Page 88 of Heresy

Despite it all, she’s fighting in the only way she knows how.

To me, that takes strength.

And thank fuck for that because I’m still losing my shit from having to do any of this in the first place.

I start walking as she continues coming out of the attack. Worry blankets me that she’ll start to struggle, her mind finally snapping out of the panic so that rational thinking can take over again.

She’ll probably fight. I’m prepared for that. But I can subdue her without hurting her as long as her heart and lungs don’t give out due to the panic attack.

The adrenaline running through her must be stifling. And maybe through all of this, I can teach her a thing or two about adrenaline. It might prevent this type of response from happening again.

We make it back to the car, and I set her in the back, holding in an apology for what I’ve done. I can’t apologize. Not now and not for this.

Brinley doesn’t try to resist, which worries me again. The faster I can get her back to Tanner’s the better.

The girls might know what to do … at least when they’re done beating my ass for doing this in the first place.

I shut the door with a quick thud then turn to look out across the field at Ezra and Damon. Nodding my head at them, I let them know I’m leaving and that they can release Brinley’s friend.

The dancer isn’t important for this, and we have no need to take her too. As long as the guys keep their helmets on when returning to their bikes, she can rip that hood off and still have no identifying information on the three of us.

It’s the perfect crime.

Too fucking bad that I feel like absolute shit for doing it.

I’ve done a lot of bad crap in my days. And I carry guilt that I’ll never be able to shake. But this takes the cake for fucked-up shit I’ve done.

The ride back to Tanner’s is a quiet one. It’s also a quick trip considering how fast I drive. Making it through the gates of his neighborhood, I check on Brinley one more time to see she’s still lying down in the back seat.

By the time we reach his house, she hasn’t moved or said a word. It concerns me more than it should.

Parking in front of his house, I round the car to open her door. As soon as my hand touches her ankle to drag her out, Brinley comes to life.

“You stupid son of a bitch!”

She kicks out—hard. So hard, in fact, that my wrist explodes in pain, my fingers releasing her quickly as I jump back in shock.

Lifting her head, she turns to glance at me over her shoulder, a look of vile disgust marring her expression, her light brown hair a mess of tangles across her face.

“I should have fucking known it would be you.”

Sitting up, she slaps at me when I try to reach for her again.

“Fucking touch me and I’ll swing.”

I can’t help the smile that stretches my lips. The spitting kitten is back, and I’m damn glad to see it.

Leaning against the open door of the car, I keep my eyes trained on her. Mostly because she’s adorable, but also because it’s best to keep an opponent in view, especially when they’re shouting threats.

“Will you walk in like a good little captive if I promise not to touch you?”

“Get fucked,” she yells.

Yep.

Back to the old Brinley.

At least the one I’ve met before.

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