Chapter 39

Maverick

Fucking Las Vegas traffic was making my life a living fucking hell right now. There was a goddamn parade clogging up the city streets because some damn hockey team won another championship. Good for them, but right now, I needed to get to Grace and Mabel. Like a fucking sports trophy meant anything when my woman was in trouble. She needed me and I wouldn't fail her, not even if I had to run over the whole damn team. I would come through for her. I had to.

And once she was safe and Trent was dealt with, I would tell her how much she meant to me and then I would get down on my knees and beg her to stay with me. To let me and her and Sophie become a family.

A real fucking family.

My family.

To love and protect.

It took twenty minutes just to get back to Steel City and it felt like a lifetime had passed before I brought my bike to a halt in front of Mabel's house. I parked right behind Grace's little sedan and rushed up the stairs without waiting for my brothers because I'd already waited too fucking long.

If I'd been thinking clearly at the moment I would've entered quietly and with more regard for my own fucking safety, but the only thing on my mind was finding Grace. And making her asshole of a husband pay. Luckily, Mabel stood there at the front door with that aluminum bat in her hand, a smudge of blood on one end. "Grandma," I sighed. You're all right."

"Yep. Started keepin' it in my room once Grace left," she said, and lifted the bat by way of an explanation. "Cleaned his clock good."

Her words penetrated my brain. Cleaned his clock. "Where is he? Where is Grace?"

"Come on," she said with a heavy sigh, which caused my heart to do Muay Thai kicks against my chest.

I followed her to the living room, but I had more than a foot of height on Mabel and the sight of who I assumed was Trent spread out face down on the floor caught my eye first. And then the other pair of legs underneath him. "Grace!" I picked up Mabel and set her aside in my hurry to get to Grace, shoving Trent off her before I scooped her limp body into my arms. "Grace, baby, wake up. Show me those gorgeous eyes," I begged, and held her tight.

I was half aware of the footsteps that said my brothers had finally made it inside, but I didn't give a damn, all of my focus was on Grace. She was pale and lifeless. Ugly bruises had formed around her neck to match the bruises on her face and her swollen, busted lip.

"Come on, Gracie. Wake up for me, sweetheart. Please."

"Call the paramedics!" I shouted to my grandmother.

I put my forehead to Grace's, my heart heavy with every second that passed and she didn't move, didn't respond. "Grace!" Her name fell from my lips on a loud, anguished moan. I couldn't lose her. I refused to spend a day without this woman in my life.

I loved her. I knew it as sure as I knew anything. "She needs…fuck, I don't know. Somebody help her. Please."

Just a few feet from me, a masculine grunt sounded and suddenly I had a target for my anger and my fear. A living, breathing asshole I could take it all out on without guilt. "What the fuck," he moaned, and put a hand to his head.

"You motherfucker!" I laid Grace down gently and leapt towards the asshole who'd put her in this state, kicking him in his ass as he struggled to get to his feet. "You're a dead man."

He turned with wide, frightened eyes that only spurred me on. "She's my wife," he insisted in a quiet voice.

"She's nothing to you. Nothing. You fucking hear me?" My booted foot landed dead center of his face before finding his throat. "You don't hear me?"

"Mine," he squeaked out breathlessly.

I applied pressure to his throat, smiling as his hands grasped at me, trying to lessen the tight sensation that cut off his breathing. "I guess you really are a dumb fuck," I said, and lifted my foot before it came down on his chest.

He let out a pained grunt that made me smile.

I dropped down, both of my knees digging into his chest while my fists pummeled his face until my knuckles bled and ached. I landed hits to his nose, his cheeks, every inch of skin I could. Blow after blow, I hit him for every broken bone he ever gave Grace. My fists unleashed fury for every year, every fucking minute he held her hostage in their marital home. Every second that he struck fear into her heart. Every moment he made Sophie afraid or dimmed her smile. My hands ached, but not as much as my heart hurt for Grace, still unconscious beside me. Death was too good for this asshole, I knew that, but I also knew that Grace and Sophie would never know peace as long as he walked the earth. There was no guarantee he would go to prison or stay there, which meant I knew what had to be done.

"You like choking women, you piece of shit?" I wrapped both hands around his neck and squeezed hard while he struggled against me. His legs kicked behind me in an attempt to dislodge me and his hands scraped at me, but I was fueled by anger and hate and love and fear, and before I knew it, he stopped struggling.

He stopped breathing.

He just fucking stopped.

For good.

I spat at his face and turned back to Grace, scooping her in my arms again. "It's all right, Gracie. He's gone. You're safe just like I promised you would be, now I just need you to come back to me. Come back to me, baby, hold on. Help's coming."

She didn't stir, didn't move, didn't open her eyes.