CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

T he moment he heard her gasp and say the word “Joey,” fear flooded his body and nearly dropped him to his knees.

He repeated her name over and over again into the phone, getting more frantic and louder each time as his stomach turned rock hard.

His brothers gathered at his panic, and stood in front of him, terror on their faces. He put it on speaker so they could all hear. Chloe’s fright settled into all of their bones.

“Where is she?” Clint asked, his blue eyes wide.

“Hawke’s,” Dom said.

“We’re ready for you,” came a shaky old voice from the doorway into one of the conference rooms at the community center.

“I have to go,” Dom said, torn between staying because he’d made a commitment to his brothers, to their business, and his family, and getting to Chloe. Ultimately, there was no choice. He had to get to Chloe.

“Is something wrong?” Sunflower Patrick asked, her sky-blue gaze bouncing between all of them.

Wyatt shook his head. “I’m sorry, Sunflower, but we have to go.”

“No, you guys stay. Do the proposal. We can’t—”

“Shut the fuck up and get in the truck,” Wyatt said, shaking his head. “Dumbass.”

Clint clasped Sunflower’s hands in his, gave her a quick smile. “I’m sorry, Sunflower, but there’s a family emergency. We have to go. Hopefully, we can reschedule. If not, well, give it to Hardwood Distillery. They need it most after us.” Then they were all running out the door, into the dark, and to Wyatt’s brand-new truck that he bought last month.

It was easily the biggest, nicest, and had the most amount of engine power. Plus, it was a hybrid.

Dom was about to jump behind the wheel, but Wyatt shook his head. “Nope. Remember when we needed to run and save Vica, and I was in no headspace to drive? Same-same, bro. Other side.”

Grunting, but in the end agreeing, Dom climbed into the front passenger seat while Clint, Bennett, and Jagger all crammed themselves into the back.

Luckily, Hawke’s hostel and campground were closer to the community center than the pub, so they had even less of a drive.

Rain pounded the windshield, and the wipers were no match. Combined with the darkness and lack of streetlights on the bumpy island roads, and it was near impossible to see more than a few feet in front of them. Swaying evergreen trees towered on either side of them, the sound of the wind in their branches competing with the torrential rain against the vehicle.

Focused straight ahead, the rain in the beam of the headlights looked almost like static on a television, and they all jumped and swore when a loud thunk hit Dom’s side of the truck.

“What the fuck was that?” Jagger asked.

“Better not have dented my new truck,” Wyatt said.

“I think it was just a big stick or something,” Clint mused.

They turned a corner and Wyatt had to slow right down. The amount of debris—and not all of it small leaves, cones, and needles—littered the street. The last thing they needed was a flat tire or damaged axel because they were driving recklessly in a storm.

“I can’t go any faster,” Wyatt said, obviously feeling Dom’s anxiety and need to get to Chloe. “If we hit something, we’re toast.

Dom understood, but that did nothing to comfort him. Nothing to soothe the panic taking over every cell of his body.

How far away were they from Hawke’s now? Could he get there on foot?

Maybe he just needed to run.

Almost as quickly as that thought entered his brain, Clint’s hand flew over the front seat. “Tree!” he hollered.

Wyatt managed to slam on the breaks just in time, even then, they slid a few feet on the slippery road.

Dom’s dread quadrupled in size. A giant fir tree had toppled, falling clear across the road and blocking both lanes. They couldn’t even skirt around on the shoulder because it plunged into a deep ditch on both sides.

He said nothing to his brothers, just flung open the passenger side door and started running, leaping over the fallen tree and not looking back.

He had no headlamp, nothing.

He wasn’t even in proper running shoes, and was dressed in all dark clothes, but he didn’t fucking care. He was a Marine. He’d run for longer wearing worse, and in worse weather.

He also didn’t have to stick to the road now. He could take the trails that wove through the woods all over the island, connecting major roads and commercial spots. Easy for those who came to the island without a vehicle and wanted to explore as much as they could. A lot of cyclists used them.

It was tough to spot the trail opening on the side of the road in the dark, but he still had a little light from Wyatt’s headlights to guide him. Eventually, he found it and careened off the road and onto the trail. If his sense of direction prevailed, he had to stay on the main trail and not take any of the offshoots, and that would get him straight to Hawke’s.

He picked up speed. At least under the trees, the rain wasn’t pelting his face like icy bullets the way it had been on the road. But now, he was at the mercy of the tree gods, and he sent a silent prayer to them that they didn’t chuck a giant branch at him, or lay one in his path for him to trip over.

