Page 57 of Making the King

“The territory is getting divided up, and Santa Cruz is up for grabs.” He sneers before jabbing a finger toward me. “And when it becomes ours, you fuckers are through.”

“Here’s what we think of that.” Aiming my shotgun at his knee, I blow it to shreds.

The Reaper briefly screams before passing the fuck out.

“Make sure he doesn’t bleed out and make sure he gets back to his leader.” I point down at him directing the order to Gunner and Grayson. “I want to make sure this message is loud and fucking clear. They come for my wife, or fuck with our people, then they fucking die.”

Gray and Gunner get to work on stopping the bleeding and I turn to Cain.

“What do you need me to do?”

He waves me off. “Get your wife home and cleaned up. We got this.”

Nodding, I step in closer, speaking quietly. “Cara’s mom has obviously outsourced to try to steal her daughter back. Can you let Dante know?”

Cain nods, and we clap each other’s shoulders before I turn to Cara and sweep her up in my arms.

The drive home is quick, since I only live down the road from the club, and I hurry since all I can hear is Cara shivering and her teeth chattering.

Skidding to a stop in my driveway, I leap from my truck, rounding it to open her door and sweep her into my arms again.

Like me, she is absolutely saturated, both with water and blood.

“I need to shower you.” I rush out as I swing the door open, stepping inside the house. “I need to get you cleaned and warmed up.”

Still trembling in my arms, mainly from the cold rain, she stiffens and starts to struggle in my hold when she realizes that I’m carrying her toward my bathroom.

“N-no.” She chatters and I growl.

“Cara, there’s no debate about this. The outside shower is freezing. You need to warm up in a hot shower.”

“No,” she says with demand laced in her tone, but I ignore it, shoving the bathroom door open, but I don’t go in.

No. I need to wait for her to agree. I won’t force this on her.

“Yes, Cara. Come on now.” I insist. “Trust me, please. Just close your eyes if you must and trust that I will keep you safe in there.”

“But.”

“No buts. You know I need to get you into a hot shower. Please don’t fight me on this.”

She’s quiet for a long beat, shivering in my arms as we both drip pink stained rain onto the floor in the hallway.

“I can shut my eyes?” she asks and I nod.

“Yes. Shut them and let me tend to you.”

Slowly she nods.

Fuck. I know it must have taken a lot for her to agree with this. To trust me.

Waiting until she squeezes her eyes shut, I step inside my bathroom to my tub, and awkwardly lean over to turn on the shower stream, trying not to drop her.

“I need you to put your feet down.” I start guiding her feet down, but she recoils, holding her feet up, her hands gripping my shoulders.

“Not on the tiles.” She whimpers, and I frown. Maybe she doesn’t want to feel the cold from the tiles?

“Okay, Killer. Not on the tiles. On the bathmat.” I scoot the bathmat in place with the toe of my boot and ease her feet down to rest on the fluffy mat, happy that she lets me do that.

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