Chapter 13

THIRTEEN

brAXTON

T he text from Miles had put me on the edge. Fucking over the edge. If the Jackals want to play, it's game on. I don't know what their attack was for or about, but I know I'm eager to have Aella home and safe.

We could've lost her for good.

Fuck! To think about that scumbag's hands on her.

I punch the side of the house as I stop pacing.

The sound of Miles's Chevy rolling up the gravel drive halts me in my tracks.

I rush to the passenger side as Miles comes to a stop. Swinging the door open, I take in the state of her. She's covered in blood, shaking, and her eyes are far off as she turns toward me.

"Brax," she mouths as tears well in her eyes.

I scoop her up, holding her to me.

"Braxton!" Miles shouts.

I turn around, pinning him with disdain he doesn't likely deserve, but I'm too fucking pissed to care. "You've done enough today!"

I move through the house like a man insane until we're in the basement, where we can be safe. I set her on the toilet as I heat the water in the shower.

I help her to undress, and then I help her get inside. She's in complete shock as I wash her and scrub her body clean.

"Did he…" I trail off.

But she shakes her head, eyes still far away.

When she's dry and in my clothes, I set her on the edge of the bed. I know she doesn't want to talk.

What I don't expect is the panic attack that's right around the corner. With good fucking right.

I'm so pissed at Miles. I know it's not his fault, logically, but I want to beat him until his bones break and he's as sullied as she is by what happened.

"Brax," Aella says, eyes frantic, tears overwhelming her as she clutches her chest. I move toward her, and she stands, pacing as her breathing sounds labored and panicked.

"Hey," I tell her, knowing how she feels and what will happen if she doesn't calm down. "Come here."

I think about all the times I've gotten to the place I call too high, w here the world around me has become too much. The sounds, the smells, the feel of the fabric on my skin. It's all too fucking much. It's a place I wouldn't say I like to get to—one where only certain things can bring me back from it.

I sit on the floor, expecting her to get on my lap. She eyes me worriedly before she drops on me, straddling me.

I wrap around her tightly, rocking her back and forth in a calming wave of motion. "There we go. Just breathe," I tell her.

"He was going to…"

"Shh, I know. But he didn't, right? You're safe. You're alright," I soothe.

She leans her head over my shoulder, turning her face into my neck and breathing heavily as she cries.

"You're going to be just fine, Bambi. I've got you." I squeeze tighter, knowing it's what I used to need when the world felt too heavy.

It takes a few minutes, but eventually, she's sniffling, and the tears and panic have passed.

"There you are. It's alright," I tell her, mimicking Mom's words she'd murmur when I'd finally come around. She would hold me just like this.

"I was so scared," she says into my neck, and anger rises in me again.

"I know you were, Bambi. You'll never have to feel that way again. We will keep you safe. Do you understand me? That shit won't happen again!"

She lifts, and I loosen my arms, but she takes hers and wraps them around me, laying back down with her face in my neck once more.

I worry for a moment that she will feel awkward because I've just held her much like a mother would a child and rocked her, that she's going to know this is something I am imitating, but it's fleeting .

She kisses my neck and says, "Can you rock me a little more?"

"Whatever you need, Aella." I kiss her hair. "Whatever you need."

"Tell me now what the fuck is going on, Miles. I'm not in the mood for lies or bullshit, either. Tell me now, or I'm going to lose it!" I shout, pushing into his office in the clubhouse.

Detective Hunt is sitting in the chair before him, and both have a glass of bourbon and a bottle between them. I'm even angrier now that I know he's here drinking while I've just dealt with the aftermath of whatever he let happen.

Aella is in my bed, sleeping peacefully for now, which gives me the moment I need to beat the living shit out of him. It won't help matters, but it'll help me get some buzzing energy out of my body.

"Sit down, Braxton," Miles says, and the serious look in Detective Hunt's eyes is the only thing that has me complying.

"What's going on?" I ask as I sit next to the Detective.

Brian Hunt is a detective in the Twin Pines Police Department, but foremost, he's a Cobra—an undercover agent that Dad placed inside the department long ago. He's in his mid-fifties and has a telling face when something's wrong .

"I found something on the victim's phone. His name was Jett Taylor. You know who he runs with. But what I found interesting is that he had an order from his president on his phone. One that told him to move in on your girl." Brian lifts his glass to his lips and takes a long pull of bourbon.