Chloe was in danger. His baby was in danger. And he’d run on a broken leg to them if he had to.

Unsure of how long he’d been running, and unable to see anything besides the shadows of trees, his lungs burned and his feet ached in his Blundstones. The boots were great for many things, but sprinting long distances wasn’t one of them. But he kept running. Adrenaline shot through his system like lightning, helping him ignore the pain, ignore the muscle fatigue, and the dread that coiled like a snake around his insides, squeezing the life out of him.

His hands were soaked and ached from the cold as he clutched his phone in his fist, the call between him and Chloe still connected. He couldn’t hear anything right now, and he didn’t want to risk dropping his phone—it had a black case—by putting it to his ear while running, but he hoped she knew he was still on the line. That he was coming to get her.

The creak and groan of the trees above didn’t even make him pause. He had no time to worry about what could happen to him. He was focused on what was hopefully not happening to Chloe.

He knew something bad was going to happen to her working there. He’d been so afraid of listening to his Spidey sense since the whole debacle with Nadine and Ginny, and he really should have trusted his gut with this. But he—and even Chloe—wrote it off as jealousy. That he didn’t like her working that close to Hawke. And maybe part of it was jealousy, but another big part was that she was far away from him, and it would take time for him to get to her, for him to reach her and protect her.

He’d been too far away from Remy to save her. She’d been on the mainland, and he was on the island with his brothers and Silas. Maybe if he’d been the one driving, he could have avoided the accident? He could have swerved in time. He could have protected them all. Or at the very least, he could have held Remy as she passed, told her how much he loved her and that he’d do his very best to keep her memory alive for Silas.

Guilt and adrenaline, fear and panic, formed a cocktail of insanity inside him. Growling, he ducked his head and picked up speed, focused on the darkness in front of him. He had tunnel vision now and his only objective was to get to Chloe.

Dom’s money had been on Orrin returning and wreaking havoc. Not that weasel Joey Jefferies. Where the fuck was he even staying? Abe kicked him out and nobody had seen him since. Did he come back to the island just to … what? Damage Hawke’s property? Was Chloe his actual target? Or was she just there and he figured what the hell? He’d fuck with her too?

A loud crash to the left of him made him jump, but it was only a branch falling through other branches and landing with a hard, wet thud on the ground. The vibration of it hitting the earth rattled all the way through his bones, but he ignored it. He just pushed on, until finally, a soft glowing light up ahead made relief damn near buckle his knees.

It was the porch light for the hostel.

He was there.

He pushed the NOS button and picked up speed, sprinting even faster to the finish line and out of the trail onto the gravel driveway. Splashing in the puddles, he took the porch steps two at a time and reached for the handle to open it.

The door didn’t move.

It was locked.

Fresh fear crashed through him and he pounded on the door. “Chloe!” he hollered. “Chloe!”

Stepping back against the black wrought iron railing of the porch, he lifted his foot and kicked the door, but it didn’t budge. He did it again.

Still nothing.

Even though the wind and rain should have had him in a state of impending hypothermia, his fear and rage were enough to keep him hot. Enough to keep him moving. He busted open his fists until blood poured over his hands, disappearing with the rain as he banged on the door.

A sob clutched the back of his throat. “Chloe!”

Two beams of bright light appeared on the front of the hostel and he spun around to see Chloe’s car pulling into the large parking lot.

Wait, did she escape? Was that her? Why was she coming back?

He ran down to the car and without even looking to see who was behind the wheel, he opened the driver’s side door, but paused and stumbled backward when he saw it wasn’t her. “Why do you have Chloe’s car?”

A terrified twenty-something man with floppy blond hair stared at him with wide eyes. “She … she loaned it to us so we could pop to the shop and grab dinner. Is everything okay?”

Fuck.

“No. That fuckwad Joey is back and he’s in there alone with Chloe and he’s locked the door.”

The other young man and young woman in the car bailed out and ran for the door. The driver unfastened his belt with haste and followed. Dom did too.

“We have a key for the front door,” the woman said, fishing it out of her coat pocket, having to holler over the rain on the metal roof of the building. “Is Joey that bloke who worked here and let that other guy into Chloe’s bathroom?”

Dom nodded, impatient when she fumbled with the keys before finally sliding it into the keyhole. She opened the door and Dom elbowed his way forward between them. “Chloe!”

“In here,” came a soft voice down a small hallway.

He ran to the door. “It’s Dom. Let me in.”

