Thane glanced down at Connie, relaxed when he saw she was still curled against him. Her eyes were shut, the swelling a little less apparent, although the bruising had deepened. She wasn't asleep, not quite. “Yeah.”
“He ream you out for being an idiot and hefting the blame for this shit?”
Thane ran a fingertip around the tender area on his throat. “Could say that.”
“Good. Saves me from whaling the crap out of an injured man.” Amused green eyes assessed him, obviously approving of what he saw on Thane's face. “We have some things to discuss, Thane. Are you feeling up to doing it now, or would you rather we wait for a few days?”
“Might as well deal with it now, as long as you're aware of little ears eavesdropping.” Thane shifted his aching body further up the bed, then exhaled when the pillows took his weight. He'd forgotten how instrumental the upper body was for doing everything. He began to stroke Connie’s hair. “Do we need to take notes?”
Att shook his head. “No, it’s not anything you’ll forget. You should know there is no evidence to suggest Connie was raped. Despite her reluctance to cooperate with the doctors, they checked her over.”
Oh, they were jumping straight into the fire, Thane thought. “I’m pretty damn sure I took the bastard down before he had the chance. He still had his pants on, Atticus. Zipper down, cock out and in hand, but I don't think he had the opportunity to do anything with it before I interrupted and knocked his fucking teeth out. The fucker had beaten her and was jacking off over her. A couple more minutes, and it would have been a different story.”
“We're not dwelling on that, Thane. It can't have been easy, doling out payback that way. I know people, and you're not an inherently violent man, despite your career path. It's one of the reasons I hooked you up with my favorite girl in the first place. The main thing is, you diverted a disaster, you contained a threat, and you neutralized it. Little ears over there isn't as broken as she thinks she is, but she'll realize that in her own time.” He lifted his hand to his mouth, rubbing his thumb over his lips. “Your house has been cleaned. There's not a trace of what happened, but there's going to be pain for both of you when you go back there. Is there anything you'd like me to do?”
Thane's head dropped back. “I've been giving it some thought. I think it's best if we live at Connie's place for now, if she's happy with that. I'll keep hold of my house in case we need to face some demons there, but when it's no longer needed, I'm going to sell it. I won't be able to walk into the living room knowing my woman was assaulted right there on the damn floor. Neither will she.”
“Okay. We'll get it locked up and secured. Just let me know if you need us to collect anything.” Atticus's gaze slid over to the door. “Speaking of us, I gave your suggestion some thought. I don't need an injured man running around on the streets, Thane. That shoulder will join your leg as the bane of your life, and pose a liability to the field team. But if you aren't ready to be retired at forty-six, I need someone who knows their way around data as accurately as he can use a firearm. How to source it, how to collect it and organize it into something the team can use. I need your investigative skills without the danger element.”
Thane lifted his eyebrow. “Glorified desk detective?”
“Tactical advisor,” the Master fired back. “Fuck, give it whatever title you want. The offer is there when this is all over and done. We can hash out the details at a later date, but I wanted you to know there's a place for you in the team if and when you want it.”
Another branch of acceptance, Thane thought with a smile. He held out his hand, shook Atticus's firmly. “I think we can come to some arrangement. God knows I'll be desperate to get out of the house after a few months of what's coming.”
“Oh yeah. Connie will drive you batshit crazy, which is why we don't want you to do this by yourself. The Masters have your back, Thane. Yours and Connie's. Lean on us when you need to.” Atticus cleared his throat. “Commander Stevens’ career is over. I can’t tell you too much more as they’ve shut down communication with anyone not involved in the military investigation, but he’s cooked.”
A lifelong career ripped to pieces by greed, Thane mused. He almost felt sorry for Stevens, for what the idiot had done to his own reputation and standing for the sake of dollar bills in his pocket. But of course, it was never just about money with the likes of the commander—it all came down to power and control, making the underlings jump through hoops for a taste of whatever high Stevens had been selling.
