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Once he’s on the floor, I jump on top of him, pinning his arms behind his back.
Then a clatter of footsteps approach, and Cole says wryly, “Cash, feel like coming to work with us instead of publishing?”
Leo and Finn grab Brett from me, securing him quickly. Cole is on his phone, saying, “We have a guy for you. Kidnapping. Assault. Attempted murder, possibly.”
But I don’t care about Brett anymore. I just need to see Ari.
She’s still huddled on the floor, shaking all over, making these scared little noises that break my heart. Forcing back the anger, the panic, I gentle my voice. “Ari, sweetheart. It’s over.”
I have to say it a few more times before it sinks in. Before she unfurls herself, turning over to look at me. And my rage ignites all over again.
But I bite it back. Ari needs me. “Oh, honey.”
Herface.I’m gutted to see my Ari this way. The horrible tape, the dried blood beneath her nose, and now her cheekbone is deep red and swollen. There’s a gash under her eye from when she was hit by the gun, blood steadily flowing from it.
In front of her is the hated gun, and she glances down at it, flinching.
“I’ve got it,” Cole says, carefully picking it up with a cloth. “And we’ve got Brett. He’s not going anywhere.”
That’s all I need to hear.
First, I carefully peel the tape off her face. I know it hurts her—tears are welling up—and I hate that I’m causing her pain. Once her mouth is free, she sucks in several long, shuddering breaths before whispering, “I knew you’d come.”
I can barely speak over the lump in my throat. “Of course, honey.” Gathering her into my arms, I cradle Ari to me as I move to the dining room. I hate having to keep her in this house one second longer, but I need to check her injuries.
As I set her on the dining table—after shoving all the papers onto the floor—she looks up at me with tear-drenched eyes and says quietly, “I just want to go home.”
My own eyes tear up. I came so close to losing her. “I know, sweetheart,” I soothe, “but I need to see where you’re hurt.”
Each injury is another slash to my heart. Another stab of guilt that I didn’t see this coming.
There’s the lump on her head that’s most likely a concussion, especially when I flick on the overhead light and she flinches at it. The cut on her cheek, still bleeding, and a possibly broken cheekbone. The raw skin around her mouth from the tape stuck across it. And her hands—the delicate skin all cut from the blade on the ring.
“It was harder to use than I thought,” Ari whispers as I stare down at her poor hands. “Especially with my hands behind my back.”
Cole comes up behind me with a first aid kit, and I start carefully wrapping her hands. She’ll need to have them cleaned and bandaged at the hospital, along with a full exam and an x-ray, but I can at least slow the bleeding.
“Police and ambulance are five minutes out,” Cole says. His eyes drop to Ari’s bloodied hands, and he winces, but gives her a little approving smile. “I knew you could use it if you needed to.”
Once I have Ari bandaged enough for the trip to the hospital, I pick her back up, needing the reassurance of her body against mine. “I’m so sorry,” I murmur into her hair, my heart aching. “I’m so sorry, honey.”
“I’m sorry.” She presses her face into my neck and lets out a little hiss of pain, quickly pulling away. “I’msorry, Cash.”
“Ah, sweetheart. What for?” Aside from scaring the ever-living fuck out of me when she jumped on Brett, but that’s a topic for another day.
“It’s my fault.” Tears erupt again, and her voice breaks. “I shouldn’t have gone with Brett, I should have—” Another crack. “I should have called Finn. Or made sure it was true. But I…”
And she starts sobbing, the words coming out between gasps. “He said… you were in an accident… shot. I was so scared… he said he’d pick me up… I just wanted… to get to you…”
That fucker. He picked the one reason Ari would leave with him.
If I wasn’t holding Ari, I’d go back over to where Finn and Leo have Brett restrained and beat the shit out of him.
But I am, and she’s the most important thing. So I shift Ari in my arms and press kisses to her head as I tell her, “It’s not your fault, honey. Not at all.”
She looks up at me, her chin quivering. “But if I hadn’t…”
“Then he would have figured out something else,” I tell her firmly, leaving no room for argument. “If someone told me you were in the hospital, my only thought would be getting to you. So don’t blame yourself. You did nothingwrong.”
