Consolation Prize (Forbidden Men 9)

“Juli?” I said hesitantly, easing a few steps forward until I could creep out my hand and touch her shoulder. She jumped as if scalded and began to scream, and yet not scream. I think she was trying to scream but didn’t exactly have a voice left to do so. What came out was just a hoarse release of air.

And then she began to whisper, “No, no, no, no, no,” as she shook her head and clutched the phone in her hands.

I drew my fingers back and skipped away, holding up both hands to let her know I wouldn’t touch her again. Not that she even noticed or acknowledged me.

Beginning to shake out of control, I tugged up my phone and called Pick. “I found her.”

“Oh, thank God,” he breathed. “Is she okay?”

I shook my head. “Man, I don’t even know. There’s blood everywhere, I can’t tell if it’s hers or not. She flipped out when I touched her. She doesn’t act like I’m even here, but she’s sitting upright and rocking herself. I think…I think she killed the guy who took her. He’s lying here dead beside her with a knife sticking from his throat.”

“Holy fuck.”

I nodded. Yeah. That about summed it up. “Who have you called?”

“Everyone,” he confirmed. “Actually, I wouldn’t think they’d be too far behind you.” And even as he said that I heard a car in the drive, pulling to a stop behind my truck.

“Someone just showed up,” I affirmed. “Talk later.”

I disconnected with him to greet whoever had shown. Surprised to see Julianna’s father jogging toward me, I waved him forward even as I gritted my teeth.

He wasn’t exactly my favorite person at the moment. He’d treated Colton like a criminal since Monday, certain my brother was the reason behind all this. They had clashed tempers so often now, I think we’d had to stop them from coming to physical blows about a dozen times.

“She’s here,” I said, watching his face as he drew close enough to see what had happened for himself.

“Mother of God.” He gulped as if he were going to be sick, then he veered around the dead guy to get to his daughter. “Juli Bug. Baby girl. It’s okay. Daddy’s here.”

But he got the same result I had when he tried to touch her. He jerked away as she started to hyperventilate and scream in the same hoarse cry that tore something up inside me.

While her dad was forced to back away as well, I clutched my head, wishing there was some way to at least calm her down.

The police showed up next. They radioed for an ambulance, assuring us someone would probably give her a tranquilizer to put her to sleep so they could get her help. Then they forced us back, away from the crime scene and affirmed that her kidnapper was most definitely dead.

Colton and Noel arrived just before the paramedics did.

As my brother raced forward, I turned to intercept him. “Hey, don’t—” I tried to hold him back so he couldn’t see the gruesome sight, but he pushed me out of the way and plowed past.

“Is she okay?” he demanded, hurrying a few steps forward before slowing to a stop and gaping in horror. “Oh, Jesus. Baby doll?”

Julianna lifted her face, ignoring the two officers who were flanking her and had been trying to get her to respond to them. “Colton?”

He rushed

the last few feet to her and fell to his knees, where she launched herself into his arms and clung to him as if he were the only thing left on the planet to hold on to.

COLTON’S CHAPTER | 35

Sometimes it was better not to think. As a frozen, blood-covered Julianna shivered and whimpered in my arms, smelling of piss, mildew, and all manner of gross, I watched the police cover the dead body lying five feet away with a tarp, and I tried to process what I was seeing. But I’m pretty sure my brain wouldn’t let my thoughts travel far or I would’ve had a meltdown right then and there.

I was shaking as much as Julianna was. Or maybe she was trembling so much for both of us it just felt like I was too. She was like hugging an ice cube.

“Blanket,” I said, lifting my face to address anyone from the horde of people gathered around us, standing there and gawking like dumbasses.

Juli’s dad immediately began to shed his coat. Somewhere in my head, I wondered why I hadn’t had the forethought to take off my own coat for her, but then, I wasn’t all that sure I was able to stop holding her long enough to do so. I snatched the coat as soon as it was held down to me, and after I fumbled to wrap it around her shoulders and tugged her back against me, she tucked her face just under my chin, croaking a barely discernable word that sounded like water.

“Water,” I ordered, glancing up again. This request wasn’t so readily available. There was a mad scramble before a clear half-empty bottle was shoved in front of me. In the wait, I tucked my face close to her cheek and asked, “Where does it hurt most?”

Though her coat and clothes were freezing cold, her cheek was burning hot.