Page 27 of Hope and Country

I spoke in a low voice. “I promise to be careful.” As I raised my phone, I vowed justice for her.

“It’s okay. I know you will.”

My eyes filmed as we documented each hit, each punch, the ache in me growing into a dark abyss at the horrors she had faced today. Respect grew in me, seeing the courage and trust she deemed on me. She was inspiring.

After the ordeal, I left her to sit on the bed as I ran a bath. The entire time I was in the bathroom, I cursed under my breath. I had to find that guy. No way I’d ever be able to live with myself if I didn’t. I’d get Taylor—Carter’s chief of security—onto it first thing in the morning tomorrow. We’d find that coward who harmed women as a side hustle. He didn’t deserve to be called a man.

Fucking psycho.

Leaning over the sink, I splashed cold water on my face. I looked like shit. For the last hour, I’d forgotten about my own state of intoxication. My hair was a mess, my eyes bloodshot, and my stubble two days too long. Devon and I made a great pair. I stifled a bitter chuckle.

How was I supposed to act around this woman? What was I supposed to do? I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth. Never in my life had I met a woman who’d been used as a punching bag before. This was all new to me. I had no reference point whatsoever in domestic violence situations.

I snapped back to the present when the bathroom door opened, and Devon slid through the opening. “Can I come in? I don’t want to be alone.” I nodded. “And also, you’ll have to help me out of these clothes because my ribs hurt like hell.”

I swallowed the ball of anger bobbing up and down my throat.

Once air made it back to my brain, I relaxed a little.

I’d witnessed Carter’s panic attacks in the past, and I refused to go there. Of us two, Carter had always been the emotional man. And me, the pragmatic one. This wouldn’t change. Not tonight. I wouldn’t go there.

“Here. Take these,” I said, offering Devon two painkillers and a glass of water. “It’s not much, but it should help with the pain. I hope.”

“Thanks,” she whispered and swallowed them with a gulp of water.

Devon turned until her back faced my front, and I helped her out of her ripped sweater, stained with—Was that blood? Devon’s blood?

She shivered under the pads of my fingers.

I shivered too.

We hadn’t seen each other in a year—and only for a night—and still, the touch of her was intoxicating enough to send waves of heat through me.

And somehow it felt like we had known each other for far longer.

“Need help with your jeans too?”

Devon bobbed her head, keeping it hanging low. I didn’t want her to feel humiliated, so I closed my eyes as I pushed her pants down her legs, making sure her panties stayed on.

“Thanks,” she said in a whisper.

I helped her into the bubble bath, and once she settled in and the bubbles covered her chest, I unclasped her bra. With her legs folded to her chest, Devon removed her underwear and put them on the edge of the bathtub.

“I’ll be outside. Tell me if you need anything”—I clenched the doorknob hard enough to murder it—“unless you want me to wash your hair.”

My heart cracked in my chest. Why was I having so much trouble walking away?

Breathe, Riley, she’s fine. She can’t get hurt anymore.

Devon’s gaze met mine, and we fixed on each other for a long beat. “I’d like that. Only if I’m not a burden.”

“No. I’m the one who offered, remember?”

A small smile appeared on her split lips. The ones I’d wanted to feast on so badly that night. Her smile, even as tiny as it was, glued back a loose piece of my heart.

I gathered the shower essentials—I only had men’s shampoo and soap, but I was sure Devon wouldn’t mind—and a towel to wrap her hair afterward.

A few times, Devon’s breath hitched as I gently massaged her scalp. A yelp of pain left her mouth, and it shattered my heart. It fired my blood. Nobody should go through this kind of violence. I only hoped my tender touch would soothe the pain and abuse she suffered. That I could somehow heal her scars and erase the memory of the trauma.