The Butcher of the Bay Part II - J. Bree Page 0,25

it’s not about who I am. It’s about admitting she needs a fucking friend.

She desperately needs some fucking friends.

I can’t imagine that school giving her the type of people she needs on her side but, fuck, I hope she finds her people. People who understand what it means to be broken into pieces by the cards your life dealt you. People who know what it means to be ride or die, the real life-threatening sort, not just the words.

I shift my gaze away from her and she exhales, like she’s held her breath while I’d spoken, expecting the worst.

If that isn’t the most Mounty kid thing to do, I don’t fucking know what is.

I drop Lips back at the group home before we head back to the apartment. When I mention all of the blood covering her she smirks at me with a shrug.

“They all know better than to nark on me for this shit. It happens a lot.”

Of course it does.

She is the Bay’s most famous assassin. The quiet and deadly type that slits your throat while you sleep.

We get back to the warehouse and it’s then I remember that I’ve done fucking nothing about the dead guys upstairs. The whole place is going to stink of rotting corpses because I didn’t even think to pay some other asshole to deal with them in my blood-soaked rage at losing Odie.

I take a deep breath before I open the car door but there’s no smell down here thank fuck. I get Odie out carefully, adjusting her in my arms until I’m sure she’s not only secure but that her head isn’t going to rattle around too much as I walk.

The apartment is spotless.

I stare around at it all like it's suddenly going to have the bodies appear but, nope, they're fucking gone.

What the fuck?

My phone buzzes in my pocket and I grab it, keeping one arm still firmly around my girl.

I couldn't have Odie coming home to that mess so I called in a favor. You're welcome.

A savage grin breaks over my face. That fucking kid, one in a fucking million.

"You can open your eyes, baby girl. It's all clean."

She murmurs under her breath, quiet and in that sexy fucking French of hers, and then she tucks herself in closer to my body. "I need a shower, mon Monstre."

I nod and get us moving towards the bathroom, leaving the lights all off as we move through so it doesn't hurt her head any more. The bathroom lights are way too harsh so I get her in and leave her to use the toilet while I turn the bedroom lights on and get us both some clothes.

I pick out her favorite sweater of mine, one that I used to wear during workouts on cold mornings but now I get to watch it hang from her sexy body, enveloping her in my scent and marking her clear as fucking day; the Butcher's woman.

I wait until I hear the flush and then I knock gently.

I don't know yet if D'Ardo fucking raped her. I don't know if he left her to his men for the night, I don't know who the fuck touched her, I don't fucking know anything yet about what happened to my girl so I'm back to square fucking one but now with a list that just fucking doubled overnight.

"Come in, mon Monstre. I need you."

Right.

I tell my dick she definitely means she needs help with the Kevlar and not with bending her over the bathroom countertop. Fuck, she has a concussion, I shouldn't be having to tell my dick any of this shit but she's my baby girl and fuck if I don't crave her every second of the day.

"I got you, baby. Lemme get this off of you." I murmur, careful not to touch her too much or anywhere that might have her flinching.

Once the Kevlar is off she winces at trying to get the shirt off so I cut the fucking thing from her. Everything is going in the incinerator anyway so there's no point hurting her to get it off. The panties are a quick job to get off and I thank every fucking deity I can think of that there's no blood on her thighs or any obvious signs of assault.

Doesn't mean it didn't happen, but my rage out might have been fucking biblical if I actually saw it.

"I wasn't raped, mon Monstre. I killed the only man that tried. Stop touching me like I'll