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Has anyone ever said those words to me? Has anyone everhad me? Like this? Like him?
I make a sound, try to hug him back to me. I need him to hold me. I never want him to let me go.
“I’m going to get you out of here.” He lifts me up and we move toward the door. I glance back at the dead man. He’s a bloody heap. I look up at Zeke as we step out into the fresh night air. He did that. I knew he was capable of murder. It’s what brought us together, after all. But this brutality, the rage that overtook him, it was something else. To see it, to watch it happen, it’s a different kind of knowing.
I hug myself closer to him, to this violent, angry man. This killer who came for me. Who saved me.
Who killed for me.
For me.
I hear the sound of a car door and a moment later, feel the cool leather of the seat beneath me. I wince with the contact and cling to Zeke when he tries to let me go.
“Shh. It’s okay. I’m just going to get a blanket.”
“Don’t go,” I manage, hands clinging to his shoulders.
He looks at me, his face inches from mine, his eyes seeming to shine like silver coins in the moonlight. His face is bloodied, he has a bruise on his jaw, his cheekbone. His lip is cut and swollen. I touch his face with the tips of my trembling fingers and then I’m kissing him. Kissing those swollen lips.
His hands come to either side of my head, holding me, and he kisses me back momentarily. There is a darkness in his eyes when he looks at me again, then, without a word, he walks away.
Chill air makes me shudder and I hug my arms to myself, but then he’s back and he’s carrying a blanket, unfolding it. He wraps it around my shoulders, then straps me in.
“I’ll be right back,” he says and turns.
“Wait.” I capture his arm. “Where are you going? You can’t go back in there.”
“It’s okay. He’s dead, Blue.”
“His brother is coming.”
Zeke shakes his head. “No, he’s not. They’re both dead.”
That’s right. That’s what he’d said. He’d taunted Wyatt, drawn him away from me. He killed two men tonight.
But wait. The man he was talking to on the phone. “There’s someone else. The man he’s working for. Girard?”
Zeke’s forehead furrows. “I’ll be quick.”
I watch him close the car door and walk back into the house. He returns moments later, shutting the cabin door behind him as best as he can. He’s on his phone. He’s talking to someone. He disconnects and crosses to where Wyatt’s car is parked and opens the passenger side door. I think he’s going through the glove compartment. When he’s finished, he closes the car door and returns, climbing into the driver’s seat. He sets the things he took, Wyatt’s phone and a wallet, on the console between our seats then starts the engine, glances at me.
“Shit, Blue.”
“I’ll be okay. How is Isabelle?” I ask, remembering.
“She’ll be fine. Baby too. Did he… Blue, did he touch you?” his lips tighten, jaw setting.
“He didn’t rape me. You came in time.”
Zeke looks straight ahead and nods, then we’re driving. We don’t speak until we reach the house. He parks, kills the engine and climbs out, coming to my side to open my door. He releases the seat belt and lifts me up. I’m grateful because I’m not sure I could walk if he let me. I hug the blanket to myself as he carries me into the house. I see the grandfather clock in the hallway. It’s almost five in the morning. How long did Wyatt have me?
Zeke climbs the stairs with me in his arms. We make our way to the room he’s been using. Inside, he switches on the light and carries me into the bathroom where he sets me down. He then runs water in the shower.
He watches me as he strips off his clothes. They’re destroyed. He throws them into the trash.
I glimpse myself in the mirror. See my face. The blood smeared on it, the clown-grin and I start crying again, the kind of sobbing that wracks my body.
“Shh. It’s over,” Zeke says, taking me in his arms, letting the blanket fall away when he holds me to him.
