Page 61 of Speechless

“Fuck, no.” Cain waved that away with a softpffft. “He had something good, he fucked it up. You’re that stupid, you do one of two things, to my mind, anyhow.”

Connor waited. His brother could hold his weight in beer, but he was approaching the blurred line between sober as a nun and lightly buzzed. He could tip back a bottle of whiskey now and still walk off, albeit not in a straight line, if he wanted to.

“He can take the three weeks, figure his shit out, and come back with his head pulled clear of his ass and screwed back on straight. Seems to me he’d need to take a time machine back a decade to do that, but who knows, he might do it without. The council would reinstate him most likely, unless Arnie proves himself to be more of an efficient sheriff. Then he might have to do some serious groveling, make promises he may or may not be able to keep.”

“Or?”

Cain rubbed his chin. “Or he comes back with that big-ass chip on his shoulder, adamant he ain’t answerable to no one, and gets his ass canned before he can sign his letter of resignation. Moves out of town and becomes the miserable old fuck who lives in the middle of nowhere, chasing people off his porch with a .22, and eventually gets himself tossed in jail on a murder charge when he finally loses his shit and shoots Chad the fuckwit mailman.”

Nail on the head, Connor decided. Caleb wasn’t a man who tolerated losing, not in anything or to anyone. “What’s your guess?”

“Chad the fuckwit will end up with a big hole in his chest one sunny morning,” Cain predicted easily. “Big brother’s got a slick trigger finger.”

“Yeah,” Connor murmured quietly, wondering just how far losing his job and the respect of the community he’d served for so long would push Caleb over the edge of sanity. And who would be in the firing line of his slick trigger finger when he took the fall.

“Think I’m calling it a night,” he told Cain with a glance at his watch. Rolling on eleven, he noted. He had maybe an hour before Jenna’s screams ripped him from sleep, if he was lucky. “Look, if you hear screams—”

Cain’s eyes slid to Connor’s, knowledge in their depths. “I know you won’t be ravaging your little one, brother. More’s the pity. Seems to me, you’d both feel a lot fucking better if you made her officially yours, but I get what you’re doing. If the lass has nightmares tonight and my beauty sleep’s disturbed, I promise I’ll do my best not to look too haggard come morning.”

Connor scowled. “Do you make all your female conquestsofficially yourswhen you fuck them, Cain? Don’t see any of them hanging off your arm.”

His brother’s eyes grew serious. “Sore point, huh? Okay. We’re not alike in the fucking department, Con. Fun and games is all it is for me, for now. But you, you claim. When she comes alive under your hands and you’re finally inside her, you know she’ll be yours, just as you know she’ll give everything to you to make sure of it. It’s not a bad thing, brother; I’d say it’s quite honorable.”

“Honorable,” Connor repeated with a shake of his head. The thoughts in his head when it came to Jenna and sex were far fromhonorable.

“Don’t look so confused,” Cain told him. “It’s not an archaic word, Connor. There’re few people left in the world it applies to, that’s all. She’s lucky to have you, brother. Now, you look like shit so off to bed you go. I’m gonna catch the end of the game, finish off my beers, and scratch my ass before I see just how comfy this couch is.”

“Scratch your ass on your own couch, asshole.” Connor sat the recliner up, shoved to his feet as he downed the last of his beer. He gripped Cain’s shoulder as he passed. “Thanks, Cain. I knew there was a reason I’ve kept you around so long.”

Cain grinned and flipped him off. “Har-de-har-har, motherfucker. Fuck off and cuddle your girl, see if you can get some sleep.”

With the sounds of the game following him from the room as Cain boosted the volume, Connor headed upstairs. One day in the future, he would carry Jenna up these stairs. Her head would rest on his shoulder, huge green eyes awake, aware, and on his.

Not the child. Not the sweet, innocent little girl who saw him as her Daddy. For as long as he lived, he never wanted to see that precious soul sullied by any of his actions. That bright spark inside her was too special to extinguish, and whether Jenna knew it or not, she’d sacrificed all she had to give to keep it hidden from the vulturous Sire.

Connor craved the woman sheltering beneath the fear. The eager female whose primal nature kissed him back without thinking, whose thoughts made her blush. He wanted to feel her shudder against him as his hands and mouth brought her to the pinnacle, had an insane urge to hear his name break free on a cry when—yes, damn Cain to hell and back—Connor claimed her the way a man should always claim his woman.

Did he fully comprehend the weight of responsibility that came with taking her to bed? Connor mused over the question as he reached the top of the stairs and paused, listening for any signs of disturbance. Only silence greeted him.

He crept into the bedroom, stared at Jenna. She’d kicked the covers off and was laid on her belly, her knees pulled up under her so her pink-clad butt perched in the air. Her arms hugged her pillow, squeezing it tight, and her thumb resided yet again in her mouth.

Did he fully comprehend the weight of responsibility? Yes, he did. Because life with her wasn’t normal. May neverbenormal. It wasn’t the usual timeline of events in a standard dating scenario.

Making love with Jenna wasn’t about two people coming together in an expression of fondness or love, it wasn’t a quick tussle in the sheets for fun. For Connor, making love with Jenna was a statement. A fucking pledge to cherish each part of her, and to bring them together as a whole.

She hadn’t told Hadley everything, not yet. He knew the agent wanted more details to solidify the case, lock Jenna in with the deceased victims by matching injuries inflicted. But Connor saw her, watched her, studied her. She’d seen things, experienced things savage enough to leave claw marks on her soul.

How did someone witness a rape, a murder, and continue to fight to survive, knowing they were next in line for the same fate?

He went to the bed, readjusted her into a more comfortable position. She snuffled at him, rubbed her face against his hand, and continued to sleep soundly.

Underestimated at every turn, he decided. They all underestimated her inner strength, the full fury of her willpower. So did she, and when she discovered just how resilient she was, how determined she could be, she would shine.

He beelined for the bathroom, taking a leak before stripping down to his boxers. He finished his night-time ritual by brushing his teeth, washing his hands, and praying to God Jenna would sleep through to the dawn. The same prayer he always gave and that, so far, hadn’t been answered.

When he eased into bed beside her, the sheets cool under his back, he sighed and closed his eyes against the light. With Jenna’s slow, even breathing to reassure him, Connor let himself start the slide into sleep and wondered what carnage would befall come tomorrow.

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