I lifted the clothes for her. “Yeah, I can make some. That’s a good idea.”
“Thanks for the clothes, not that I wouldn’t mind sitting around in this ball gown.” Giving me a crooked grin, she slipped past for the bathroom again. The coffee had started by the time she returned and it wasn’t long before I poured cups for both of us. And like my routine on the other mornings when Carter was gone for business, I took some coffee to Mike. He told me more guards had returned and taken point around the building so I filled up a thermos and climbed to the top floor. The guards didn’t even act surprised anymore. And then, I slid onto a seat beside Amanda at the table. We waited.
It was hours later when people arrived, but they were the new guards. Mike went home. A different Mike took his place. He was positioned in the garage. The only reason I knew of the change was because the first Mike came in to warn me of the shift change. He gave me a tight but reassuring smile. “I didn’t want you to be alarmed.”
“Any word from Carter?”
He shook his head and left.
Amanda asked once he was gone and we were alone inside, “Would he tell you anyway?”
“Probably not,” I sighed.
“Emma, I’m sure he’s fine.”
“I know he is.” But that wasn’t the point. I wanted to speak to him. I wanted to feel him, taste him. I wanted to hold him in my arms again. The images of him being beaten hadn’t stopped. I kept seeing them over and over again. And I hadn’t been able to stop it. Arms of cement held me back. It sent a chill down my back because there would be another time, but Carter might not be able to get out of that one like he had this time. Whether he told me he was out or not, it didn’t matter. I knew that Carter would always be connected to the mob.
I’d been kept in the dark. It was terrifying.
I wouldn’t for the next time.
“Look,” Amanda said. “Maybe I should head home?”
“No, stay.” I grabbed her arm when she started to stand. “Please.”
She caught my gaze, saw the pleading, and bent down. She pressed a kiss to the top of my forehead, skimming her hand over my hair. “It’s not the same, you know.”
“What isn’t?”
“Carter and Mallory.”
My mouth went dry. I hadn’t realized I’d been putting the two together, but she was right. I lost Mallory, even though I’d been reassured she would be fine. I swallowed over a big ball of emotion in my throat. I was scared of the same thing happening to him.
“Mallory was doomed from the beginning.”
Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes. Amanda had never spoken like this before. She sounded resigned as she pressed another kiss to my forehead. Turning, she rested her cheek to the top of my head and murmured, “She knew who Jeremy Dunvan was when they started together. And she knew he was a bad guy. That’s all she picked. She’s not the same as Carter.”
I blinked back the tears.
“And he’s not like her. He’ll fight for you.” Amanda stood. The corner of her lip curved up, but she was haunted. I knew it because I was the same. We were both haunted. She continued, “I was wrong before. Carter loves you. That’s obvious and if anyone’s going to get out of the mob, it’ll be him. That man isn’t one to be crossed.” She patted my hand again. “He’d move heaven and earth to keep you safe. I don’t agree with how he kept you safe before, but I know the lengths he’d go for you now.” Another yawn escaped her. “You should try to get some sleep too.”
Later, we both snuggled into couches in the downstairs media room. I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep, but Amanda wasn’t having that problem so we compromised. She made me promise to try so we put a movie on. It was a tradition we used to do when we’d go drinking with Mallory and Ben. Mallory usually ended the night with some guy. Ben would storm home and Amanda stayed the night on the couch. We would both fall asleep to a movie.
But I didn’t that night. I was awake for hours when a silhouette finally appeared in the doorway, and I almost cried out in relief.
Carter came and took my hand. He led us to our room.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
When we got there, he let go, but I took his hand again and led him into the bathroom. His face had been battered from the beatings. There was dried blood over him, in his hair as well, and he stood there watching as I inspected every wound. He winced as I probed his ribs, so instead of having him lift his shirt over, I took a firm hold at the top and ripped it. It fell to the floor. My eyes took it all in. His chest and ribs had taken the brunt of the kicks, at least the ones I saw. The tips of my fingers softly grazed over him, and he hissed from the pain.
My eyes caught his. I saw the pain and took a deep breath. Strength surged inside of me. He needed mine so I pointed to the counter and murmured, “Sit.” My voice came out hoarse, and I bit down on my lip. Pain sliced me when he made a motion to vomit. When he didn’t, I let out the breath I’d been holding and warmed some washcloths.
Pressing it to the cut on his nose, the washcloth immediately turned red from the blood. He hissed some more when I continued to his swollen cheek, then his swollen eye.
“You should see a doctor.”
He nodded, closing his one eye. Slowly, he leaned forward and rested his forehead on my shoulder. His lips moved against my skin as he answered, “I had to see you first.”
My hand lifted to cradle the back of his head. I drew another deep breath in and rested my head against his. My eyes closed. I felt his pain and I hated it. He shouldn’t have been hurting, but I knew he put himself in that situation for a reason. So many questions flew in my head, but I refrained from asking. My fingers began to massage the back of his head, delicately at first and they grew stronger when he didn’t grimace or flinch away. Instead, his hand moved to the small of my back and he pressed me tighter against him. As I kept massaging, he grew more and more tired. His weight leaned on top of me until all of it was there. He had fallen asleep. I was holding him up and I stood there. I continued holding him. I would’ve stood there for hours, standing for him but a small movement caught my eye and I looked up.