Page 72 of Teach Me
He headed for Holbrooke.
Jack was there ahead of him. Even as Brit yanked his head up, attention drawn to the noise, Jack was taking aim, pulling the trigger. Brit jerked in response, blood blooming high on his chest as he fell backward off the bed. The crunch of his head hitting the hardwood floor barely registered as Con rushed to Jess’s side.
“Shh, baby, it’s all right.” He crooned to her over and over, not even sure what he was saying as he worked at the ropes, desperate to free her, desperate to stop that blank stare, to have her in his arms and safe once more.
“Knife,” Jack snapped. “Cut the ropes.”
Stupid. He retrieved the knife from his belt and sliced through the ropes, freeing Jess in moments.
“This bastard is out for the count.”
Con should care about that; he’d thought the need to see Holbrooke suffer would be foremost in his mind. It wasn’t. All he could think about was Jess. He knelt next to her on the bed, needing to touch her, but there was so much blood. The reality of what had been done to her—the cuts, the bruises… Con’s eyes burned with surging anguish.
My woman. My Jess.
“Conlan!” Her voice was a hoarse whisper, her gaze locking suddenly on his, pleading. The minute he focused on her face, she rolled into his arms, mewling in agony at the contact even as she gripped him like she’d never let go. He cuddled her close, careful, still, and felt his sanity shredding apart.
“Holbrooke’s secure.” Jack stepped close but didn’t touch them. “I texted Gaines to get an ambulance here stat. Let me see her.”
He allowed Jack a quick look. His friend grunted and reached for the comforter’s edge.
“Keep this wrapped around her. It will stop some of the bleeding until they can get here.” He touched Jess’s face, tilting her chin toward him. “Jess, is there anything else?” When she simply stared, he repeated, “Did he hurt you anywhere else?”
Her dazed eyes closed for a single moment, and Con held his breath. Had Holbrooke raped her?
A shake of her head allowed him to breathe again, if shallowly. Jack went downstairs to wait for the ambulance. Con couldn’t look anywhere but at Jess.
Jess’s tongue slipped out to wet her cracked lips. She whispered his name once again.
“What, baby?”
“I knew you would come.”
His tears finally spilled over, their salty taste filling his mouth as he kissed her gently. He made no move to erase them. He didn’t care. All he knew was that his heart would have died with this woman, and having her alive was more of a miracle than he’d ever expected. “I love you,” he choked out, his face tucked carefully into the hollow of her neck—his favorite spot—as hot droplets fell to her skin. “I love you.”
“Conlan.” The rasp in her voice broke his heart anew. “I love you.”
Gathering Jess closer, he tensed to lift her off the bed.
The roar that echoed off the walls startled them both. Acting completely on instinct, Con dropped Jess back to the mattress and turned quickly. He had only a moment to see Holbrooke, hands bound with the same rope he had used on Jess, both fists clutching a black-handled switchblade, lunging toward them from the other side of the bed. Instinctively Con brought his arm up, blocking the downward plunge of the knife before it could reach Jess. He twisted, grabbing Brit’s fists in both of his, and forced the man’s hands down and around in a big circle. When knife met skin, he shoved upward—straight into the bastard’s heart. A small grunt escaped Holbrooke as Con gave a second small push and twist, embedding the knife to the hilt, before a stream of blood trickled from Holbrooke’s lips and he fell back to the floor.
“Shit!” Con rounded the bed, shaking with the rush of adrenaline, and placed his fingers over Holbrooke’s nonexistent pulse. Not wanting to take another chance, he felt for breath, any indication that life was still present, but didn’t remove the knife. Staring down at the lines of madness on the man’s dead face, adrenaline turned to satisfaction and hate. Without remorse he reared back and kicked the dead man in the ribs.
Holbrooke had gotten what he deserved. Finally.
But when he turned to Jess, he knew death would never be enough. Brit Holbrooke had deserved far more punishment than that. Too bad he couldn’t die more than once.
Jack hurried through the door as Con lifted Jess against his chest. “Ambulance is on its way up the drive. How is she?”
“Better than he is,” Con said.
“He can wait for the second one.”
“He won’t need it. Let’s go.” He walked out of the room with the only thing that mattered held tight in his arms.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Con was leaning back against the wall outside Jess’s hospital room when his dad returned from getting coffee. He reached for a cup and ran a weary hand down his face, trying to scrub away the last twenty-four hours.
