Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 32646 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 163(@200wpm)___ 131(@250wpm)___ 109(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32646 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 163(@200wpm)___ 131(@250wpm)___ 109(@300wpm)
“Mhm,” Cameron hummed, nodding his head. He glanced at me. “Still think we’re the bad guys, little devil?”
I shook my head, so many emotions coursing through me, I could barely breathe. Anger. Betrayal. Hurt. Sadness. Pain. A tear ran down my cheek. Cameron reached up and gently wiped it away before bringing my head to his chest and pressing a kiss to my hair.
“They’ll pay for this, too,” he promised me, his hand cradling the back of my head as I cried into his shirt, falling apart right there in that chapel, surrounded by his brothers. “Everyone involved will pay for taking you from me,” he growled.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Cameron
Abbie stared through the windshield of my pickup with something akin to trepidation lingering in her gaze. I sat patiently, waiting for her to be ready to see the doctor—a doctor who would run STD tests, perform a gyno exam, and see just how badly the tearing was in her anal passageway.
Since I’d lifted her into my arms in that fucking building, patience had become easy for me… at least when it came to her. It was endless. Through every nightmare, every flashback, every panic attack, I was with her. Through her trying to regain her strength, I was with her.
When Trent’s family pulled the plug on him two days ago, I was with her then too, holding her as she cried and mourned the loss of her friend and partner. His family didn’t blame her for what happened to him, but I knew she blamed herself. But she was trying to work through it, and when she’d suggested therapy for herself, I’d paid out of pocket for her first appointment since her insurance through her job was shit and didn’t provide decent therapists.
And that was another thing I’d become patient about—her job. She’d told me she wasn’t quitting, that she was determined to help us dismantle this ring from the inside. I hadn’t liked it, but we’d come up with a plan for her to always have her location turned on for her personal phone, and she would carry a burner, too. And on top of that, she’d wear an anklet beneath the uniform of her pants so I could find her if her phone ever went offline.
Abbie was strong, and the hell she’d endured and her recovery over the past few days were proof of that. She didn’t give up easily, and she fought with everything she had.
She was goddamn perfect for me, and I’d been stupid to ever think otherwise.
“You promise you’ll be in the room with me?” she finally asked, turning her head to look at me.
I nodded. “I’m not letting anyone that close to you without me present,” I reminded her. “Not again. Not ever fucking again.”
A small smile tilted her lips, and then she drew in a deep breath through her nose before slowly releasing it from between her lips. “Okay,” she said quietly. “Let’s get this over with.”
I pushed open my door before sliding out of the truck and rounding the hood to help her down. With our fingers laced together, I led her across the parking lot and into the building. I stood by her side as she filled out the paperwork as a new patient, and I paid the upfront cost, nodding my head when the receptionist informed us we would receive a bill in the mail for anything extra.
When we sat down, Abbie’s leg began to bounce, too jittery to be able to sit still. Without a word, I grasped her hips and lifted her into my lap, pulling her back to rest against my chest. Immediately, she relaxed, her fingers curling into my leather cut. I pressed a kiss to her temple. “Better?”
“Mhm,” she hummed, tucking her head beneath my chin. “Doctors have always freaked me out, and it didn’t help that in there—” Her voice abruptly cut off. I squeezed my arms around her, understanding what she didn’t say out loud. She blew out a soft breath. “Growing up, it was just me and Dad. Mom passed away when I was a baby—drunk driver ran her off the road, and her car twisted around a tree. Dad… lost himself. And in his drunken rages, he…” Her voice trailed off. I gritted my teeth.
He hurt her.
“Is he dead?” I rumbled.
She nodded. “Liver failure,” she said quietly. “Died four years ago. I was nineteen. I cremated him and stuck his ashes in a storage unit.” She shrugged. “I didn’t know what else to do with them, and I didn’t want them in my house.”
I ran my hand down her spine. “What made you afraid of doctors?”
“I only ever went to see one when I was too badly hurt to just heal at home. And they always believed Dad’s lies about me hurting myself over me.”