The lock disengaged and the door to a small two-piece bathroom opened. He lunged for her, taking her in his arms and probably squeezing her too tight. Pressing a kiss to her forehead, all the tension left his body and lightness filled him.

She trembled in his arms and a sob clutched her throat, making the words she spoke could out cracked and stuttered. “I … I didn’t know w-what he wanted. So I just locked myself in here.”

“Got him!” came the voice of one of the boys—Dom’s money was on them being Scottish.

Right. Joey. He’d completely forgotten about catching Joey. His focus had been on getting to Chloe.

Prying her from his grasp, he held her by the face, staring straight into her eyes. “He didn’t …” Fuck, he couldn’t even get the words out. “He didn’t …” he swallowed, “hurt you. Did he?”

She shook her head, tears pouring down her face. “No. I ran in here before he could touch me.”

Boots clomping down the hall toward them pulled their attention and the two young Scottish men had Joey in their clutches.

“Caught him escaping out the back emergency door,” the taller one said just as the lights in the hostel all flickered.

Joey glared at all of them, his whole front muddy.

“I may have had to throw my body on top of him outside to stop him,” the shorter one said, beaming with pride. “But I got ‘em.” He winked at the pretty blonde girl who Dom suspected was Australian, given her accent.

“Yeah, well, he completely trashed the entire common area,” she said, glancing around.

Dom hadn’t even looked. He wrapped a protective arm around Chloe and they surveyed the damage. A knife had been taken to the couch cushions, there was Sharpie all over the walls, the computer for the front desk was smashed, and based on the bits of dish shrapnel coming from the adjacent room, he’d also gone into the kitchen and taken out his wrath in there too.

The lights flickered and the wind howled like a wolf in the woods just as an enormous shadowy figured lumbered onto the threshold of the still open front door, and Hawke appeared, his eyes taking in the scene. Then he zeroed in on Joey and his nostrils flared like a bull’s. “Bennett called me. I got here as soon as I could.”

“I’m okay,” Chloe said, her voice hoarse. She leaned deeper into Dom. “I’m afraid the hostel’s not though.” Her bottom lip wobbled. “I’m sorry, Hawke.” Fresh tears streamed down her damp cheeks.

Dom drew her in with both arms and pressed another kiss to her forehead. “Shhh. It’s not your fault. You did nothing wrong.”

He hadn’t realized that the blonde Australian woman had disappeared upstairs until the clomp-clomp of her boots coming down pulled his attention. She let out a big, weary sigh. “He trashed upstairs too. Place is totally destroyed.”

Anger, but also a heavy dose of pain filled Hawke’s bourbon gaze. He shook his head and if Dom didn’t know any better, he’d say the big lug looked on the verge of tears. The flicker of red and blue lights behind Hawke indicated the cops had arrived. Probably one of Dom’s brother’s doing as well.

A second later, Officer Everett Jacobs appeared in the doorway, looking exhausted, but also like he knew what to expect showing up. He zeroed in on Joey and shook his head. “You’re really breaking your grandfather’s heart here, Joey.”

Joey struggled against the two Scottish guys holding him. “Don’t fucking care.”

“Where’ve you been staying, Joey?” Officer Jacobs asked.

“Not saying anything without my lawyer.”

Everett shrugged, and brought out his handcuffs. “And that is your right. Unfortunately, you’ll probably have to wait until the storm dies down for a lawyer to catch the ferry over here. So you’ll be spending quite a bit of time in our little cell.”

The Scottish guys spun Joey around and Everett cuffed him. He bounced his gaze over to Chloe. “You okay?”

She nodded. “He didn’t touch me. I locked myself in the bathroom before he could.”

Hawke appeared to sag in relief a little, his eyes still sad as they studied Chloe.

On instinct, Dom tucked her into his arms even more.

“There’s a fair bit of damage though,” the Aussie woman said. “Upstairs too.”

Everett had Joey, but the Scottish guys were still hanging onto him too. Joey looked like he was coming down off some kind of high, the way his pupils were blown and his whole body twitched. The guy was unpredictable.

The cop faced Hawke. “Take pictures of everything for insurance purposes. I mean everything. Every smashed dish, you name it. Do you have security cameras?”

Hawke nodded, running his hand over his damp hair.

Everett’s head bobbed. “Good. We’ll want to see them, and so will the insurance adjustor.” His expression turned grim. “Might be a while until one can get over here though. What with the storm and all. They’ll probably be swamped with claims.”

Hawke nodded again, despair taking over the features of his face. “Yeah, I figured.”

