Chapter
29

“Is she healthy enough for transport?” I asked Dr. H. As much as this little cabin allowed me to keep Ashlyn all to myself, I had a business to run, and I couldn’t stay out here for too long. The fallout from Lorcan had been better than I could have expected, but that didn’t mean I didn’t have to keep an eye on the business I had taken over to ensure loyalty. Miami was the best center of operations.

“She’s physically stable. Mentally, I wouldn’t recommend it. She may not be able to be around people or the stress might break her. I’m no therapist, but that girl is going to need some sort of psychological help after the trauma she endured.”

“Ashlyn.”

“Excuse me?” he questioned.

“Her name is Ashlyn, not that girl,” I warned.

“Forgive me, C. I was simply explaining why moving her may not be the best course of action.”

“You’ve given your expert opinion. I thank you. You and your staff can return to the city. If I have need of you, I’ll come find you.”

Dr. H stood and left my kitchen without saying another word. Not that I blamed him. He’d been on my property at the cabin for nearly three months for Ashlyn’s care. I was sure he wanted to get home, away from the constant prospect of dying if he did anything wrong. But the great thing about criminal doctors was he couldn’t legally practice in the States any longer after some medical malpractice lawsuit. He was paid handsomely to continue plying his trade because of the work he did for my organization. He either accepted the money and did as he was told, or he’d disappear. That simple.

I rubbed my hand down my face and sighed. Therapy wouldn’t be an option. We didn’t have therapists on the payroll, and I couldn’t risk Ash sharing details that could get anyone implicated in crimes. She’d have to deal with me. I got up from the table and went in search of Franco and found him tinkering in the garage with my bike.

“What is it with second in commands and mechanic work?” I asked without expecting him to answer.

“Simple, actually. Can’t trust regular mechanics most of the time to not be threatened or paid off to put a bomb in the car, cut the brake line, or anything else. Since your second tends to drive you around anyway, we aren’t going to mess with some shit that could get us killed, too,” Franco answered. He shrugged when I glanced at him. “Just being honest, boss. Most of us learn how to fix things out of necessity, and it doesn’t always mean loyalty.”

“You aren’t loyal, Franco?”

“I don’t think you have to ask me that. I could give you some bullshit answer, which would be expected, but we both know how that works. I tell you how it is, no matter how pissed you get about it. That’s the only way I keep my heart beating, and the missus from trying to kill you.”

I laughed, the first real laughter I’d felt in months. I fucking laughed until I doubled over and flicked tears from my eyes. “You’re alright, Franco. Prepare everything to head home. Miami is calling me.”

“Will do, boss.”

Ashlyn hunched in the backseat of the car as far away from me as she could. Since she’d woken up four days before, I hadn’t touched her. I reached for her, but when my hand came into sight, she flinched away.

Aaaand, that’s why I haven’t.

I dropped my hand, ignoring the way she jumped, and clenched my teeth. I may have gotten her to wake up, but she wasn’t back, not really. She picked at her food and dressed in baggy clothing, usually mine. I found it cute at first, until I realized she was hiding her shape; she didn’t want anyone to look at her. She kept her hair down in front of her face, and never looked anyone in the eyes.

I wanted to bring Lorcan back to life just so I could kill the fucker again.

Reaching for her hand again, I pulled her closer to me. She held herself stiff, but she didn’t protest my handling. I knew if I told her to get on her knees right now and suck my cock, she would. She’d do anything I fuckin’ told her so she wouldn’t hurt. She’d spread her legs and give me her cunt, but she’d do so with that same blank, lost expression she’d had in those videos. She wouldn’t be my Ashy Lashy. No, Lorcan had turned her into the very thing I realized I never wanted her to be—a pet.

The frightened, bullshit woman beside me was not the woman I’d killed so many for, and yet she was. Somewhere in there, trapped under the fucked-up shit men like me could do to her, she protected herself. The walls around her mind were so thick I’d have to break them down with a wrecking ball, and I may only break her further. I sighed roughly and pulled her even closer. Her hair smelled flat and oily, not her usual full-bodied scent I was used to. I rapped the car roof with my knuckles. Franco lowered the divider between us, meeting my gaze in the rearview mirror.

“Yeah, C?”

“Where does your wife go to get her hair done?”

Franco frowned at me. “I don’t know. Some place she spends fucking hours whenever she goes, I know that. Supposed to be a pretty ritzy place, though, and most of the locals swear by it if they get an appointment.”

“Find out and get it booked for the day, and make sure it’s cleared out. Then have the security force on standby when we get there.”

“I’m on it.”

We rode in silence back to Miami, and I rested my head on the seat and tried to get some sleep. I didn’t know how to do this shit. How to take care of a woman when I wasn’t demanding a fucking thing from her. Having to deal with emotions and mental shit made me break out in hives. How the fuck was I supposed to help her? Fuck, I knew I wasn’t the world’s typical hero, but I wanted to be, for her. I punched the door in frustration and Ash came out of my arms with a cry. She fell to the floor, wrapping her arms around my shins before pressing a kiss to my fucking ankles. She started moving down further, but I stopped her.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her face pale. She wrung her hands in her lap and trembled. “I’ll do better. Please, don’t hurt me.”

“Did I fucking say anything? Hm? Did I ask for a fucking thing?”

Instead of answering, she pressed her face into the ground. My woman, my fucking woman, pressed her cheek into the floor and turned her ass up toward me. I knew she meant it as a peace offering, a way to assuage my anger. That fucker had taught her that. Her pussy belonged to him, and he’d made sure she’d known it. The only way she could come out with the least amount of pain was to give in. I should have fucked her right there. I should have lifted the hem of her button-down dress that resembled a man’s flannel and fucked her ass raw. I should have beat the shit out of her for remembering what he did to her. God dammit, I wanted to take my belt off and make her ass so rosy red she wouldn’t be able to sit for a week.

But, pussy that I was, I did none of that shit.

Damn it all to fucking hell, I pulled her onto my lap and cradled her close, forcing her head to my shoulder and rocking her as she cried. Badass motherfucking Caesar had turned wimp. I gripped her and let her cry out her terror. I rocked and whispered bullshit long after Franco stopped the car and got out to give us privacy. My men, armed and guarding an empty salon that housed only one stylist to work on Ashlyn, waited until her tears dried and her face wasn’t puffy and red anymore. Until she was drowsy and could barely keep her eyes open. Knocking on the window, I waited for Franco to open the door and then carried Ashlyn into the salon.

“Is she okay?” the stylist asked. She had short, pixie-cut red hair and bright-green eyes. Her teal dress was covered with a black apron, and she wrung her fingers as she watched me.

“Just had a hard time lately,” I answered, forcing a smile. “This woman here? She’s my queen, and she needs to look like it. Can you make that happen?”

I wondered if she heard the threat in my voice. She glanced around me to the men guarding the front and back doors, the others walking around the building, and even more parked in cars across the street. When her eyes met mine again, I was confident she understood how precious my cargo was.

“Yes, sir. I can.”

“Good.”

I carried Ash to the chair the stylist pointed out and sat her down, pausing when Ash’s arms tightened around my neck and wouldn’t let go. Closing my eyes, I pressed my cheek against her hair. Somewhere in there, deep beneath the pain and fear, she remembered me. Remembered what I would always do for her.

“I’m going to sit right here next to you while she works. You won’t be alone in here,” I whispered into her ear.

“Promise?” she asked into my neck.

One word. One fucking word slayed me, and I wanted to be big enough to give her the universe, fuck the moon. “I promise. You won’t be alone again.”