Page 10 of Where We Bloom (The Blackwells of Montana #3)

“Okay, it doesn’t sound like she got much in her.

Here’s what you’ll do. You’re going to watch her like a fucking hawk.

If she wakes up, get her to drink water.

Water is her friend. If she needs to throw up, that’s fine too.

If she starts having trouble breathing, you call an ambulance right away.

Don’t fuck around with that. I’m assuming she had drinks before that, and that’s where it gets tricky with these fucking drugs.

Both alcohol and any roofie are depressants, and that’s when people die.

If she didn’t get too much in her, her breathing is good, and she’s already thrown up, I’m comfortable with you keeping her there and watching her.

If literally anything changes, you get her to the fucking hospital. ”

“Got it. Thank you.” I turn the camera back to me and pace the room.

“No, thank you. Sounds like you saved my baby sister from being raped and fuck knows what tonight.”

I have to sit down because my legs feel like they’re going to give out on me. Both alcohol and any roofie are depressants, and that’s when people die. Fucking hell, thank God I was there.

“I have to call the police. This piece of shite doesn’t get to go free.”

“Call Chase Wild. Do you have his number?”

“Yeah, after the mess with Skyla earlier this year, I have his number.”

“He’ll take care of it.”

“Thanks. Go back to your … date.”

“I plan to.”

He hangs up, and I immediately dial Chase Wild, who does sound sleepy. After giving him the same rundown, he asks, “Do you have a name?”

“No.”

“Then how am I supposed to find the son of a bitch?”

“Check the hospital,” I suggest. “I broke his nose and his wrist. Maybe his jaw. He’ll be needing medical attention.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “Good. Fucker. There’ll be video surveillance of that parking lot. I’ll take care of it. He might press charges against you for assault.”

“I’m fucking terrified.” My voice couldn’t get any drier.

“I’ll need to talk to Billie.”

“When she’s conscious, I’ll make it happen.”

“Thanks, Connor.”

I hang up and drag my hand down my face, then watch Billie, still sleeping on the couch.

I grab her water and head to my bedroom, where I change my clothes, tossing away the shirt with the vomit and blood on it, and set out one of my T-shirts for her.

I grab her phone out of my pocket and set it by the bed, then I return to her downstairs and see that she hasn’t moved.

But her breathing is still good, and she looks peaceful.

I nudge my arms under her and lift her, returning to my bedroom.

She stirs and nuzzles herself against me. I love that she snarls at me like a champ when she’s awake but seeks me out when she’s asleep.

I shouldn’t love it.

But I do.

Every instinct tells me that Billie is mine. Watching her flirt and talk with other men tonight was a torture I wouldn’t wish on anyone. It felt like my heart was being ripped from my body.

I want her smiles and her laughter. Only me. If she’s going to flirt, I want her to flirt with me. And no one, not one other bloody arsehole, gets to put his hands on her.

I set her on the bed and work quickly to get the dress that looked so damn delicious but is now a dirty, wrinkled mess off her, and then slip the T-shirt over her head.

I help her lie down, and when I grab her phone, I discover it’s not locked.

She doesn’t have decent security at her house, and she doesn’t lock her phone.

My angel and I are going to have a conversation about her personal protection.

I put my number in her contacts and send myself a text so I have her number as well.

After tonight, I need to be able to reach her.

I climb into the bed and curl myself around her. I don’t want to just watch her breathe. I need to feel it. I want my hand on her soft stomach so I can feel it move up and down with each inhale and exhale. I need to feel her warmth and reassure myself that she’s safe and whole.

“I’m so sorry, bumble,” I whisper against her hair as fear sets in. Jesus, I could have lost her tonight. “I was right there, and I didn’t stop it. I didn’t want to piss you off by intruding on your night, but from now on, fuck that. This won’t ever happen to you again.”

Blake’s words echo through my mind.

You saved my baby sister from being raped and fuck knows what tonight.

The mere thought of it has me pulling her close.

No, this will never happen again.

I stay awake all night, keeping my eyes and ears open, watching and listening for any signs of distress from my girl, but she sleeps through the night. She has moments of whimpering, of shifting, as if she’s having bad dreams, but then she quickly drifts off again.

