Their Brazen Bride (Bridgewater Ménage 8)

“It’s Tucker. Stop.”

All at once, her fighting ceased. I stripped the gun from her, tossed it behind me without even looking, knowing James was there to catch it, then cupped her face in my hands.

“Look at me.”

Her eyes met mine, wild and searching. It took her a few seconds to focus on me, for her racing mind to catch up to what was before her.

“That’s it, precious. You’re safe now.”

I saw the moment she saw me. “Tucker? Oh God, Tucker,” she sighed, wrapping her arms about me in a hug so tight I let out an oomph.

Pressing her face against my chest, I lowered my head and just breathed her in. I nuzzled the top of her head, her hair tickled my mouth as I kissed it.

Gabe and the man were arguing. James stalked past me and into the office. I could see them, but I ignored it all.

All but Abigail.

I sighed, letting all the anger, all the fear, everything seep out of me as I held her close. She was warm, and although she still shook with excess energy, she was alive.

“Come,” I said, putting my arm about her waist and leading her out into the sunshine.

While she didn’t resist me, she spoke up. “But—”

“Gabe and your brother will take care of him.”

I didn’t offer more, didn’t offer that they’d probably kill him for whatever the fuck it was he did to her. While we’d been able to track her to the man’s house, we didn’t know why she was there exactly.

We stood out on the sidewalk as the Butte police came, guided by a hysterical woman who pointed to the open front door. I didn’t let Abigail go, didn’t speak, just held her as the world went by around us. Time stood still. Nothing mattered but that I’d gotten to her, had saved her.

Gabe came toward us, eventually, every line of his body rigid. When he stood directly before me, he nodded once, indicating the problem was resolved. How, I didn’t ask. I didn’t care, but I knew my brother had ensured Abigail’s safety.

“Go to Gabe, precious. He needs you.”

I turned her around, and she stepped into Gabe’s arms. She cried then, sobbing on the sidewalk as my brother held her. Wiping a hand over my face, I exhaled.

James, escorting the harried woman who’d brought the police, joined us.

“Abigail,” the woman pleaded, dashing over and taking her hand. She was even smaller than our wife, with pale hair and large blue eyes. If she wasn’t so pale and gaunt, she would be considered beautiful. “I’m so sorry.”

She squeezed Abigail's hand. “I didn’t mean to pull you into this, to put you in danger with Mr. Grimsby. It was just a simple lie.”

I frowned. She’d caused all this? Caused Abigail to be afraid of the bastard enough to wave a gun, shoot it even, to defend herself? I wanted to know why she was even in that house, but it would have to wait.

“It seems there’s a fair amount of lying these days,” Gabe admonished. Both women’s cheeks turned pink.

“Where will you go, Tennessee?” Abigail murmured. She stepped back from Gabe, but he kept one arm about her waist.

Tennessee? Was that her name or her destination?

The woman looked at the ground. “I… I don’t know, but you’ve done enough for me.” Lifting her head, she offered Abigail a brittle smile. “I’ll be fine. And I will avoid dangerous men, I promise. I have learned my lesson.”

“Good,” James said. “Because you’re coming home with me.”

The woman’s mouth fell open as she slowly shook her head. “I can’t. I don’t even know you.”

“Abigail,” James said.

Abigail sniffed then lifted her hand. “Miss Tennessee Bennett, this is my brother, James Carr.”