Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 76812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
"Are you injured?" I ask Brielle.
"I'm fine," she says, but there's a familiar wobble in her voice, one I've heard from many women in the aftermath of being rescued.
"I'm going to take you back to the clubhouse."
"I have to get out of town," she argues.
"That's not my call," I explain, wrapping my arm around her waist in order to direct her toward one of the other SUVs.
I fully expect her to shove me away, to insist that I leave her alone, but she doesn't. Her fingers tangle in the front of my t-shirt. It leaves me wishing I had a jacket to offer her when a shiver runs up her spine and makes her teeth chatter. I know it's the beginning of an adrenaline crash, more so than the cold, but I still feel helpless as I escort her across the yard.
She continues to cling to me when I open the back door of the dark SUV, so I don't fight her. Rather, I climb inside the vehicle with her and pull the door closed.
"Newton needs a driver," Jinx says, no doubt having witnessed the entire thing.
"Got it," Scooter says, opening the driver's side door less than a minute later.
I pull away from Brielle only long enough to pull her seatbelt across her body and click it into place before snapping mine in as well.
I don't stroke her hair or whisper assurances like every cell in my body is urging me to. I know a lot of people might find comfort in that, but I also know Brielle has experienced more in her lifetime than a lot of the people we rescue have.
She wouldn't be interested in generic claims and promises. No one has been able to protect her yet, and this situation is just proof to her that Nathan's reach has no bounds.
What I do know is that every member of Cerberus would protect the clubhouse with their life if they were called to do so.
"Where do I take her?" Scooter asks from the driver's seat as he pulls away from the curb.
I don't answer him because I'm not the one making the calls, and he asked the question into his mic.
"Back to the clubhouse," Jinx answers, and for the first time tonight, I'm able to breathe a sigh of relief.
He could've easily been instructed to take her back to the shelter or to another safe house. Hell, Kincaid could've given the direction to leave the woman at the bus stop, proclaiming her to be more trouble than she's worth, even though that would be out of character for him. Kincaid could easily make this a Farmington Police Department issue. Hell, it's still possible Kincaid will only allow her at the clubhouse long enough for police and prosecutors in Ohio to make other arrangements.
He might not just throw her out in the cold, but he also isn't obligated to keep her on the same property where his wife, daughters, and grandchildren are either.
I pull her to me a little tighter when she begins to shake, trying my best to focus on anything but the warmth of her breath on my neck.
I can tell she's trying to fight the urge to seek comfort, but her body isn't her own right now. It's demanding comfort and seeking it wherever it can find it. It's not specific to me. I could be anyone else right now.
At least that's what I tell myself when I begin to grow a little territorial over her.
I've only spent twenty minutes with the woman and I already know I'll ask Kincaid to let me go wherever she's taken. Protecting her feels like something I have to see through to the end.
The trip back to the clubhouse is somehow too short and too long all at the same time.
Scooter parks in the front parking lot.
"We'll debrief in twenty," Jinx says through our mics. "Farmington PD is going to deal with Xan and evidence collection."
Brielle stays close to me as I climb out of the SUV, and, despite her stiffening for the briefest of seconds before climbing the porch steps, she doesn't argue.
I guide her to my room, unsure of where else I can take her. I'll know more shortly, but for now, my options are limited.
"I have to go debrief," I tell her when I step inside and turn on the lights.
Her eyes dart all over the room, and the sight of her doing it is very familiar.
She's trying to determine if she's going to be safe in here. I also know I have to let her decide that on her own. Words of assurance are as weak as they are brief, so I don't waste the energy.
"I'll be back," I tell her, a little disappointed that she releases me immediately rather than holding on to me tighter and asking me to stay.