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Wilde gave a single nod. “I’ll be alright. He acted first, thought later. I don’t blame him. I’d have done the same.”
“No fucking defending him,” I warned.
“You don’t understand, Bou.”
Wilde came over and sat on the bed. Close, but not too close. Instinct had me backing away, but I fought it. After all, he wasn’t pressing himself onto me. I willed the muscles in my shoulders and back to relax. “What don’t I understand?”
“He needed to protect you—just like I did.” Wilde looked at my bedroom floor and ran his hands down his thighs as if he were nervous.
“Hey,” I called.
Wilde turned his eyes my way.
“I don’t need protecting.”
He leaned his elbows onto his knees and clasped his hands, but he kept his eyes locked with mine. “Clearly you do,” was all he said.
The simple statement caused a spark to fire in my chest and my stomach to flip, but it confused the matter. I couldn’t tell if it was because I wanted to lash out at him for acting like Celt, or if I wanted to melt into him and let him hold me. Protect me, the way I just said I didn’t need. Tears sprang to my eyes, and I quickly turned my head away.
No fucking crying, Bou, I scolded myself, inhaling deeply to extinguish the burn behind my eyes.
“I’ve been taking care of myself for years,” I said softly. “Besides, it’s not the first time. I knew better. I was just careless and didn’t have my guns handy.”
Suddenly, there was a strong hand on my chin. So strong, but it gently urged me to turn back to face Wilde. His brows pressed down into a V in the center, and he lowered his voice to a deadly tone. “Someone has done this to you before? Who?” It was more of a demand than a question, and when I didn’t answer, he ground out through gritted teeth, “His name, Bou.”
Closing my eyes, I gave a small head shake. I didn’t know who’d raped me before, but how would he believe that? How could anyone believe that? Flashes of arms around my waist and the blindfold he’d tied around my eyes came back. I hugged myself.
Since I hadn’t answered, Wilde asked, “Does Celt know?”
I squeezed my eyes closed tighter and said on a sigh, “No,” then fluttered them open and settled my gaze on the rugged, strong, and lethal man before me.
“Who was it, Bou?” he pressed again. By his tone and utter stillness, I knew in my bones that he’d see that man dead too if he—or I—ever discovered who it was.
“I didn’t see. He made sure of that. It was a long time ago. That’s when I started stocking up on the guns around the shop. Luke made a move on me last week, but he was young, and I thought I’d put him in his place.” I tried to laugh, but it didn’t really work. “Guess not, huh?”
Wilde ran a warm hand over my shoulder and down my arm, then let it drop to the bed beside me. “I’d murder him all over again if I could.”
I stopped breathing and searched his face. What was it about this man that had me torn between running away and acting like a cheerleader swooning over the captain of the fucking football team?
Gravel crunched under tires outside, and a cloud of dust wafted by my bedroom window.
“That’ll be Celt,” Wilde said, backing away.
“Keep him busy while I get dressed,” I said. “I’ll meet you in the shop.”
Wilde nodded and left. I climbed slowly out of bed, ignoring the pain, and locked the door behind Wilde. Almost as soon as the deadbolt slid into place, a loud banging had me jumping away from the door.
“Bou, let me in!” Celt yelled.
“I’m okay,” I lied, but I needed him to believe that. I’d heal better here, in my home, than back in my old family home with Celt. “Give me a minute, and I’ll be out.” I wanted desperately to shower, but there was no time. Celt would kick my door off the hinges if I made him wait much longer.
I dug in my closet to find some pajama pants—something loose that wouldn’t press against where Luke had wreaked havoc. Finding that I still bled down there, I also grabbed some soft cotton panties and a pad to catch the blood. I found a loose-necked sweatshirt that I could slide into without scraping my face and carefully pulled it over my head. My feet shoved into some old Keds with the heel crushed, I turned to the mirror and grimaced at the sight—battered and frumpy. With a long sigh, I pulled my hair into a messy bun and turned to the door. It was the best I could do.
Outside my apartment, the shop remained quiet. My fingers fumbled on the cold metal deadbolt, and I grabbed one hand with the other to still the tremor.
Calm down, Bou. Luke’s dead, and you’re going to survive. Always a survivor.
My brother and Wilde stood at the far side of the shop, looking down. I couldn’t see the body from the door, but the distance between the two men was clearly a man’s length. I swallowed, rolled my shoulders back, gathered my gumption, and padded over. Celt rubbed his chin, and Wilde stood with his arms folded over his broad chest, both staring at the body.