Everett jerked his chin at the two Scottish guys. “Can you guys help me get him into the car?”

They both nodded and assisted the cop, who began reading Joey his Miranda Rights.

Hawke took three long strides to get to Chloe, pulling her out of Dom’s arms and into his for a big hug. He damn near swallowed her in his frame. “Chloe, I’m so sorry,” he muffled into her shoulder. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she said, against his chest. “It’s not your fault.”

Jealousy simmered through Dom’s veins, but he refused to give it any attention. Chloe was his. She was having his baby. They were together, and Hawke would just have to stow his attraction to her and look for love elsewhere.

Chloe and Hawke parted and she immediately went back to Dom. He wrapped an arm around her. The two Scottish guys returned and closed the door behind them. The taller one turned to Chloe. “I’m so sorry, Chloe. If we hadn’t left … if we hadn’t had your car …” He shook his head and dropped his gaze to his feet.

“It’s not your fault, Kit.” She made eye contact with the Aussie woman and the shorter Scottish guy, as well as Hawke. “It’s not any of your fault. And I managed to get to the bathroom, lock myself in there, and be safe. I heard what he was doing out here and it made me sick to my stomach, but I wasn’t sure what he was going to do to me if I came out. So I just stayed in the bathroom.” She lifted her eyes to Dom. “Did you hang up our call?”

Dom’s eyes went wide. He‘d shoved his phone into his coat pocket when he reached the hostel, and brought it back out. The call had disconnected some time ago. “Fuck. I must have hung up on you while I was running. I’m sorry. I thought I kept the call on and that you could hear me coming to you.”

She shrugged. “It’s fine. I did call you again, but there was no answer.”

“Ah, shit. I turned the ringer off because we were going into the meeting.”

“You’re safe and that’s the main thing,” the Aussie woman said, her golden-brown eyes turning sympathetic. “You must have been so scared?”

All Chloe could do was nod. She quivered under Dom’s arm. Shock was settling in. I need to get you home,” he said, pressing a kiss to the side of her head.

She nodded but didn’t say anything.

“We’ll help you here, Hawke,” the guy Chloe called Kit, said. “Take pictures, then start to clean up.”

Hawke nodded and brought out his phone, unlocked it, and handed it to Kit. The man seemed to almost be in a daze. The shock was settling in for him too. “Maybe this is a sign that Island Time Hostel should close for good,” he murmured, walking over to the dark-blue couch and running his hand over the big slash in one of the cushions where the stuffing spilled out.

“Don’t say that, mate,” the Aussie woman said. “We’ll get ‘er back into shape. Don’t you worry.”

Hawke offered her a small smile, but it was faint and hopeless.

Chloe went to Hawke and hugged him again. “Don’t close it yet, Hawke. There’s still a lot of life here. We just need to do a bit of resuscitation. That’s all.” Then she patted his shoulder and retreated back into Dom’s embrace.

Dom held the door for her to step out into the rain and wind, her car keys in his hand. She had her purse and jacket, but still shook as if freezing as he opened up the passenger side door to her Volvo.

Luckily, those kids had cranked the heat, so it was still warm inside. He pressed the start button once he slid behind the steering wheel and hot air blasted them both.

He was soaked through to his fucking boxer shorts, but he didn’t care.

Chloe was safe. She was with him, and that was all that mattered.

They sat there for a moment, just letting the vents coat them in warmth. He reached for her hand, and she gripped him like she was drowning in the Puget Sound, and he was a piece of driftwood floating by. Their eyes locked. Tears welled up, blurring the blue-green. And then she crumpled.

Hard, body-clutching sobs wracked her body as she struggled to gasp for air. He pulled her from her seat into his lap, and held her there as the shock of it all swept through her, and she came down the other side of her adrenaline spike. He knew what that was like. The crash after a disaster. It was like waking up with the world’s worst hangover. Your muscles ached, your brain was exhausted, even your bones felt stiff and throbbing as they struggled to hold you up.

He wasn’t sure how long they sat there in the parking lot with the heater on. And he didn’t care.

All that mattered was that he got her and she was safe.

If Joey had touched her, Dom wasn’t sure the man would even be alive to sit in a jail cell. He’d be off to the fucking morgue. Dom’s fate be damned.

Eventually, her breathing evened out and her sobs became whimpers. Her fingers that held onto the front of his hoodie for dear life had to be cramping, so he carefully peeled them free and gave them a quick massage, pressing his lips to her forehead.

She met his gaze, her eyes red-rimmed and teary. “I was so scared.”

