Page 16 of The Vigilante's Heart

Sitting at the desk of my office in the city, I pull up the tracking system I have on Barclay Davis. I’ll be paying him a visit this week, the last visit he’ll be getting from anyone again. He sealed his fate when he broke into Peyton’s place, it’s all the proof I need. No one messes with my girl.

My blood runs cold when I see his car parked at the hospital. The very same hospital Peyton works at. My phone is ringing and pressed to my ear before I can even process what I’m doing.Come on, sweet girl, pick up your phone.After several unanswered rings it goes through to voicemail. I can’t sit here and do nothing, there’s only one reason he’s at that hospital. I’m straight out of my seat and heading down to the parking garage; I need to get to her, to him.

I try her again several times on route to the hospital, which is only a ten-minute drive from my office. When I pull into the parking lot, she’s still not answered my calls or returned any of them. I jump out of my vehicle and head straight for the ER department. As I walk through the sliding doors I make a beeline for reception, ready to ask them where she is, when I’m greeted with the most beautiful sight — my girl is already making her way towards me, her head is down, her eyes fixed on her phone. As if she senses me, she whips her gaze up and meets my own, a smile splits my face at the sight of her. She’s fucking adorable in her blue scrubs and her hair up in a ponytail. She hurries over to me.

“Is everything okay? I’ve just seen your missed calls.”

“It is now,” I pull her into my arms and stamp my lips to hers. We’re met by a few hoots from the staff behind the reception desk, but it doesn’t stop me, even when she tries to pull back. I keep her in my hold and take the kiss deeper, my tongue exploring every crevice of her mouth. I could kiss her for hours. I finally pull back and release her, her dazed expression matching my own. A daze I’m soon broken out of by a voice off to our right. A voice I know, a voice I didn’t want to hear near my girl, a voice of a dead man walking.

“I think my hand is numb enough now.” I turn my head to take in Barclay Davis. The man who has been stalking my girl, the man who broke into her house, and the man who plans on raping her, just like he has countless others. The man I now plan on killing tonight.

Peyton’s body has gone rigid in my arms. I run my palms up and down her arms.

“You okay, sweetheart?”

“I’m fine, just being silly.”

“Never. Always trust your instincts.” She just nods at me but doesn’t say anything further.

Barclay’s eyes are narrowed on us. He definitely doesn’t like this new development in Peyton’s life. He’ll be moving up his timeline for her, too bad I’ll be moving first.

“Look, I have to get back to work. Was there something you needed?” she asks as she starts to back away from me.

“No, I got what I needed,” I smirk at her. She gives me what she probably considers a stern look. I just think it makes her look like an angry kitten.

“Don’t make a habit of this, Bennett.” With that she turns and walks into the cubicle with Barclay. It takes everything in me not to whip that curtain back and kill him right here, right now.Patience, Bennett.

Chapter Eight

Peyton

I walk into the kitchen after my shower to the delicious smell of garlic and tomato. Bennett insisted on cooking for us once we got home this evening. I used the time to wash off the grime from the day; working at hospitals always manages to leave you smelling like antiseptic. I need a shower as soon as I’m home to feel even slightly human again.

“Whatever you’re cooking smells delicious.” He turns and watches me walk towards him. The news is on the TV, but he ignores it — he’s always looking at me or touching me in some way, it’s an addictive feeling, being wanted by someone.

“Chicken parmigiana,” he murmurs as he pulls me into his side with one arm, using the other to keep stirring the sauce. “It doesn’t smell as good as you, though,” he says nuzzling my still damp hair.

“Charmer,” I can’t help but giggle. This man is ridiculous.

“Only for you. I have to go out later tonight.”

“Oh, okay,” I murmur, feeling silly at the pang of disappointment that shoots through me at the thought of not spending the evening with him. “What time will you be leaving?” A thought comes to me, he might not want me staying here, in his house, without him. “Do you need me to go back to my apartment?” I add.

“Absolutely the fuck not. Why would I want that? I want you here, in my house, in my bed.”

“Okay, I’ll stay here.” I assure him, I hadn't wanted to leave anyway, but wow, he can be super possessive. There’s a side to him sometimes — a more controlling, demanding side, a darker side. I don’t know what it says about me that I like it.

“Good girl. I won’t be going until later; we have time for dinner and for me to fuck this bratty little mouth that speaks before it thinks.” His thumb pulls my lower lip down, rubbing across my teeth and gums. I open for him, sucking him into my mouth, swirling my tongue around that digit, showing him what I’ll do for him later. He pulls his thumb from my mouth with a pop, his eyes dilated as he mouths the word ‘brat’ at me. It’s my turn to smirk at him, but I’m distracted from anything further by the reporters on the news discussing the vigilante. They’ve got members of the public calling in to give their opinions, and as usual the views are mixed.

“What’s your take on him?” I ask, nodding towards the T.V.

“Who?”

“Our resident vigilante.”

“So you think it’s a him too?”

“Yeah. They’re too strong, too hard, to do what they do to be a woman. In my opinion, anyway.”