“But…”
“There’s no buts, Rob. It’s done.”
He shook his head, fighting with his rage and the sorrow that consumed him. “You might as well have traded yourself for her because this is no fucking better!”
“You really think he’d have stuck to his side of the bargain?” I asked.
“Of course he wouldn’t, but it would have given us more time to sort this shit. Maybe…”
“Maybe doesn’t even come into it, especially with Kloe’s life at risk. I did what I needed to do. It’s done. We speak no more of it!”
He bit into his lip and pushed himself off the sofa, his body jerking in pain at the effort it took.
I knew he was angrier because he couldn’t be the one to help me get Kloe out. But he wouldn’t have stood a chance against Terry in that state. I couldn’t risk him as well as Kloe. And I knew Robbie wouldn’t ever forgive me for that. But one day, he’d understand.
“I’m going to turn in.”
I nodded. “Night.”
He didn’t answer me. I watched him walk away. My stomach ached for my best friend. Apart from his sister, Rob had no one but me. But I hoped he and Kloe, when I had gone, could be there for each other. They would need each other. I didn’t mean in a sexual way, but as friends. Robbie was loyal and protective, and I wouldn’t trust Kloe’s life with anyone but him.
My body shivered when I thought about what my basement held. My instinct was to go down those stairs and drive a fucking knife straight through Terry’s heart.
Yet, I wouldn’t.
It would be Kloe’s job.
And I felt no greater pleasure than knowing I had to keep Terry alive while he waited for Kloe’s redemption. At least I would get some fun before…
“Mr Cain?” Caroline’s voice broke me out of my daydream.
I turned to look at her. “Yes?”
“Miss Grant is comfortable. I’ve washed her and she looks much more…”
I nodded, thanking her with a small smile. “Thank you. I’ve made up the guest bedroom for you.”
“Then I’ll retire for the night, if that’s okay? Miss Grant should sleep for the night but please come and fetch me if the sedation wears off.”
Pushing off the sofa, I gave Caroline a nod and made my way back up to my bedroom where Kloe rested.
She looked so small and pale against the darkness of the black sheets. She lay on her back and now her face was clean, the bruises that painted her skin made me catch a breath. Her beautiful face was dark, her eyes rimmed with black circles. Her cheekbones looked harsh, the weight she had lost making them protrude angrily against the other soft contours of her face. Her once long, luscious waves were gone, a short crop of matted curls resting around her face.
Settling myself on the mattress beside her, I gently lay my weary body down and carefully reached out to run my thumb over her pale and cracked lips. They were slightly oily and I assumed Caroline had applied some lip balm to soothe the dryness.
Delicately I moved my hand down her neck and over the top of her chest that showed above the sheet that had been placed over her.
One long, angry gash disappeared under the cotton and I slowly moved it down.
Heat stung my eyes as I took in the numerous incisions that Mike and Caroline had sutured. There were so many that her body looked like someone had played noughts and crosses many times over her skin with a blade instead of a pencil.
And then my hand rested on the dip of her belly. Once, her stomach had held a faint roundness to it, but now it hollowed inwards.
“Hey, little guy,” I whispered. “I’m praying you’re still in there. I’m praying you’re as strong as your Mamma.”
It was too soon for the doctor to tell whether Kloe was still pregnant. He’d tested her urine and it was still showing that she was pregnant, but he said that it could take a while for the pregnancy hormones to subside. He was bringing in a vaginal scanner tomorrow. Yet I’d seen the blood.
Exhaustion hit me suddenly and my eyes grew heavy.
Just as I closed them, my phone vibrated against my leg, notifying me of a text.
Ivan Moritz: Fight set for 4 weeks to give you time with your woman.
Me: Ok. I’ll make sure everything is set.
I sighed, flinging my phone onto the side. Four weeks. That was it.
Four weeks until I had to throw a fight and give Ivan Moritz his payment for getting Kloe to safety. My life.
MIKE ARRIVED EARLY THE NEXT day. He was smiling, but I could see the worry in his eyes, the apprehension at how I would react if things didn’t go how I wanted them to go.
I’d known Mike a good few years. He was a friend of Marty who owned the fight ring, and he knew how to be discrete. He was the guy we all saw after a fight when we needed patching up. He charged a fucking whack, but paying for silence cost money.