Salvation (The Protectors, Book 2)

by Sloane Kennedy

  “It’s just some guys working on the roof across the street,” Ronan said gently.

  I nodded but I couldn’t stop the panic that started to overtake me.

  “Seth, look at me,” Ronan ordered and then his hands were on my face. “Take a breath and hold it,” he ordered.

  I did as he said but couldn’t manage to hold it. “Try again,” Ronan urged.

  I swallowed hard and then sucked in a breath. It seemed like forever before Ronan told me to release it and then he was telling me to do it again. I did it at least a dozen times before Ronan told me to stop and I was surprised to find it easier to breathe again.

  “How long have you been coming here?” Ronan asked.

  “Not long,” I admitted. “I started going into the office about a month ago. The choice to come out here was an impulse…I hadn’t seen it since that night.”

  “Have you gone inside?”

  I shook my head. “I haven’t been able to get out of the car.”

  Ronan nodded in understanding. “Are you hoping to move back here someday?”

  “No,” I said adamantly. “Never.”

  “Then why not just sell it?”

  I’d asked myself that same question a thousand times. Even Barry, who I’d expected would have encouraged me to slay my demons before getting rid of the house, had said it would be a mistake to come back here.

  “I…I need to let it go first, you know? If I don’t…”

  “You’re afraid you’ll only remember it the way it was that night.”

  I nodded. “So many good things happened in this house. But it’s hard to remember them.”

  “There’s no rush, Seth. It’ll happen when you’re ready.”

  I dropped my eyes. “It’s been six years, Ronan. I need it to be over.”

  I could feel Ronan’s eyes on me for a long time and then he released my hand. But instead of starting up the car, he got out and walked around to my side and opened the door. He took my hand and linked our fingers together. “Then let’s do this.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Ronan

  Seth’s hand was clammy and cold in mine and part of me wanted to turn around and lead him back to the car so he wouldn’t have to do this. But the desperation in his voice and knowing how long the home he’d once loved had tormented him for had me steeling myself to face whatever struggle Seth would have to go through so he could end this. Although I was in front of Seth, I made sure not to force him forward and when we finally reached the front door, I handed him the car keys. I waited patiently as he sucked in a deep breath and took the keys and then searched through them until he found the house key. It took him a few seconds to get the key into the lock but then he froze. His whole body was stiff with tension and he was shaking violently.

  I put my hand on the back of his neck and leaned down to put my face next to his. “I’m right here,” I whispered. “You can do this.” I held myself there until Seth closed his eyes and nodded. He took a deep breath and turned the key and I released him as he pushed the door open. We were greeted with a dank, stale smell and the house was completely dark since all the curtains were drawn. Seth’s hand sought out mine again and I gladly took it and followed him inside. I found a light switch near the front door and flipped it on and was relieved to see the power was on because light flooded the darkness. We were standing in the front foyer and the first thing I noticed was a small stack of mail sitting on a side table. Next to the mail was a set of keys and a handful of change. It looked suspiciously like someone had emptied his or her pockets as they were coming in the door. Seth’s father probably.

  I had only been to the Mercer Island house a couple of times but I remembered enough of the layout to determine that the stairs in front of us led to the second floor where all the bedrooms were. The living room and dining room were off to the left and the kitchen was to the right. The rooms on the lower floor were connected in a way that they formed a complete circle when you added in the front parlor. I wasn’t sure where the attack had happened so I didn’t know what to expect when Seth led me to the left. But within seconds, I had my answer because the living room was a disaster. Debris littered the floor and there was black powder covering many of the surfaces – it took me a moment to realize it was the powder crime scene investigation units used to look for fingerprints. The couch and chair were upright but the cushions were slashed. The glass in the coffee table had been shattered and lay all over the expensive oriental rug beneath it. All of the artwork and pictures that I remembered as having covered the walls were lying strewn on the floor and I realized the intruders had likely pulled them off in search of the supposed safe they thought Seth’s father had.

  Seth had frozen next to me as we entered the living room but his eyes were focused on one spot. At first I thought he might be looking at the couch but when I moved to the right just a little bit to get a better view, I saw what looked like gauze lying on the floor. I tightened my hold on Seth’s hand and gently pulled him forward so I could get a better look. As soon as I walked past the couch, I realized why Seth had gotten stuck where he’d stood.

  I’d been right that the white stuff was gauze. But there were a lot of other items too and most of them were covered in blood. Discarded bandaging, latex gloves and what looked like a blood soaked shirt littered the floor. A pool of dried blood that was nearly black stained the carpet and there was an even bigger one a couple feet away. I swallowed hard as I realized I was looking at the spot Seth had been tortured and stabbed and where the paramedics had fought to save his life. Which meant the bigger stain of blood had belonged to Seth’s father.

  “They cut his throat,” I heard Seth whisper next to me.

  I closed my eyes to try to hold back the tears that threatened to fall. I’d seen my fair share of horrible things but knowing the suffering Seth and his parents had endured made me want to throw up. I instantly felt like I was back in the darkened alley between the two storage buildings at the base Trace and I had been stationed at. An image of Trace’s blood stained-face assailed me but I forced it away and turned my attention on Seth.

