In His Keeping (Slow Burn #2)(91)

“Perhaps you forgot what happened last time you forgot your place,” the guard said in a menacing voice. “Get back or I’ll shock your wife, and you can forget seeing your precious daughter.”

It took every ounce of Gavin’s discipline to simply stand down, to slowly back away, ensuring his body once more stood between Ginger and the guard holding the Taser. He wanted to go after them both as soon as the door was opened, wanted to take them apart, piece by bloody piece. Spill their blood as they’d spilled Ari’s.

When the guard was satisfied that Gavin was a sufficient distance back, he inserted the key into the lock, but his gaze never left Gavin and Ginger, and the hand holding the gun was steady, never lowering.

With a groan, the cell door strained to open, years of rust and neglect eating away at it. Gavin had spent the entire first forty-eight hours of confinement ruthlessly and tirelessly testing every square inch of the cell, looking for any deficit, any weakness to exploit. Anything that could prove a possible escape route. Only to come up empty-handed.

Not even entering the cell, perhaps rightfully wary of Gavin’s savage rage that Gavin knew was clearly outlined on his face and in his eyes, and evidently not wanting to afford Gavin any opportunity to lash out, the guard holding Ari stopped just shy of the open doorway while his partner took position between them, the Taser pointed in Gavin and Ginger’s direction.

Then the guard simply propelled Ari forward, her slight weight momentarily becoming airborne at his vicious shove. She hit the floor with a resounding thud that made Ginger cry out again, and Gavin flinched at his daughter’s motionless body lying on the floor like a broken doll.

She lay there, eyes open, but completely unaware. Blood streamed from her nose, her mouth. God, it looked like it was coming from her ears and even her eyes.

The guards beat a hasty retreat, closing and locking the cell door before hurrying away, disappearing from sight.

Gavin rushed the few feet over to Ari, sinking to his knees, his hands automatically running over her body, afraid of what he’d find. Ginger joined him, her eyes red and swollen, so much worry reflected in her tormented gaze.

“There’s so much blood!” Ginger choked out around a sob. “Oh God, Gavin, is she . . . Is she even alive?”

Gavin’s eyes briefly closed even as he carefully smoothed Ari’s hair from her neck so he could check for a pulse. His own heart was about to beat out of his chest. His hands were shaking so badly that his fingers kept glancing off her skin before he could ascertain the strength of her pulse. Or if she even had one.

Finally he forced himself to calm enough that his hand steadied, and he pressed the area over her carotid artery. He sagged, nearly toppling over with relief when he felt the erratic flutter against his fingertips.

“She’s alive,” he said quietly.

“Oh thank God,” Ginger whispered brokenly. Then she touched his arm to get his attention, her terrified gaze finding his. “How can we know how badly she’s injured? What if we do her more harm by moving her?”

Gavin had the same fear but he’d be damned if he left his daughter on the cold, hard floor of the dank cell. He would certainly handle her more carefully than the guards in their brutal treatment of her.

“Let me lay her down on the cot, darling,” Gavin said, forcing calm into his voice he neither believed nor felt.

Just as much as he didn’t want to panic Ginger, neither did he want her to see how precariously close he was to becoming utterly unhinged and losing any semblance of control.

He cursed softly as he began to shake again when he slid his arms underneath her body with frustrating slowness. His instincts screamed at him to gather her in his arms, hold her close and never let go, never let her back into the hands of monsters.

He was genuinely worried that his legs simply wouldn’t support Ari’s slight weight, much less his own. He sucked in several steadying breaths, trying valiantly to calm the raging fury storming through his veins.

Gently, he lifted, still crouched in a kneeling position. He drew her up and into his arms, cradling her against his chest. For a moment he paused, praying he wouldn’t falter when he tried to stand. Never had he had a more important reason to be so patient and careful.

“Here, let me help you,” Ginger said anxiously, anchoring her entire body, stiffening with all her might as she attempted to help haul him to his feet as he held Ari the entire time.

Though his petite, delicate wife, so much like Ari, despite not being her biological mother, hardly had the strength to accomplish such a task, he didn’t deny her aid because he sensed she was on the verge of completely falling apart and needed to do something—anything—to remain stalwart. A feat he admired since he was just as close to breaking down himself as he stared down at his bruised and bloodied daughter.

Tears burned the corners of his eyes as he ever so carefully placed her on the cot, inching his arms from underneath her. Though her eyes were fixed and glassy, she didn’t seem remotely aware of anything, almost as if she were unconscious despite her eyes being wide. But still, he didn’t want to do anything that would inadvertently cause her more pain, which was why he moved with extreme slowness, careful not to jostle her.

“Oh Gavin,” Gingerly said tearfully as she settled just above Ari’s head. “What did they do to her?” She shifted her pleading gaze to her husband, anger, fury and utter despair burning brightly in her brown eyes, which that were now nearly black. “What did they do?”