Page 140 of Ryker
“Don’t.”
“I saw you first.” He drags the blade down my inner thigh, slicing me. “You were mine first.” He cuts deeper. “Maybe my name on your body will remind you of that.”
Searing pain rips me out of my paralyzing fear, turning me into a whirlwind of panic. Kicking, swinging, and clawing, a burst of rage consumes me.
Which makes what happens next absolutely terrifying.
Chapter 48
Ryker
Don’t ask me how I make it to Tara’s apartment as fast as I do. I don’t remember leaving my office. I don’t remember calling my boys. I don’t remember getting on my bike. I don’t remember climbing the steps to her floor. I don’t remember kicking down her door.
But I will always remember her face when she sees me.
Tara sits on the floor with a knife in her hands. She’s bloody. Shaking. Hyperventilating. When she sees me rushing towards her, my girl scrambles over to me on her hands and knees.
“I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m okay.” She claws her way into my arms and wraps herself around me. “I’m okay.”
The fuck she is.
All my aggression funnels into a soft, calm, deadly tone. “Where is he, baby?” After a quick scan around the living room, I find the sonofabitch lying flat on his back behind the couch. “Is he dead?”
“I don’t think so.” Tara’s shaking like a leaf. “I hit him in the back of the head with… with…”
I don’t think she remembers.
“Shhh.” Stroking her hair, my mind races with which action to take first. Kill him or comfort her.
Garret groans from the floor and Tara squirms violently out of my arms. She stumbles around the couch and punt kicks the motherfucker square in the ribs.
It looks like she’s done that a few times already, now that I’m closer.
“Fuck you!” She spits on him. “Fuck you!” she screams again. “I hate you. You sick fuck!”
My girl’s unhinged, and she’s scared out of her goddamn mind.
That’s when I see the blood dripping down her legs.
Fuck. NO.
Tara wipes the blood dripping from her nose with the back of her hand. “He didn’t touch me,” she says loudly. I wonder if her ears are ringing like mine are. “He didn’t rape me.” Her body trembles. “He… he didn’t get the chance. He didn’t...”
I’m on her in a flash. “You did so good, baby.” I kiss her forehead, driving her backwards with a firm grip on her arms. “I’m so fucking proud of you.”
She deftly walks backwards, letting me steer her out of the apartment. “Look at me, Tara.” She’s not shaking so violently anymore. That’s a good sign. “I need you to go outside and wait for D and the others.”
Her brow pinches. “Others?”
“Yeah.” I roll up my sleeves. “Can you do that for me, Butterfly?”
Her eyes are bloodshot and glassy. “What are you going to do?”
I shake my head. The less she knows, the better.
“Don’t kill him,” she says, grabbing my arm. Her nails bite into my skin and the sharp pain grounds me a little. “I don’t want him dead.”
I do. “He’s not worth saving, Tara.”