Shane (Damage Control 4)

“Is he hurt? Why would someone attack him? Where is he?”

“He called Seth to pick him up from the site. He’s at his apartment. That’s where we’re going.”

“What else did Seth say? Is he hurt? You’re not answering me. Why aren’t you answering me?”

Manon avoids my gaze. “Just some scratches and bruises. He’ll be fine.”

“The hell he will. Oh God.”

“He fought back.” Manon gives me a sidelong look. “He took them down, Cass. Two guys, sent by the men who hurt him in prison with orders to make him suffer. They screwed with his mind, playing on his triggers to make him helpless and weak. And still he fought back.”

“That’s my guy,” I whisper, my eyes burning. “He’s a fighter through and through.”

“He says,” Manon swallows hard before turning her attention to the road, “that he thought of you as he did it. He fought to be with you.”

***

“Where is he?” I demand the moment Seth opens the door to Shane’s apartment. “How is he?”

“Considering what he just went through…” He has a dark scowl on his face as he lets us in. “He’s okay. Better than I thought he’d be.”

“Wasn’t there anyone at that damn construction site to help him?”

“It seems the place was closed today because of a blizzard warning. Those motherfuckers thought of everything.”

I’m shaking with rage at those who hurt my guy. Never thought I’d want to kill someone, yet here I am, seeing red.

And Seth still hasn’t told me where Shane is. He’s not in the living room, though, that much is obvious, so I leave Manon to catch up with Seth and march into the bedroom.

There he is.

Shane is sitting on his bed, shirtless, staring at nothing. His ribcage is bruised black and blue. He has a bandage on his shoulder, and another on his forearm, but there’s something else… something different.

His hair. It’s shorter, falling in uneven tufts in his face.

Without a word, I sit beside him and put my arms around him. He starts, whispers my name, then crushes me to his body so hard I can’t breathe.

“Cass,” he mutters against my hair, “Cass…”

“I’m here. I’m right here.” I’m crying and can’t seem to stop. Stupid, I know. He’s fine, warm and unharmed. I draw back. “I hope you hit those assholes so hard they saw stars.”

“I did.” He gives me a crooked smile and for some reason it makes me cry harder.

“Did you call the police? Why aren’t you at the hospital? And what happened to your hair?”

“They cut my hair off as a trophy.” He blows a strand out of his face. “I talked to the police. And I got stitches at the ER. It’s all done.”

Just like that. Holy crap. All these hours he was in danger, and in pain, and I didn’t know.

“You should have called me,” I whisper, my voice choked.

He gives me a searching look. “I wanted to. But just this once it had to be Seth.”

He doesn’t explain, and I don’t press him. Not tonight, though I hope he’ll tell me why one day.

“You didn’t even have this.” I lift the pendant from my neck. “You left it behind.”

“I don’t need it if I have you,” he says.