Page 123 of Beautifully Wounded

I’m not safe.

There are still three guns aimed my way, and the police could come back at any time and take me back to Fox Pines.

I’m not remotely safe.

“N-no. I-I can’t,” I stammer, shaking my head even as Ringo crawls closer.

“Yes, you can, Angel. The police are gone. I’m here. You’re safe.”

“He’s going to come back,” I mutter, watching as Ringo’s face gets clearer in my vision the closer he gets.

“Who’s going to come back?”

“Officer Allen,” I admit, as finally, Ringo’s face is right at the edge of the bath, his dark eyes boring into mine.

“Who is Officer Allen? Was he one of the cops that came?” he asks, reaching for my trembling hands, but halting before they touch.

“Y-yes,” I stammer, studying the inward pull of Ringo’s brows as his gaze moves to the gun in my hands.

“How do you know who he was?” Ringo’s gaze returns to mine.

“H-he… H-he…” I start sobbing again, and Ringo shifts, leaning closer.

“How do you know him, Angel?”

“I m-met him when I w-went to the Redfield Police Station last year… to report…”

I don’t needto finish. Just by Ringo’s expression, I know he understands that I’m talking about going to the police to report my rape.

“Angel, I’m going to take the gun now,” he says, right before his warm hands encase mine, and I slowly loosen my grip and relinquish the gun.

Sighs flow from the bathroom entrance, and Ringo turns back to talk over his shoulder.

“Some privacy please,” he barks and even as the men lower their guns and leave, someone else comes shoving past them.

“Wanna fucking explain what’s going on?” Smitty booms, and like the coward I am, a whimper flies from my lips as I flinch back.

“For fuck’s sake, man. I will, just give me a damn minute with my girl,” Ringo snaps, but Smitty doesn’t budge, his glare lethal as it locks onto me.

Sighing, Ringo turns to face his President, standing as he does so.

“Seriously, just let me check that she’s okay, and then I’ll give you my undivided attention.”

Smitty’s glare shifts from me to Ringo. “Not just your undivided attention, but fucking answers. No more bullshitting.” He jabs Ringo’s shoulder, who nods as he shucks off his leather vest with a skull on the back framed with the words, Southern Sadists.

It’s then that I see another vest underneath, but it looks more like those bulletproof things the police wear in movies.

“No more bullshitting.” Ringo agrees, and finally, the President turns and gives us some privacy.

“Fuck,” I hear Ringo mutter quietly as he starts pulling on the Velcro straps holding the vest in place.

I’m still trembling, although it has eased somewhat, yet the familiar coldness that’s always present sends goosebumps over my skin. I curl my knees up as tight as I can get them, slipping the fabric of the hoodie over my knees so only my feet are poking out at the bottom.

Finally, turning back to face me, Ringo rubs at his chest like it’s tender under his tee.

“That was a good shot, Angel. You familiar with a gun?”

“No,” I whisper, shaking my head.

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