Page 74 of Ravaged With You

“Red, no. This isn’t your fault. None of it.”

“The hell it isn’t. You think this isn’t about me, then you’re—”

“Of course, it’s about you,” she snapped, the severity of her words hitting him with the force of a slap. “You’re right. I have absolutely no doubt that you’re right, and it’s fucking terrifying. She survived, I get that. Somehow that bitch survived and somehow she found you. She played you. She seduced Mel. She probably planted the diamonds. She’s trying to hurt you, and the odds are pretty damn good she wants to hurt me, too.”

She exhaled, her shaky breath the only visible clue to her fear. “But none of that is your fault, Red. Not one single bit of it.”

“The hell it’s not. Back then I should have—”

“What? You should have been an action hero? You’re not starring in a Marvel movie. They drugged you, they tortured you, and from what you told me they had you tied down pretty damn good. So you tell me, Red. How the hell was that your fault?”

Her eyes flashed with anger and frustration, and oh, how he understood it. He knew she was right—every iota of common sense in his body agreed with her. And yet there was still that mantra—if he’d only had a knife back then, even the shortest of blades.

Things were different now.

He steeled himself, reaching out to grip the steering wheel, tension running through his arms, his hands so tight his knuckles were white. He saw the tendons pop in his arms, the muscles rippling from years of working out, of ensuring he’d never be a victim again, the scars that stood out as reminders of what he’d endured—and that in the future, he could prevail.

Would prevail.

He could handle this. He was prepared for this. Hell, he had to be.

“Dammit, Red, talk to me. Don’t you dare pull away from me because this bitch is back in your life...”

He turned to her, the words and her tone finally getting through to him. “Jo—oh, God, Jo—no. Never. Christ, don’t you know how much I need you?”

The relief in her eyes filled his heart and fueled his determination. And, yes, he did need her. Needed the feel of her, the taste of her. Need to touch her and let the knowledge of what he was fighting for fill him. Because the fight was coming—he was damn sure of that.

Without any thought about what he was doing, he pulled her toward him. She came willingly, neither of them worrying about that damn dress as she clambered over the center console to straddle his lap. “I need you,” he said, his fingers thrusting inside her as she frantically worked at his fly.

“Yes, yes,” she murmured, abandoning her task as his fingers filled her and she arched back, riding his hand. “Oh, God, Red, I’d thought—”

“No. No, just come for me. Not another word until I feel you explode.”

Kaplow!

The window shattered, sending bits of safety glass flying everywhere. Immediately, he pushed Jo off him and down onto the passenger seat, then covered her with his body.

“Get out of the car,” a male voice said from behind them. “Get out now,” a second voice added, “or you watch the bitch die.”

“They’re going to take us both,” Red whispered to her.

“I know.” He heard the fear, and the courage in her reply.

He started to rise, lifting his hands as he did, and knowing full well that, at least at the moment, there wasn’t a damn thing else he could do. Especially now that he could see the two laser sights—both aimed at Jo’s chest. “I’ll get us out of this,” he promised. “Somehow, I’ll get us out.”

“I believe you,” she said.

Then something hard and heavy impacted the back of his head. He heard the sharp blast of Jo’s scream.

And then the world went black.

Chapter Twenty-Five

I wake in a darkness so thick I almost fear that they’ve blinded me. I’m naked, huddled in a corner, rough stone under my thighs and behind my back.

I’m shivering, but not from cold. The room is stifling, warm and humid with stale, thick air. But from the way I’m shaking, I might as well be on an ice floe.

“Red?” My voice is hoarse and I try to swallow, but there’s no moisture in my mouth at all. “Red, are you here?”