His Other Half (Patches Tarkio MC, #3) - Debra Kayn Page 0,69

they take her to her father's old house?

The reservation took possession of her childhood home after her dad was killed. When she'd escaped Askook, she'd returned to grab her clothes and found her key no longer worked. She'd broken a window and gain access to the house where she filled two garbage sacks with the essentials she'd need to go to Missoula.

Why would Askook be here? The house sat a mile from the border and at least ten miles from the casino. There were no other houses nearby, only the Moore's, who lived over the hillside and out of sight.

"Get up." A large hand circled her upper arm, dragging her to her feet.

Her knees stung. Sure that she'd skinned her legs in the fall, she straightened.

"Let go of me." She jerked her arm out of his grasp.

"Go in." He pushed her.

She stumbled forward, wrapping her hand around the handle. The mechanism gave, and she pushed her way inside.

The stench assaulted her before she became aware of the furniture and personal touches scattered around the house. She looked past the kitchen and into the hallway, where the living room sat at the back of the house.

Askook's man planted his hand on her back, forcing her forward. She moved, straining to hear what the low hum playing in her head was and where it was coming.

Stepping through the archway, she stopped at the sight of Askook. The darkness of his eyes kept her from going into the room.

Her lip curled. The smell that stung her nostrils was even stronger.

Her uncontrolled anger locked her jaw, and she hissed. "Where is he?"

Askook cocked his eyebrow and stepped to the side. Her gaze went past him to the floor on the other side of the room.

Blood contaminated the area, but a man's mishappen shape at the far side of the room pushed the smell, sight, and fear away.

Paco!

She stumbled, rushing forward, slipping on the floor. Landing in front of Paco, she scrambled to reach him.

Bile rose in her throat. She refrained from touching him.

Fresh lacerations covered his face, oozing blood. His torn shirt showed a chest carved up in the same manner. Some long cuts, some short. Just deep enough, any movement opened the wounds.

Holding her hands out in front of her, wanting to touch him, but stopping just short of making contact, she was scared to cause him more pain.

Tears blurred her vision, and she shook her head in denial of what she was seeing.

Revolted at the sight of what Askook had done to him, she felt her empty stomach protest. Panting through her mouth to keep from gagging, she looked at his lower half. His left leg turned out as he balanced on his hip, a steady stream of blood slowly bubbled through the material of his jeans.

She silently cried out, gripped at how it was possible he was even alive.

His chest rattled. She could hear his labored breathing, echoing in the room.

A sob caught in her throat.

She wanted to touch him and assure herself that he was still alive. That under the injuries, blood, and immobility, it was her Paco. That he wasn't lost to her.

Snapping her gaze up, she searched for his eyes. At first, missing them through the swelling and blood, she connected with him. The stubborn, strong, bossy, opinionated, serious Paco stared back at her.

Paco's beautiful face ruined, she leaned forward, trying several times to touch him and always pulling back, afraid of doing more damage.

"Sweetheart." His lips moved, but she couldn't hear him over her pounding heart.

He opened his hand. She caught the slight movement and latched on to him, surprised at the strength of his grip.

"Go," he mouthed.

She shook her head. This was her fault. She would never leave him.

His mouth twisted. A moan escaped.

Sharing his pain, his hopelessness, his desire to save her, she wouldn't give up on him.

Everything they'd gone through, the fear of losing him, was in the past. She'd found him, and she wasn't going to let the despair of the situation kill him.

"Paco," she whispered, inching closer.

She couldn't stand it anymore. Lowering her head, she pressed his hand to her cheek. She kissed his knuckles. The tang of his blood coated her lips.

Tears spilled down her cheeks, burning her eyes. What Askook had done to him made her pugnaciously strong.

Moving her body closer, she pulled her leg in front of her, balancing on one knee. She couldn’t afford to look behind her to see what Askook was doing or if he was