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“You’re going to kill me anyway, why would I do myself the injustice of getting on the ground for you?”
Rayne’s dark eyes flash with annoyance as he steps further into the room. “Because I’m not going to be the one to end your poor excuse of an existence.” He steps up until their faces are just a few inches from one another before he lifts the handgun in his hand so quickly I almost miss the movement before slamming it into Spade’s head.
At the same time, two loud gunshots fill the room, and I immediately move my body over Isla’s, shielding her as best I can. Bodies fall to the ground and I chance a look up to see the two assholes who were guarding me are now on the ground, blood surrounding them as they gasp for air.
Storm steps into the room, his icy eyes surveying the room before they fall on me and Isla. “Let’s get her out of here before the whole house goes up.”
I make quick work of cutting through the rope around her ankle before lifting her into my arms. Has she always felt this tiny? It’s only been a little over a day since I’ve seen her, since I’ve held her in my arms, and yet it feels like a fucking lifetime.
I wrap the throw rug tighter around her as I watch Rayne grip Spade around the collar and drag him toward the exit.
“You know that would have been easier if you didn’t knock him out first,” Storm snarks.
Rayne glares at his brother. “I was sick of listening to his voice.”
Ordinarily I would find their bickering amusing, but right now all I can think about is getting Isla to safety.
CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
ISLA
There’s something so peaceful about your own mind when you escape trauma.
I’ve spent years in my own head, never wanting to burden the people around me with my thoughts and feelings, but never have I felt so at home.
The outside world no longer exists as I drift through a dreamlike state where nothing hurts and no one can harm me. Where I’m alone with my thoughts and at peace with the decisions that led me here. Or at least I think I am.
I’m vaguely aware of the feeling of weightlessness, but I refuse to allow my mind to drift back to that place, to be aware of whatever is happening to my body while my mind runs free.
“Isla.” A voice penetrates the blissful quiet, but I push it back. It’s not time yet. I’m not ready to return to whatever reality is waiting for me.
“Spitfire, I need you to look at me.” There’s an edge of desperation to the familiar voice, and my heart aches for them.
“Just give her time,” another voice says, one that I don’t recognize, and that makes me retreat farther into my own mind.
“I need to know if she’s hurt anywhere else. What if she has a concussion?” the familiar voice snaps, his voice strained with stress and worry.
“She’s not asleep, Doc. You’ve dealt with enough women who have been through significant trauma to know she’s hiding in her own mind.”
Is that what I’m doing? It makes sense I suppose. It’s what I hoped I’d be able to do as Spade covered me with his weight, readying himself to violate me, but perhaps I was actually successful.
Doc sighs, and I’m vaguely aware of pressure on my lower stomach, but the pain is in the distance. Not quite close enough for me to feel it, but just near enough that I know it’s there. “I think the knife missed all her organs, but I’d feel better if I had my kit with me.”
“Bryant said they have a doctor that works for them, he’s going to meet us at the penthouse the brothers share.”
I allow my mind to drift back to its safe place, trusting that my body is in safe hands for the moment.
Awarm hand envelops mine, the feel of the calluses on my palm so familiar it brings me to the brink of consciousness. My eyes drift open, the heaviness of my lids almost forcing them closed, but I manage to hold them open long enough to meet Doc’s dark, intense gaze.
“Spitfire,” he breathes, the tension in his shoulders melting away.
“Doc,” I whisper, looking around at our surroundings. I’m in one of the most comfortable beds I can ever remember laying in, the soft sheets a world away from the ones I’ve lived with most of my life. The dark timber furniture ties in with the deep gray walls and floorboards. Where the hell are we?
“We’re at the Hayes brothers’ apartment, in their spare room.”
“Oh.”
“How are you feeling?” He reaches for a glass of water beside the bed and carefully brings it to my lips, allowing me to take a few sips before he draws it away.
