A tearful laugh escaped her lips.
“And I’ll never, as long as I live, forget the look on Jackal’s face when you grabbed his crotch. You know, Ely, that man has seen everything, done everything, but I do believe you nearly brought him to his knees.”
She moaned and covered her head with her hands. And perhaps others would call him cruel for reminding her of what he knew mortified her. But Ely was made of sterner stuff than that, he assured himself. Besides, others would never allow her to forget it, and preparing her now was for the best.
“Bastard,” she whispered tearfully.
He sighed. “FGP,” he told her. “Fucking girl pussy. You are aware that title is now being whispered behind my back, aren’t you, Ely? You really need to drag your ass off that mattress and get back to work so I can get a little strip of your hide in return.”
She almost laughed; he felt it.
“Ely.” He said her name softly. “Look at me, just for a moment.”
He waited patiently. Finally she pushed her hair back and lifted herself enough to turn and look at him. And he opened his arms to her. “Please, Ely. The guilt is killing me. I didn’t protect my favorite girl. Forgive me. Please.”
And her tears came now. From eyes bruised with fatigue and pain, as dry lips parted and the cries came. She burrowed into his arms, against his chest. She pulled her legs tight against him, and he wrapped her in his arms and fought his own tears.
Sweet Ely. How could he ever look himself in the mirror after what he had allowed to happen to her? If he couldn’t protect her, how could he ever protect anyone else?
He rocked her; he crooned to her, kissed her forehead gently.
“Never again, little cat,” he promised her tenderly. “Never again. I swear it.”