Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 59738 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59738 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
I scoop Ivy’s battered body into my arms and she clings to me, weeping with a brokenness that splinters my ribs and blackens my beating heart.
“It’s okay, baby,” I whisper. “I’m here now. It’s okay.”
We pile into the backseat and Ronan burns rubber down the street while I do my best to console Ivy. I right her clothes and pet her hair and kiss her forehead, murmuring my regret for only her.
“I’m so sorry, my love. I’m so fucking sorry. I didn’t protect you.”
“Archer,” she chokes out.
“He’s okay. He’s safe.”
She shakes her head, insistent that he isn’t. She won’t be okay until she sees him for herself, so I drag my phone out of my pocket and video call Rory. He answers on the second ring.
“Where’s the wee one?” I ask.
“He’s asleep on the sofa,” Rory answers.
“Can you show me?”
He aims the screen at Archer, sound asleep with a blanket and teddy bear, and Ivy releases a breath before she clutches a trembling hand to her mouth to keep from sobbing. It’s all she can do. Nothing else matters now because she’s my strong girl, and she would take on the whole fucking world if it meant saving her kid.
“Bring him to mine in two hours, would ye?”
Rory agrees, and we disconnect the call. Ivy looks to me, her face dirty, bruised, and swollen.
“Did he touch you?” I rasp. “Did any of them touch you?”
She starts sobbing again, and I think I’m going to be sick, until she shakes her head. She can’t get the words out in full sentences, so she gasps them between breaths. “He… almost. Then… you.”
“It’s okay, baby.” I pet her hair and kiss her forehead once more. “It’s okay. I won’t ever let anyone hurt you again. You have my word that come what may, I will keep you and Archer safe.”
She nods against my chest, and I know we still have a lot to talk about, but the first order of business is getting her back to where she belongs.
In our home. With our boy.
“When is Archer coming?” I croak. My throat is raw from screaming, and I barely have a voice left, but I won’t be able to rest until I know he’s here and he’s safe.
Conor dabs at my face with a wet cloth, cataloging every scratch and bruise with an agony I’ve never seen in him before. “Rory will bring him shortly. But I think you would agree that we need to get ye cleaned up first. He shouldn’t be seeing his mother in such a way.”
My eyes water, but I agree. I wouldn’t want Archer to see me this way. Conor goes about the task of cleaning my body with a gentleness he doesn’t often show. These same hands took life tonight. They shed the blood of Animal and the other Locos, and probably many others before. But when I look up into his soft green eyes, I realize that I don’t even fucking care. I don’t care about any of it. Not when I know Conor to be good and kind and pure in his own way. This is the man I fell in love with. The one who tends to my wounds and makes everything okay. My love for him is savage and completely irresponsible, but it can’t be tamed.
I almost left him, and I almost paid for it with my life.
There is too much space between us, and not even a single inch will do. I want to crawl into his lap and force him to say pretty words and make me promises he will keep. I need him to tell me that he will keep us and love us and never let anything come between us again.
“Is this okay?” His fingers edge the torn hemlines of my sweatshirt, slowly dragging it up to remove it.
I tell him it is, and he busies himself with removing the rest of my tattered clothing, throwing them into the trash where I hope he will burn them. As my eyes wander over him, it occurs to me that he’s been so busy taking care of me, he’s forgotten to take care of himself.
“Your ear is bleeding.”
He brings his fingers up to the wound and shrugs. “Just a flesh wound. I’ll live.”
“Please put something on it. At least stop the bleeding.”
Conor reluctantly agrees, ripping into a fresh pack of gauze and securing it over his ear. It’s not the best job, but for now it will have to do. I want to help him, but I’m too sore to move on my own and the pain is catching up with me now. I realize it when he walks to the bath and tests the water and I’m left to support myself on the edge of the sink.
“Feels good,” he says. “Let’s get you inside.”