Johnson laughed.
Alex and Devon mumbled curses.
Elisabeth giggled.
Leo grinned back.
Yeah. Worth. Every. Fucking. Penny.
True to his word, Walt rushed to my side when he found out that I’d collapsed at the gym.
I’d cracked the back of my head on the floor, splitting it open, but despite the urging of the gym staff, I’d refused to go to the hospital and have it stitched up. I’d taken care of far worse injuries on my own, and going to the hospital meant leaving Tessa with Walt.
No. Fucking. Way.
I assured everyone that I was okay, and then, as Walt and Brock shared angry whispers at the door, I quietly asked the front desk girl to call me immediately if Luke happened to show up.
He wouldn’t. But the only thing I could do was hold on to a shred of hope.
My head was aching as I strapped Tessa into her highchair for dinner.
She was chasing blueberries around her tray with two wooden spoons as I finished up the lasagna I’d insisted on cooking as a way to keep my mind off all things Roman and Luke.
It hadn’t worked. If anything, it had given me entirely too much time to obsess as I mindlessly prepared dinner.
By the time the oven timer went off, my guilt had become poisonous, which was causing my hands to shake and my stomach to knot.
“Hey,” Walt greeted, folding his arms around me from behind.
My body turned solid, and tears flooded my eyes.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” he murmured, placing a kiss at my neck.
It was one of the many times in my life I should have kept my mouth shut. The first being the day Walter Noir had asked me out on our first date. The second being the day he’d slid his ring on my finger. But, just like in those instances, the words flew from my mouth before my mind could intervene.
“Did you kill that man who came to the gate yesterday?”
His head popped up and he squeezed me tightly. “So that’s what’s going on inside your head. You’re worried about that piece of shit?”
I couldn’t tell if he was pissed or concerned, so I stuttered, “I…I just—”
He turned me around and used my chin to force my gaze up to his.
I sucked in a sharp breath when I found his face soft, a comforting grin tipping one side of his mouth.
“Not yet,” he whispered. “But I swear to you he will be taken care of very soon. You’ll never have to deal with him again. No one touches you, remember?”
A shot of adrenaline jumpstarted my system.
Not yet.
Not yet.
Not. Yet.
A sob of relief tore from my throat, my body shaking in his arms.
Roman was still alive.
“Jesus,” he breathed, tucking my face into his neck. “I had no idea you were this scared.” He rubbed his hand up and down my back.
It was one of the only moments of solace I ever got. I hated him and wished he’d die on a daily basis, but I was so starved for comfort that I’d accept whatever I could get—even from him.
His gentleness made me momentarily forget the monster in disguise, and I asked, “What about Luke?”
His hands stilled, and I realized I’d made a huge mistake.
I could have been scared of Roman, but I had absolutely no reason to fear Luke. So my asking about him could only be construed as interest in Walt’s warped mind.
“Luke? Your personal trainer?” he whispered maliciously.
My mind scrambled for a cover. “I…I was just trying to figure out if I needed to hire someone new. That’s all,” I said, attempting to move away.
But his once gentle hands turned punishing in the span of a second.
I was still wrapped in his arms when he squeezed me painfully tight, my lungs protesting and my tender ribs screaming. “I…can’t…breathe…” I choked.
He nuzzled his jaw against the side of my face and drawled, “Good.”
I struggled in his arms, the combination of fear and his grip making it nearly impossible for me to breathe. I was on the verge of passing out again when he suddenly released me. He didn’t move away as he watched me fight to draw air into my lungs. He hovered over me, a venomous glint in his eyes.
“Please,” I begged, stumbling away, drawing him away from Tessa, knowing from experience what would follow.
I hadn’t gotten far when he caught me, the tips of his fingers biting into the backs of my arms.
“He’s dead,” he sneered, rearing one of his hands back.
I closed my eyes preparing for the blow, but it never came.
I pried my eyes open, and he grinned, brushing the back of his hand down my cheek. A moan of approval rumbled in his chest when I flinched.
“I gutted him with my own hands,” he said, trailing his fingers down my eyes, my nose, and then my chin. “You should have heard him screaming to God for help. Such a fucking coward, that one.” He kept his eyes locked on me as he asked, “You don’t have a problem with that, do you, sweetheart?”
I hid my wince and fought the vomit crawling up the back of my throat, keeping my shield firmly in place as I replied, “Not at all, honey.”