Page 27 of Where We Bloom

“I plan to.”

He hangs up, and I immediately dial Chase Wild, whodoessound sleepy. After giving him the same rundown, he asks, “Do you have a name?”

“No.”

“Then how am I supposed to find the son of a bitch?”

“Check the hospital,” I suggest. “I broke his nose and his wrist. Maybe his jaw. He’ll be needing medical attention.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “Good. Fucker. There’ll be video surveillance of that parking lot. I’ll take care of it. He might press charges against you for assault.”

“I’m fucking terrified.” My voice couldn’t get any drier.

“I’ll need to talk to Billie.”

“When she’s conscious, I’ll make it happen.”

“Thanks, Connor.”

I hang up and drag my hand down my face, then watch Billie, still sleeping on the couch. I grab her waterand head to my bedroom, where I change my clothes, tossing away the shirt with the vomit and blood on it, and set out one of my T-shirts for her. I grab her phone out of my pocket and set it by the bed, then I return to her downstairs and see that she hasn’t moved.

But her breathing is still good, and she looks peaceful.

I nudge my arms under her and lift her, returning to my bedroom.

She stirs and nuzzles herself against me. I love that she snarls at me like a champ when she’s awake but seeks me out when she’s asleep.

I shouldn’t love it.

But I do.

Every instinct tells me that Billie is mine. Watching her flirt and talk with other men tonight was a torture I wouldn’t wish on anyone. It felt like my heart was being ripped from my body.

I want her smiles and her laughter. Only me. If she’s going to flirt, I want her to flirt withme.And no one, not one other bloody arsehole, gets to put his hands on her.

I set her on the bed and work quickly to get the dress that looked so damn delicious but is now a dirty, wrinkled mess off her, and then slip the T-shirt over her head. I help her lie down, and when I grab her phone, I discover it’s not locked. She doesn’t have decent security at her house, and she doesn’t lock her phone. My angel and I are going to have a conversation about her personal protection. I put my number in her contacts and sendmyself a text so I have her number as well. After tonight, I need to be able to reach her.

I climb into the bed and curl myself around her. I don’t want to just watch her breathe. I need to feel it. I want my hand on her soft stomach so I can feel it move up and down with each inhale and exhale. I need to feel her warmth and reassure myself that she’s safe and whole.

“I’m so sorry, bumble,” I whisper against her hair as fear sets in. Jesus, I could have lost her tonight. “I was right there, and I didn’t stop it. I didn’t want to piss you off by intruding on your night, but from now on, fuck that. This won’t ever happen to you again.”

Blake’s words echo through my mind.

You saved my baby sister from being raped and fuck knows what tonight.

The mere thought of it has me pulling her close.

No, this will never happen again.

I stay awake all night, keeping my eyes and ears open, watching and listening for any signs of distress from my girl, but she sleeps through the night. She has moments of whimpering, of shifting, as if she’s having bad dreams, but then she quickly drifts off again.

At around seven in the morning, she starts to stir.

She whimpers and rolls toward me, loops her arm around my waist, and buries her nose in my chest.

“What can I do?” I ask her softly. “What do you need?”

“Bathroom,” she mumbles, but she doesn’t move. “Gotta pee.”

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