Where Souls Spoil (Bayonet Scars Series, Volume I) (Bayonet Scars #1-4.5)

With my face pressed into Grady’s chest, I breathe in deeply, much preferring his masculine musk to the salty air around us.

“You’re freezing. Let’s get you in the SUV.” I nod and he releases me. I turn around carefully, and we walk the length of the seawall to shore in less than a minute. The first time I walked this wall, it felt like it’d taken at least five minutes, but before I’m even done considering it, we’ve reached the shore. I let out a heavy sigh and have to stop my lower lip from trembling. As we make our way up the hill, Grady takes the lead, grabbing my hand to make sure I don’t slip. I try to make a joke about tumbling into the ocean after his efforts to rescue me, but it doesn’t go over so well. He just gives me a look over his shoulder before he continues moving forward.

At the top of the hill, Grady’s companion is getting Mindy into the back of a red Suburban. He wears a Forsaken cut just like Grady does. There’s something about his face that makes me uncomfortable. I want to think it’s not the heinous scar, but something else. He seems off. His brows are pulled together in the center, and his eyes are focused so intently on something off in the distance that I can’t see.

“Ian’s going to take you in the SUV with Mindy. I’ll be right behind you on my bike, okay?” Grady says. I give him a slight nod. At some point, down on that seawall, I decided to give up trying to make decisions for myself. Every decision I make gets me into some kind of trouble no matter how well thought-out it is, so I’m done. If Grady wants me in the SUV, I’ll get in the SUV. Still, a part of me would rather he be in the SUV with me or I be on his bike with him. In his presence is the only place I’ve felt safe lately. But I pushed him away. I just want a reason to cling to him now and to hang on until this awful fear of something else happening passes. Unfortunately, I have a feeling that if I stay in his world for too long it won’t ever pass.

Inside the SUV, Mindy is silent. She keeps her gaze on her hands as they fidget in her lap. It’s occurred to me that my association with Grady has brought her to this place where she doesn’t even want to look at me. Ian shuts my door, and I let my head fall back against the seat. Save for the sounds of us putting on our seat belts, it’s silent as Ian starts the engine and pulls away. Behind us, Grady’s bike roars to life. The deep growl of the Harley keeps me company as we make our way through town.

Soon enough, we’re pulled up in front of my and Mindy’s apartment building. Ian parks the SUV, gets out, and walks around to open Mindy’s door. Her hands shake as she unbuckles her seatbelt, but when she finally gets it, she’s off like a light, Ian on her tail. I don’t notice the sound of the bike until it’s turned off and the silence is deafening. In those moments before Grady opens up my door and helps me out, I feel so alone and exposed that it makes my skin crawl. Annoyed with my own weaknesses, I mentally kick myself in the ass for feeling like a stupid trauma patient. The man from the mafia didn’t hurt us—he was actually kind of nice about what he did. I don’t think I really have a right to be as affected by the experience as I am.

Silently, Grady leads me up into the apartment, where we stand awkwardly in the entryway. Mindy is curled up on the couch in the living room, and Ian has his eyes transfixed on the window that looks down on the street below. The door shuts behind me, and Grady quickly checks out the small hall bathroom, then my room, and Mindy’s. The galley kitchen is exposed to the living room, and there’s nowhere to hide. All in all, our apartment is really quite modest. Grady’s home, though not opulent, is obviously cared for and lived in. By comparison, this apartment looks like a place for boarders, not a home.

“Did he touch you?” Grady asks. His mood is dark and the scowl on his face is too intense for me to even consider arguing with him. Mindy scrubs her face with her hands and taps her foot nervously.

The question catches me off guard. I struggle with a response, but eventually end up saying, “No.”