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“They were most likely instructed not to hurt you in that way,” I assure her.
“Right and Vlad? He didn’t have any interest. I mean. He made me shower in front of him, but I think it was more like he didn’t want to leave me alone type of thing. It wasn’t sexual.”
She brings her hand to her mouth, chewing on the tips of her nails. I wait, watching silently while she contemplates. Most likely trying to figure out the why. Why do people do the things they do? Fyodor hurt her, badly. And then he was kind to her. It confused her, and she wouldn’t be able to get over that for a while.
Most people consider Saoirse to just be a spoiled girl, always handed her achievements. But she works hard for everything. She studied in college more than she partied, and networked her ass off to get into building green. Nothing except the tuition fees came from her father.
He may have chosen her degree, but Saoirse made it work for her. She chose the expense that came with eco-friendly materials over cheap and high profit because she wanted to change the way society reduces waste.
Evil men may be the world she comes from, but it’s not the one she chooses to live in. So, a bad man hurting her, then being kind to her, she can’t wrap her head around.
I lean forward, resting my hands on my knees. “He wanted to marry you for an alliance. He could have already had someone he ... loved. Someone that prevented him from wanting you in that way.”
She nods. “That could be.” A huff escapes, and the pacing begins again.
“Tell me, baby. Tell me how I can help.”
“My hair,” she breathes out, tugging at a section in the back. “He was obsessed. Played with it, and whenever he was angry, he pulled on it.Hard,Jaime. I can still feel how much it hurts.”
Saoirse’s eyes close, and her entire body stiffens as she sinks back into the memories. Every ounce of her is back in that moment, withdrawn from reality. My heart aches for her while guilt riddles me. I never should have left her with Finn.
I know it wasn’t his fault, that it would have happened with me there, too. But I probably never would have ordered her to the safe room. I’d have tucked her behind me and let them kill me while I shot every single one of them. I never would have let her out of my sight.
I pinch the bridge of my nose. It’s time to move on. We can’t keep playing the what ifs. I’ve told her that, and I need to follow my own lead. I stand, wrapping her in my arms, and she lets out a shaky breath. Tension leaves her body, and she softens against me. I rub soothing circles on her back.
“It’s over,” I say.
“It’s not over. Vlad got away,” she whispers. Her nails dig into the back of my head. “My house ... and Frog.” A tear escapes, her voice weakening with each word.
I cup her face, my thumb wiping at the tear. “Your house is fine, Saoirse. It’ll be ready in a few days, okay?”
“Okay.” She pulls away, heading back for the bench, and settles in beneath the blanket.
“As far as Vlad, we’ll get him. It’s only been a week. We think he’s hiding out Upstate. We just need confirmation.”
She chews on her lip. “I want to be there when he dies.”
“Are you sure?”
She’s taken Tommy’s life, but as far as I know, it’s the only one she’s ever ended herself. And even though she’s been handling it well, no nightmares as far as I’ve noticed, murder is not a habit I want her to keep. She nods, glancing up at me. “Tommy did nothing for me. Something inside me wants …” Her head shakes. “No,needs. I need to see Vlad gone from this world.”
“Then it’s done. You’ll be there,” I promise. “What can I do about your hair?” I ask, leaning against the back of the bench.
She shrugs, her head now in my lap as she peers up at me. “I just needed to start over. I …” Her cheeks flush and she turns away.
“What, baby?” I ask, my voice soft in hopes of eliciting a positive response from her.
She turns her head, her cheek rubbing against my thigh. I reach for her hair, playing with it softly. Her eyes close in response, mouth parting. I groan when her hand wraps around my wrist, nails digging into my forearm.
“I just wanted it gone. The memory, the feel of his hands on me.” Her lips press against the inside of my jean clad thigh. “I want you to take it away.”
“Fuck, okay.” My grip tightens, pulling hard enough to make her wince. “Tell me to stop.”
She shakes her head, eyes closing. She turns to her side, reaching for the zipper of my jeans. I instantly harden beneath her touch.
“Saoirse,” I say, my tone laced with warning.
“This is what I want,” she says, sliding off the bench and getting on her knees before me.