  He was deathly pale and his breathing was rapidly increasing. I used my free hand to check the pulse on his hand that was still gripping mine and felt it thrumming rapidly. Seth’s gaze was stuck on the horrific scene in front of us so I stepped in front of him to block his view and gently grabbed his face and forced his attention on me. “Seth, tell me something good that happened here.”

  “What?” Seth asked in confusion.

  “Tell me a good memory you have of this room.”

  Seth hesitated and then nodded slightly. “Um…Christmas. We’d always put the tree over there,” he said as he motioned to one corner of the room.

  “Was there one that stood out?” I asked as I stroked his skin with my thumbs.

  A deep breath rattled through Seth’s lungs and I felt him relax marginally. “When I was eight. We always opened presents on Christmas eve. My parents gave me this really elaborate racetrack with all these loops and stuff but they said it was too complicated to set up that night and I could play with it the next day. I was so excited that I couldn’t sleep, so I got up and came down here to try and put it together myself but I didn’t know how. Trace came down because he heard me messing around. He…he helped me set it up and we played on it for the rest of the night.” Seth managed a smile. “It was one of the best nights of my life.”

  I smiled. “He was a good big brother, wasn’t he?”

  Seth nodded.

  And I realized it was true. Even though I hadn’t agreed with the choices Trace had made after his parents were killed and I hadn’t liked how he’d teased Seth over his crush on me when he was a kid, he’d loved Seth and he’d looked out for him.

  “What else?” I asked as I gently turned Seth away from the couch.

  “The piano,” Seth said with a nod at the baby grand piano near the window.

  “Is that where your Mom taught you to play?”<
br />
  Another nod. “But I liked listening to her play more than anything else.”

  “I remember,” I said. “She was amazing. But you know what I remember about this room?”

  “What?” Seth asked shakily.

  “You at that piano with your mom. You did a duet…it was incredible.”

  Seth nodded with a smile. “Handel’s Passacaglia. I kept messing up.”

  “I couldn’t tell,” I said as I led Seth from the room. But as much as I would have liked to take him right out the front door, I knew he wasn’t done doing what he needed to do. We ended up in the kitchen which wasn’t as torn up.

  “What about in here?”

  “Mom cooking,” he said. “She was terrible at it,” he added.

  I laughed. “I thought I was the only one who noticed.”

  Seth shook his head. “None of us could bear to tell her because she always tried so hard. Dad actually bribed Bonita – that was our housekeeper – to cook some dishes in secret for us so we could hide them in the freezer and pop them into the microwave after Mom went to bed.”

  “She never found out?” I said. We were nearing the dining room so I knew we’d be in view of the living room again.

  “No. We had a close call once. Dad and I were standing over the sink eating some chicken casserole Bonita had made and when we heard Mom coming, he threw the food out the window. He had to get up early the next morning to clean it up because it landed on her rose bushes.”

  I chuckled as we reached the dining room and was pleased when Seth started speaking on his own. “The night I told them I thought I was gay,” Seth said with a nod at the table. “I thought they’d try to convince me that I was confused because Trace was gay and I was just trying to be like him but they didn’t. They were amazing.”

  I’d kept Seth moving as he spoke and was glad when he only spared the bloody mess on the floor a passing glance. We reached the front parlor and began going up the stairs. Seth kept up the stories on his own as we made our way to the second floor. The bedrooms were all a mess but he seemed to ignore all of them, his own included, and continued to talk about the various memories from his childhood. It wasn’t until we reached his parents’ room that he shut down again and I knew why as soon as I saw the blood-stained bed. It was the room his mother had been raped in…the rape he and his father had been forced to listen to.

  I didn’t bother asking Seth to try to remember a memory from the room because I could tell he was drained.

  “Did Trace ever tell you that your mom threatened me?”

  That got Seth’s attention. “What? When?”

  I led Seth back down the stairs. “I think it was the fourth time Trace and I came to visit…Christmas. She told me she thought I was a nice boy but if I hurt her son, I’d be sorry.”

  “No she didn’t,” Seth scoffed.

  “She did,” I said with a laugh. “Then she gave me a hug and asked me if I wanted pie.”

  “Oh God, not her apple pie.”

  I nodded. “Yep. I had to eat it right in front of her. I only got out of a second piece because you asked me to help you finish decorating the tree.”

  “I remember that,” Seth said. “I thought you were just really excited about decorating the tree.”

  We both had a good laugh and by the time we reached the front door, Seth was considerably more relaxed than he’d been when we entered. He looked around the parlor and then reached over to the side table and grabbed a picture off of it. The picture had been turned over when we’d come in so I hadn’t seen what it was of but when Seth flipped it over, I was surprised to see it was a family picture and I was in it. My heart seized up at the relaxed, happy expression on my face. Seth handed the picture to me.

  “There’s another one just like it at the other house,” he explained.

  I nodded as I studied the photo. Trace had his arm around me and Seth was standing slightly in front of me, his smile wide. “Thank you,” I said, my heart suddenly in my throat. Seth’s fingers drifted over my cheek as he lifted my face so he could look me in the eye. He kept the contact brief.

