“I’ll kill him.”
Ash’s voice was absolute. The resolution in his voice made her blood chill in her veins because she believed him. In this moment, she believed him absolutely capable of killing the man who’d hurt her. Her pulse leapt and her breathing accelerated as panic shot down into her belly.
“No! Ash, please. Just let it go. This is why I didn’t want to tell you. Why I haven’t called.”
She would have said more, but he put his finger over the uninjured part of her mouth to silence her.
“Let it go?”
His tone was deadly.
“You want me to fucking let it go when that motherfucker put his hands on you? What the fuck happened, Josie, and I want every goddamn detail. Nothing left out. I want to know when this happened. I want to know how many times he hit you. And above all, I want to know why the hell you didn’t immediately come to me or call me, the instant this happened.”
Her mouth went slack against his finger. And then, as if he changed his mind entirely, he pulled away, turning to survey her living room, glancing toward the open archway to her bedroom.
“I’m taking you to my apartment,” he said firmly. “You’re moving in with me.”
“Wait. What? Ash, I can’t—”
“This isn’t negotiable, Josie.” His eye glittered with purpose and his stance was rigid, brooking no compromise. “You’re coming with me. Now let’s go into your bedroom. You’re going to sit on the bed and tell me what you need packed for tonight. Tomorrow we can go over what you have to have or want moved to my place and I’ll arrange for someone to come in and have everything brought over. But when we have this conversation about that son of a bitch—and we are having that conversation—it’s going to be in a place where you feel absolutely safe. A place where you know no harm will come to you. That’s in stone.”
Her mouth dropped open even farther, but even amid the utter shock of his proclamation came . . . relief. Comfort. But mostly overwhelming relief. The decision had been wrested from her hands, and at the moment she embraced that. Her worries—fears—surrounding Ash seemed silly now. That she’d even entertained that he might be like Michael or that she would be entering an even worse situation than the one she’d just come from seemed absurd.
“I can pack my own things,” she whispered.
There was a sudden fire in his eyes. Satisfaction over her capitulation. Maybe he’d expected her to fight it more or even to outright refuse, though she could see he had no intention of backing down.
“Didn’t say you couldn’t pack. What I said was that you’re going to sit on your bed while I do this for you. All I need from you is to tell me what you want for tonight and maybe tomorrow. The rest will be taken care of after you and I have talked later tonight.”
Wow. Okay. This was moving at supersonic speed. She felt like she’d just gotten off an insane roller-coaster ride and was still trying to gain her bearings.
He held out his hand to her, not moving to her or taking it on his own. He simply held it out, waiting. Waiting for her to accept. To take his hand and to enter his world.
Taking a deep breath, she reached out, sliding her palm over his upturned one. He gathered her fingers gently in his hand and then squeezed, holding firmly. Like he was forging an unbreakable bond between them.
Then he pulled her gently toward her bedroom, and she followed, allowing him to lead her inside where he sat her on the edge of the bed as if she were incredibly fragile. Something precious and breakable.
He backed away and did a quick survey.
“Do you have an overnight bag?”
“In the closet,” she said huskily.