The Damaged (The Insiders Trilogy 2)

He took it off, tucking it in place so it wouldn’t fall, and then we were striding out of there. Everything else would work itself out. Just needed to have my girl in my arms.

We were clearing the door. I expected a crazy scene, and there was one, but I paused at seeing Erik walking up from my car, which he’d pulled back to the curb.

His face was set in stone.

At that, I knew.

My arms tightened around Bailey, feeling one part of me settle at just having her there, but the other part twisted up at his face.

I knew.

Peter was with me, and he braked behind, seeing Erik. Our guards were fanning around us, lining up so they were a wall and giving us a modicum of privacy.

Erik glanced at Bailey before looking at me. “Quinn made bail.”

“What?” Peter exploded. “That bail was set at ten million. She’s a flight risk. Who did that?”

I’d been waiting for him to act. I knew a strike was coming.

Here it was.

Erik told me, “Calhoun Bastian.”

See? I knew.

TWENTY-EIGHT

Bailey

I woke.

It was dark.

My head was pounding.

I could feel the dried tears on my face.

The memories started coming back to me. One after another. They filled my head.

I lost my shit.

Straight-up. I completely lost my shit.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

The door opened. Light shone in.

Kash was coming into the bedroom, a bottle of water in hand. “Hey.”

My head was still pounding. I groaned, rolling to the edge of the bed. I was in my sleeping tank top and underwear.

The bed depressed as Kash sat next to me, taking my hand and placing a couple of painkillers in it. “Take those. Drink this.” The water was next. I popped the pills in, swallowed, and my throat was parched, so I drank half the bottle before handing it back to Kash.

“What do you remember?”

God. He was being sympathetic and kind, and that was making me lose my shit all over again. I could feel the emotions clogging my throat, but I forced myself to chill out. Stop. Clear the head. Shove that crap back down. I wasn’t going to crumble again. No way.

My nostrils flared as I forced air back out—that was the effort it took to stop the waterworks from having a repeat show.

“I remember the bathroom, and losing it.”

He shifted, putting the water on the nightstand next to me. His hand came to my back. “You feeling nauseous at all?”

I shook my head.

“Pain?”

“Just a headache.”

That was enough.

Kash had an arm underneath me and I was flipped over in bed, then hauled back so I was on his lap. His back was to the headboard and he was cradling me. My head was against his shoulder and chest, and he was rubbing a hand up and down my thigh.

I felt his lips press behind my ear before moving down to my neck, then my shoulder. He moved my tank top strap aside, lingering where it had been resting over my skin. “Fuck. I love you.” A beat later: “Are you okay?”

My throat clogged up. I nodded.

I couldn’t speak for a second, remembering what had happened.

His arms flexed around me before he was turning me.

He rolled me to my back and loomed over me. His gaze was dark, serious.

“What happened?”

God. It washed over me again.

I closed my eyes, trying to shove it back. I needed to hold it at bay.

My voice came out raspy. “A panic attack.”

His eyes flashed. Fierce. “Why?”

I shrugged, looking up at him. “Trauma?”

His mouth flattened. “You know what I’m talking about. What brought it on?”

I looked away. This hurt. This was me being vulnerable in a way that sex could never make me feel exposed. I was raw on a whole other level.

I said, “I was triggered. I think. But who knows what brings those on sometimes. Might’ve been the mix of Peter being at my school. Or Liam talking about how great my life is. Suddenly I was back in my bedroom. That guy was pushing me against the wall, telling me an attack was coming.”

It was there again, pushing to be set free. It was in the back corner of my mind.

I couldn’t let it out. I did, and it would take over.

He eased me back, a finger pushing against my stomach. “Are you okay?”

His words were so soft.

He was looking at me with such tenderness.

I was almost not able to handle him looking at me that way. A girl could cry, seeing love like that looking back at her.

His hands smoothed up both of my sides, a trail of warmth and shivers coming after.

“Let me in.” He pushed on my hip. “Tell me more.”

I sighed. My hands went up his arms, curling over his shoulders, then moving to his neck. “I lost it.”

My lungs were rattled.

I told him what I could handle telling.

“I applied four times for one of their undergraduate internships. Got turned down every time, and I shouldn’t have. I was one of the best of the applicants, but I was rejected every year. Got the scholarships, but not me being in their building, learning from them. I was back there, feeling that same way and listening to Liam talk about how great Hoda thought my life was, how cool it was for me to have Peter Francis as my dad…” I had to stop. My throat was shrinking, as if a piece of bark had been pushed in there. “All I kept thinking was that they didn’t know shit. Over and over again. And then Quinn was in front of me.” I shuddered. “Heard her voice. Felt when she drugged me. It all went black.”