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I think the only people more shocked by Rose’s appearance are Kisten and Slade. Three years after the Grants disappeared with Rose, I was able to track down Marcia Grant. Unfortunately, it was in the Chicago morgue that I found her. Dead means she couldn’t answer my questions. That was the last lead I got.
When Slade confirmed she had wandered the streets for hours before taking shelter from the rain in a café, I knew she had nowhere to go. Why the fuck didn’t she tell me? Did she honestly think I wouldn’t help her?
Her too skinny body trembles against my side. “Cold?”
“A little,” she meekly responds.
I pull her into my lap and wrap my coat around her, cocooning her in my arms against my body. She turns her head and presses her cold face against the warmth of my neck. I suck in a breath of shock at the chill.
“Cold?” She asks with a hint of a smile in her voice.
I can’t hold back my laughter. God, this woman holds everything good in the world, and she doesn’t even know it. I sink back into the soft leather seat and relish the feeling of her body against mine.
Ten long years of waiting, and I finally have my girl in my arms again. Only, she doesn’t seem to remember me. It pains me to no end knowing that my Rose forgot me. Forgot our young love that blossomed despite, or maybe because of, the hell we lived in. It’s taken all of my self-control, and some borrowed from Kisten and Slade, to keep me from bringing up our past.
Slade was the one who talked me down that first night after Rose had to be sedated. He’s right, though. I have no idea what she’s been through all these years we’ve been apart. The fact that she was with Damon tells me that things weren’t good for her. Damon isn’t just some innocent bystander that took advantage of a young woman desperate for money.
No, he’s the only son to Dominic Savada, the head of the Savada Family—the mob. His father is no angel, but Damon makes his father look like a fucking saint. Damon is a sadistic fuck whose moral compass points straight toward Hell. It didn’t take me long to piece together that Rose sold herself to Damon in exchange for a new identity. She’s on the run from someone, and pure desperation sent her straight into the lion’s den.
I want to reassure her that nothing is going to hurt her ever again. I want to help her with whatever troubles her. Protect her from whatever she’s running from, but I’m taking my friends advice and letting Rose set the pace.
Both Dr. Martinez and Slade are convinced that Rose has post-traumatic stress disorder, which can mean that she’s blocked out or suppressed memories as a coping mechanism. Maybe I latched onto that as an explanation for how she could forget about me because it hurt too damn much to think that those months we spent together meant so little to her that she was able to forget all about me. No matter the reason, she’s obviously in a fragile state of mind, and I won’t be the cause of further stress. Either she will remember me in her own time, or I will just have to be satisfied with whatever is in store for us in the future. She doesn’t know it yet, but I’m her future. She fell in love with me once, I just have to make her love me again. Thank God, I’m a stubborn fuck who doesn’t back down from a challenge. When I see something I want, I go after it with a single-minded focus.
One way or another, I’m going to get my Rosie back, and then I’m going to spend every day for the rest of my life loving her.
CHAPTER TEN
ROSE
Several minutes later, we pull into an underground parking garage, the door is opened as soon as we stop by a very large, very scary looking man. He has dark hair and even darker eyes. He has a scar on one side of his face. I cringe at the realization that it’s a knife wound. My inner thigh itches and I have to clench my fists to prevent myself from touching the spot over the scar there that’s a perfect match to this man.
I recoil back from him as he reaches into the car to grab ahold of my arm. His grip is firm but gentle. The dark, deadly look in his eyes has my mouth growing dry. This man could break me with one hand tied behind his back and not even blink. I force my brain to calm. Matthew isn’t freaking out, so this guy has to be safe. Just because he looks scary doesn’t mean he’s a danger to me. Despite his size and his hard look, he helps me carefully from the SUV.
“Slade, this is Rose,” Matthew introduces us as he slides out of the SUV behind me. “Slade will be your security detail if you should need to leave the residence. He’ll drive you wherever you need to go.”
Slade nods down at me and attempts a smile. I assume he’s trying to put me at ease, but he shouldn’t have bothered. Nothing he does is going to minimalize the level of lethal energy he puts out just standing here. “Rose,” he says in acknowledgment.
I shiver at the tone of his voice. It’s gravely and just as menacing as the rest of him. I can imagine him chewing on broken glass in his spare time to keep that level of menace in his tone. My anxiety rises with every breath I take, and the need to flee is so strong I have to force myself to stay standing still. Thankfully, Matthew is more than willing to allow me to cling to his arm. I manage to position myself in a way that Matthew is between Slade and me. I wearily stare at the hulk of a man. Lord have mercy, where did Matthew find this guy? My voice has completely escaped me, and the only thing I can concentrate on is breathing. Even that is a chore.
Slade notices my distress—it is pretty obvious—and a little of the hardness retreats from his eyes. “I know I’m one scary-looking motherfucker, but that’s why I’m on your detail ma’am. Have to be a damn big fool to come up against me.” He tries the whole smiling thing again, and this time it’s not quite so scary. In fact, since his smile is a bit wider, more genuine, there is a hint of a dimple on his left cheek and a slight twinkle in his dark eyes. “You are safe with me, little bit,” he promises.
Matthew is silent through this exchange, which is strange since at every sign of my discomfort, he’s come to my rescue. I glance up at him from the corner of my eye and notice he is looking down on me, my discomfort hasn’t escaped his notice he’s just allowing me the chance to handle things. I am not as subtle in my glance as I think and can see the smirk on his lips when he sees me looking at him.
I look back towards Slade, well, mostly at his knees. Baby steps. “O-okay,” I stutter. “Thanks.” My voice cracks and I can’t hide the hint of fear in it, but at least I answered.
Daniels walks past us and claps Slade on the shoulder then heads to a bank of elevators entering a code in the keypad next to the smallest of the three elevators. Matthew starts to move forward, stopping in his tracks when I don’t move from the spot I’m rooted to. Still holding onto his arm with a death grip. He turns to face me head-on and pulls my fingers from his arm one at a time then links his fingers through mine.
“Love,” he admonishes. “I think by now you know that I am not going to let anything happen to you. You are perfectly safe here with me and in my home. My men will never let anything happen to you either. While both Slade and Daniels look like bad motherfuckers, I am the baddest motherfucker around so they will not disappoint me. Got it?”
Feeling a bit annoyed at myself for being such a shrinking violet, I straighten my spine and nod in acceptance. I’m not sure why, but I trust Matthew. Maybe because he saved me from Damon, or because after he saved me, he spent days by my bedside taking care of me. No matter the reason, I trust him more than I can ever remember trusting anyone… except…
No, I won’t think of him. Not now. Not ever.
I shove that thought down. Marcia Grant—my once foster mother and tormentor—told me he was a figment of my imagination. The stupid dream of a child. In my life, there isn’t any room for childish thoughts, and certainly no room for dreams. Unless you consider nightmares as dreams. There are plenty of those. The dreams didn’t stop coming, though. Dreams of the blue-eyed boy who promised to take me away. To save me from the Grants. Night after night, he promised me the world in my dreams. Of course, I would always wake up, and there was no rescue on the horizon.
I look up at Matthew’s dark-blue eyes and wonder if my subconscious has connected the dream-boy who made such pretty promises with this man in front of me. Did my brain trick me into trusting him because of my dreams? Do I care if that’s why I’m so comfortable with Matthew?
No, I decide, I don’t care the why of how I feel when he’s around. I’ve never felt more cared for, more protected, more like a human being that’s worthy of kindness in my entire life. I’m going to latch onto the way he makes me feel and not let go.
