Deploy, Part One (Rawlings #1)(75)

All weekend, when he saw her flinch in pain, anger struck him into silence. When she saw his fury she dove deeper inside, and became even more distant. He wasn’t a fool; he knew this was not something a few days would solve. But at the same time, he wasn’t ready for it to get worse before it became better.

“That’s what I can’t take,” he said. “Not what happened.” He turned his head in a furious, sharp fashion, clenching his jaw in frustration. “Not the fact that I wasn’t here to keep you safe. Not hating that you’re alone. Hate—that’s not it, baby...it’s that you split us.” His stare met hers. “I know you’re strong. I do.”

Her eyes welled, and she shook her head in denial. She wasn’t strong. Not then. She didn’t feel so then. Even looking at him now. This man that she had the deepest love for...she still wanted death. A start over. She wanted the suffocation of the stress she felt engulfing her to shatter, freedom from existence. “I can’t talk about it. Ever.”

His eyes watered then. Declan wanted her to tell him he was wrong, that what he knew in his gut had happened didn’t. He was sure Murdock had ‘mugged her,’ but he was also sure more happened, something so horrific if he dared to think about it the rage would be too much to handle.

He hated this. He did. His wrath was barely contained, it was shaking his very core.

Sometimes he was sure the storm that rolled into town years ago never left, because that is what his life had felt like since then. Nothing was in its right place. Nothing was safe. There were no certainties.

He breathed in, nodded stiffly once then looked down, the one tear he let fall fell silently to the floor. “I love you...nothing can change that.”

She crawled to the end of the bed and then took the one step between him and her, crawling into his lap.

He pulled her against him, wrapping his arms tightly around her, burying his face in her neck as he rocked her, careful not to touch or go near the bruises he knew she was hiding.

He held her all night, until moments before he had to go.

“Come with me,” he pleaded.

She wanted to, she did. But she knew if she went with him—one way or another he’d know for sure what she went through and it would hurt him on his mission—distract him. She needed time to heal, to get her emotions in check.

She glanced away. “I just. I need a second.” She dropped her head. “I have some stuff at school—” She stopped when he looked away in his classic ticked gesture.

“How long?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she whispered.

“It’s not safe here,” he said, letting more than one emotion hit his stare.

“It is, you just—”

He cut her off. “You think Providence is here to fish? To hang out? Why do you think a hired gun like him would care to be here? It’s not safe.”

Her gaze questioned him and he knew he had already said too much, more than he was allowed to.

“I don’t want you near the Souters and that can only happen when you’re with me.”

She shook her head. “There you go again. Thinking I’m weak.”

“I don’t f*cking think you’re weak.” His whisper was sharp, so sharp he might as well have yelled it. He dipped his head and shook it before looking back at her. “If anything you’re too strong.” He paused and stared into thin space before meeting her gaze. “This town is corrupt and I don’t want you here.”

“Your family is here. Mine is. School is.”

“And this is your home. Yeah, you said as much.” He stood and paced before her. “And it has done you no favors.” He paused before her. “I’m barely holding on here, Justice. I can’t be there and know you are here—here with—” He stopped because saying Murdock’s name was more than he could do or she could hear.

“Just give me a minute, okay.” Her stare trickled over him. “Please.”

To her running away felt right. Hiding felt right. Facing her demons felt right. She just needed a minute.

His entire body tensed then leaned down to her lips. His kiss brushed her lips tenderly as his expression drew tight with emotion. When he rose he pulled his shoulders back and in a tight military stride left the room with only the slightest glance back.

Bell didn’t say a word to him as he left. Neither did Missy, just half hugs and eyes that never met. Outside, he found Atticus leaning against the door leading out of the screen porch, and Boon leaned against the side of the house.

Each time he saw Atticus lately he had to do a double take. He was looking more like Nolan each day, at least in the relaxed way Nolan carried himself. His build was strong but lean. His hair was long and dark, long enough he could tie it back if he wanted. And he’d dissed chasing the Rawlings five o’clock shadow on the regular, so more times than not he looked like he was on the verge of growing a thick, long, beard.

Today, Atticus was sporting his aviators which he wore down his nose a bit; his hands were tucked in jeans that were slack on his hips.

“Protect her,” Declan demanded.

For good reason, Boon and Atticus didn’t know who had hurt Justice.

There would be no stopping Declan’s younger brothers if they did. They didn’t have the maturity or special ops experience Tobias had. They didn’t have the fear of losing Justice like Declan had. No, they just loved her like their sister, they’d do anything for her and the consequences be damned.