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Once Hank, Jim, and Jim’s guys were all gathered in our hotel room, I turned to look at each of them in turn.
“Okay, guys. What’s the plan?”
26
MACY
I didn’t know whether to be entertained or not that he’d actually expected me to sleep when he’d untied me from the chair and moved the ropes from the bed before lying down next to me. After that, he’d even wrapped his arms around my waist, acting for all the world like we were some happy couple and completely ignoring the fact that my wrists were tied to the bed. The bruises, which were rising on my face, were pressing against my arm, both of which were tied up so high that my shoulders were almost pulled out of their sockets. But the physical pain was nothing compared to what was going on inside of my head.
With every exhale he made against my neck, the more nauseous I felt. He definitely hadn’t taken care of himself since I’d left him. That was proven in the fact that his hair, which he’d been notoriously vain about when we’d been together, was long and lank, and I had a feeling that his teeth hadn’t been brushed when he’d come to bed.
I couldn’t stop thinking about Dillon and the way I’d woken up in his arms yesterday morning. I couldn’t stop thinking about how angry Dillon was with me when I got back to the cabin the night before last and how I’d refused to listen to him about the rules he’d put into place for my safety.
I wanted to be back with him. I wanted to be back in his arms, in his bed.
In the fog of the last day, I’d never even considered the option that Dillon wasn’t alive, but at one point while Alex had been hitting me, he’d cracked some comment about how one of his bullets had caught my “dumbass, meathead boyfriend,” and I’d had to choke out tears. The idea that Dillon had somehow died as a result of what Alex had done hadn’t even entered my head as a possibility, in the same way that me not getting out of here hadn’t, but then I remembered the way that one of those bullets had sped by his head. I vaguely remembered his truck coming after us, but I might’ve been hallucinating.
I couldn’t think of it. Dillon had always seemed so strong to me, almost overpowering. It was one of the reasons I’d found his controlling nature so obnoxious. But now, I just thought of the idea of him being shot by my spineless ex as being inconceivable.
The thoughts continued to whirl in my mind, making my head feel like a merry-go-round of insanity, and I knew that sleep was a long way off, but that didn’t stop me from trying everything I could think of to settle.
The door banged open, slamming against the wall, and I heard Alex behind me saying “What the—” before a scuffle ensued, and the rest of his words were muffled. I tried to turn to look at him, but the ropes were too tight, and my arms were pulled too far that I couldn’t twist that far without breaking one.
Suddenly, an older man appeared in front of me, kneeling down and pushing back my hair to examine my face. “Macy?”
“Yes?”
“I’m Sheriff Wayleigh. I’m here to help you. You’re safe now.”
He started untying the ropes from around my wrists, and when he finally got them undone, I tried to get up too fast and almost fell on my face.
“Whoa there,” he said, rushing forward and grabbing me before I could kiss the carpet. “I’ve got you.”
“Where’s Dillon?” I asked, looking around the room as he helped me outside. I looked to where the two officers had Alex on the ground and were restraining his hands, and he was screaming bloody murder about how he was going to sue the fuck out of the police in this one-horse town.
I was very tempted to remind him that he was currently breaking his right to remain silent, but I figured he didn’t need any help from me; he could hang himself just fine. He saw me and started screaming my name as if he were being stabbed with it, and I did my best to be as cold as I could as I turned away from him and back to the sheriff.
“Where’s Dillon? Please tell me that he’s okay.”
Sheriff Wayleigh had his arm around me as he brought me out to the hallway but smiled as he gestured with his chin over my shoulder. “See for yourself.”
I turned slowly, but it didn’t stop the spinning of my head as I saw Dillon start heading toward me. I didn’t even register the sheriff’s cautioning words as I broke away from him and headed toward Dillon, ignoring the fact that I tripped over my own feet on my way to him.
The sheriff didn’t have anything to worry about, though; Dillon caught me as soon as I reached the circle of his arms, and he pulled me up and into him. I buried my face in his neck and wrapped my arms around his neck, breathing him in.
“I thought he’d shot you. I thought you might be dead,” I whispered, my throat closing over the words.
“Thankfully, your ex-asshole has really, really shitty aim.”
I pulled back from his neck, needing to look into his face and touch him. His eyes went dead as he took in the bruises that had formed, spreading over the whole left side of my face and neck.
“I’ll kill him. I’m going to destroy him—”
“No, you won’t,” I said, my voice firm. “Do you think I survived this shit just for you to go to jail?”
He blinked before chuckling, his laugh quiet and throaty, and I leaned up to kiss him, not caring about the fact that people were looking, not caring about how my mouth tasted, not caring about anything as I devoured him. He returned the favor, holding me close with my feet not even touching the ground.
I didn’t know how long we stood like that, but soon enough, Dillon pulled away from me, turning to look at the sheriff with frustration. The older man barely seemed to register his annoyance, though, as he said, “We’re about to take her assailant away, now, if you guys want to leave.” He turned to me with concern. “We’re going to need to get your statement, Macy, but all of that can wait until you go to the doctor to get checked out.”
