My whole body was heavy as Jamie walked toward me, stooping to pick up the large silver knife that had been held at my throat. He pushed that into the waistband of his pants, too. My knees wobbled and I tried to take deep breaths. I could feel unconsciousness pulling at me. I knew it was because I was hyperventilating, but I could do nothing about it, I was in a total meltdown state.
“Ellie, it’s okay,” Jamie whispered, dropping the bloodstained bat at my feet with a loud clatter. He stepped closer to me as his hands cupped my face, tilting my head up, dragging my attention from the broken bodies and forcing it onto him instead. His brown eyes were soft and concerned as they met mine. “It’s okay, little girl. Shh. I got you. Everything’s okay now,” he cooed, moving closer and wrapping one arm around me, holding me up as my legs gave out and I began to fall. My head slumped forward, my forehead against his neck. My eyes fluttered closed. His smell surrounded me in an invisible cloak of protection, the scent so recognizable it was as if I’d never been away from it; that, coupled with his whispered words, slowly brought my breathing under control, and my heartbeat calmed to a fast gallop instead of a sprint.
We stood like that for a minute or so before a groan from the ground made Jamie pull back. His face changed in an instant. No longer soft and concerned, now it was fury personified. I’d never seen anyone so murderously angry—his eyes tightened, his lip pulled into a sneer. Looking around him, I saw that the guy who had grabbed me was waking up. He was clearly groggy as he blinked rapidly, struggling to get to all fours.
As soon as Jamie’s body left mine, I was instantly cold and felt a shiver run up my spine. His fists clenched so tightly his knuckles whitened. The man didn’t even see the first blow coming. Jamie aimed a swift kick into the man’s stomach, sending him rolling onto his back and causing a guttural cry of pain to leave his lips.
What followed next was like something from a movie. I’d never seen such violence in real life and I never wanted to again. Jamie straddled the guy’s chest, throwing punch after punch into his face, his head jerking with each blow. Blood spurted from cuts and welts, his eyes swelled to the point of closure, instant bruises covered his face, and his movements stopped as his body went limp.
“Jamie?” I shook my head, unable to look away. “Jamie, stop,” I pleaded, my voice barely above a whisper. Setting my hands on my car behind me, I pushed myself upright, praying my legs would support me. “Jamie?”
As if he’d heard me, he ceased his savage assault and stood. I huffed a sigh of relief that quickly got stuck in my throat as he gripped the gun in his pants and pulled it out, aiming at the now-unconscious man’s face. I whimpered and staggered forward, my hand closing around his shoulder, pulling with what little strength I could muster. “No!” I cried desperately. “Jamie, no, don’t. Please don’t.” I knew his past—I knew he’d killed before, he’d told me that he’d lost control when his sister was killed—but that was entirely different. I could see he was in control of himself; this would just be cold-blooded, revenge-fueled murder, and I couldn’t condone that.
When he turned back to me, his eyes were murderous, his face set. He wanted to kill this man, probably kill them both. He’d changed so much from the boy I knew—so, so much. It hurt to see it. “Ellie, I have to. I have to make you safe.” His eyes tightened, and I could see the anguish there, the desperate need.
I shook my head and stepped closer to him, my eyes locked on his. “Don’t, Jamie. This isn’t you, this can’t be you,” I whimpered.
His jaw tightened, and he looked back at the man on the ground, a vile hate plastered on his features.
I swallowed, unsure if I was fighting a losing battle. “I’m safe now,” I assured him, reaching out and setting my hand on his cheek, pulling his gaze back to mine. “I’m fine. See?” I begged him with my eyes, silently pleaded with him not to take away the good that I’d always seen in his heart, that I still saw in him even though it was hidden by a cloud of rage.
He closed his eyes and nodded, his hand dropping to his side, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I stepped closer to him, wrapping my heavy, uncoordinated arms around his waist and pressing myself against him.
His arms folded around me, holding me tightly as his lips pressed against the side of my head. “I was almost too late. I don’t know what I would have done. I don’t know...” he muttered into my hair, his arms tightening around me almost desperately.
“I’m fine,” I repeated, knowing he needed comforting, too.
We stood like that for a good minute, me clinging to him like he was a life raft on choppy waters, before he pulled back and held me at arm’s length. “We should go. My car is just there,” he said, nodding his head toward the black BMW I’d been driven home in after I saw him at his club.
I nodded, dumbly following as he led me forward. He stopped by my car and bent to collect my purse from the ground, hastily shoving things back inside it. When he had everything, we started for his car again, his arm firmly looped around my waist because I was so unsteady on my shaky legs. He opened the passenger door, helping me inside and setting my purse at my feet.
