He shakes his head.
“Get up,” I snarl.
He tosses the knife aside. Shaking his head again, he cradles his broken arm. “I’m done. Call the police. Take me into custody. I am not fighting you.”
Unacceptable. I reach down and haul him to his feet. Cocking my arm, I let my fist fly right into his face. Dead center on his nose. More bones crunch.
Scott goes flying backward, blood spraying from his nostrils. On his back on the ground, he tries to start crab walking away from me.
I advance on him, intent on beating him to death since he won’t engage with me. Takes a little of the fun out of it, but I can work with what I’m given.
He scuttles away from me, using only his feet and his one good arm until he hits the trunk of a large pine tree. I bend toward him, intent on pulling him up so I can beat him back down, but I’m halted by a soft hand on my shoulder.
“Don’t,” Joslyn says in a mere whisper, but it has the force of a bomb to my ears. I turn slightly to regard her.
My sweet beautiful Joslyn. The love of my life who is battered, bruised, and bloodied by this psychopath. And she has just asked me not to hurt him anymore.
She steps into me, puts her palms on my face, and says, “Please don’t. I know you don’t care if it’s on your conscience, but it will be on mine if I can’t stop you from doing this.”
Christ. Every bit of rage, along with the need for vengeance, slithers right out of me, leaving a black greasy trail in its wake. Because it would hurt her if I did this, I have no choice but to stand down. I don’t even bother to argue with her, because her words are enough. Her asking me to do something is enough.
“Okay, kitten.”
She smiles and goes to her tiptoes, pressing her lips softly to mine. When she pulls back, her face is filled with gratitude and relief. “Thank you for coming to get me.”
I vaguely realize Cruce and Saint have yanked Carlisle to his feet and are marching him toward his cabin.
I let my eyes roam over Joslyn’s face, wondering how long it’s going to take her to heal from these events physically and emotionally.
“I’m so sorry he got you, honey,” I say apologetically. “I should have never let you leave my side.”
She shakes her head adamantly. “Don’t you dare. This was all my fault for falling for his lies. And for the record, I’m not going to let you leave my side again.”
I can’t help but smile. “Is that a promise?”
Her return smile is tart, and I see the strength in her gaze. “It’s a fact. Get used to it.”CHAPTER 30JoslynIt’s hard to believe that less than nine hours ago, I had been locked up in a shipping container after having been kidnapped by a psychopath. Now I’m back in the safety of my own home, surrounded by old friends and new… as well as the man I love.
I’m exhausted, but I don’t want to show it. I can’t because everyone wanted to come over to see me.
To celebrate my safety.
To perhaps see with their own eyes I am indeed okay.
Kynan wanted to chase everyone away. I assured him I was completely fine. Told him I wanted to pop some champagne to celebrate our victory.
It’s been a rough day for sure. After Kynan rescued me, I grudgingly agreed to allow an ambulance to transport me to the hospital. Kynan rode along with me, which is the only reason I agreed to it. Scott Carlisle was handcuffed, then led off by the sheriff’s department. Lynn later reported he was booked on charges of kidnapping, assault, battery, and attempted murder. I’m fairly sure he’ll never step outside of prison again.
I’ve spent some time wondering if I did the right thing by stopping Kynan. There’s no doubt in my mind he would have beaten the man to death, which would have ensured my absolute safety in the future. Ultimately, I just couldn’t let him go through with it. Deep down inside, I realized those actions are not the man I know and love. He was being driven by rage because of what Carlisle had done to me and wanted to do to me. Kynan hadn’t been seeing reason. Not to mention there’d been a damn good chance Kynan could’ve gone to prison if he’d killed the man, even though I’m sure all witnesses involved—that would be Saint, Cruce, and me—would have sworn he was only defending his own life in a classic case of self-defense.
The hospital was the worst—not because it hurt like hell getting my injuries treated, particularly my feet—but because there were injuries I hadn’t been sure about. It was awful because I’d been asked by the doctor if I needed a rape kit, and I honestly hadn’t known the answer. I was ninety-five percent sure he hadn’t touched me in that way because I couldn’t feel anything. Surely if a woman had been raped, she should be able to know, right? But I had been drugged, so I ultimately told the doctor I should probably have an examination. Kynan ended up breaking down at that point, and it killed me to watch as he put his hands on his face and wept.