“I have her,” I said, the words barely breaking the atmosphere.
Still, they sounded of a proclamation.
Truth.
Swallowing hard, he gave a tight nod before he slowly ambled up the porch steps to unlock the door. Knew he wanted to get to his wife, to check on her, even though he’d texted with her a few times through the night to update her, and each time, she had assured him that she was okay.
Not to worry.
To take care of their daughter.
He turned the key in the lock and opened the door.
I angled in so I could release her seat belt, violets filling my nose, overtaking my senses.
Sweet.
Sweet.
Sweet.
I slipped my arms under her and pulled her into my arms.
The weight of her perfect and precious in my hold.
She sighed, muttered my name in her sleep, and burrowed her nose into my shirt. I held her close. Pressed a kiss to her forehead, whispered at her skin, “I’ve got you.”
I climbed to the porch and angled through the door, and her father shut it behind us.
Carefully, I carried her upstairs, ascending to the second floor and through the door to her room.
Without looking back or giving an explanation, I nudged the door shut behind us with my foot and carried her to her bed that was still made. I pulled back the white, lush comforter and lay the girl on the white and gray striped sheets.
A vision of beauty.
The epitome of grace.
She whimpered, and her eyes barely blinked open as I pulled her shoes from her feet.
“Need you,” she rambled incoherently.
“You’ve got me, baby,” I promised her. “You’ve got me. I’m right here. Not going anywhere.”
On my knees, I leaned up enough so I could unbutton her jeans, and I pulled them down her slim legs, did my best not to give into the fantasies that wanted to come flying at me at the delectable sight.
Girl an angel.
A lyric.
A song.
I tucked her under the covers, kissed her forehead. Breathed her in and silently promised I would never let anything happen to her again. Then I pushed to standing and headed back downstairs, slipping out into the day that was breaking at the horizon, the darkness being eaten away by the rays of light that climbed over the hill to the east.
My eyes roved over the rolling fields.
To the flowers and down to where I could make out the roof of her workshop at the bottom of the path. My feet carried me that way, heart rate ratcheting with each step that I took, and my spirit clanged against the chains wrapped around my being when I came to where the door still stood partially open.
The local investigators had already done their thing, but I was bettin’ they’d come up empty-handed. Because this wouldn’t be close to being a hack job.
A professional sent to do someone’s dirty business.
I peeked inside, chest squeezing tight. I looked around, searching for a footprint or a sign or a motherfucking presence to still be lurking in the depths.
Silence echoed back.
Glancing out the door, I took in the surroundings, making sure I was in the clear before I pulled out my phone and dialed the number. It rang twice before Kade’s voice was on the line.
“Yo, brother. All good?”
Probably not if I was calling at five-thirty in the goddamn morning.
“Violet…my wife…she was attacked.” Menace oozed with the words.
“Fuck,” he muttered in his gruff voice. “Who?”
“Not sure, but I’m not gonna buy into the idea it was coincidence.”
I gulped, tried to see through the blaze of shame. “You need to ask them to reconsider. Think about going to the police.”
Kade hissed, words spitting from his mouth, “Not a fucking chance, man. You know what happened the last time someone opened their mouth. Won’t risk it.”
I roughed an agitated hand over my face, trying to keep cool. I looked at my feet. “Shit. I know. I fucking know. I just…I can’t bring this back to Dalton.”
It pressed through gritted teeth.
Emphasized.
Fact.
“It’s already in Dalton, Richard. Think you know it's always been.”
Dread spiraled through my body, and I scraped restless fingers through my hair, my nod reticent. Calculating. Desperate for a different solution.
“You have to see it through,” Kade added.
My gaze moved to Violet’s workbench, where her computer had been smashed, scrapes on the ground where the stool had been ripped out from under her.
A vile, vicious attack.
“And what if we’re running out of time?”
“Then you find a fucking way to stall them. Throw them off. Give them a different path to follow. You change lanes and pretend like you know where you’re headed.”
Knew exactly where I was headed.
To Violet.
To the child.
“I’ll do my best.”
He sighed like he heard exactly where my brain had gone. “Don’t fuck this up, Richard.”
“I won’t.”
I was going to fix this. All of it.
Ending the call, I clutched the phone in my hand, trying to rein it in, before I started out so I could get back to Violet.
I stumbled in my tracks when the figure stepped out in front of me, cutting off my path.
Saul.
His face twisted in a sneer. “I told you. I told you that you would wreck everything coming here. Everything was fine. Completely fine until you came. She was good.”
My attention darted back to the workshop, wondering just how much he’d overheard while a surge of possession slammed me so hard I felt like I ran face-first into a brick wall.
I sucked it down.
“Not in the mood for bullshit this morning.”
His head cocked. “No? You in the mood for putting a sweet, innocent girl in danger? Is that what you’re in the mood for?”
His taunts filled the crisp morning air.
I sucked it down in an attempt to cool the fire.
Last thing I needed was to expend any energy on this.
