Promise Me (18 page)

“I’m not fucking going with you!”  I yelled, feeling more powerful every second as the words rang out in the desert and the fierce sun extended a warm hand of strength. 

The man who had grabbed me on my uncle’s orders was a son of Emory Thayne.  He hung back and looked at each of us with uncertainty. 

Winston was virtually growling as he lurched in my direction.

“Wanton bitch,” he snarled.  “Just like your cousin.” 

I shook through and through.  “You sick fuck.”  My voice rose as I threw my head back and yelled at the sky.  “Rapist!” I screamed.  “Wife beater!” 

“Promise.”  The shocked face of my father loomed in front of me. 

“John,” my uncle croaked.  “It was decided you were to wait in the truck.” 

My father didn’t take his eyes from my face.  “I thought better of it.” 

He reached a hand toward me but I shoved him away. 

“How could you?”  I choked out.  “Not just me.  But Jenny.”  I beat on his chest with my fists.  He didn’t stop me.  “JENNY!” I screamed. 

My father took a step backwards.  “No,” he shook his head.  “Jenny is fine.  She is back home and waiting to see you.” 

“It’s not home,” I told him icily.  “I’m not going fucking anywhere with you.” 

I hadn’t noticed how close Winston had managed to get.  He grabbed my wrist and twisted cruelly.  “You belong to me,” he hissed.  “And you will come where I say.” 

I sank my teeth into his fat hand u
ntil he released me with a yelp. 

“She’s deranged,” my uncle said with wonder. 

Winston’s white fury was written on his face.  He gestured to his son.  “Put here in there,” he motioned to the trailer.  “I only need ten minutes to convince this wayward girl to abandon the ways of the devil.” 

“You’ll have to kill me,” I said simply and from the look on Winston’s
bleeding face I realized the idea was somewhat appealing to him. 

But John Talbot stepped in front of me.

“No,” he said. 

Winston sneered up at him.  “I will do with her as I like.  She is my wife.” 

“She is my child first,” said my father quietly.  He nodded at his brother.  “We are leaving now.  And Promise will not be returning with us.” 

But Winston Allred would not be denied his vengeance.  “Shoot her,”
he commanded his son. 

My father raised his arm.  I didn’t notice until that second
that he held a gun.  He fired one shot at Winston.  Immediately he redirected his aim at Harold. 

“Drop it,” he demanded. 

Harold obeyed.  Winston had fallen to his knees.  His right arm had a dime-sized red hole by the shoulder. 

“The next one will not be in the arm,”
my father said quietly.  “I promise.”

I heard the click of the nearby shotgun before I realized who was holding it.  She must have heard the commotion and slipped behind the row of trailers, emerging from the brush
armed and angry as a goddess of furies. 

“Bishop,” she said, training the gun on her father.  

“Rachel,” he answered, spitting her name out like a curse. 

Rachel called my name,
not taking her eyes from her father. “Get behind me.” 

My father looked at me, nodding slightly, and I dashed over to her. 

“Now,” she said, “glaring at each of the men in turn.  “This is over.  You will leave and you will never fucking show up here again.”

John Talbot lowered his weapon.  He nodded wearily.  “Yes,” he agreed.

Bishop Talbot cast one final menacing glare upon his daughter and then began to primly march back to the road, followed by my father and Emory Thayne’s son. 

Winston clutched at his wounded arm and gave me a long, murderous stare.  I stared back.  Harold tried to urge him alon
g but Winston pushed him away.

“God sees,” he warned me. 

“I know,” I answered, standing tall. 

Rachel didn’t say a word or lower the shotgun until they were out of sight.  I’d run over to Teague immediately, flipping him on his back and checking his vitals. 

“He’s breathing,” I said with relief.  Indeed, his pulse was steady and his breathing even. 

“Shit,” Rachel said, dropping the gun and putting a hand to her head. 

Somehow Kira had managed to sleep through the shouting and the gunfire.  She widened her eyes in shock at the sight which greeted her in the yard as I called 911. 

Paramedics got Teague loaded into an a
mbulance.  One, a small Hispanic woman who appeared to be little older than me, tried to tend to the cuts on my hands but I waved her off.  They had stopped bleeding and seemed merely superficial.  I could clean them out myself. 

She peered suspiciously at the swelling on the side of my head where I had crashed into the door when Winston tackled me.  “You should get that checked out.  Could be a concussion.”  She frowned at me.  “
What happened here anyway?”

I looked her in the eye.  “I fell.” 

She jerked her thumb to where the ambulance was preparing to depart.  “And him?”

“He fell too.” 

She shook her head and gave a short laugh.  “Right.” 

Rachel was very quiet.  Kira circled an arm around her and offered to drive us to the hospital so we could be there for Teague.  She had already tried to call Orion but he was still on the road and didn’t answer.