The asshole didn’t deserve his pity, or another of his thoughts.
“He deserves everything he gets, but he won’t see the inside of a cell. Unless he lied to me—which I wouldn’t put past him—he’s a dead man walking.” Thane ran his fingers through Connie’s hair, gently working out the twisted strands.
“Yeah, he wasn’t lying about that. He’ll see hell long before a trial date is set.”
“Well, he and Guthrie can spend eternity killing each other over and over. I need to ask a favor, Att. Can you call Connie's office and request a leave of absence? She's missed two days already, but I don't want her to lose her goddamn job on top of everything else.”
“Anarchy called in yesterday morning and told them that Con had a death in the family. They've given her two weeks bereavement, full pay, and her colleagues sent their condolences along with a message for her to call them if she needs anything.” Atticus’s gaze dropped to Connie, his expression softening. “Her patients have been divided between the other therapists for the time being.”
“Two weeks isn't going to be enough. Time flies when the drugs knock you out for hours. I need to get her home, we need to talk about what happened and what comes next. She has to adjust and heal. It would be irresponsible to let her go back to work—for her, and for her patients. I want to take her away for a while. Sun, sea, sand. Florida might be good. She needs a few months off.”
“I agree. Not about Florida,” Att told him with a disgruntled snort. “Florida is a bad idea. If anything happens to Bodie while you're getting your toes wet in the ocean, you've got to get back here. How badly do you want sun, sea, and sand?”
“It's just an idea.”
“Yeah, well, throw it back in the think tank. I've got a cabin on the edge of the Saguaro National Park. Nothing fancy, but it's comfortable and secluded. Takes roughly two hours to get there by car. I've got a guy who takes care of it when it's not in use, keeps it maintained. Borrow it for however long you need.”
*
“You'd do that? Just let us go chill out in your cabin?” Thane sounded incredulous.
Connie's lips twitched. Yeah, Atticus would do that. It didn't matter how big he was, how fucking scary and intimidating he could be when he wanted, because his heart was ten times bigger than the man. He constantly went out on a limb to give people what they wanted, what they needed. The people he loved were the ones he stretched himself thin for, and she hoped he would find the one person who would not only give him a focal point to lavish affection on, but who would adore him the way he deserved.
“You won her heart and her trust, Thane, and that makes you the luckiest son of a bitch alive. But she stole mine a long time ago. There's nothing I wouldn't do for her—and in essence, for you, because you're hers. So yes, if you need the cabin, it's yours. You need a marching band and fireworks display, I'll get it for you.”
It wasn't quite the answer she was expecting, but the sentiment was enough. One day, when her emotions weren't raw and her body didn't shudder at the thought of being touched, she would hug the big lummox and thank him for having her back. Loving him might run on a separate track to the love she felt for Thane, but he was still her best friend.
“Thanks, Atticus. Yeah, I think that would be good for both of us.”
“Tell me when you're ready and I'll set things in motion. As for Connie's job, leave it with me. At some point, you're going to have to consider finding her a shrink she can warm up to. Normally, I refer ever
yone to Connie, so that won't work. If you want me to start digging around and compiling a list of potentials, just say the word. Of course, she might have her own ideas on who will fit her requirements.”
Thane sounded horribly dejected when he spoke again. “Are we really going to pretend she’s open to therapy? I don’t want to take her choices away from her, Atticus, but I don’t think we’re going to be able to leave her to own devices this time.”
Connie's heart lurched in her chest. She forgot the conversation entirely, her brain locking on take her choices away from her. God, she knew how dismissive her colleagues could be with patients—Caera was a prime example.
“No, we’re not. Take your time, think about it. Talk it over with her when she’s ready. I’ve got some stuff to do, but I'll be back later tonight before I go home to check the pair of you are still in one piece. You did good, Thane.”
Connie held her breath as footsteps rounded the end of Thane's bed, pausing at the footboard. She didn't move a muscle, which was probably more of a giveaway than just breathing normally, then flinched as a hand cupped around her blanket-covered foot. The muscles in her calf cramped with the effort not to kick out, then she exhaled desperately when her lungs flailed. Rolling onto her back, she met Atticus's amused eyes.
