Shattered (The Protectors 11)

“Tell me what you need me to do,” I said.

“We’ll keep you in the loop on everything, Jace,” Ronan vowed.

“The kid who saved Willa,” I began. “We need to get him out of there if he’s still alive. His name is Silver. He said Petrov wouldn’t kill him for helping Maggie, but I’m not sure if that’s true or not. But if there’s even a chance he’s alive—”

“We’ll look into it,” Ronan said. “The man who’s going to take Petrov out should be able to give us that information.”

I didn’t ask how they were going to manage any of that, because I didn’t care. I just wanted to find the young man and do for him what he’d done for me and my sister.

The sound of Baby’s nails clicking on the linoleum had me looking over my shoulder. The big dog had spotted Caleb as he was making his way toward us. That ridiculous flip-flopping sensation in my belly that always seemed to happen around him had me climbing to my feet. He walked right into my arms and I didn’t give a shit that Mav was watching as I leaned in to kiss him.

“Everything okay?” I asked, because I could feel the tension in him.

He nodded. “Willa’s asleep. Eli’s with her.” To Mav he said, “Eli wants to talk to you.”

Mav instantly stood and hurried from the room. He patted Caleb on the shoulder as he walked past.

“I need to talk to you,” Caleb said nervously. “Ask you something, really,” he murmured.

“I’ll just go call Daisy,” Ronan said as he smoothly excused himself.

“Can we go for a walk?” Caleb asked as he motioned to the back yard.

“Sure.” I took his hand in mine and led him from the house. Baby came with us. I noticed him take off toward the woods. Moments before the big dog reached the tree line, a man stepped out and knelt down to greet the dog. I smiled because I had no doubt the friendly animal had gotten in the habit of checking out all of Ronan’s men who were guarding the perimeter of the property.

I led Caleb down to the beach where I knew we’d have a little bit of privacy. Ronan’s men would still see us, but they wouldn’t be privy to our conversation.

There was a huge bleached-out log sitting about a hundred feet up from the water, so I led Caleb to it and sat down. When he didn’t automatically sit down next to me, I assumed he was feeling stressed enough that he didn’t want to talk face to face, so I was about to offer that we sit on the sand so he could sit in front of me, but he surprised me when he stepped over my legs and settled his weight on my thighs. I automatically put my arms around him to support him.

“What is it, baby?” I asked when he remained quiet.

“I’m not fixed, Jace. I wish I was, but I’m not. No matter how many times you tell me you aren’t leaving me, my mind refuses to believe it.”

“Then your mind and I are going to need to have a serious talk, because I’m not going anywhere.”

He stared into my eyes for a long time. “I want to get some help,” he finally said. “I want to be worthy of you.”

When I went to respond, he covered my mouth with his hand. “I know I am, here,” he said as he removed his hand from my mouth and placed it over his own heart. “But I’m not so sure up here.” He pointed to his head. “I know you’re right… that the things people love about me can’t be lost, but I want more than that. I want there to come a day where I don’t have to ask you the question that I’m going to ask you today and probably every day for the foreseeable future. Not because I think you’ll get tired of answering, but because I shouldn’t have to ask it. I need my own voice to be the one I listen to first. Does that make sense?”

I nodded, since I was struggling to find my own voice. I finally managed to say, “Ask me the question, baby.”

“Promise me you’re not leaving me, Jace,” he whispered.

“I promise, Caleb. Martha Stewart couldn’t drag—”

He let out a watery laugh and kissed me before I could finish. “I love you, Jace.”

I tucked him against my neck and settled my lips against his ear so that there was no doubt he’d hear me. “I love you, Caleb. I’m so fucking proud to call you mine. Promise me you’ll never leave me.”

“Never,” he croaked, his words almost getting lost on a warm breeze. “And if Martha Stewart ever makes a play for you, she better watch her back because I’ll kick her ass.”