He rubbed her back. “Me too.”

A stuttered breath escaped her through parted lips. “I just … I have all this … I don’t even know what to call it? Anger? Fear? Helplessness? I just have all these feelings inside of me and even crying doesn’t feel like enough to get them out.” Her gaze was pleading. “I’ve never been so scared in my life.” Glancing up at the ceiling she growled. “God, I just want to … I just want to scream. You know?”

Oh, Dom knew.

He knew very well.

“Hang on,” he said, helping her back to her seat. He opened up the door and stepped out to check to see how heavy it was raining. Only, it wasn’t really raining anymore. It was more of a drizzle than anything. Even the wind had died down.

Did the storm finally pass? Or was this just the eye? Either way, they finally had a reprieve. And this seemed like their window.

Climbing back behind the wheel, he put the car in reverse and backed up. They were on the road in no time. She was quiet beside him, but the tension in the car was thick enough to choke on.

Not tension between them. Just the tension within Chloe. She was a proud, independent woman, and if Dom knew her as well as he hoped he did, she was probably struggling with how powerless she felt tonight.

He reached the turn off for Mount Madrona, grateful that they hadn’t closed the gate for the night yet. He could still drive to the top. Afterall, even though it was dark out, it wasn’t that late. Maybe six o’clock or so.

Confusion swam in Chloe’s eyes as they started to wind up the corkscrew road to the top. But she never said anything.

They reached the summit and he left the high beams on as he climbed out of his seat, jogged around the front of the car, and opened her door for her.

“What are we doing up here?” she asked, searching for answers in his eyes.

“Just trust me,” he said, taking her hand. The headlights provided enough light to not trip over any of the fallen branches.

Once they reached the top viewpoint, he held her hands in his and turned her to face him. “It’s called the primal scream.”

She looked at him like he was nuts.

“When life becomes too much and you feel like a bottle of shaken Coke ready to explode, this helps—a lot.” Then he released her hands, turned to face the blackness, held his arms out wide, sucked in a deep breath, and let out a wild, animalistic, soul-cleansing scream.

With his chest heaving, he turned to her.

She regarded him like he was crazy even more than before.

All he did was offer her a small smile of encouragement.

And apparently, that was all she needed, because she turned to face the black sky just like he had, opened her arms out wide, ready to fly, pulled in a deep breath, and let go.

Pride surged through him.

He did it again.

Then she did it.

Then they did it together.

On that last one, she turned to him and practically fell into his arms, once again crumpling in anguish as the events of the day all came to a head.

He carefully lowered them to the ground on their knees and he just held her as she sobbed. She rallied quicker than she had in the car, which was a good sign, and when she lifted her head, hope shimmered back at him in her eyes. She had exorcised the demons that plagued her. Taking her hands again, he helped her stand up.

“Chloe Voss, I challenge you,” he started, earning a curious brow lift from her. He smiled. “I challenge you to trust me. To trust that no matter what happens with this baby, I’m not going anywhere. And I challenge you to do the same.”

Understanding flickered in her gaze.

“You ran once—when Elliott died. And I get that. I understand. But this is different. You’re different. You’re stronger. And baby or no baby, I will love you forever. I want to share my life with you. I think we’ve both earned a second chance at happiness, don’t you?”

Swallowing hard, she pulled in a shaky breath, and a fresh tear sprinted down her cheek. But she nodded. Even if it was a small one.

“Do you accept this challenge?” he asked, rubbing his thumbs over the backs of her hands. “To stay and love me no matter what? No more running.”

Another nod, this time a little bigger. “Yes,” she whispered. “I accept the challenge.”

Smiling until his cheeks hurt, he pulled her into his arms, kissed her forehead, and held her like he never wanted to let her go. Because he didn’t.

She shivered in his embrace. “Can we go home?”

His heart swelled close to bursting when she said that last word.

Home .

Because his home was her home now. Hopefully, forever.

Nodding, he took her hand and carefully led her back to the car.

“Thank you,” she whispered as they made their way back down the mountain. “For rescuing me.”

“You rescued yourself,” he said, making sure she knew how tough she was. “I just came to get you.”

“I love you, Dominic McEvoy.”

He rested his hand on her damp thigh. “And I love you, Chloe Voss.” Then he moved his hand to her stomach. “And everything you’ve given me.”

She swallowed and placed her hand over his. “I guess sometimes you can’t see the stars until you’re in the dark. Thank you for being my North Star and guiding me home.”

“Forever and always, Chloe. Forever and always.”