I don’t want to die half naked.
With a deep breath, I grab the hem of my shirt and toss it on top of my jeans laying on the floor.
“Shit,” Grayson hisses.
The gun lowers, and the guy with the tattoos clenches his jaw.
“Jesus Christ,” the man with a cast on his leg says, looking away from me.
I have bruises and scratches all over my body, and I turn around, giving them the full affect until I’m face-to-face with Grayson. I spread my thighs, keeping myself strong even if I want to break. The gashes in my thigh are deep. They appear to be more like cuts than scratch marks from fingernails.
“You were raped,” Grayson says with a raw emotion on his face. He goes to reach for me, but then he drops his hand. His face has lost all color and for a second I think he is going to sick.
“No,” I speak the truth. “I almost was raped. Most of the marks are from my stepfather. The fresh bruises are from what happened in Kentucky. They broke into my hotel room and almost succeeded.” I look down my chest where five fingerprints on each breast are clearly visibly where he grabbed me. “I shot them to protect myself, and I got out of there.”
“And your stepfather?” Grayson asks, staring at the bruises on my face with his cinnamon-colored eyes.
“I think he’s dead too. I don’t know. I left him in a pool of blood. I stole his money and my mom’s secret stash, and I came to the only place I thought I would be safe.” I wipe my cheek when a tear falls on it. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have deceived you. It was wrong.” I wrap my arms around my chest to cover myself. I don’t like how Grayson is looking at me.
He’s staring at me with lust but pity.
“You came to me because you thought I could keep you safe? You didn’t know me, not really,” he says.
“It was a chance I had to take. You couldn’t be worse than what I’ve been up against.” I bend down to pick up my wet clothes to put them back on, but Grayson stops me.
“Here.” He shucks off his shirt and tugs it over my head, and it falls all the way to my knees.
It’s better than the soaked clothes. Plus, this shirt smells so good, like pine and wilderness. I love the smell of the outdoors. “Thank you,” I whisper. I’m glad I’m not showing my body off to these men anymore. I’m not ashamed of my bruises, but showing them makes me feel more vulnerable and judged.
“Well, if they weren’t dead, I’d say we had a few people to kill,” Grayson says.
My eyes fall to his chest, and I try to look away, I do, but I’ve never seen a man who looks like him before. The guys my age, they look like boys, but Grayson? He’s filled out, muscular, with abs and defined pectorals. He has a dusting of chest hair, not a thick blanket. He’s beautiful. I knew he would be from the picture he sent, even if it was a view from behind. His back was beautiful. He reminds me of a knight or a gladiator, someone strong and fierce, ready to use himself as a shield.
He clears his throat, and the garbled sound has me dragging my eyes from his sexy body to his face.
Crap. He caught me red-handed checking him out.
“We need to look into your stepfather. We will do that another time, when you’re rested and showered.”
It hurts that Grayson won’t even look at me for more than a second. He really isn’t interested at all, not like how I am. I can’t say I blame him. This is a risk I took when I lied
about my age.
“Sure, I appreciate it.” I pick up my wet clothes and hold them in my hand. I don’t know what to do next.
“I’m Jaxon.” The man that nearly shot me introduces himself and points to the man in the cast. “That’s Heaven. The big guy next to him is Owen. You know Gray. And there’s Sebastian, but he is still sleeping. He pulls late nights sometimes and sleeps until noon. His wife is Gabriella and my wife is Quinn, the pregnant one. We have a guest, Zeke. He’s our lawyer. Don’t mind him. He’s a mess.”
“My son’s social worker is here too. The last thing I need is this,” Grayson scrubs his hands over his face, and I feel guilty for intruding on his life like this. He’s obviously stressed and considers me an added stressor.
Coming here was a mistake.
“Tomorrow I’ll be out of your hair, I promise. Can someone show me to a room? I’d love to shower.” I do my best to fight the emotion bubbling in my chest. I can’t cry because then I will show my age. I have to be mature about this. I’m eighteen and he is thirty-two. I’m so fucking stupid.
“Grayson, you don’t mind showing her, right? I need to go check on Quinn. We have an appointment to get to this morning.” Jaxon stares at his watch to check the time and closes his eyes. His chest rises from a deep inhale, and when he exhales, he walks toward the hallway. He pauses by the couch and grabs the remote, points it at the TV, and turns it off while turning his head to look at me. “Tomorrow, we reconvene,” he says, vanishing into the shadow of the corridor.
“Is he the leader? Is that why he barks orders?” I ask and nervously push a strand of hair behind my ear.
Grayson snorts, and Heaven snickers.