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They do care. I’m sure her mother does too. We didn’t tell her because we didn’t want to worry her.
“Did you really think I wasn’t going to look for you? That I wouldn’t move heaven and earth to find you?”
She shrugs one shoulder, her head still bent. “I didn’t know what to think. Our relationship hasn’t always been… stable.”
I’m incredulous—but not. She’s right. Our relationship has been unstable from the start, and I didn’t help matters when I didn’t trust her.
Well, I trust her now, and I need to make all of my wrongs right. I need her forgiveness.
I just need Charlotte.
“We made that call, Charlotte, your brothers and I, not to tell your parents. We were trying to keep everything quiet. The less people that knew, the better. And none of us wanted to get the police involved either, which concerned Grant,” I explain.
And I definitely don’t want her feeling unloved. What happened to her has nothing to do with her parents.
“I still think the police should be involved. They should know a deranged man is on the loose,” she says. “He’s dangerous, Perry.”
I’m not worried about that asshole. Not at the moment. All I can think about is this woman. My wife.
“Your brothers and I will take care of it. And Winston. Hell, I should call him. Let him know I got you home and you’re safe.”
“Oh. Okay. I’ll go take a bath while you call him.” She starts for her bedroom and I stop her, my fingers curling around her arm, careful to keep my touch gentle, a thought occurring to me.
Did that asshole hurt her? Mark her?Bruiseher? If there is one tiny scratch on her, I’m going to kill him. I’ll tear him apart with my bare hands.
“I’ll start your bath for you,” I offer, my voice low.
She visibly swallows. “Okay. I’d like that.”
I go into her bathroom and start the water, letting it run until it’s hot before I push the plug in and the tub starts to fill. My wife likes her baths steaming hot. Her skin is always flushed red when she gets out of the tub and sometimes, she soaks in there for so long, I worry she’s fallen asleep.
Sitting on the tub’s ledge, I add some fragrant bath oil and watch it bubble when the streaming water hits it. I’m feeling contemplative. Thankful the day ended like it has.
So damn thankful.
She enters the bathroom a few minutes later, clad in a pale pink terry cloth robe, her feet bare and her blonde hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun. She smiles when our gazes catch, and she waves a hand toward the filling tub.
“I can take over from here,” she offers, but I don’t say anything at first. I don’t move a muscle. I’m suddenly tense and she can sense it. “What’s wrong?”
I swallow hard, my throat thick with emotion. “Did he hurt you?”
Charlotte frowns, reaching for the cloth belt of her robe. “What do you mean?”
“Him. That—motherfucker.” It’s difficult to say his name out loud. To acknowledge his existence. “Did. He.Hurt.You?” I nod toward her robe. “Take it off.”
Her fingers curl around the ends of the belt. “Perry—”
I interrupt her. “Do it, Charlotte. I need to see you.”
Lifting her chin, she undoes the belt, pushing the robe away and revealing her naked body. My gaze roams, not sure where to settle first. Drinking in all that pale, creamy skin. So far, so good. She’s unmarked.
She shrugs the robe off so it falls to the floor and that’s when I see it. The bruises. Three of them on her upper right arm, in the shape of fingers. Where he gripped her. Forced her out of the lobby maybe. Or when he dragged her into his shitty apartment. Because come on, it can’t be that great, the apartment he held her captive in.
Know what else isn’t great? The fact that this asshole hurt my wife. Bruised her. He’s going to pay.
And it won’t be pretty.
“Come here,” I demand and she glides toward the tub, stopping directly in front of me. “He marked you.”
