Page 94 of Shades of Henry
Malachi was still trying to fight, but he was getting solidly whaled on, right into the ground, and God, Lance remembered that fear, that the violence wouldn’t end, that Henry wouldn’t be able to stop.
“Henry!” Lance screamed. “Stop it!”
And Henry paused, looking at Malachi’s bleeding face, and sucked in a breath like a sob. “Lance?” he said, looking up.
“Here,” Kane said softly. “Go see Lance, Henry. I’ll hold him down, okay?” And Kane hefted him bodily off Malachi, who groaned a little to prove he wasn’t unconscious, but otherwise wasn’t moving, not this time.
Henry stumbled up and into Lance’s arms, and Lance held him tight. “I’m sorry,” he sobbed, fighting for breath. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“You stopped,” Lance told him, closing his eyes. “You stopped. You beat him, Henry, and you stopped. It’s okay. You stopped.”
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Lance held him tight as they waited for the MPs, and hoped that someday,someday, Henry would realize he didn’t have to apologize for defending himself. Didn’t have to apologize for winning.
HENRY HELDup as he spoke to the MPs, neither of whom batted an eyelash as he talked frankly of the reason he’d left the military and of Malachi’s going AWOL. Malachi could stand by that time, but he was too busy sputtering blood and venom against Henry for the MPs to so much as take his statement.
“We’ll get him to the infirmary, but it looks like he got a pretty solid blow in. This is clearly a case of self-defense.”
Henry nodded and held the ice pack that Dex had run out to him before going back into the house with Frances, and Lance watched helplessly as ugly black bruises bloomed on Henry’s biceps, where Malachi had shaken him. Self-defense indeed.
“We can hold him on the AWOL charges,” the first officer, a seasoned man in his thirties named Carlson continued. “But if you can press charges for the original assault, he can do some time. That way, you can get notified if he’s released. Stalking laws are there for a reason, Mr. Worrall.”
Henry grunted. “It’s the best we can hope for, thank you. I’ll have my lawyer file charges tomorrow.”
Carlson tilted his head in response and then looked at his partner uncomfortably before saying, “Look, I know it’s not my place here, but good for you. This happens way too often. Male or female, everybody deserves to be safe.”
Henry just nodded again, and Lance could see his shoulders start to hunch.
“He’s done,” Lance said quietly. “Can we take this up tomorrow?”
“Yup.” Carlson turned toward where Malachi was being helped inside the back of their vehicle. “He’s not going anywhere for at least another twenty-four.” He handed Henry his card. “Have your lawyer call this number.”
“Thank you, sir.”
The MPs left, and Lance wrapped his arm around Henry’s shoulders and started to guide him into the backyard, where Dex was fussing over Kane to see if maybe he’d injured a hair on the back of his hand while handling a seasoned combat veteran on their front lawn.
They got to the gate and before Lance could open it again, Henry threw himself into Lance’s arms and wept.
“You did so good,” Lance whispered. He remembered his fears for Henry, the violence, the suppression. “God, you did so good.”
But Henry didn’t say anything, just shivered in his arms until he could function again. After a few long moments, he pulled back and wiped his face on his shirt, leaving a bloody streak against his shoulder. Lance yearned to take him home and tend to him.
“We need to reassure my brother,” Henry said gruffly, “and save Carlos from all that whatever Davy is doing.” He rolled his eyes in a patent attempt to make things normal. “You’d think the guy had to make an effort or something. Jesus, what a tank.”
Once Lance might have fought him, but now he knew better. “Yeah,” Lance said, keeping his own voice from quivering. “Try not to piss him off.”
Henry gave a crooked smile. “You know me.”
Lance just nodded and followed Henry into the backyard again. Henry Worrall’s heart was good—so good. But sometimes he had to find a way on his own.
Forward Ho!
OF COURSE,Jackson had to come into the office that morning. Wonderful. Fantastic. Henry was so pleased.
Henry could have asked him to leave. He was talking to Ellery as a client, not an employee, but asking him to leave felt wrong, somehow. His nose throbbed, as did his lower lip, and the bruises on his arms, and his split knuckles, and these were things Jackson knew about, and Jackson would know why they were important.
Jackson had been one of the first people to tell him he was okay. Without knowing about the rape or the abuse, Jackson had looked at Henry and told him that maybe his choices weren’t awesome, but he wasn’t a bad guy, and he had much of his life to live and live better. That had meant a lot to Henry.