“Not doing this with you.” I angled around him.
The time of day did not belong to him. It belonged to her.
I started up the path toward the house.
Felt the commotion of his footsteps coming up behind me, the roar of his outcry filling my ears. “You don’t deserve her!”
Every muscle in my body tensed. Flexing for the fight. Knew it was coming. The way he plowed into my back. His momentum tossed us both to the ground. Bodies a tumble of ire.
The hate, the jealousy, the possession I’d tried to keep bound wrenched against their chains.
Face in the dirt, I pushed up, scrambling around in a bid to toss him off. He clocked me in the jaw.
Motherfucker.
All that hate broke free, and I had him pinned to his back in a second flat.
Crack. Crack. I landed two quick punches to his face.
A moan of agony ripped from his throat, and his eyes grew round in fear. I gripped two fistfuls of his shirt, lifting him up and slamming him back to the ground.
My teeth gnashed, the threat boiling out from the darkest place in me. “You want to fuck with me, asshole? You’re going to learn what that means.”
“She’s better than you,” he wheezed.
No fuckin’ shit.
I picked him up and slammed him down again, and then I leaned in and ground the words close to his face, “You don’t listen very well, do you? Warned you to stay the fuck away from my wife.”
I pushed him deeper into the ground, fighting the urge to bury him there. Before I lost control, I shoved off him and climbed to my feet. I swiped the bitterness from my mouth, dabbing at the dot of blood dripping from the corner of my lip.
Fucker.
Dude laid there glaring up at
me, not daring to move. I pointed at him. “Already warned you, asshole. This will be the last time before I personally throw your ass from this farm.”
I turned and started to storm up the path, a riot of rage pummeling my insides. Wanting to take it out on the poor bastard who was fighting for what he thought was right. Problem was, he had no fucking clue.
But that was the way—people only saw the surface. Made their judgments. Cast their stones without knowing the full story.
Just a twisted, fucked-up factor of human nature.
Which was the only reason I left the prick breathing.
I was halfway up the hill when he shouted behind me, “You’re going to pay for this. I won’t sit idle and let you do this.”
I slowly turned to look at him from over my shoulder. “Stay out of my way. You don’t? You’re going to find out what it really means to pay.”
Then I turned and left him standing there.
The commitment flaring.
Filling up my chest.
Overwhelming.
Because nothing—nothing in the world was going to stop me from finishing this. From protecting them. From setting one thing right.
Twenty-Seven
Violet
Facedown in my bed, I blinked my eyes open to the rays of sunlight that slanted through the cracks in the drapes covering the window. It cut through the shadows that lurked within the bedroom, but it was the subdued chatter of voices echoing from downstairs that pulled me from sleep.
Yawning and fighting the exhaustion that threatened to pull me back under, I stretched and rolled over.
Every inch of my body moaned in protest.
All it took was the riot of pain to send a flashfire of memories assaulting me.
The fear.
The confusion.
The outright horror.
The attack in the workshop.
Waking up in the emergency room.
Richard showing up with my father.
Him driving me home and seeing to it that I was safe.
What screamed the loudest was the lashing memory of the cruel voice in my ear making that threat. I was sure that I would never forget it.
I scrubbed both hands over my face to break up the images, wishing it were nothing but a bad dream, but I knew full well I had to wake up and face this nightmare.
Forcing myself to climb out of bed, I went straight into my bathroom, cleaned myself up a bit, and pulled on a pair of sleep pants to cover my bare legs.
A shiver rolled over me as I was touched with another memory. This one soft. A loving caress. The man gently undressing me while he promised he would always be there. That he wasn’t going anywhere.
Sucking in a stuttered breath, I eased out my door and followed the sound of voices that grew louder the second I stepped out.
The scent of bacon and biscuits hit my senses. A warmth emanating that wrapped me in solace.
Home.
Home.
Home.
I moved down the hall to the narrow set of stairs that led into the kitchen, my back pressed to the wall as I inched down and listened to the muted chaos that was happening at the bottom.
I stopped at the base of the staircase so I could take it in, confusion twisting up my brow and somehow my heart knowing this was the way it should have been all along.
My daddy and Daisy were in their favorite spot, Daisy on her stool standing next to her papa at the counter, two of them singing one of their favorite songs.
My heart swelled, then it nearly tumbled over when my eyes drifted over the rest of the room.
Emily and Maggie were beside Daisy at the counter. Daisy was trying to teach them the words while they chopped up fruit for a salad. Emily’s voice so pretty that it danced through the atmosphere on ripples of peace.
Royce, Melanie, and Rhys were at the kitchen table, drinking from mugs of coffee and chatting away like they did it most every mornin’.
Like it was normal.
Like it was right.
My chest pressed full. So tight it was close to overwhelming.
Because sitting at the head of the table was my mama. My mama who was propped up in her wheelchair and drinking from a cup, too.
But it was my knees that were wobbling and my stomach that was tipping when my gaze traveled to the far side of the room. To where the man was standing, leaned against the wall next to the back door with his arms folded over his chest.
