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Bou still trembled in my arms, even though her body had gone into an apparent reboot. Every time she jerked, my blood boiled hotter. I would kill that fucker all over again without a second thought.
Clean her up. Find her phone. Call Doc. My to-do list shot off in my head. If necessary, I’d call her brother to bring the doctor. I laid her in bed, growling when I scanned her body—ripped shirt rode high on her stomach, splattered with blood and naked from thereon down. I pulled a blanket to cover her crotch and preserve what modesty she had left. Half an hour ago, I’d been desperate to see her naked. This wasn’t what I had in mind, and I was god damned sure I wasn’t about to take advantage of the situation.
I shot into the bathroom and grabbed the towel I’d just used, thinking I needed something a little damp to help with the cleanup, and a dry one—for what purpose, I hadn’t a goddamn clue. Back in her room, she was shaking and thrashing and wailing “No” over and over, so I, wrapped her tight like I’d seen on one of those medical shows when they hand the new mom the baby. It helped. Injured people I’d been around in the past—hell, they were on their way to meet the devil, and I hadn’t given two shits. Wanting to save someone was a fucking new feeling. Before her, everyone could have gone rotten where they fell for all the fucks I’d given.
I pulled back the blanket on the lower part of her legs and ground my teeth to keep the reins on the rage that roared like a lion inside wanting to claw its way out. The purpling spots on her legs inflamed the beast even more. As I lifted the covers and grabbed the second ruined leg, I saw the blood that had ran in rivulets down her inner thigh. I had to step away and breathe to calm me. If I hadn’t already shot the motherfucker in the shop, I’d willfully do it again and this time I’d watch until the light in his eyes went out. I stomped back and forth in her tiny room running my hands over the sides of my head, before heading back to her and lifting the blanket higher. It was so fucking hard to be objective when I wanted to go back out there and pump that piece of shit full of more lead, but Bou needed me. She needed help just like she’d helped me when I’d been shot. I ran the wet towel up her legs, cleaning the blood away from her. When I got high enough to see the damage he’d caused, I let out a low growl of rage. He’d ripped her beautiful pussy—split her in fucking two. Goddamn him!
Fuck him all the way to Hell!
She was still bleeding, so I balled up the dry towel, pressed it gently between her legs, and closed them before covering her up with the blanket again. It didn’t seem nearly enough, but without Doc here, I was at a loss for what else I could do to help her. I tore my eyes away and moved up to her battered face—still fucking gorgeous despite the black and blue bruise spreading around one eye and her split lips. The blood was already drying there, so I just dabbed up the excess.
With her tucked in, her trembling slowed and the pained murmurs quieted. I didn’t want to leave her alone, but I needed to find her phone. I was about to do just that when the walls reverberated from a deep rumble outside. I looked out her bedroom window and toward the front door where Celt and Doc dismounted their bikes, her brother’s cop shirt open.
Oh, thank fuck!
I didn’t get the chance to pull on pants before the two men were glaring at me through the bedroom’s open door,
“Thank fuck, you’re here.” Relief trailed through my words.
Both men stopped cold and palmed their pieces. Before I knew it, two barrels pointed right at me.
I froze, slowly raising my hands. Then, and only then, did I realize that I was still buck-ass-naked. I rolled my eyes and dropped my head back, releasing a groan from the very depths of my soul. It rumbled up my chest and through my throat before I tilted my head forward to look Celt dead in the eyes. I tried to see the situation through their eyes. Behind me, Bou was half covered, her naked blood-splattered legs on show and her face a complete fucked-up mess thanks to the asshole in the shop. And here I was, completely naked. It didn’t look good. In fact, It looked fucking dire. I had no guilt here, and we needed to dispense with the bullshit so Doc could take care of Bou.
“What the fuck did you do to her?” Celt said, his eye lined up with the sites. His eyes flickered slightly to Bou behind me, but then like a hawk, he had them trained back on me.
I didn’t give a flying fuck if he shot me, but the longer we stood here, the longer it would take Doc to see to Bou. “Look—”
“Get the fuck away from my sister.” Celt added through gritted teeth.
Anger coursed through me, increasing in strength with every wasted second. “Listen, jackass, Do what the fuck you want with me, but let’s dispense with this bullshit.” I turned my eyes to Doc and stepped to the side slightly so they could see Bou better. “She needs help. I saved her but—”
“Saved her?” Celt lifted his eyes from the sights a hair’s breadth. “From what? You’re the only danger I can see.”
I ground my teeth and pointed behind them through the open bedroom door. “Fucking rapist.”
They didn’t lower their guns. Celt didn’t even look back over his shoulder to see where I was pointing.
“Step, the fuck, away from my sister,” Celt sniped again, but he moved forward.
I stood to the side as they approached, still in their line of fire. I focused on Celt’s angry, protective eyes, but said as calmly as I could muster, “Doc, she needs help.”
The older man holstered his gun and strode past me.
Celt motioned for me to follow him with the end of the gun. “Get your goddamn clothes on,” he said once we were in the tiny living room.
Still watching the gun, I pulled on a pair of sweats and booted my good foot as he looked back and forth between me and the door to Bou’s room.
“What’s doin’, Doc?” he asked.
Doc came rushing through the door. “Need my kit” he said as he jogged past us, to the bike.
Celt’s eyes bored into me as Doc returned a few seconds later with his bag.
“What did he do to her, Doc? Did he...”
Doc carried on walking at speed. He was through the bedroom door when he called out, “She’s been raped.”
Celt’s eyes flared with unconcealed hatred. A crimson line on his skin rose from his neck, across his face, and to his scalp. He holstered his gun, pivoted on one heel, reared back, and let his fist fly. His knuckles clocked me across the jaw.