  “Thank you,” he whispered. And then he leaned up to brush his lips over mine. The kiss was quick and chaste but it rocked me to my core. Seth went out the front door and waited for me to catch up and then locked it behind us. He seemed physically worn out as we reached the car and truthfully, I was feeling the same way.

  “How about we call it a day?” I said as I went around to the driver’s side.

  Seth nodded but didn’t say anything. But the relief on his face told me that even if we hadn’t exorcised all of his demons, we’d made a pretty good start.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Seth

  “Seth, wake up.”

  I didn’t want to open my eyes but only because I was afraid if I did, I’d find out everything had been a dream. And the feel of Ronan’s fingers on my skin would be a figment of my imagination.

  “Okay, buddy, have at it,” I heard Ronan say and I thought he was talking to me until Bullet’s wet tongue swiped over my face. He managed to get in a few more licks before I escaped his reach and luckily Ronan kept him from jumping on the bed. I wiped at my face with the edge of the blanket before opening my eyes and then felt my heart stop when I saw Ronan sitting on the side of the bed, his backside pressed against my hip and his arm braced on the other side of my body so he was hovering over me.

  “What time is it?” I managed to ask, though my voice sounded way too high.

  “Six ‘o clock,” Ronan said.

  Hell, I’d been asleep for more than four hours. And that didn’t even include the time I’d been passed out in the car after we’d left the Mercer Island house. The only time I’d woken up on the ride home was when the car had rolled onto the ferry, but I hadn’t managed to keep my eyes open for very long. I had a faint memory of turning my head to face Ronan as he sat behind the wheel and him reaching his hand out to stroke my face, but I couldn’t be sure if it was real or just my desperate imagination.

  “You should come eat,” Ronan said. Where my voice was high and pitchy, Ronan’s was deep and husky and in that moment I didn’t give a shit about food. I sat up and felt an almost giddy rush of joy when Ronan didn’t move. My position put our bodies only a few inches apart and it would be so easy to lean in and take his mouth. When Ronan’s gaze shifted to my lips, I knew he was thinking the same thing.

  The kiss back at the Mercer Island house had been an impulse I couldn’t contain, but I’d managed to keep it brief so that Ronan knew it was my way of thanking him for the gift he’d given me. No, the visit to the house hadn’t fixed everything, but I hadn’t expected it to. But what I’d gotten out of the encounter was exactly what I’d hoped for…a chance to revisit the life I’d had and start putting the rest behind me.

  I’d been sure the second I’d stepped up to the front door that I wouldn’t be able to go through with it, but Ronan’s voice in my ear, his hand warming my ice cold skin, had made it easier to turn the key in the lock. And it had all been my choice. I could have turned around and gone back to the car and Ronan wouldn’t have thought any less of me. I knew that without a shadow of a doubt. And on the occasions where I had needed that nudge forward, Ronan had given it to me.

  I wished desperately that I could do the same for him. Because for every layer Ronan seemed to strip from me, his own past became more and more of a blur. I’d had tiny glimpses today when he’d told me about medical school, but what he’d shared had been like a pebble being thrown into a lake…look away for even a second and you miss the ripples.

  Trace had never told me anything about Ronan’s childhood and at thirteen, I hadn’t given it much thought. But two words today and the way he’d said them had me realizing there was so much to Ronan that I didn’t know and it likely wasn’t good.

  My father.

  “Come on, get up,” Ronan murmured before he pushed himself up. “I don’t make my famous spaghetti and meatballs for just anyo
ne.”

  Ronan avoided my gaze as he left the room and I didn’t manage to take a deep breath until he was out the door. I reached for my cell phone on the nightstand as I got out of bed and grimaced at the sight of several missed calls and texts from work. A glance at the switch on the side showed it had been turned to silent mode. I sent Ronan a telepathic thank you because I definitely would have gotten sucked back into work stuff if I’d heard the phone going off. And even though I was still feeling emotionally drained, physically I felt a little better.

  I’d managed to change into a pair of sweats and a T-shirt before collapsing on my bed after we’d gotten home and Ronan had urged me to lie down. Under normal circumstances, I would have been happy to leave the comfortable clothes on but wearing the too-loose sweats around Ronan just wasn’t a good idea so I swapped the sweats for a pair of jeans.

  The smell of garlic reached me long before I entered the kitchen and I briefly wondered if I would have to play the same game with Ronan that we’d had to play with my mother regarding her cooking. But one look at Ronan in my mother’s apron as he tasted what I assumed was spaghetti sauce and the thought fled my mind completely. The apron had been a gag gift from my father but my mother had gotten a kick out of seeing the shocked expression on his face every time she wore it so it had quickly replaced the pretty, flowery one she’d bought for herself years earlier.

  “Come taste,” Ronan said as he glanced at me and held up the wooden spoon expectantly. “What?” he asked when he took in what I assumed was my stunned expression.

  “Nothing,” I said quickly, though I couldn’t take my eyes off the curvy woman’s bikini clad body covering the apron. “Nice,” I said as seriously as I could as I looked Ronan up and down.

  “Fuck off,” Ronan said, though there was no actual anger in his voice. “I just did laundry.”