Fear For Me: A Novel of the Bayou Butcher (For Me 2)

“Lauren?”

Yes…I’ll marry you. She didn’t get to tell him. She didn’t get to tell him anything else.

A low, constant beeping pierced the darkness around her. Lauren slowly opened her eyes, squinting against the onslaught of light.

Everything was so bright and white.

She tried to move and found tubes running over her body. She tried to speak.

Panic hit her.

Something’s in my throat.

Lauren twisted, clawing, and a long, hot burn rushed across her hand.

“Lauren!” Anthony said. His voice was rougher, raspier than she’d heard before.

Her gaze flew to him.

“About f**king time,” he whispered. He leaned across her and hit the call button. “It’s okay,” he told her, his eyes staying with hers. “You’re safe.”

In a hospital. I hate these places.

“He almost got your heart, it was so close.”

She frowned at him, noting the hard lines on his face. Deeper lines. She tried to talk again.

His jaw tightened. A nurse burst into the room. He still didn’t look away from Lauren. “You’ve got a breathing tube in your throat. You can’t talk, baby, not yet.”

Her eyes stung.

He looked so worn.

How long had she been there?

“Seven days,” he whispered, as if he’d heard her question. “Seven of the longest days of my life.”

Another nurse came into the room. The doctor followed.

They tried to push Anthony back, but he was putting something in her hand. The hand that had burned before. The object felt cold.

Her head turned so she could see it. She’d yanked out an IV. The machines beeped wildly. In her hand, clutched between her fingers, he’d put two necklaces.

Two crosses. Two perfect crosses.

Merry Christmas, girls! She could hear her mom’s voice rising with laughter and love.

Her hand clenched around the crosses.

“Greg had the crosses on him. I think he meant to plant them on Hawthorne, but he didn’t have enough time. After…” He cleared his throat. “Cadence found them after.”

After Greg had shot her.

After Anthony had shot him.

Tears tumbled from her eyes. The nurses went to work on her. The doctor tried to soothe her.

Anthony stayed by her side, and brushed away her tears.

“Where am I supposed to go?” Lauren asked, her voice still not as strong as Anthony would like. He’d just put her in his SUV, and they’d left Our Lady of Mercy Hospital behind them. Finally.

Two long weeks.

The first week, when she’d struggled so desperately to live, he’d nearly lost his mind.

Anthony glanced at her from the corner of his eye. He had lost his mind. Cadence had been forced to pull him off one of the doctors—a prick who’d said Lauren only had a 10 percent chance of survival.

Screw that.

He’d stayed by her side. Day and night.

“I don’t exactly have a house anymore,” Lauren murmured. “And hotels are nice and all but…”

“I have a place for you.”

He’d always have a place for her.

Her lips, still not the healthy pink he loved, curved. “Is it a no-tell motel?”

Damn, but he loved her. Only Lauren would try to joke with him after the hell she’d been through.

Only Lauren.

“Better,” he whispered. Promised.

Her smile widened.

His heart cracked.

When she’d been airlifted to the hospital, he’d been so helpless. His Lauren, still and bloody.

I should have killed him when I had the chance. Instead, she’d suffered.

“Don’t.” Her smile was gone.

His hands tightened around the wheel.

“Do you think I don’t know what you’re thinking? It’s on your face, Anthony. It wasn’t your fault.”

He’d bear the guilt for the rest of his life, no matter what she said.

“Anthony…”

She’d risked her life to save him. He cleared his throat. “Promise not to ever do that again.”

“Promise not to get into a battle with a crazed serial killer?” Lauren said. “Done.” It was that low, husky voice he loved.

But then, he loved everything about her.

They drove in silence, the SUV eating up the miles, taking them back to a place where they’d been safe. A place where they’d been happy, even in the middle of hell.

“Wait, isn’t this…?”

He turned onto the drive that would lead them to the antebellum home. He hadn’t been there since Lauren had been in the hospital, but then he hadn’t been anywhere since she’d been in the hospital.

“I lied,” he told her when he brought the SUV to a stop.

She was frowning.

“It’s not a friend’s.” He climbed from the vehicle and hurried to her side. She tried to walk. He wanted her taking it easy, so he scooped her up into his arms and carried her into the house. “At least, it doesn’t belong to him anymore.”

She glanced around the house. “What’s going on?”

“I bought this place, right before Walker broke out of Angola, before everything went to hell.”

Her wide eyes found his. “Why?”

“I was coming back to you. I was going to fight for a second chance with you.” He eased her into one of the lush leather chairs. Everything there had been picked with her in mind. “Whatever you don’t like, we can change. I’d had a decorator working on the place. I was just trying to get things in place…”

“In place?”

“For when I came back begging you for another chance.” After the Valentine case in New Orleans, when he’d had only moments to live, he’d known exactly what he wanted to live for—

Her.

He bent down onto one knee. “I don’t have a ring.”

Her delicate brows climbed. “A house, but no ring?”

Was she laughing? God, he hoped so. He wanted her to spend the rest of her days smiling and laughing and banishing the ghosts and demons from the past.

“I’ll give you any ring you want,” he promised. “I’ll give you anything you want, just please, stay with me.”

Her gaze searched his. “I remember what you said to me.”

Hell, during those desperate hours in the hospital when he’d been a deranged f**k?

“Marriage,” she whispered. “Kids.”

He had to swallow the thick lump that rose in his throat. He wanted those things with her, so badly.