“Yeah,” I said, watching my cousin.  “Give me ten minutes to get cleaned up.  Rach?”  I said gently. 

Rachel’s face crumbled.  I took her in my arms and held her tight.  She pulled back after a moment, wiping her cheeks and giving me a watery smile. 
“You’re a tough bitch after all,” she said, gently touching the swelling on my face.

“We both are,” I
told her.

Kira brought me to t
he house where there was an ample store of first aid supplies.  She helped me clean off my cuts, apologizing as I winced. 

After the wounds had been dressed I flexed my fingers, balling them into a fist. 

“It happened,” I said with wonder. 

Kira’s blue eyes looked at me questioningly. 

“They came,” I explained.  “And I’m still here.”  They hadn’t succeeded.  My hurts would heal as they had before.  And I knew my own strength now. 

Kira hugged me.  “It’s over.” 

I hugged her back but shook my head.  “It’s not over,” I whispered, thinking of Jenny.

My shirt was a mess of dirt and blood stains so I changed it before
climbing into the back of Rachel’s car.  Kira waited behind the wheel. 

Rachel had managed to get ahold of Casper.  She gla
nced back at me as she spoke into the phone. 

“She’s fine.  Cas, make sure you tell him that she’s fine.”

I leaned back into the seat and closed my eyes.  My head was throbbing. 

Grayson. 

He would turn around and ride back immediately, I was certain.   I couldn’t wait to be in his arms again. 

Rachel let out a shuddering sigh and made an odd noise.  Her voice became rough and choked with emotion.  “I love you too, baby,”
she whispered into the phone and then hung up.  “They’re on their way,” she told us. 

Teague had a Grade Three concussion and was unconscious for an hour.  Dr. Callie Lopez met us at the hospital and looked over his chart with a wry grin. 

“Son of a bitch is pretty thick-skulled” she observed.  

Callie shone a light in my eyes, checking my pupils and asked me a series of questions.  She seemed satisfied that I didn’t suffer from anything more severe than a bump and some swelling.  She
looked at my hands and agreed that stitches were not required. 

Her dark eyes regarded me with gentle curiosity.  “So what did the other guy look like?”  Callie knew something
awful had happened but she wasn’t going to pry. 

“Worse,” I smiled, thinking of Winston’s gunshot wound and the blood on his face.

It was only the early afternoon but it felt as if the turmoil had lasted for days.  I limped back to the waiting room and wished for Gray. 

***

I should have known he would ride like hell ahead of the others.  

Rachel was
pacing back and forth across the floor.  She couldn’t seem to sit still.  I got the impression the day was for her a culmination of years of pent up wrath. 

I was so tired.  I sat beside Kira and leaned against her shoulder, closing my eyes
, trying to recapture the serene happiness of the moments before I saw Winston.  Kira started suddenly, poking me in the side. 

“Promise!” 

Grayson swooped in and picked me up.  I clung to him feverishly, feeling as if we’d been separated for months instead of only a few hours. 

“I’m sorry,” he kept saying as he kissed me
over and over again.  “I’m so sorry, angel.  I’m here now.”   He knelt before me, curling his powerful arms around my waist as he buried his head in my breasts.  I ran my hands down his broad back and knew his emotion in every relieved breath.  He smelled of leather and sunlight and nothing had ever felt as good as his arms around me. 

Finally he let go and led me to a group of chairs nearby, pulling me into his lap and examining me critically.  He touched the swelling on my face and had to look away, not wanting me to see the ways his eyes welled.  I took his hand and he noted the bandages, trying to choke down the sob which threatened him. 

“Gray,” I said, stroking his face.  “It’s okay. I’m okay.” 

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.  “Tell me,” he said. 

I described everything from the moment I discovered Winston sitting at the table to arriving at the hospital.  He closed his eyes again with a painful wince when I described how Winston had ordered his son to kill me. 

Grayson pushed my hair back and kissed me on the forehead.  “Fuck, I should have been there.” 

I curled closer against his chest.  “You’re here now.”

“But he’s alive?”

“Yes.  His injuries, even the gunshot, weren’t too severe.”  A thought jarred me.  “Do you think the police will show up?”

His laugh was hoarse and brief.  “
Not fucking likely.  Fucker would have to explain assault and attempted kidnapping.”  He paused.  “So your daddy finally did right by you.” 

“He did,” I said quietly.  John Talbot had finally grown something resembling a paternal conscience.  I remembered the cold way he’d informed Winston that if he dared to advance any further the next bullet wouldn’t be aimed at his arm.  I had no doubt my father meant it completely. 

I curled more closely against his chest.  “Gray, I love you.  With everything that I am.” 

“I love you too, Promise.”  He held my face between his hands and kissed me slowly. 