"How did he even know about her?" I ask Brian, and he exhales.

"From the text thread, he'd been following Miles all day. He saw her with him and relayed it to Vito. Vito's order wasn't to kill her. Only to fuck her. The text said an eye for an eye. Know what he could refer to?"

Miles scrubs his face, but I wait for him to uncover it. I know that when he drops his hands away, I'll be able to see the truth of things. I know every inch of his goddamn face. Every frown line when he's lying, and every shift of his eyes when he's hiding something.

He doesn't know what's happening when he drops his hands and looks at me.

"No," Miles admits, looking back at Brian. "I don't know what that means. We haven't had an issue with them. Other than we went to their… Fuck…" He lets his head drop into his hands.

"What?" I ask.

"We went to their bar the other night, The Dirty Pour. I needed to get…"

"Some strange?" I ask, knowing exactly what happened at the factory. How Sully had shot the general manager, and Hunt had cleaned it up. When death nears Miles, he needs to feel alive. So, he prowls the streets for something to make him think so .

"Yes, and I found some. A bartender there, blonde. Didn't catch her name, though. Could that be what he's referring to?" Miles asks Brian.

Brian shrugs before standing. "I'll find out and let you know, Pres. Until then, watch your backs. The Jackals aren't something we need breathing down our fucking necks right now."

Miles nods, standing to shake Brian's hand. "Keep me in the loop."

"I always do."

When the door shuts, my brother and I momentarily eye one another.

"I know you're angry, but I did not know."

"You didn't know you were being followed? That's so unlike you, Miles. The state she was in…" I trail off, looking to the corner where cobwebs live unattended as I think of rocking Aella in my arms to calm her down.

"Fuck, this is so fucked!" Miles picks up an old landline phone for clubhouse calls and throws it. It hits the wall and shatters into bits. "She's got her hooks into me. I don't know which way is up anymore. I didn't even notice I was being tailed."

I look at him. I notice something about his face that no longer looks like him. Could it be the slight change she's made in the both of us? If I look in the mirror, will I see the minute changes in myself?

"It can't happen again, man. If she leaves the house, she's going with me," I say simply.

He nods. "I understand."

It's the first and only time I've given my brother, my president, an order, but I wouldn't have taken less than the answer he's given in reply.

"This shit needs clearing up, and soon," I say as I stand, and Miles only nods.

"Is she alright?" he asks.

I'm still angry at him, but I know he cares for her, too. In the short time we've known her, she's burrowed into us like a fucking rabbit seeking shelter.

I really should call her Thumper.

"No, she's not alright, Miles. But I hope she will be there in time. I think something like this lingers with a person, don't you?"

"The fear of the moment will stick with her, yes. Haunt her, even."

We let it happen to her.

I'm spun too tight when I leave his office, and I use my phone to order comfort food—Chinese—and steal a bottle of bourbon from the clubhouse kitchen.

When I return to my room with the food and booze, Aella sits on my bed. She's got Outlander in her hand again, but she's not reading it. Instead, she's staring off into space.

I let her be for the moment as I spread a picnic of Chinese food on the bed before pouring each of us a glass of bourbon.

When I sit beside her, she turns as if she's just awakened from a dream. "What is all this?"

"A little picnic." I hand her the glass of booze, and she thanks me with her eyes. Her hair is askew from sleep, and she looks more beautiful than ever. She reaches down, grabs a Crab Rangoon—my favorite, too—and takes a bite.

At least she's going to eat.

We eat in near silence, and then I clean it all up. She and I have two glasses of bourbon before I put it away. She turns on her side, facing the wall, and I get into bed behind her. I'm close enough for comfort, but not too close. I don't want to crowd her.

I softly rub her arm in slow strokes, and we just are.

I admire this about Aella. I've never had a person who doesn't seek to fill every moment with words. For long periods, neither do I. There are days I don't want to speak to a soul. She gets that.

But tonight, I wish she'd say something because her silence slowly kills me.

"Hold me," she finally says, and I spoon into her from behind, wrapping around her tightly.

Her proximity seeps into me, and I close my own eyes.

"You're my home," she says softly before drifting off to sleep, and I'm left with three words that feel as though they're the most important ones I'll ever hear.

Ever.