“Here’s what I think. I think you lost your temper the last time we met and convinced these idiots it was a good idea to chase one of us down. Not smart. You’re going to be in trouble when Blake finds out.”
A sickening crunch cut off the man’s laugh as his chest moved oddly, almost as if inflating. I knew humpty dumpty would be ready to move again soon.
“You’re Blake’s,” he said. “But I told you, we’re going to leave you with nothing.”
Nothing. They’d meant to kill Carlos. And would probably come after Thomas, Emmitt, Luke...all of the men.
I stood, placed my foot on his chest, and pushed down hard. Whatever little boney bits that were trying to knit back together, collapsed again under my weight. The man rasped in pain.
“Don’t push me. You won’t like it if I lose my temper.” I lifted my foot. “Tell Blake he’s wasting his men. He’ll need every one of you when I get there.”
Carlos’ hand settled on my shoulder. I took it as a sign to go. Turning away from the idiot on the ground, I moved closer to Carlos and walked with him back to the SUV where Grey leaned, casually watching us. He was dressed, thankfully.
“You get to drive,” I said.
The SUV was still running, and Grey had Gabby’s phone in his hand.
“Everything okay with the rest?”
“Just fine,” he said, moving to the driver’s seat.
I opened the back door and stepped aside to motion Carlos in. I hadn’t looked at him since he’d let me cry. A gentle touch under my chin had me lifting my gaze to his.
“Sit with me.”
I nodded and waited for Carlos to ease himself in. Blood smeared across the back of the seat as he slid over. The sight of it worried me. I quickly got in and closed the door. Carlos sighed and leaned his head against the seat as he closed his eyes.
The touch of his fingers on my hand almost made me jump. Instead, I turned my hand so he could wrap his fingers around mine. He gave a gentle squeeze of reassurance a second before a faint rhythmic sound caught my attention. I looked down and saw blood dripping onto the seat from a bite on his arm. I wasn’t reassured.
The drive back took longer because Grey actually obeyed the speed limit. When we pulled into the parking lot, everyone still waited outside. I hopped out and worriedly turned to Carlos. He slid toward me and seemed to exit with more ease than when he’d entered.
Charlene gasped when she saw Carlos, and Thomas wrapped a comforting arm around her.
“He’ll be fine,” he said softly.
Fine? Carlos didn’t look fine. He had stopped bleeding, though.
“You two, go inside,” Thomas said, meeting my gaze. “Help him clean up. We’ll clean and load the car.”
I nodded and walked beside Carlos as he made his way to our room. The back of his shirt hung open in two flaps. Claw marks created jagged, bloody valleys in his skin, and my temper flared at the sight.
When he reached the door, he opened it and stood aside to let me in first. Courtesy over injuries. I would have said something snarky about that, but my voice wasn’t ready for snarky. It was still set on throat-closing worry.
Moving ahead of him, I went into the bathroom and turned on the shower. My thoughts raced to what I would need for Carlos’ wounds. I still had the first aid kits, but I didn’t think there was enough salve or bandages to take care of everything.
When I turned, Carlos stood right behind me. His shirt was gone along with his shoe and socks.
“Isabelle,” he said softly. “Stop.”
I looked up and met his gaze.
“Stop what?”
“Worrying.” He kissed my forehead, then stood to the side, obviously wanting me to leave.
I hesitated, looking at the open wounds, drying blood, and coloring skin.
“Call me if you need anything,” I said, lingering at the door.
“I will.”
I closed the door then went to sit on the bed. Someone knocked on our door, but I ignored it. I couldn’t deal with anything else. Not right now. My chest hurt just as much as my hands. And though my gaze was trained on my hands, I didn’t see the dirty, bloody knuckles. Instead, my mind brought back the images of the blood smeared on the seat, the bite marks on Carlos’ arms, and, finally, the hole in Ethan’s middle. Life’s fragility hit me hard.
Never had I felt so vulnerable than right then. My gift, the way people always seemed to like me, the way I always managed to come out on top, had given me a sense of invincibility that I’d never recognized. My hands shook harder.
I could die. Everyone around me could die. And why? Because we were trying to stop some guy from a power trip. Who cared? Let Blake have his power. This Judgement business was probably a line of bull anyway. Yet, deep down, I knew that was a lie. It wasn’t bull, and we couldn’t let Blake have any power. He was a killer.
The water turned off in the bathroom, and I stood to get the first aid kits. One had an icepack, which I cracked and shook. It cooled in my hand as I set the case on the bed. The door opened, and I turned to watch steam roll out along with Carlos, a towel wrapped around his hips. His gaze immediately found mine. His left eye was almost swollen shut. I lifted the icepack, holding it out to him.
“Thank you, Isabelle.”
I nodded and looked away to grab the salve. The cap didn’t want to unscrew, and the tremble in my hands didn’t help. When I turned back to him, he was in the same spot, both hands at his side, the icepack seemingly forgotten as he watched me.
“I’ll start with your back,” I said, circling him.
Without his gaze on me, I allowed myself to wince at the gashes. As gently as possible, I soothed the salve over the cuts, big and small, then grabbed the bandages and tape to cover everything I’d treated.
After I finished with his back, I moved to the front. He tracked my every move. When he watched me like that, it made me think he didn’t care about the cuts, bruises, and swelling as much as he cared about me standing just inches from him.
I squeezed some more salve onto my finger and gently spread it over a cut above his right nipple. The skin under my fingers quivered.
“Sorry,” I mumbled.
“You have nothing to apologize for.”
“Don’t I? You went for that run because I wouldn’t...I should have—”
“Don’t, Isabelle,” he said, lifting the hand that wasn’t holding the icepack. He gently ran a finger along my cheek. “You spar to release energy. I go for a run. That’s all that was.”
I nodded and eyed the next cut. He let his hand fall to his side and continued to study me.
“You’re still worrying.”
“I think you need stitches,” I said, adding more salve to a particularly deep gash.
“We heal quickly. By tomorrow, the shallow ones will be scars and the deep ones scabbed over.”
When I had all the cuts coated, I grabbed the bandages and tape and started covering everything. He held still through it all. I finished with the bite on his neck.
“I don’t see why anyone would ever want to be bitten.”
“It would have been different if it were you,” he said softly.
He was right. I wouldn’t have tried to remove a chunk of meat with my teeth.
“I’ll see how the others are doing,” I said, moving toward the door so he could dress.
* * * *
Since Carlos’ eye was mostly swollen shut, Winifred drove the car. Carlos again sat in the back with me. I didn’t mind.
He kept the icepack on his eye and leaned against the door for the next four hours. I couldn’t be sure if he slept or not. Winifred must have thought the same because she didn’t try to make conversation.
So, I endured the boredom until my stomach rumbled loudly in the silence.
“We should stop and eat,” Carlos said, making me jump.
“How are you feeling?”
When he lifted his head, I noted he was careful to sit forward before he tried to straighten. I hadn’t considered how it would feel having those cuts pressed against the seat. He set the icepack aside as I studied his face.