Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 42863 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 214(@200wpm)___ 171(@250wpm)___ 143(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 42863 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 214(@200wpm)___ 171(@250wpm)___ 143(@300wpm)
“Do you want to shower and change?” I quietly asked, not wanting to wake Clarke. She needed the rest after everything she’d been through. I was surprised she hadn’t screamed the clubhouse down with a flashback or nightmare, but maybe her brain was just too tired—still stuck in survival mode.
He nodded and slowly pried himself away from Clarke before easing off the bed, being extra careful not to jar her awake. Once he was off the mattress, he padded across the floor to me, his sock-covered feet not making a sound. I handed him the clothes I’d picked out for him. “They might be a bit big,” I warned, “but the sweatpants have a drawstring on them, so you can tighten them.”
He nodded, looking down at his guard uniform with a grimace. The black cargo pants and black long-sleeve shirt looked good on him, but I knew they bore only horrible memories. I didn’t blame him for wanting to be out of them as soon as possible.
He headed for the open bathroom door, and I settled in my chair near the bed, keeping an eye on Clarke. I knew she was safe here, but I had no idea what kind of torture her mind might be preparing to inflict on her. And if she did end up having some kind of flashback or nightmare, I wanted to be close enough to hopefully coax her out of it since Beck wasn’t.
Why I felt the urge to do any of this—protect them, take care of them, be responsible for them—I didn’t know. Didn’t understand it. But it was there like this was something that had always been a part of me.
But I hadn’t even felt this way about Adelaide, River’s wife, when I’d seen the way her ex, Tristan, had mistreated her. Sure, I’d been concerned. Wanted to help her. But I hadn’t felt this urge. Like I needed to.
But Beck and Clarke? I was desperate to save them.
It was fucking dangerous. I knew it was. Bringing feelings into the equation when having to protect someone was ill-advised. Mistakes were easily made. Judgment was clouded.
But I was forming some fucked-up trauma bond with them anyway.
Sighing, I leaned back in my chair and tilted my head back to stare up at the popcorn ceiling above me, my fingers wrapping around the armrests of my chair. When Clarke made a small sound, I was immediately out of my seat, hovering over her, waiting to gently lead her out of her dream. But the only thing she did was shift and quietly sigh—nothing else.
Fuck.
How the hell was I supposed to survive the next however long days, weeks—fuck, months maybe—with the temptation of these two sweet souls dangling in front of me?
7
Tank
Clarke was quiet the entire trip into Mexico, and eventually, she laid her head on Beck’s shoulder and went to sleep. I’d silently laid my jacket over her, my heart giving one hearty thump at the thankful look Beck aimed my way when I did, which I chose to ignore and not look deeper into. Alejandro was quiet as well on the drive, only opening his mouth when Elaina, the woman he and Joey shared, called him to see when he might be coming home.
The way his tone softened for her felt too intimate to witness, especially when I only really knew him as a hardened, callous asshole.
Halfway through the trip, we stopped and got food at a fast-food chain restaurant attached to a truck stop. My bulky frame kept Beck and Clarke hidden from any of the workers. Clarke and Beck had both eaten their food in silence apart from whispering thank-yous to me for paying for their food.
Getting into Mexico was easy. Alejandro got out of the car and spoke quietly to the guard on duty. The one in charge also came over, and after a brief two-minute conversation, he nodded and told the guard to let us through. Alejandro slipped into the SUV a moment later, and then we were officially crossing into Mexico, where we spent even more hours on the road, only stopping long enough for gas and a bit more food for Beck and Clarke.
Finally—fucking finally—we reached the safe house. It was a small house overlooking the Gulf of Mexico, and it was within a few minutes’ walking distance of any stores we may need while we were there. The home was white with blue shutters and a well-maintained, manicured yard. Trees gave it privacy on all sides except the back of the house, which faced the ocean.
Alejandro had chosen this safe house well. Hopefully, Beck and Clarke would feel more like they were on vacation rather than at a safe house.
“My men are already stationed around the home,” Alejandro quietly told me, keeping his voice low so we wouldn’t wake Clarke. Beck stared at us, making no move to hide that he was watching us and listening to our exchange. Despite how long we’d been on the road, he hadn’t fallen asleep and had remained awake, his arms steady around Clarke as if he might need to grab her and run for their lives at any moment.