“Stand over there, Sheriff.” Junior motioned to the windows past the bed as he shuffled Belle towards the door. He couldn’t let them leave.
Junior stepped backwards, towards the hallway. “Tie yourself up with those zip ties on the bed.”
“Let her go and I’ll do whatever you want. Leave her out of this,” Bently begged.
“You took someone I loved. The only person who ever gave a shit about me. And now, you’re going to know exactly how that feels. I’m gonna start with her. Then I’m gonna go visit that pretty sister of yours.”
Bile rose in his throat. He’d done this. He’d brought this on his loved ones. No. No way was he going to let this boy destroy everyone he loved.
“I love you. This isn’t your fault,” Belle said as if reading his mind. This brave woman, facing death and still trying to ease his guilt.
“Your father cried like a fucking pussy before I put a bullet in him,” Bently snapped.
Junior glared at him. “You’re lying!” His hand wrapped tighter around Belle’s throat, squeezing.
Junior would leave bruises like his father had on Remy. Bently used the anger to fuel him on. “He tried to go after my family and he failed. What makes you think you’re going to do any better?”
The gun shook as Junior’s face reddened.
“You want to know what his last words were?” Bently pressed, stepping forward, willing the gun to aim at him rather than Belle.
“W-what were they?”
Bently took in a breath, time slowing as he savored one last look at the woman he loved. The woman he would die protecting. “Not a fucking thing. He never had a chance. After I shot him, he choked, drowning in his own blood. The last thing he saw was me making sure the fucker was dead!” Bently poured salt into the festering wound.
The gun shifted, aiming at him as a flicker of movement behind them flashed. TJ!
Bently lunged forward.
Boom!
Glass shattered and pain split his chest before he tackled Junior to the ground. He pulled the gun from his limp hand, tucking it in the back of his waistband. He kicked the other away before grabbing the zip ties by the bed. He rolled the teen, the back of Junior’s head sticky with red blood. Bently bound Junior’s hands behind him.
His gaze darted up. TJ still held the wooden bat, standing over them.
“Is he dead? Did I kill him?” TJ’s chest heaved with each breath.
The door crashed open downstairs. No doubt Rife had heard the gunshot.
“Shattered Cove PD!” Rife’s voice boomed below.
Bently stepped into the hall with his hands up. “All clear, Rife. Perp’s been apprehended and restrained. Call a bus.”
Rife picked up his radio and nodded from the bottom of the stairs.
Bently took the bat from TJ’s trembling hands, dropping it to the ground before answering his question. “No. He’s still breathing.”
Belle grabbed TJ in one arm and him in the other, collapsing against them. Tears poured down her cheeks. He winced, pain burning his ribs.
“You’re safe now.” Bently’s voice shook. He’d come way too close to losing her, to losing them.
“You’re bleeding. You’ve been shot!” Belle said, pulling up his shirt to reveal the bullet wound. Her fingers traced the tender flesh around the injury.
He winced. “It’s just a graze. I’ll be fine.” He patted TJ’s shoulder. “You saved us.”
TJ blinked. “No, I—”
“If you hadn’t acted, this would be a lot more than a flesh wound,” Bently said.
TJ nodded solemnly. “I heard him yell and I didn’t know what to do. I grabbed the first thing I could and waited in the hall for my chance.”
“You did everything right. You saved us.”
TJ swallowed.
Bently took Belle’s face in his hands, studying her head wound. His anger boiled over. He turned towards Joe Junior. Like father like son. A chill shivered through his body.
He and this kid were both born from devils. All his life, Bently had been terrified of being anything like his father, fighting from birth not to make the same mistakes. Everything revolted inside him when he came close to being similar to his father. He’d hated his own face because it was too much like Paul Evans’s. Why would anyone want to repeat their father’s same mistakes?
Junior’s finger twitched. The boy had chosen to follow in the footsteps of a monster. Why? Was evil something you were born with? Or was it bred into you? Why had he made it out of hell and Junior hadn’t? The only thing that separated them was a choice.
“It’s over.” Belle’s voice brought him back.
He took her in his arms and kissed her gently as blaring sirens drew closer. He held her as close as he could without hurting her. The sweet relief of having them safe was tainted by guilt. “Are you sure you want this? With everything that comes with being with me? My baggage, and the dangers of my job?”
Belle met his eyes. “I’ve never been more sure of something in my life.”
Her words pierced his heart, ripping and mending. Retribution and atonement.
“Do you want to run?” Her voice came out in a whisper.
“Never again. I’m not letting you go.” His lips slanted across hers. He wished they were alone so he could take care of her—bullet wound be damned. He’d wash every inch of her body with his hands and then kiss any trace of this nightmare.
She kissed him back, as if surrendering. He succumbed to the energy that pulled them with a force unknown to man. He was going to marry this woman. She was his forever. She was his gravity.
Chapter 43
Belle
A week later, Belle opened the door. Bently’s woodsy scent made her weak in the knees. He leaned down, his scruff scratching her cheek as he kissed her.
“Is it here?” she whispered excitedly.
“With a big red bow.” He chuckled, pulling her against his hard frame.
His
