Deploy, Part One (Rawlings #1)(74)



Declan stared down Providence as he stepped up to them. He was sure he was about to be locked up for assault, he just wanted the chance to see Justice before he was.

Providence shook his head. “He was too f*cked up to even know it was you.”

“What?” Declan roared. He wanted Murdock to know exactly who hurt him and why.

Providence stared Declan down. “That Jacks guy says Murdock blacks out all the time, when Murdock got up and got in the car he acted like he didn’t even know he’d been struck. I asked him about his arm.” Providence clenched his jaw. “He looked at me like I was crazy then at it like it was the first time he’d seen it.” He bit his lip before he spoke. “Jacks said he’s been drunk for a minute, popping pills.”

Declan leered. “Something is off about that f*cker. I told you that from the gate.”

Providence met his stare. “I can’t connect him to Nolan’s case, not when it is on record he was with your girl—of all people. You want to help me with that? You want something on record? You want to dig, push into that f*cker the hard way? Then that’s the way.”

Declan only glared back. Just like with all those he served with he never needed many words, he didn’t need to openly confirm or deny anything. They all knew but didn’t know Justice had better luck defending herself against her father in the past than she did a few nights ago with Murdock.

Saying as much though, digging up those demons, dragging her through it—Declan would die first. He still saw her bastard father in her eyes when she woke from her nightmares.

“That is what I thought,” Providence said.

“This f*ck is getting away with this?” Tobias’s tone was murderous. If so, the Rawlings’ were going to make sure there was a mysterious accident in his near future. Guaranteed.

Providence’s smirk was just a lethal. “At the rate he’s is going, he’ll OD, but no, one way or another he’ll get his.” He glanced away. “I don’t know if Dawson can get Justice to file, but I know she can make her fierce.” He met Declan’s stare. “The rest is up to you.”

Declan glanced at Tobias; everyone saw this the same way, apparently. They saw this destroying him and Justice. They saw it as the final crack between them. One too many tests for either of them.

Fuck them, Declan thought. They don’t know shit.

***

By the time Declan saw Justice for the first time the swelling in her face was gone, but the skin was still a little too blue for her to cover all the way. Her brow was nearly healed. The bruises on the rest of her body, across her shoulders, her arms, and her thighs were deep and black. There was no way she was letting Declan see them.

When he first walked into her bedroom and saw her in a long sleeve t-shirt of his and yoga pants, when he saw those curls of hers loose, hiding her face, and the blank, angry stare in her eyes, he almost lost it again.

She only stared at him, judging, reading, waiting for his reaction, his rejection. Something.

He was stiff for a few precious seconds. Time had stood still and he knew even though they were standing in the same room, they had never been further apart.

Then he marched forward, and slowly bent to her. His gaze moved deep into hers, reading the battle as if he was there. His jaw ticked with anger, but not a word came. His gaze dropped to her face, to the bruise she could not hide from him.

He moved closer, then his lips carefully whispered a kiss across her flesh.

She broke down then, the strong facade she wanted him to see crumbled. Her tears were silent but hard as she reached her arms around his shoulders. Gently, ever so carefully, he sat down and pulled her against him, rocking her back and forth for hours, wordlessly.

Once she found her strength again, some kind of composure, she couldn’t meet his eyes. Any time he touched her, it took her a second to relax into his hold and more times than not she’d find a reason to fidget, move away.

Right now they were in the stance they had spent most of the last forty-eight hours in.

He was leaned forward, bracing his arms on his knees, his head down, every sculpted muscle in his chest glinting in the dim light, and she was in sweats, his. An extra-large sweatshirt, his.

“I know...” He looked up at her, and tilted his head. “I knew the second I heard your voice. Hell, I think I knew before—when you didn’t answer when I called.”

Declan’s instinct had yet to fail him. He regretted letting her out of his sight, letting her come back to take some stupid f*cking tests.

Her gaze met his from across the room, emotionless. She’d slipped somewhere deep inside. She was coping—again trying to understand how she’d landed where she was.

He dropped his head again and fisted his hands together. “You gotta stop worrying about me...”

It wasn’t what he said, it was the sharp, cold tone he used that caused the dull haze across her eyes to flip to awareness.

She saw him tense, him furrow his brow, a twitching wave slid through his tense, toned skin.

“Every time you do...you split us.” He lifted his gray gaze somewhat shocked to find her interested in what he was saying, aware.

He’d done all he could do to prove the others wrong, to show them that he was not too big of an ass and she was not too stubborn for this to hurt them, divide them, that they could take it, but he’d failed.

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