Fierce.
Unrelenting.
A warrior who stood guard.
Sage eyes found mine like he’d felt me coming from a mile away.
Our gazes tangled.
Fire crackled in the middle of the room. It was so severe that I guessed the rest of the room must have felt it because every voice fell silent.
Richard pushed off the wall and came toward me. His lithe body vibrated with fury and strength.
Sinewy muscle packed—flexing and twitching.
Little earthquakes trembled underfoot with every step that he took. My breaths came shorter and shallower as he slowly, purposefully closed the distance between us.
And then he was there, standing in front of me.
One massive hand cupped the uninjured side of my face, and the other brushed back the hair that was tousled in disaccord.
This feeling of security infiltrated. Wrapping me like a dream. That dark aura covering me in a shroud of protection.
Hard and savage.
Somehow soft.
Hungry eyes took me in like he was watching the sunrise breaking the day after living through a total eclipse.
And that’s what it felt like—standing in the sun.
“You’re awake.” Richard’s gruff voice scraped through the air and wrapped me like an embrace that I wanted to sink into forever.
Was I terrified? Of him repeating our bad history? Of him leaving me with a crater in the shape of him that I would never recover from?
Yes.
Wholly yes.
I would be a fool not to have reservations.
But there was a bigger part of me that was crying out to be heard. Screaming at me to listen to what was in his cryptic words and see what was hidden in his caring eyes.
“How are you feeling?” Richard’s head pitched to the side, his nose so close to mine that he might as well have been kissin’ me.
I thought maybe he was actually thinkin’ about doing it.
Right there.
Right out in the open.
My attention darted over his shoulder to the mass of faces that were watching us. We might as well have been on the big screen. Our love story playing out in vivid technicolor.
Witnesses to if we would ride off into the sunset or if we were written in tragedy.
I swallowed around the pressure, my tongue darting out to wet my dried, cracked lips. “Sore,” I managed to force out.
Richard growled. I didn’t know if it was from him watching the action, his needy stare on my lips, or if it was from the anger that blistered across his flesh.
Truth was, the side of my face pounded in a dull, throbbing ache, and my stomach was still agonizing with the blow.
But it was more the fear than anything.
The warning that vile, disgusting voice had hissed in my ear.
“You shouldn’t go diggin’ up graves. You never know when you might fall in.”
A shiver streaked down my spine.
Richard reached out and tipped up my chin, and I knew he was reading me. That he felt the terror wedge itself deep into my psyche. “Won’t let anyone touch you.”
It was a rumble.
Thunder that boomed through the space.
I nodded at him.
Surrendering to that truth. Believed that whatever was going on, he would do his best to take care of us.
The scraping of chair legs jolted us from the bubble. “Hell no, no one’s touchin’ you, sweet thing. We’ve got you.”
Rhys had pushed to standing. The brawny, hulking ma
n with dimples in his cheeks actually cracked his knuckles in a show of support.
From where Royce remained sitting like some kind of tatted king in his chair, violence came on a rush, his own show of loyalty, even though he didn’t need to say a thing.
My father pushed back from the stove and stood staunch.
I understood it immediately. The fact that everyone was there for me. That they were surrounding me in a hedge of protection.
Steadfast.
Unfailing.
Daisy lifted her unbroken arm and curled it into a fist, her voice a shout of solidarity. “Hell, no. No one’s touchin’ my mommy!”
I choked out a shocked laugh, and Emily slapped her hand over her mouth to hold hers in, while Melanie fell into a fit of cackled giggles where she sat at the table. “Oh my god…I think Daisy is my soul mate.”
Rhys stampeded like a bull across the kitchen and swept my daughter into his arms. He tossed her in the air. “No way, Daisy Mae! We’ve got her, don’t we?”
“Heck, yes!”
“We will prevail!”
“We will prevail!” she parroted.
“We won’t back down!”
“No’s backin’ down!”
“And we won’t say bad words!” Rhys slid that right in there like he was still chanting his war song.
Her mouth popped open. “Oopsie.”
“You probably shouldn’t talk like that, little miss, yeah?” He ruffled her hair. “You know what my mama used to do when she’d catch me saying things I shouldn’t say?”
Her eyes went wide. “What?”
“She’d wash my mouth out with soap.”
Horror struck her little features. “Soap? But my mouth isn’t dirty. I already brushed all my teeth.”
“But you’re spouting dirty words. You don’t be careful, they’re gonna grow in there just like the weeds out in the field.”
Daisy stuck out her tongue and frantically wiped her tongue with her hand. “Eww…I don’t want nothin’ growing in there. Yuck.”
Rhys chuckled.
She grinned in all her adorableness, and she reached out and tried to pry his mouth open. “I bet you got somethin’ real gross growin’ in there with all the dirty bad things I bet you say.”
Richard released a snort through his nose, trying to contain it, my poor baby girl having no idea the undertone of what she was saying.
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