Page 59 of Ruthless Salvation

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Page 59 of Ruthless Salvation

“Promise me, Tor. Promise you’re not going to send anyone over there tonight.” I knew how these guys worked. They’d exchange one fleeting glance meant to sayignore her,then assure me everything was fine. It wasn’t fine. The situation was more of a disaster than he could comprehend.

“I promise we won’t send anyone over tonight, okay?” He eased me onto the passenger seat with the meticulous care of an archaeologist transporting the find of his career. He spoke earnestly enough that I decided to believe him and nodded.

“We can give them a ride,” I told him as he buckled my seat belt. “They don’t have to get an Uber. Who knows how long it’ll take.”

“It’s Manhattan, babe. Car’s probably already on its way.” He closed the door, and as if on cue, a pair of headlights pulled up behind us. Keir must have requested the ride before leaving the locker room. Not a full minute later, we were alone with Torin in command behind the wheel.

“I want you to be honest with me,” he said evenly. “Should I take you to a hospital?”

“No, I promise,” I assured him quickly. “It’s nothing some time won’t heal.”

Seconds ticked by as he stared at me, debating what to do before wordlessly turning his attention to the wheel and pulling onto the road. Neither of us spoke on the ride. I was afraid the truth would weasel its way out if I opened my mouth. I’d told Torin and Keir the attack had been random—just another unlucky statistic. The lie was my attempt at protecting them, but I still felt icky with betrayal. I was repaying their kindness with deception. My admirable motives did little to assuage the guilt.

Imagine the guilt you’d feel if they end up dead while trying to protect you.

Absolutely not. It wasn’t an option.

I had to keep my lips sealed, recover as quickly as I could, then disappear.

Tor would be angry with me and even hurt. I knew that now that I’d seen more of the man behind the cold facade. He wasn’t as hardened as he let on. Keeping people at bay wasn’t the same as being mean-spirited. Torin was cautious and a bona fide skeptic, but he was also loyal and thoughtful and deeply passionate. Hurting him would be one of the hardest things I’d ever had to do, but at least I’d know he’d survive.

My eyes burned with the threat of another round of tears by the time we pulled up at his apartment building. When I tried to assure him I could walk, he ignored me and carried me to the elevator then up to his tenth-floor apartment.

Compared to my tiny place, his felt like the Taj Mahal. The high ceilings alone gave the impression of space, but the fact that my entire apartment would easily fit into his open floorplan kitchen was mind-boggling. I knew the man had money. He and his family ran several less-than-legal businesses, but he never actually looked like he had money. His clothes and belongings were understated. His bike, while nice, was a bike. He didn’t drive a Lamborghini or flash a Rolex on his wrist, but his home proved he could if he wanted to.

The place was stunning yet suited him well. Modern with rich earthy tones and an emphasis on comfort rather than cutting-edge style. I was fascinated by the glimpse into his personal space. Unfortunately, I only had a second to take in what I saw because he swept me straight back to the primary en suite bathroom before allowing my feet to touch the ground.

He gently set me down, his penetrating stare commanding my attention. “I need you to tell me everywhere he hurt you.” He spoke with measured control, white-knuckling the reins on his emotions. Only the slightest tremor in his voice broke through.

“Just my hip, rib, and my face. They’re sore, but I’ll be fine.”

He took my face in his hands and stared fervently into my eyes. “I need to know everything, Storm.” His jaw flexed with strain. “Did he force himself on you?”

I shook my head. At least in that regard, I could be honest. “He never had a chance. I got ahold of a baseball bat. The second he went down, I ran.”

Torin brought his lips to my forehead, a shuddered breath brushing my skin. “Good girl. I’m so proud of you.” When he pulled away, his brows furrowed. “I just wish you’d have called me. Why did you sneak into the club?”

“Everyone’s off with family, and I wasn’t thinking. I was just suddenly … there.”

The look in his eyes begged for more understanding, but he let the questions go and nodded instead. “Let’s have a look at your injuries.”

I winced as I lifted my shirt to show him my ribs. He took over when he saw my discomfort, easing my arms through the sleeves and lifting the fabric over my head. His careful eye roved over my torso, fingers tracing my skin with a touch as light as a butterfly’s wings.

“There’s bruising already. Take a breath for me, as deep as you can without causing too much pain.” He watched me carefully as I followed his instructions. “It should be okay, but we’ll keep an eye on it. I don’t want a broken rib puncturing your lung.”

Moving his attention to my leggings, he lowered them to my feet, then assessed the blossoming bruise on the side of my hip.

“That one’s not as bad as it looks. The rib hurts worse.”

Tor nodded. “I’m going to run you a bath so you can soak. We’ll need to ice the injuries later, but for now, I think heat to relax out the tension would be best.”

“Okay,” I said softly.

He slid my panties down my legs, then stood and unclasped my bra, all with the purest intentions. Not once did his eyes linger in a suggestive manner. Torin was in full protective mode without the slightest ulterior motive.

Another sliver of guilt wound its way through my conscience. Despite his unconventional actions, he’d been nothing but honorable since I’d met him. I hated knowing he’d think the worst of me when I left. It ravaged my heart in ways I hadn’t anticipated.

“You soak,” he instructed once I was in the bath. “I’ll be back with some frozen peas. Best remedy out there for a black eye, trust me.”




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