A hushed silence falls over the bar as we walk through, only the sound of Monroe’s giggling breaking it and my control isn’t even fucking visible from where I’m at.
“I will rip your throat out with my bare hands, Monroe. Don’t fucking push me.”
No one tries to stop us or speak to us which, really, is for the best.
I get Angel into my room and lock the door behind us. She’s trembling a little and I have to stop myself from crushing her against my chest to get her to quit. I don’t know what’s hurting her under the torn up hoodie.
“Can… is it okay if I have a shower? I’m… there’s dirt all over my legs.”
Deep breath. She’s scared and she always reverts back to meek and fucking hesitant when she’s scared but I hate her asking me like that. It makes me feel like she thinks I’m going to stop her from taking what she needs.
“I’m going to call Keely to come have a look at you as well but we’ll get you cleaned up first. Have you taken anything for the pain yet?”
She nods and I walk her into the bathroom, shocked at how clean it is in here but then I realize she’s been living here while I was gone.
I like that feeling way too much for this to be nothing but infatuation, she’s mine and I’ll do whatever it takes to fucking keep her.
I now fully understand why both my uncles tried locking the women who ‘struck them down with a baby because that sounds like a fucking plan.
“You need help in there?”
She shakes her head and just stands there, clutching at the towel like it’s gonna fix shit. “I just… need a minute.”
Right.
She needs space and even if it fucking kills me I’ll give it to her. I step out of the bathroom and wait there until I hear the water start running. Then I dump my shit onto my desk because I don’t need to be walking around fully armed where some asshole might run his mouth about her and end up with my knife sticking through his fucking eyeball.
I think about heading to the kitchen for food so I don’t have to leave her again any time soon but I can’t. I can’t walk outta here without her right now because the hesitancy in her voice just tore me to fucking shreds.
Instead, I take a half second to clean up the piles of my shit everywhere. There’s guns and knives left out over every surface and my desk is a mess of computer parts and security cameras I’ve been fucking around with. She hasn’t touched any of that shit at all since I’ve been gone but the piles of clothes are gone and my wardrobe is neatly organized like she’s been fixing shit in all her spare time. I know her schedule, I know she hasn’t got any real spare fucking time, she’s done it because she fucking cares about me even though I’ve been fucking nothing but an asshole to her.
I still feel fucking… on edge.
I don’t know what it is, whether Angel is going to walk out of that shower and finally tell me her story or if the building is about to be bombed but the jittery feeling in my gut has never been wrong.
Whatever it is, I need to lock Angel down hard.
The water finally cuts off and I wait about thirty seconds before I try the bathroom door.
It’s locked.
“Angel, what’s going on in there?”
Her voice is soft through the door but I hear her well enough. “Can I… have one of your shirts? I’ve been sleeping in them and… I mean, it’s fine—“
“Open the door, sweetness. Let me get you in bed.”
She shuffles around in the bathroom for a second and then she opens the door, standing there in one of my towels and looking like she’s been beaten within an inch of her life.
All of the air leaves the fucking room.
She fidgets a little and looks like she’s going to fucking cry. “Sorry. I should have grabbed something before I went in there but… I want one that smells like you. Fuck, I’m sorry.”
I swear to fucking God, if she says sorry to me again I’m going to lose my fucking mind.
But first, “I’m going to hunt down whoever the fuck did this to you and I’m going to kill him in the worst fucking way.”