“Mother Fucker!”  Orion bellowed from down the hall.  “Jesus Gray, you were like a bat out of hell.”  A few hospital personnel stared at him, agog, as he thumped down the corridor like a leather-clad hulk. 

Kira floated into his arms and he held her tight.  “Don’t be a dick,” she scolde
d.  “It’s been a rough day.” 

Orion’s blue eyes fastened on me.  He scowled.  “You look like shit, girl.  You okay?”

I nodded and Orion pointed to Gray. 

“Couldn’t keep with this asshole, you know.  He was hell bent on getting to you.”  Orion grew more somber.  “So how is he?”

Rachel appeared, rubbing the back of her neck.  “Concussion and stitches. He’s conscious but they haven’t let us see him yet.”  Her face broke into a sudden and stunning smile and when I saw where she was looking I knew the reason why.  Casper’s embrace more or less crashed into her. 

“Baby,” she said, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck and closing her eyes. 

“Love you, cupcake,” Casper said gruffly.

Eventually the rest of the
Defiant men trickled in as we awaited the opportunity to see Teague.  Brandon patted me sadly on the head as if I were an injured kitten and then wandered off, looking for a vending machine. 

Maddox sank
heavily into a chair across from us.  He rested his elbows on his knees and looked intently at Gray.  “What do you want to do?” he asked with deadly seriousness. 

Gray held me close.  “We’ll talk about it later,” he said. 

I understood what they were and weren’t saying.  Maddox was letting Gray know that if the plans were to go finish Winston for good, he was game. 

Of course Orion insisted on going in first to see Teague, who was conscious but being kept overnight for observation.  He didn’t stay in there long and nodded to me curtly when he emerged. 

“Get in there. He asked to see you.”

Gray squeezed my shoulder and held my hand as we made our way down the pristine corridor towards the room where Teague was being kept. 

The first thing I noticed when we walked into the room was how small he looked, lying there on an ordinary cot in a hospital gown.  Devoid of his leather and his tough posture, he seemed sadly vulnerable. 

The second thing I noticed, however, was the penetrating glare of his dark eyes as he watched us approach.  It wouldn’t do to feel sorry for Teague.  He wouldn’t have it. 

He waited until we were right beside him and then spoke directly to me. 

“I should have managed to fucking kill him.” 

“
It was a cheap coward’s shot,” Gray said. 

“Yeah,” Teague agreed and briefly touched his head where it was bandaged in the back at the site of the wound. 

Gently I took his gnarled and weathered hand in mine.  “Thank you,” I said softly. 

I half expected he would toss me off and say something smart but he
just turned his face away and said, “Take her home, Gray.” 

Before Grayson led me away I leaned over and kissed his leathery cheek.  Except for a suspiciously long blink, Teague didn’t visibly react.

Gray kept his arm firmly around me and I was grateful for his strength.  Now that Teague was settled in and the hospital staff was regarding the motley collection of bikers with increasing suspicion, we began to drift out.  I opted to ride home on the back of Gray’s bike.  

I had forgotten all about how the door to the Airfloat was ripped from its hinges in the battle with Winston.  Grayson let out a low whistle when he looked at it and peered inside the trailer to see a general state of disarray as a result of my physical struggle. 
With Mad’s help, he managed to get the door to the point where it was serviceable.  I sat quietly at the table and listened to the two men speaking in murmured tones. 

Gray gave me a worried look when he returned indoors.  It was brutally hot, of course.  He took his shirt off and grabbed a towel from the bathroom before sitting across from me and taking my hand. 

“You hungry?” he asked. 

I shook my head.  “I ate from the vending machine.” 

“You want to talk, baby?”

“No.” I looked at him
pointedly.  “I want to forget.  For now.” 

He understood. 
Grayson collected me in his arms and brought me over to the bed.  I let my fingers roam over his hard muscles, reveling in their solid authority beneath my bandaged hands.  He reached under my shirt and touched me gently.  Suddenly I couldn’t get undressed fast enough.  I wanted to push away the hot hell of the day and lose myself in him. 

“I love you,” he said with emotion as he eased down my panties. 

“Hurry,” I responded, reaching for his belt.  “Hurry.” 

I twisted my body underneath him, trying to urge him along to the same
frenzy.  I guided him in, wanting him to give it me hard.  I told him so and he answered with a smile and a deep thrust which I welcomed.  We moved together in blissful sync, Gray managing to be both tender and demanding at the same time.  As I let the pleasure roll up through my core and absorb my senses completely it occurred to me to marvel over the perfection of this basic natural act.  I’d grown to adulthood without ever understanding the power of physical touch.  It was hedonistic.  It was glorious.  And coupled with the story of the heart it was everything. 

“I love you, Grayson,” I told him.  “I love you, I love you.”