop by, but I don’t respond. It’s hard enough to breathe.

Never in my life have I felt more broken … knowing the man I was meant to kill is gone. And I didn’t do it. I wanted him to suffer. I wanted him to see his reputation in tatters, to see the end of his empire. Then it didn’t matter. When we were face to face, him and I, all I wanted was his blood on my hands. I wanted regret from him. Remorse.

And in the end, I never got it.

In the back seat of the SUV, I rest my head against the window as lights fly by outside. In the front, I can feel both Dean and Luc’s attention. Every so often, they glance back as if to make sure I’m still here. Physically, I am, but mentally—I’ve checked out.

When the SUV pulls to a stop in front of the familiar structure of Luc’s house, I move reflexively. The door opens and I slide out onto the pavement. Funny how just hours ago, Ava had dropped me off and the whole night had changed. Behind the house, the dark, midnight blue sky begins to lighten. The first stirrings of dawn emerge, a perfect end to a horrible night.

Luc’s hand touches my back as he urges me inside, pausing to thank Dean. The two of them stand and talk for several more minutes. I can feel Dean’s attention on me like an incessant bug buzzing around my head. I ignore it until I can’t ignore it anymore, and finally look up to meet his eyes.

“I’ll be back,” he says. “And I’ll bring Viks.”

He’s looking at me, but Luc is the one that answers. “He’s welcome whenever,” he says.

“Normally, he’d prefer to examine patients in his home office, but under the circumstances…”

Patients. Home office. Viks.

Right—the therapist of the fucked-up elite. Avalon’s mentioned the guy a time or two. Luc thinks I need therapy? Ha. Therapy can’t save what’s already broken. No, not broken. Shattered. Beyond repair. That’s what I am.

Luc’s arms close around me and he nods to Dean one last time before we enter the house and the door shuts behind us. It smells the same, and yet, it feels different. Someone must have come through some time in the night—likely a gift from Dean as well—because the bodies I left are gone and the blood and broken glass from my earlier fight is all cleaned up.

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