He could circle her wrists with a thumb and one finger and she felt delicate. As though she would simply break if someone handled her with anything but the utmost care. And yet she was hauntingly beautiful. Not the sort of woman he was normally attracted to but he realized he was indeed attracted to her. The idea of another man causing her harm infuriated him beyond the fact that no woman should ever be brutalized by a man. It felt personal to him. As though she were his woman and another man had put his hands on her.
The idea that she would somehow blame herself for him still being at large, out there hunting new victims—God only knew how many there were that no one ever knew about or discovered. If he had anything to do with it, he was going to make sure she absolved herself of any ridiculous blame over the fact that one out of dozens had escaped the grasp of the authorities.
He paused a moment, his brows furrowing as he considered his sudden vow. Yes, he owed her a great deal, and yes, he would ensure she was safe, that nothing would ever touch her again. But to take on the monumental task of absolving her guilt?
It was an arrogant assumption on his part to think he would bring her anything but more pain, more regret. But if he could even bring her a small measure of peace, anything but the hell she must endure on a daily basis, then he would move damn mountains to make it so.
He frowned again when he took in the dried blood and the bruise that had already formed on her chin and mouth area. He released her hands, carefully placing them back in her lap before he pushed upward to his feet. He held up one finger to her.
“Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”
The instant fear that sparked in her eyes made him angry all over again at the bastard who’d made her life a living hell for the last year and a half.
“I’m not leaving the room,” he said gently. “I’m just going to the bathroom to get a warm washcloth so I can wipe the blood and see how badly you’re bruised.”
Her hand shot upward, a faintly puzzled look in her eyes as though she’d forgotten all about her injury. She winced when she pressed too hard on the bruise and he reached out to tug her hand back downward in a silent command for her not to touch it and cause herself more pain.
He strode into the bathroom and turned the faucet on, letting the water grow hot before dampening and then wringing out a washcloth. Ramie looked relieved when he reappeared from the bathroom as if she truly had believed he’d somehow disappear. He hated the fear in her eyes. Wished he could wipe it away like the blood he planned to wipe from her face. But he knew no matter how much reassurance he gave her that it would take time for her to trust him. And it had suddenly become all-important that she did trust him. Why? He wasn’t sure exactly.
It could be that he absolutely believed that all debts should be repaid, no matter the price. And Ramie had certainly suffered enormously because of his actions a year ago. There was no way to ever fully repay her, but he’d do anything he could to at least partially remove the burden of his and his family’s debt to her.
But that wasn’t his sole reason for being here, hundreds of miles from his family. Away from his sister who still so desperately needed his emotional support. Tori was still infinitely fragile, a shadow of her former self. Vibrant. Confident. Full of zest for life. That bastard had taken those qualities away from her and Caleb feared she’d never get them back. Caleb could kill him for that alone, never mind that two women had suffered at his hands.
As was the case in his search for Ramie, he wouldn’t give up until his sister’s kidnapper was found and brought to justice. Caleb would prefer to kill the bastard with his own hands. He’d feel no remorse whatsoever for doing so. But death was far too easy for him. Caleb wanted him to live in hell every day and for him to live a long life. Behind bars.
Caleb knelt once more in front of Ramie, who hadn’t moved so much as an inch during the time he was in the bathroom. Gently, he began to wipe away the crusted, dried blood, and he cursed softly when she visibly winced.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
She shook her head in refusal. “It’s okay. You didn’t hurt me.”
He didn’t argue over the lie. He’d seen pain flicker in her eyes a brief moment. He just made sure he was gentler with her when he removed the last of the blood.
When he was finished, he leaned back and cupped her chin, tilting her bruised chin to the light so he could further inspect the damage.
“It’s not too bad,” he said. “If your jaw was broken there would be a lot more swelling. Still, you need to be careful and let me know if you continue to have pain so we can take you in for X-rays.”
Her cheeks flushed with color and she glanced away, embarrassment crowding her eyes.