“Been a rough few days, little sub,” he grumbled, patting her foot lightly. “Might get worse if you don't stop and take a moment to examine your own head. You're the best fucking psychologist I know, Connie. We could parade every shrink in the city through here, and not one of them would understand you the way you need to be understood. There are two people who can, and they're both in this room. Neither of them is me.”
She blinked in surprise.
“Look after Thane,” he ordered with a final foot pat, then gave her a knowing smile. “You'll be home soon.”
Now would be good. She watched as Atticus walked out, shutting the door behind him to lock out the outside world. She stayed silent, but her eyes lifted to meet Thane’s, wishing she could convey how damn much was hanging between them, without a single syllable leaving her lips.
When she lost him behind a sheen of tears, she cursed silently.
She relaxed into the stroke of his fingers along her scalp. If this was all she got before hell opened up and swallowed her whole, then she would take it. His touch didn't scare her, didn't send chills running through her bones. It didn't make her want to cower and protect her core. While thoughts of intimacy were banished, she was secure in the knowledge he wouldn't push her in that direction.
For a while, she lay awake as Thane's breathing slowed and levelled out again. The gentle strum of his fingers came to a stop, his fingertips pressing possessively into her head. She listened to the beat of his heart, let the rise and fall of his chest lull her into a doze as she tried not to think how lucky he'd been.
He could have been shot in the heart, the head, a vital organ. The bullet could have severed an artery and he might have bled out completely in just a couple of minutes. The asshole with the gun could've followed through on his threat and shot Thane in the head, point blank.
Images of his body heaped at the bottom of the stairs, sprawled out in the living room, tormented her as she dropped into sleep.
*
“I’m perfectly capable of walking to the door, sugar.” Thane slung his free arm around her shoulders as he climbed from Atticus’s truck, tugging her close as they stood together on the sidewalk outside her house. With his injured arm in a sling to stop him from moving it too soon, he felt like an idiot, but at least he was alive to feel that way. “I’m not complaining though. You fit me so well.”
She flushed brightly and tightened her hold around his waist. “It’s a gift.”
“You are indeed.” He pressed his lips to the top of her head and breathed in her scent.
Ten days after the worst Sunday morning of his life, he was finally free of the medical ward tucked into Atticus’s headquarters. A slight infection in the wound had delayed his discharge, but right now, he was just grateful to be breathing in fresh air, laced with the smell of cut summer grass and the heat of June.
Over the past few days, he’d been hyperaware of Connie’s behavior, noting how she was slowly returning to her usual self. It worried him, because she was hiding behind the Domme again, and trying to stuff the memories back into a box they’d outgrown. The situation grew worse when Braun told her that Alicia had already been picked up by the Handicapable Rehabilitation facility.
Thane didn’t blame him—Bodie’s condition was sliding downhill again—and with everything happening at once, Alicia just wasn’t getting the help she needed. But Connie being Connie…well, she’d taken the news badly, as expected.
The screaming match she’d had with Atticus an hour after Braun broke the news had cost her the use of her voice for almost a day, her vocal cords as raw as her emotions. It had taken Thane two hours to calm her down, once the crying jag that left him feeling helpless was over.
Atticus rounded the front of his truck and lifted his eyebrow. “Gonna stand out here all day?” He frowned when Connie huddled into Thane’s side, her eyes locked on her front door. “Connie, Guthrie’s dead. You don’t have to be scared of him anymore. There’s no one lurking in there, you have my word. My team swept through the place earlier, and it’s absolutely safe.”
Well, that was the first he’d heard about that, Thane thought. Atticus hadn’t mentioned doing a run through Connie’s place, but it was a good idea, one he hadn’t thought of.
