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His pleads only made me angrier, and I heard Amanda’s broken voice repeating in my head. He was so angry. He hit me. I swung again, ignoring the pain in my hand. My knuckles were covered in blood. I wasn’t sure if it was his or mine, but it didn’t stop me.
I hit him again, shoving him onto his back. My hold on his shirt was firm, and I placed my weight on his chest, ensuring he’d stay down. Then I hit him again.
And again.
The world around me faded from gray to black, getting darker each time my skin met Dallas’s. It was like his face had become a target, the red spatters of blood urging me on. I punched him again, ignoring the flutter of fingers on my bicep.
“Drake, stop. You’re going to kill him.” Her voice brought me out of it, dropping me back into reality and making me aware of the ache in my hands and the battered man in front of me, but I didn’t stop. My arm flew back in one more recoil, throwing Amanda to the ground with a cry.
She hit the cement, her body landing in a pile with her blond hair spread around her. The red filter that had fogged my vision seconds earlier cleared, and I dropped my hold on Dallas’s shirt. I rushed to her side, scooping her into my arms and brushing the hair away from her face.
“Angel, I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry. Are you okay?” My blood-covered hands shook when I investigated, checking every inch of her that I could to make sure she wasn’t hurt.
She nodded, placing her hands on either side of my face. “I’m fine.” She kissed me, and her mouth tasted faintly of liquor and iron. Blood. “I promise. I’m okay.”
Amanda was frantic, running her fingers over every exposed piece of skin she could reach. I grabbed her hands, placing them to my mouth and kissing each of her fingers before I held them still. She just stared at me.
Behind us, Mackenzie climbed out of the backseat with her phone in her hand. Had she called Bryson? What would he say when he found out about this? I didn’t linger on the thought long when Dallas groaned, struggling to get onto his feet.
I stood up, lifting Amanda with me and wrapping my arm tightly around her waist. Dallas stared, dark bruises already forming around his eyes and half-dried blood caking his cheeks. I glared at him. “The next time you touch my girl, you’ll fucking die. Are we understood?”
***
I had dropped Mackenzie off at home on the way back to Amanda’s, sure she would tell Bryson everything and I would have a lot of explaining to do in the morning. I didn’t care, though. All I cared about was getting home and making sure Amanda was really okay.
She fussed over the cracks in my knuckles that were still bleeding. Her touch was gentle when she ran the warm, damp cloth over the sensitive skin, pausing when I hissed. She cradled my hand in hers.
When I looked up from her hands, her eyes were glued to me. How long had she been staring? A swarm of butterflies lunged into my throat. “What?” I asked her.
“You called me your girl.” Amanda gnawed on her bottom lip, her cheeks growing darker with her blush.
I took the washcloth from her, dropping it to the counter and taking her hand in mine. I cupped her chin, my gaze drilling into hers. “You are my girl.”
“I know.” Amanda giggled, and the fear that had been present on her features all night disappeared for a moment. “I liked hearing you say it.”
I smiled at her, pulling her into my arms and holding her tight against me. “You’re my girl, angel.” I placed a quick, soft kiss to her lips. “Mine.”
Chapter thirty-four
Drake
“Do I look okay?” Amanda asked, stepping out of her bedroom. The purple dress she wore hung loosely past her hips, swaying around her legs, but my eyes were drawn to the plunging neckline before they bounced back to her face. She twisted side to side, watching the fabric twist and twirl, and there was a relaxed wonder in her eyes that made my chest flutter.
“Okay?” I asked her, stepping forward and closing the distance between us. “Not even kind of. You’re always perfect, angel.”
She looked down and chewed at her bottom lip, blushing a light pink. “Really?”
Was she really questioning it? I reached my hand out to tuck a loose blond curl behind her ear. When she winced, recoiling back from me, my stomach sank. I had seen the deep purple and blue bruises on her face before she flitted away to her room to cover them with the makeup she was now wearing.
“Yes, really,” I said, gently cradling her face and brushing my thumb over her cheek.
Her eyes closed with the contact, but a soft smile tugged at her lips. “Thank you. You’re pretty perfect yourself.”
I laughed, the sound mixing with her light, nervous giggle and bouncing off the walls of the entryway. I felt lighter, the guilt of not having been there to protect her slowly lifting from my shoulders, but I was still nauseous. She had been hurt. Leaning forward, I rested my forehead against hers, still brushing my thumb lightly over her cheek.
“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.” I swallowed the lump in my throat when I said it, but the tears that welled in Amanda’s eyes made it come back.
She shook her head. “Don’t be.” Tears streaked their way down her cheeks anyway. Amanda closed her hands around my sweater, clinging to me until her knuckles went pale. “You saved me anyway.”
