Page 46

Walking up to the porch in front of the LeBlancs, I paused beside my parents and reached forward to my mom. She crossed her arms and shook her head as tears threatened in her eyes, and I retracted my outstretched hand.

“Mama, they broke into their house. They took…” I cleared my throat as the LeBlancs paused at the base of the porch stairs. “One of them took Azelie to the bedroom to—to—” I couldn’t finish the sentence. There’d been too many times I’d seen exactly what the aftermath would’ve been had I not shown up when I had. Too many times we’d been too late.

A ringing started in my ears as I stared at my mom, begging her to offer a smidge of grace. I knew we hadn’t even begun to prepare the burnt bridge between us, but I really needed my mama at this moment.

She dropped her arms, and a tear slid down her cheek. “Is she okay?” my mom asked.

I nodded fervently. At least with my daughter, I’d made it in time. At least now she was in my house, under my roof.

“Well, then, I guess I should grab a few more towels from the linen closet,” she said and wiped the stain from her cheek. Relief, at least a tiny drop of it, slithered in through the apprehension.

My mom walked around me with a gentle pat on my arm. She gave a tight smile to the LeBlancs and then gestured at the door. “Well, let’s get you settled, shall we?”

This wasn’t going to be easy, but at least it was a start, and they would be safe.

Safe. What a foreign concept. I hadn’t felt entirely safe since Duncan was killed. Even with Bernie and his family, something had itched beneath the surface of my skin as if warning me about the carnage waiting at home.

But if I could at least provide some semblance of peace to Colette and Azelie, then maybe I was worth something.

No matter the cost, I’d keep them safe.

No matter the cost.

Chapter 20

FORD

Itightened the grip on my phone and slid to the edge of the couch, bracing my elbows against my knees. Part of me still felt like a failure and an idiot for assuming that O’Connor wouldn’t attack at home. I’d seen worse, so why hadn’t I thought that this man could be just as horrible?

And why hadn’t he attacked here at the same time? A coordinated attack would’ve been the smartest thing, except for the fact that I knew he was trying to send a message. So, maybe having everyone in one place would keep him from attacking. I doubt he would kill all of us at once. Then there would be no way he would fucking get what he wanted: the restaurants.

Right?

Griffin and Dom had both told me not to second-guess my instincts, but after showing up to men breaking into Colette’s home, I’d lost all trust in my gut.

“FUCK!” I shouted, jumped to my feet, and spun around, ready to throw a fist at the wall. And stopped just before my knuckles slammed into plaster.

Right where my military portrait stared back at me.

Dropping my cellphone on my temporary bed, I studied the picture as the freshly bandaged wound on my trap sent a pulse of ache through my muscles.

The photo mocked me. What kind of man would let everything happen that had? What kind of man ran away all because his girl’s parents threatened to kill him? Would they really have? I mean, they weren’t that crazy. A normal, rational person wouldn’t just up and murder someone for being in love with their daughter, right?

I grabbed the picture frame and ripped it off the wall. Nobody needed to see this, and luckily, in the hustle and bustle of ushering everyone to their respective rooms, nobody had noticed it. Squatting, I slid it underneath the couch. Out of sight. Out of mind. All that was left on that wall were old photos of the boy I’d been, because it seemed I still hadn’t become a different man.

“You okay?” a quiet voice asked.

Adrenaline shot through me, and I whipped my gaze to the left.

Colette.

“Yeah, sorry if I woke you,” I mumbled.

She tipped her head, her unruly curls frizzy and unkempt. I couldn’t help but smile, just a little, at the sight. Light danced off her blue silk pajamas as she pushed off the wall and quietly walked toward me. Her eyesbriefly slid down my body, and it was at that moment I realized I had no shirt on.

“Oh, shit,” I muttered and spun around, looking for the T-shirt I had grabbed to go with my plaid pajama pants when I’d changed for bed.

“It’s fine, Ford. Nothing I haven’t seen before,” she teased. I looked back at her as she plopped down on the couch. “Have you slept at all? It’s nearly six in the morning.” She patted the cushion beside her.