One day soon, they would have to go back to his house and face what had gone on there. It wasn’t just Connie who had reservations about stepping back into his home and meeting the nightmare head on—Thane was dreading it. Not because he’d been shot, but because he’d come too damn close to losing Connie there.
“You heard the man, sugar.” Thane hobbled forward, cursing his goddamn thigh. Too many days of inactivity made his leg feel like it was made of wood. “It has the Atticus security stamp.”
Connie shook off the aura of vulnerability, standing straighter, squaring her shoulders. Settling the Domme back into the forefront as a shield. “Of course, it does. Let me go open the door,” she said, as though they didn’t all know she was shitting herself. Lifting her chin a fraction, she walked away briskly.
“You need to get a handle on that, brother.” Atticus ranged himself beside Thane, and the pair of them watched Connie’s stride falter as she approached the door, keys in hand. “She’s rebuilding her defenses, one brick at a time, and once she’s locked behind them, it’s going to hurt getting her out.”
Thane rubbed at his chest when her hand shook. One attempt, two, to get the key in the lock. “Now we’re home, I’ll deal with it. She thinks I don’t hear her crying at night,” he murmured. “She sneaks off the bed and hides herself in the corner, then cries until she’s nearly sick. I’m going to sit down with her this afternoon, and lay some rules down on the table.”
“Leading with the Dom,” Atticus rumbled in approval. “I like it.”
“I don’t. I don’t like any of this. What happened has spun us around and flung us in a direction I don’t know.” Thane gave his friend the side-eye. “The offer of your cabin still open, Att?”
“Yes.”
“We’ll leave in a day or so. Let me get my feet back under me, gauge how the land lies with Connie. She’s determined to go to Avalon and show her face there, to prove she’s still the Mistress.” He stopped himself from grinding his teeth, rubbing his hand over his beard instead. At the house, Connie finally managed to unlock the door. “So we’ll go. She can show the world how strong she is, before I take her apart one memory at a time.”
“I’ll make the arrangements.” Atticus patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t give up on her, Thane. She can be a hardass, but she loves you. She needs you, and what you give her.”
Dressed in his attire from the morning he was shot—freshly laundered—Thane fingered the bullet hole i
n his shirt. “Unfortunately, I think it might be a case of me needing her more than she does me right now. But life is sent to try us, right?”
“From the moment we’re born,” Att agreed.
“Thanks for the ride.” Thane limped forward, determined to make it to the house by himself. His strength was already waning from standing too long, but he forced himself to take every step as though he wasn’t weak and exhausted.
When he reached the door, he turned and waved at Atticus, then hobbled his way into Connie’s house. The woman herself was nowhere to be seen, so he dragged his sorry ass along the hall until he found the living room, and the big comfy couch he promptly fell on.
Oh yeah, that felt good.
Groaning under his breath, he ignored the pretty room with its shelves of books and pretty watercolors on the pale yellow walls. The furniture was covered in a fine sheen of dust, the air carried the remnants of Connie’s scent—he much preferred it fresh and direct from the source—and the goddamn couch was like a plush cloud, easing his aches.
Shit, he’d forgotten to shut the front door.
Even as he steeled himself to stand, he heard it close with a quiet thud. Keys jingled in the lock, then footsteps moved down the hallway toward him. His heart lit up at the sight of Connie in the doorway, and he gave her a dopey smile as she came toward him, a couple of pillows and a blanket in her arms.
“Don’t coddle me,” he told her as she started to arrange the pillows. “I need to start building my strength back up.”
“Says the man who looks like he just ran a marathon. Let me do this for you, Thane—the nurses rendered me pretty much useless this past week.” With the pillows plumped, she helped him shift slightly so he could lean back against them, then draped the blanket over him. “Feels weird being the only ones here,” she muttered wistfully, her eyes growing sad for a moment. In a heartbeat, the grief was gone, and her tough face was back in place. “I’ll just go—”
Now was his moment. Adding an edge to his tone, he snapped out, “Sit, sugar.”
Talk For Me: Club Avalon Book 3 Page 43