“What about my car?” I croaked, leaning my head back against the headrest and closing my eyes for a few seconds as his hands took mine, inspecting the grazes I was sure to have there from falling.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it.” He let go of my hands abruptly, and I cracked my eyes open to see him opening the glove box and then reaching behind him to get the gun and knife, depositing them in there and closing the compartment again swiftly.
He turned his attention back to me, taking my seat belt and pulling it across me, clipping it into place before he leaned out of the car and closed my door. As he sauntered around to the other side of the car, I could hear muffled talking but couldn’t focus on it. When he climbed into the driver’s side, he pulled his cell away from his ear, disconnecting the call and dropping it into the middle cup holder on his car. I didn’t even have the energy to ask him who he’d called.
When his engine roared to life and he started rolling out of the parking lot, I glanced back at the bodies. “What about them?” I croaked. Shouldn’t we call an ambulance or something?
“Do you really care?” he replied tartly, his eyes flicking to the rearview mirror, his jaw tightening at the sight of the bodies.
Did I really care? “No,” I answered honestly, shaking my head.
“Exactly.”
As he drove, the streets blurred through the window, my mind unfocused. I glanced down at my tingling hands. They were visibly shaking. I clenched my fists a couple of times, trying to stop them, but couldn’t. Giving up, I pushed them under my thighs to hide them from view.
As the minutes passed in silence, my mind kept wandering back to what had just occurred. Those men had attempted to push me into their car. I tried not to think about what might have happened to me if Jamie hadn’t turned up. He’d saved me. He’d beaten the ever-loving shit out of them.
Turning toward him, I saw his bloody knuckles wrapped around the steering wheel, how the muscles in his forearms were tight, his biceps bulging with stress, his whole posture alert. Fury rolled off him in waves. I gulped, thinking about the murderous intent I’d seen swirling in his eyes.
If I hadn’t grabbed his arm and asked him to stop, would he have killed those guys? Would he have actually pulled the trigger? His eyes told me he would have. I’d never seen him like that; it had been kind of terrifying to witness the storm of murder
in his eyes. I knew I should be scared, I should be questioning why I let him put me into his car after what I’d just witnessed, but I’d never been scared of Jamie. He would never hurt me. I’d glimpsed the damaged, broken soul inside him. I knew his demons, and I also knew that there was no malice in his heart.
Well, at least that’s what I thought of the Jamie I used to know. This new man sitting in the car with me was different. There was an out-of-control, hard edge to him, some shift in his personality that had hardened itself and become desensitized to violence. I’d known he’d done violent things when he worked for Brett. I’d seen him sporting knuckles like that before, cleaned them for him even, but he had always been sorry about it. I’d seen the regret within him and how he would get quiet and distant sometimes, a look of mortification on his face. Now there was no sorrow or remorse, only blazing anger. What had happened to the boy I’d loved; where had he gone?
“Hey, you okay?”
I jumped, my mind jerking back to the present as I turned to look at Jamie. His concerned eyes met mine as he pushed a stray lock of hair behind my ear, his fingers brushing against my cheek gently and lingering there for a split second. Heat crept over my face, burning in a pleasurable way, my skin tingling where he’d touched me.
It took me a few moments to realize he’d half turned in his seat and that the car had stopped. Frowning, I looked around at our surroundings. An underground parking lot.
“Where are we?” I asked, my voice croaky because of my dry throat.
“Um...this is my new place,” he replied, his hand dropping back into his lap. This version of Jamie was more like the one I knew—the one I met at first, before we got comfortable with each other; the nervous, shy guy who didn’t feel that he deserved to be treated nicely. It hurt my heart to see he still felt that way.
“Oh,” I answered, but then grew confused. “Why would you bring me here? Why didn’t you just take me home?” And why was that thought only just now occurring to me?!
Another car entered the parking lot then, pulling up alongside Jamie’s. “Good, he’s here,” Jamie muttered as a lone figure got out of the car. Jamie didn’t answer my question, just exited the car and closed his door, talking to the new guy.
Instinct told me I wanted to hear this conversation, so I fumbled with my seat belt with shaky hands, finally prying it open after a couple of attempts, and climbed out, turning to look over at the two men. When the newcomer’s face came into view, my frown deepened. I knew this guy, we’d met a few times before. Ray. The one who had come to the airport in Jamie’s absence and forced me to see reality.
“Jamie?” I muttered, leaning on the car door heavily because my knees were weak and I felt a little unsteady. I knew I was probably in shock. I’d read about it but had never experienced it before.
He said something else to Ray as he twisted a key from his key ring and handed it to him, then turned to me with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Ellie, do you remember Ray?” he asked.