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“He killed my parents, didn’t he?”
“Yeah, baby. I think he did.”
I didn’t know how long I laid there with her in my arms, as she eventually cried herself to sleep. I hated that this was happening to her. She did nothing to deserve it. So sweet and gentle, Skylar Rose should have had a wonderful life with parents that adored her. Instead, she had everything ripped away from her by a man who wanted payback. For that alone, I was going to make sure the motherfucker paid dearly. But he sealed his fate when he laid hands on her.
Sometime later, I heard a soft knock on my door before it slowly opened as King popped his head in.
“Chase?”
“Yeah?”
“I need you downstairs.”
Nodding, I carefully rolled away from her, getting to my feet. Reaching for the blanket at the foot of my bed, I covered her up before lightly kissing her forehead. Following my brother downstairs, I spotted all of my brothers, along with Hawk and Law, standing around, waiting.
“What’s up?” I asked, stopping to look at all of them.
“How is she?” Law asked, concerned.
“Upset, confused, angry. She just learned that a man she trusted stole her inheritance, beat the hell out of her, and possibly blew up her house and killed her parents, all because of a vendetta. I’d say she is handling it better than any of us would. Why?”
“He’s in the bunker, Chase,” King carefully said.
“And?”
“We want to know what you want done.” Hawk clearly said.
“What do you mean? You don’t need me to tell you what to do?”
“Yeah, we do Chase,” King said, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Why?”
“Because you claimed her, brother,” Scribe said, stepping forward. “In Beth’s coffee shop. Everyone heard you. I was outside, brother and I even heard you.”
“And? What’s your point?”
“Hiller hurt your woman, Chase. That means you run point on this. We need you to tell us what you want us to do.”
I looked at my brothers and clearly said for all to hear, “Kill the motherfucker.”
Chapter Seventeen
Skylar
Weeks had passed since Hiller showed up at the coffee shop, wanting God knows what, and during that time, Chase had done a complete one-eighty.
It wasn’t an instant personality change, but subtle.
It started that night with me waking up and finding myself asleep next to him in his bed, while he held me. While it made me happy, I was leery, considering how he typically was with me. The days following, I could see him warring with himself, sometimes biting his tongue but he didn’t lash out at me. Whatever was going on with him, seemed to be something he was trying to control or figure out.
I didn’t know what happened or why he was suddenly being nice to me, but I liked this side of him. No longer gruff or short with me, he took the time to talk to me, letting me see a side of him he rarely showed.
He was also very affectionate. Still more reserved than I liked, he always found time to hold my hand, give me a hug or kiss me.
And dear God, did the man kiss me well!
If I thought our first kiss was spectacular, those that followed knocked my socks off. Chase was careful, methodical, and determined in his approach with me. He took his time, giving me an insight into the heart of the man. As much as I soaked up the attention, a small part of me felt as if he was still holding something back. I’d seen the fire in his eyes, felt the stiffness of his pants when he held me close. I knew he wanted me, but he never overstepped.
