Page 61 of Ruthless Salvation

Present

Storm was worriedthat asshole might still be at her place. I was worried he wouldn’t be. I would never have left her so soon if I didn’t have a good reason, and that reason was retribution.

Tonight, a man had surrendered his right to draw breath. I was going to rectify that situation, and it would be a hell of a lot easier if I didn’t have to hunt him down.

I was more than happy to promise Stormy not to send anyone because I preferred to handle it myself anyway. I was a stubborn fucker. Always had been. Besides, Storm was out cold before I left the apartment and wouldn’t wake for hours. And despite her muddled argument, she wouldnotbe going home the next day, or the day after that.

I’d spent weeks telling myself to leave her alone, and the result of that had been a monumental fail. The one night I didn’t follow her, she could have been killed. I had checked the GPS and saw she was home. It still hadn’t been enough because I’d thought she was safe when, in reality, she was probably in the process of being attacked at that exact moment.

Fuck that.

Every fiber of my being had screamed that Storm was mine to protect from the first day I saw her. I was done trying to deny it. She was mine, and I was going to start owning that shit. And while it might take her some time, she’d come to understand it was the truth. Until then, I’d hold off on interrogating her over why the hell she’d been out when she told me she would be home all day. Where could she have possibly gone? Nothing was open on Thanksgiving.

I had to stop my runaway thoughts as they veered toward blaming her. None of this was her fault. She was the victim, and I would dole out punishment to the man responsible. If there was any justice in the universe, he’d still be waiting for me right where she left him.

The thought energized me as I walked from my car to her apartment. I came prepared with my gun as I carefully approached her apartment. The door was shut. When I tested the knob, I found it locked. That was unexpected. What kind of rapist creep locks up after his attempted assault is thwarted?

I used my key to let myself in, taking a quick inventory of the situation before entering. No one jumped out at me, and unless the man was hiding, it appeared he’d fled. There’d definitely been a struggle. Blood dotted the floor. But the disarray was more extensive—the place had been ransacked.

Unease settled into a concrete lump in my stomach.

The attacker had riffled through Stormy’s apartment, yet a jar of tip money sat on the kitchen counter untouched. It didn’t make any sense. This man who attacked her had come to after being knocked out and decided to stick around long enough to search the place but left without taking her money?

Every alarm in my body was going off in unison.

I thought about my conversation with Jolly—about the hearing loss and the way she’d recoiled when I’d called her angel. Had she been in an abusive relationship before, and could that person have paid her a visit?

My racing thoughts streamlined into one cohesive mission. No matter who the fuck had hurt Storm, it would never happen again, and I would brutalize anyone who tried.

A crucial part of keeping her safe, however, would be information. I needed to know everything I could about her and her past. I wasn’t sure how she’d feel about that, but for the moment, it could wait. My immediate concern was getting her moved into my place. I peered around the room, debating where to start when my eyes landed on the kitty litter in the corner.

I’d forgotten about her cat.

Fuck, I hated cats.

Get over it, asshole. You don’t have a choice.

My annoyance ebbed when an even more unsettling thought occurred to me. I’d seen no sign of the cat. What if it got out when the door was open, or what if the guy took the damn thing?

Jesus, I didn’t want to have to tell her on top of everything that her cat was gone.

I sat on the loveseat, wondering what the hell I was going to do, when the cushion beneath me chirped. It wasn’t a squeaking spring. Not fabric creaking. Something inside the chair definitelychirped.

I lowered to the floor and turned on my phone flashlight before lifting the front of the small sofa up. A wide hole had been shredded in the underside of the black fabric, and two glowing green eyes watched me from within.

Meow.

“Hey, furball. You don’t know how relieved I am to see you. Come on out.” I got up and went to the bathroom, spilling some disgusting-smelling food pellets into a bowl.

It worked like a charm. The slim cat trotted out, tail high in the air as though not a care in the world, and dove into the food.

“Trusting little shit, aren’t you?” I petted his head a few times despite myself. He was surprisingly soft.

A half hour later, I was ready to head back to my place. I had coerced the cat into a carrier I’d found in the top of her closet and packed some essentials for Storm and her cat.

Once I was back in my car, I called Keir.

“How’s she doing?” he asked right away.