In His Keeping (Slow Burn #2)(89)

His entire body was still on fire, but this time . . . he’d kill the bastards with his bare hands. Rip out their spinal cords and force them down their throats.

They’d put their filthy hands on his wife. They’d made her bleed. Worse, they’d terrified her, and he’d been rendered incapable of stopping any of it. He’d been stripped of power. Any decisions or choices. Not since he was a child eking out a living in squalor had he had his choices taken away and no say-so in his future.

Since the day he’d killed the monster—his sperm donor, because he would not give such a man the honor or respect of ever naming him father, biological or not—he’d taken control of his own destiny. His mother, too far gone into the murky world of drugs and addiction, had been grateful to Gavin for ridding them of the man who abused them both. Grateful, for f*ck’s sake. A polite thank-you rendered unemotionally as though she were thanking a stranger for a small act of kindness.

When he’d begged her to leave with him. To seek out better. A better life. A better existence, panic had swirled in her eyes, and he knew the source of her panic was being cut off from her drug supply, something more precious than even her own child.

After that, Gavin had left his old life behind. Every single aspect of it. Not even Ginger knew the whole of it. Only that his parents had been the worst sort of people. People who should have never been allowed to procreate. But he’d never confessed to her that he’d killed his own father in cold blood.

She knew much about his past. Knew he was steeped in gray and that he’d crossed a lot of lines, or blurred them at the very least. But she didn’t know he was a murderer, and until now, until that little selfish, spoiled rich brat bastard had gone after his daughter, until a man had drawn his wife’s blood, he’d never considered descending into the world of cold-blooded killing again.

But now he craved it with every part of his heart and soul. He burned with rage and the need to shed the blood of the men who’d made his wife and daughter—the two people he loved most in the world, the only people he loved—hurt and afraid.

He knew the point had come when he had to act. Had to take a calculated risk and escape as quickly as possible. Because God, somewhere out there, scared and alone, was his precious daughter. Who likely thought her mother and father had simply abandoned her. At a time when she needed them the most.

He couldn’t even think about what circumstances Ari might presently be in without going insane. He had to focus on only what he could control. His and his beloved wife’s escape so they could see to their daughter. And when this was over, he was moving his family as far away as possible. Never to return here. Complete identity changes. Completely new lives. In a place where he could be certain they’d never be touched by violence again. He should have never returned to the States. But it was useless to indulge in regret for actions already taken. But he could ensure he never made the same mistake again.

When Ginger cried out, Gavin soared to his feet, his head coming up, searching for what threat was posed, what had made his wife cry out in anguish. But no one was even in the cell at this moment and yet Ginger’s face was writhing with pain, stress and fear radiating from her in tangible waves. He could feel her utter panic, see her body tremble in extreme agitation.

Tears streaked down her cheeks and her gaze was fastened down the hallway, down a sight line Gavin wasn’t privy to because he’d put Ginger in the far corner and instructed her to remain there, as far from the entrance and where the men would force their way in and where Gavin intended to kill them.

Failure simply wasn’t an option. Earlier, they hadn’t been treated badly. In fact, they been treated with indifference, viewed with simmering impatience as if they awaited something else entirely and Gavin and Ginger were mere obstacles in their way.

So why keep them? Why kidnap them at all? If it was a demand for ransom, Ari wouldn’t know how to liquidate enough assets to pay what would likely be an outrageous sum, nor would he want her to. The very last thing he wanted was his daughter remotely connected to any danger.

But with the sudden shift in the tide earlier and the menace he’d seen in their captor’s eyes. The way they’d terrorized Ginger, tased him, as if the entire thing was a carefully orchestrated play. Everything had changed on a dime. But for whose benefit came the sudden shift in urgency? What was happening, even now, behind the scenes? Circumstances he wasn’t privy to.

Gavin swiftly moved in front of Ginger, obscuring her view so he could see what she was reacting to and so he could protect her from whatever threat loomed. To his surprise, Ginger shoved hard at him, causing him to stumble forward and she raced to the bars, fingers curling around them, gripping until the tips were completely white and bloodless.

“Ari!” she screamed. “Don’t touch her, you bastards!”

Gavin’s blood went ice cold as dread filled his heart. No. Oh God, no. Not Ari. Goddamn it! Not his daughter, too! Wasn’t it enough that his wife suffered? Did their only child have to be terrorized as well?

He yanked Ginger back, all but tossing her onto the cot, and then he pinned her with a stare that brooked no argument. “Do not f*cking move,” he said harshly. “You stay here, and do not interfere, not matter what happens. Do you understand me?”

“But—!”

Gavin held up a hand to his wife, something he never did, though God knew he’d never raise his hand to her in violence. He’d never before given her the disrespect of cutting off anything she chose to say by being so dismissive as to reject her words with his body language or to so abruptly call a halt to her words or argument.