“Are you going to tell me where they are?” he says, leaning down and pulling her head back so she’s forced to meet his eyes. Her head flops, and her eyes squint then widen like she’s struggling to see him clearly.
“I love you,” she says in a sincere voice. She waits a beat and then her lips form a thin line. “No,” she says in a much stronger voice than I expect she’s easily capable of. But Junior isn’t having any of it. He slaps her across her temple so many times that I think Trigger’s gonna lose his shit and pop a cap in the kid’s ass right here and now. If it were Nic… I can’t even go there or I’ll do it myself.
She blows out a heavy breath and takes each blow like a fucking champ. I don’t know many men who could have the shit beat out of them like she’s getting and to keep fighting. In a moment that I’ll never forget, she rights her head and narrows her eyes at her brother—someone who’s supposed to love her and protect her—and she pushes against the next blow to her head. Steeling herself, she yells at the top of her lungs, “Keep hitting me!”
The words fall out in a jumbled mess, but the show of strength is what imprints itself on my soul. The girl has balls—big ones—and if I wasn’t already so fucking stupid over Nic, I might have fallen in love with Princess right then and there. “I won’t hurt them.”
It’s just a moment that everybody stops moving as we watch this small person with guts as big as any of the men behind me as she takes on someone twice her size with only her words to fight against the beating he’s giving her. I promise myself from this moment forward that whatever Princess needs, Princess fucking gets. I shoot a quick look back to Grady, who’s still so blinded with rage that I’m not sure he can really appreciate what’s happening here. If this isn’t a sign of loyalty to the club, then I don’t know what the fuck is. But that moment passes way too soon, and Junior’s face turns bright red. He shoves his gold gun in his pocket and clamps his hands around her neck. With her arms and legs bound to the chair she doesn’t have a fucking chance of making it.
“Tell me where they are!” he screams into her face. His eyes are wild, and he squeezes her poor, thin neck as he shakes her back and forth. I want to just call a time out and throw in the towel and be done with this shit. I’ve killed enough men in my time, and I’ve seen enough men put down for a variety of reasons. I stopped counting long ago. I’ve even seen a few women be beaten, and I’ve seen the aftermath of what happens when we’re too late to stop the beating. But this shit is too fucked up. If Princess isn’t okay after this, then Trigger won’t be okay, and I won’t be okay, either. If I’m not okay, then I can’t be okay with the club or this life.
I squeeze my index finger around the trigger of my .38 and focus on finding the right shot, but I’m too late. Junior’s body hits the floor, and it’s only then that I realize that Trigger’s put his gun away and charged at him. He’s on top of Junior and delivering blow after blow to the kid’s face. I put my gun in the holster and run into the small room. I move to help Princess, but Trigger jumps off Junior and scampers over to her and cuts off her bindings to free her from the chair.
“They’re in here!” I shout loudly and send Bear to get the rest of the guys. Ian moves over to Junior and stares down at him. I don’t move out of respect for this moment. Near my feet, Trigger’s got Princess as she’s slumped into his lap. Tears have pooled in his eyes and fall down his face. There’s only a few of them before they’re gone and he stands with her in his arms.
“I got you, baby,” he says to her in a voice so fucking soft that I wouldn’t have known it’s him if I hadn’t seen his lips moving.
“My brother,” she screams and starts to fight against his hold on her. Even after everything he’s done to her and she gives a shit about him? Jesus, that’s love.