Across the Vanishing Sky (Starlight Grove, #1)(123)

Maverick raced forward, kicked the knife away, and rolled Vincent to his stomach while yanking his hands behind his back.

“My nose! She broke my fucking nose!” Vincent wailed.

“Apparently, you didn’t learn your lesson at the broken balls,” I snapped.

“Hey, Little Badass. Enough with the trash talk. Call the cops,” Maverick gritted out.

“Okay, okay.” The cops. That was a good idea. Pain flared in my side, and when I touched it, my fingers came away coated in red.

Oh shit.





51





DEX





Everything in me had gone numb—the kind of numbness that caused a faint buzzing in your ears. It spread, entering my body and limbs, but it wasn’t the vibration I’d grown used to around Brae. Nothing that made me feel alive. This was sheer panic and had everything in me turning off.

“Brae’s fine.”

That was how Wylder had started the call. But I knew something had happened. Brae wasn’t truly okay.

I wound my way through the throng of tourists. There’d been no parking anywhere close, and now, so many people crowded the sidewalk that it was hard to navigate. Some whispered in groups, and snatches of their conversations hit my ears.

“…woman attacked…”

“He had a knife…”

“You would think it would be safe in a place like this.”

I shut them out. Just like I ignored everything else, I pushed through everyone until I reached the entrance of the Boot. Various deputies and other officers were on the scene, even the fire department.

As I started for the entrance, a familiar, barrel-chested man stepped into my path, a smug look on his face. “This establishment is closed.”

My hands fisted at my sides as my gaze picked out at least half a dozen pressure points that would drop this asshole to his knees. Probably not a good idea if I didn’t want to get tased or shot. “I’m here for Brae.”

Grady’s smugness only intensified. “I’m afraid I can’t let you through.”

My fingers twitched at my sides, rolling into fists. My hold on the rage that lived inside me was tenuous at best.

“Stop being a fuckwit and let him through.” Roger stepped out into the sunlight, glaring at Grady.

Grady’s smug look turned to a scowl. “Law enforcement only.”

“He’s her boyfriend, and you know it. So stop trying to exert dominance just because no one wants to suck your dick,” Roger snapped.

Red splotches appeared all over Grady’s face. “You’re gonna get what’s coming to you one of these days.”

“Can’t wait,” Roger called, giving Grady a little finger wave as he stalked off. “Come on. She’s back here.”

“Talk to me.” My words were strangled at best, spoken through gritted teeth and a throat so tight it was a miracle any air made it through.

“Vincent Faber is now in custody, sitting in a cell at the station. He came up behind Brae and tried to get her to go with him. Used a knife as motivation.”

The word knife had blazing ice blasting through my system, the kind of coldness that burned.

“Mav came up on them,” Roger continued. “Vincent held her at knifepoint, but Brae broke his nose and likely a few toes for good measure. Got a fighter there.”

I couldn’t think about what a badass she was because it only reminded me that she’d had to defend herself in the first place. All I could manage to say was her name. “Brae.”

“Got a bit of a cut,” Roger said carefully. “Mav’s tending to her right now.”

I saw her then, a flash of blond hair as she sat, straddling one of the bar chairs so her front was to the wooden slats. Her Boot T-shirt was tucked up under her bra, her back and side exposed—a side that Mav was currently sewing to-fucking-gether.

Fury. Fear. Guilt. Shame. It all swirled together in an ugly stew. I hadn’t been there. Brae had needed me, and I hadn’t been there.

I stalked toward the woman who had somehow come to mean everything to me. I rounded Mav, coming to Brae’s front and dropping to my knees. She was a little pale, but her eyes were bright. I couldn’t stop myself from touching her, my hands lifting to those too-pale cheeks.

“Hellion.”

“Hey,” she whispered, forcing a wobbly smile.

I pressed my forehead to hers. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not yours to be sorry for.” Her hands wrapped around my forearms, gripping tightly.

“I should’ve been here,” I rasped.

“You’re here now.”

It wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough. “I want to rip him limb from limb.”

“Little Badass did a number on his nose if that helps,” Mav said, pulling the medical-grade thread through Brae’s side.

“Not good enough,” I snarled.

Brae’s fingers dug into my forearms. “Hey, I’m okay. Just a little cut. And this will get him out of my and Owen’s lives forever.”

“Already called Maren Robinson,” Wylder said, his expression unreadable. “She’s adding to the filing as we speak.”

Guilt still swarmed that I hadn’t done more already—more to end Vincent for good. But I’d been distracted by Nova’s case and whoever had been taunting Brae, and missed the threat right in front of us.