At around seven in the morning, she starts to stir.

She whimpers and rolls toward me, loops her arm around my waist, and buries her nose in my chest.

“What can I do?” I ask her softly. “What do you need?”

“Bathroom,” she mumbles, but she doesn’t move. “Gotta pee. ”

“Good.” The more she gets flushed through her, the better. “Come on, let’s get you to the bathroom, angel.”

She’s still very impaired, but she’s able to walk with my help to the bathroom. Her eyes are glassy and half open, but when we get inside my bathroom, she pushes on my chest.

“No. Out.”

“It’s fine. I can help you.”

“No.” She shakes her head and whimpers again. “Out.”

I sigh and set my jaw but press a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll be right outside.”

She’s leaning on the vanity when I walk out and shut the door, and I listen intently as she shuffles around. I can hear the tinkle of her doing her business, the flush of the toilet, and she even washes her hands, which makes me grin.

Even wasted, she’s a sanitary girl.

Finally, I can’t stand it anymore, and I push the door open and find her leaning on her hands, her head bent forward as if she’s sleeping standing up.

Christ.

“I’ve got you.” Carefully, I lift and carry her back to the bed and get her settled under the blankets once more. She takes a couple of sips of water, but then she’s too sluggish to keep drinking.

“Your house?” she asks with a whisper.

“Aye, baby, I brought you home with me. You’re safe. He didn’t do anything to you. ”

She blinks her eyes open and looks up at me for just a second. “Scared.”

“You don’t need to be scared.” I kiss her forehead and her cheek. “Just sleep this off.”

I want to crawl in with her, but my phone lights up, so I walk to the other side of the room and accept Chase Wild’s call.

“Gallagher.”

“Well, we found him,” he says grimly. “Jesus, you fucked him up, Connor.”

“Told you. He deserved worse.”

“Yeah, well, his story is different from yours, of course. Claims you came out of nowhere and attacked him for no reason.”

“Right. Would you like a photo of Billie lying in my bed, still out of it?”

“I don’t need it,” Chase says. “Side note, how is she? Christ, I’ve known Billie all of her life. Is she okay?”

“She will be. She’s still presenting as very drunk. And she didn’t even get much of that shit in her. I can’t even imagine if she’d drunk the whole thing, Chase.”

“It’s fucking scary,” he replies. “Anyway, I don’t need a photo because I have security footage from the bar that shows exactly what happened.

She’s clearly shaking her head, and he attacks her anyway.

I can’t prove in that video that she’d been drugged, but she’s clearly inebriated.

I wanted to check in on her and let you know that we have him.

Once he can be released from the hospital, he’ll be arrested for sexual assault. ”

“Good. ”

When my call with Chase is done, I turn to look at Billie, who’s sleeping peacefully. And just when I start to join her, my phone rings.

Again.

“Bloody hell,” I grumble as I accept the call. “Gallagher.”

“How is she?” Blake asks.

“She’s sleeping.” I fill him in on how she was a few minutes ago.

“That’s normal,” he says. “She’ll probably sleep most of today.

She’ll have the hangover of her life when she’s finally lucid again.

I’ll come over later when she’s more with it and get an IV of fluids in her.

It’s good that she used the bathroom and sipped some water.

Just keep doing what you’re doing. If she’s not awake and more with it by midafternoon, call me. ”

“Aye, I will.”

With a sigh, I walk over to the side of the bed and stare down at her. A lock of her dark hair has fallen across her face, so I reach down and smooth it away, then let my fingers glide down her cheek.

The fact that anyone would want to hurt her makes me feral.

I should work. I have calls to make, emails to send, and work to look over. I should be in my office today, following up with contractors and the architect. I’m sure my assistant is frantic, wondering where I am despite it being a Sunday.

But nothing is more important than the woman in my bed .

So without overthinking it, I climb under the covers and pull her to me. Immediately, Billie curls around me, nuzzles her nose in my chest, and sighs, almost as if in relief.

“Just sleep, bumble bee.”