the left wall. More old, industrial, multi-paned windows framed either side of the bed. These were also grimy with dirt, but at least they let in some light. Pushed up against the opposite wall sat an old wooden desk and swivel chair, probably the original desk from the business. There were some shelves, and a dresser cluttered with empty liquor and beer bottles. Another doorway led to what looked like a bathroom.
“Sit down,” Cole said, indicating the bed. He popped the top on one of the cans, and handed it to her. Then he disappeared into the bathroom.
Angel drank thirstily from the can, and could hear him rummaging through a cabinet. He came back, and pulled up the chair from the desk, and sat in front of her. He opened a bottle of aspirin, shook a couple out, and handed them to her.
“Take these.”
She popped them into her mouth, and took a drink.
Cole took the can out of her hand, and set it on the bedside table. He held his hands out. “Let me take a look at your wrists.”
She looked into his eyes, and tentatively held them out.
He took them in his hands, and examined her thin wrists that were covered with purple and yellow bruising. He ran his thumbs over them. He shook his head softly, then reached for a tube of antibiotic ointment he’d brought from the bathroom, and tenderly spread some on the cuts on her wrists.
“The bruising is awful, but you’ll live,” Colt reassured, smiling up at her.
“Thanks,” she whispered, undone by his gentle ministrations.
“When’s the last time you ate?” he asked.
“Before the party.”
“So, three days ago?” His eyebrows shot up, his face clearly showing his astonishment.
She nodded.
He shook his head, tossing the ointment on the bedside table. “That son-of-a-bitch. I’m gonna enjoy killing him,” he murmured under his breath. He took Angel’s hands in his, and rubbed his thumbs across the top of her hands. He struggled to find the words to tell her how sorry he was for all that had happened to her.
She looked down, watching the motion of his thumbs on her skin. If he hadn’t shown her any sympathy, she could have held it together. But it all caught up with her then. She was so tired of being frightened, of trying to be strong. She tried to fight it, but the tears came, and she didn’t have the strength to fight them.
“Hey,” he whispered softly, tilting her chin up to look into her eyes. They were starting to fill with tears. “Hey, hey. It’s okay now. You’re safe here.”
She broke down into sobs as she finally let what happened to her sink in.
Cole could have handled anything but her crying. He would have preferred her backtalk, or the bravado she had displayed earlier, or the way she had fought him last night. That he could deal with. But these, these were real tears. He’d been with so many women that turned on the waterworks whenever they wanted to get their way, that he’d thought he’d become immune to a woman’s tears. But this, this was real. And he could tell she hated exposing this vulnerable soft side to him.
Shit.
It didn’t matter how many times he told himself he didn’t need to get involved with her, or how unaffected he told himself he was. The truth was, she’d touched something in him. He could be as strong and cold as the next man, worse when he had to be. But, fuck, this kind of emotional distress, the kind of hurting that goes all the way to the soul? This he couldn’t close his eyes to, or turn his back on.
Cole moved to sit on the bed next to her, and pulled her into his arms. “Shh. Shh. It’s okay. It’s okay.” He rubbed his hand over her head, smoothing her hair.
She fell against his chest, and clung to his cut.
“Baby, come on. Don’t cry. The worst is over.” He rocked her.
She tried to pull herself together, but it felt so good to be held.
“Shh. You’re gonna be alright. You understand? You’re gonna live through this, and you’re gonna get past it.” Her head was tucked under his chin. “The pain that you’re feelin’, I swear, baby, it won’t stay.” He kissed the top of her head. “I’m not gonna let anything more happen to you.” He tilted her face up to look in her eyes. “You hear me?”
She nodded.
The way she looked at him, it was getting to him. He