Page 61 of Steel Rain

She didn’t speak. Not because she didn’t try to. Her teeth were outlined by blood. She must have taken a blow to the mouth. I put my thumb between her lips, lifting it here and there, careful not to put pressure on where it was swollen.

All her teeth were still in place. That was good. Not that she’d be any less pretty minus a tooth or two. It was nothing a good dentist couldn’t fix. But it was a pain to heal.

My fingers traced down her chin to her throat. More bruises and welts covered her skin. Then I touched down to her bare, pale breasts, where bruises covered her chest, to her torso. I grazed my finger over each rib, looking for the bump of a break. I found none. Then her lovely, lean stomach was also blue. Each mark the size of a fist.

“Who did this to you?” This time, I whispered the words, feeling a strange despair as my fingers traced over the band of her underwear.

Fuck. Had I washed away DNA evidence? Something that could prosecute these bastards? Did they …?

“They didn’t get there,” she croaked. She shook her head, her eyes looking where my fingers trembled against the fabric that kept her modesty intact. “There’s no damage that you can’t see with your eyes.”

The bruise on her throat probably damaged her larynx. Fuck. Those bastards needed to pay. And I was sure it was plural. There was no way this would have happened to her in a fair fight, one-on-one. She might lose a fight. Everyone loses once in a while. But to this extent? Even in a street fight, she would have gotten away long before this level of damage.

I looked at her arms. Nothing on her wrists. But there were bruises on her biceps. More hand prints. Someone had held her back while another man beat her. Cowards. Every single one of them were cowards, and they needed to be dealt a bit of their own medicine.

“Did they try?” I asked, because I was already so full of rage, that I wanted to revel in the fire of my hatred. Let it fuel me.

She nodded. Then she swallowed and winced.

“Are they Irish?” I wasn’t sure she’d answer. Because whatever was happening, she didn’t want to admit to. Maybe it was honor. Though, she said it was self-preservation.

“Tell me who they are.” I demanded, my muscles shaking with the need to break something, but restrained by the feel of her skin, and her need to be cared for. I reached with my foot to turn off the faucet, now that the tub was full.

“It’ll be worse if I tell you.” Her voice sounded so froggy, it was like she was speaking through sand.

“Worse than what they’ve already done to you?” I wanted to tighten my hold on her, to shake her. To tell her that she needed my help. She needed to call on me. To scream that she didn't have to be alone if she didn’t want to be.

“You can’t trust anyone,” she whispered, her head starting to fall as she succumbed to my warmth and began to fall asleep. “And this isn’t your fight.”

It was Keith. I didn’t need to fucking ask.

But I wasn’t into vigilantism, or extrajudicial killings. I had seen enough of its evil in Afghanistan, Iraq, Africa, South America. Hell, it was everywhere. Even in the United States. But maybe … just this once, I could compromise my principles. I could complicate things for her.

I tried to hold her still, letting her head loll into my neck. Her breath steadied, and I knew her body was giving in to its exhaustion. How often had I fallen asleep in the celebration after a fight? Whether I won or lost, it was the same. The adrenaline faded, and the body needed to repair itself.

“You can trust me,” I whispered into the shell of her ear. I reached a hand out to my shampoo, and I started to lather her hair. “I’ll protect you.”

If it was as hard of a fight as I think it was, she probably sweated. Her hair would be matted, despite all the ice and water coming from it. The least I could do was get her clean and put her to bed. I’d stick her in one of my t-shirts, and get some socks on her. I could blast the heater near the bed until I knew the worst had passed.

“No one protects me,” she said in a longing sigh as she fell asleep on my shoulder.

I’d let her stay in here until her skin wrinkled, and the water ran cold. I needed to hold her right now. To hold my wounded She-Wolf.

Someone had dared to touch, and damage, what was mine. And they needed to pay. I could already see their throats slit from ear to ear by the karambit I kept at my side.

I had a suspicion of who her enemies were. I could feel it in my veins. But I couldn’t, and shouldn’t, act until I know for sure. Until there was proof. And if she wouldn’t give me her word on it, then I’d have to find other means.

I’m a disciplined man. I understand escalation of force. I would give them one chance to do the right thing, and to peacefully end this. And if they didn’t, then they’d truly understand the wrath of Ajax LeBlanc.

“They’re going to pay, Snow White,” I whispered into her ear, nibbling on the shell. “One way or another,hewill pay.”

Whether he paid with a bruise to his ego, or with the spilling of his blood at my She-Wolf’s altar was now up to him.

Chapter 28

Sin

Themiddaysunwashigh in the sky by the time I opened my eyes. I was on a foam bed, queen-sized, large. The wooden headboard was something out of an antique store, with ornate carvings that didn’t fit the bare, cinderblock walls.

---