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By the time we reach the doors, we’ve broken out into a jog. In the time we were in there, anything could have happened. We didn’t see them call for reinforcements, but after Tommy set off the explosive, it may have triggered an alarm, or someone could have seen us and called it in. There are so many variables, and the most important thing is getting Emerson out and to safety.
Her arms wrap around my neck as we run, holding on for dear life as a combination of blood and her tears soak my suit. Every step we take away from the danger is another step closer I am to getting her to safety.
“I’ve got you, sweet girl. I’ve got you,” I whisper into her hair.
She clutches at me tighter, holding on like I’m the only thing holding her together. Her cries are rough against my chest.
“I’m never going to let you out of my sight again,” I rumble.
“I don’t want to ever be out of your sight. I can’t…” Another sob breaks through her chest as we finally approach the cars. No one seems to be following us and I allow myself to hope this is over, that I can take Emerson home, that I can have Doc look her over and patch her up. I climb into the back of Storm’s SUV and cradle her in my arms. A moment later, we’re taking off like a bat out of hell. We need to get out of their territory before they change their minds.
“Is she okay?” Storm asks over his shoulder.
“I think so. I don’t… Emerson, are you hurt anywhere that’s not obvious?”
She shakes her head. “I don’t think so. Tony had a knife and he was…” She turns into my chest to cover her face. “I don’t know.”
“It’s okay, sweet girl. We’ll get a doctor to meet us at the penthouse.” I gently stroke her matted hair. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” she sobs.
I suck in a breath. Hearing those words from her sweet lips feels like every Christmas coming at once, and I ask the question that’s been on the tip of my tongue from the moment we met. “Marry me?”
45
Emerson
It’s the numbness that disarms me. The moment Rayne carries me into the penthouse, my entire body is devoid of feeling, as if the relief of being back in my safe space gives my body permission to not feel anymore.
Everything that has transpired since I walked out of the apartment surrounded by security plays on a loop in my mind. Every moment I spent away from what I now know to be my safe place was more horrifying than the last, and all I want is to curl up in the middle of the bed and sleep the rest of the day away. I can deal with the trauma tomorrow. I can deal with everything else when I’ve allowed myself some time to process it.
“Oh my god, Emerson.” Wynter is on her feet and bounding toward us before I can even blink. “Are you okay?”
I shake my head, clinging onto Rayne like my life depends on it, and at the moment, I think it might. The idea of not being in his arms has panic clawing up my throat.
“I’m going to clean her up. When Doc gets here, just let him know we won’t be long,” Rayne says quietly as he continues through the penthouse to our bedroom and straight into the bathroom. Three jackets were thrown over me the moment we were back in Saint James territory, partially because no one wanted to see what they’d done to me.
Realistically, it could have been so much worse, but that doesn’t make me feel any better, it doesn’t take away the pain, or the fear, or the heartbreak I felt when I thought I’d never see Rayne again.
He doesn’t let go of me as he turns the shower on, or as he strips me out of the jackets and my underwear, and he doesn’t bother to strip himself. He kicks his shoes off before walking us under the warm spray. The moment the water meets the cuts on my skin, I hiss in pain. The sting takes me off guard and I bury my face into Rayne’s still covered chest. I wish he was naked. I wish there was nothing between us. But we both know he can’t put me down. Neither of us could handle that.
“I’m sorry, sweet girl,” he whispers. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
“It’s not your fault,” I rasp.
“Of course it’s my fault. I promised I would keep you safe. I promised I wouldn’t let him get his hands on you. But I didn’t protect you.” The self-loathing in his voice digs into my heart painfully.
I choke on the tears pooling in my throat. “It’s not, Rayne. It’s no one’s fault.” The water at his feet is stained crimson with my blood as it washes from my body, leaving behind the marks that they left in the soft flesh. I don’t want to look, and I don’t want Rayne to look either. The idea that these marks could change the way he sees me has a new type of panic rising in my chest. I’ll understand if he doesn’t want me anymore. If seeing the marks his enemy made on me changes the way he sees me, and the thought of their hands on me makes his skin crawl. He wouldn’t be the only one after all. Every time I allow my eyes to close, the memory of three sets of grubby hands groping me, touching me in a way I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to forget.
“The fire?” I ask.
“Wynter coordinated everything from here because we couldn’t be there. Your dad is fine, the kids are fine, they were out in the yard at the time the fire started. The damage is minimal and isolated, so there will be no need to shut at all.”
I sigh in relief. The Center hasn’t closed even for a day in the last forty years and the idea of changing that now has me breaking out in a cold sweat. “Thank you.”
Rayne chuckles. “You’re too good for this world, Emerson. Today you were kidnapped, hurt, and could have died, and all you’re worried about is the Center.”
I close my eyes to stamp down the emotions threatening to bubble over. If I allow myself to break down now, there will be no coming back from it. “I’m sorry I’ve caused so much trouble for your family.”
