This scene takes place during Chapter 36 of Guarding His Heart. Major, MAJOR spoilers exist for the end of Guarding His Heart. Proceed at your own risk.
Ripper
Thank fuck this job is done. Being trapped in the van with Vasquez or Ella the whole time wasn’t my idea of fun.
They’re good people. Dax’s people. Both damaged in ways they won’t talk about. Like me.
But I don’t do well with people I don’t know. Only Ry’s voice in my ear kept me calm. Going on mission will never be easy for me. Every time I leave Cara, I worry I won’t come home.
And I miss Charlie. The German Shepherd is even better than Ryker at easing my anxiety. But not as good as Cara.
The service elevator dings. I don’t like confined spaces. Even now, with my family all around me, they still scare the shit out of me. Especially after dark.
All those years Faruk kept me in that well or locked in that tiny room. The drugs. The confusion. The constant fear. I knew I was losing myself. But I could do nothing to stop it.
West is talking. “Gladys has been enjoying room service all evening. Clive—he works with Dax—has been keeping an eye on her.”
The elevator doors slide open. West and I head down the hall. The Five Points uses electronic keys tied to our phones, and I wave my phone over the suite Graham and I have staked out for the night. Doc and Natasha will take the second bedroom. West offered to sleep on the couch.
I told him we’d be fine.
A dark blur moves for me. So quickly I don’t have time to react. My back hits the wall. Hard metal presses to the soft tissue under my chin.
“Who the fuck are you and where the fuck is she?”
My world goes soft and quiet. I can’t move. His hand is rough around my throat.
“Issad, you must stop fighting me.”
No. Not Faruk. Not here.
“Issad, I can make the pain go away if you trust me.”
The scorpions skitter over my skin. If I flinch, they’ll sting. The pain…it’s too much.
“Rip? Breathe.”
The voice is familiar. Calm, but with a hard edge. And the name. Rip. That’s…me. The real me.
“Remember what we talked about last week? What we worked on? You’re going to be okay.”
“The fuck he is,” the asshole with the gun says. “Where. Is. She?”
I can see him now. Dark hair, darker eyes. Tanned skin. Weathered, but he’s still young. Maybe younger than me. Mid-thirties? Forty at most.
A Smith & Wesson M&P 9. He’s not playing around.
The guest elevator dings. The gun wavers—only for a second—but it’s all I need. I grab the barrel in one hand, the man’s wrist in the other, and jerk the weapon to the side.
He loses his grip. My knee rams into his balls, and he goes down. West and Inara are on him in a heartbeat as I stagger back. My heart pounds. My hands and feet tingle with a thousand tiny pinpricks of pain. If I don’t sit down soon, I might pass out.
“Xavier Francis Tuttle. What the shitsicles are you doing?”
Gladys. I blink hard. The woman is a white-haired blur, with a dark blond blur behind her. Clive. It’s Clive. Not a threat. Safe. I’m safe.
My muscles are so tense, moving could break me. But I force one breath. Then another.
“Gladys? You know this asshole?” West asks.
I lower my gaze. The former SEAL pins the man to the floor. He won’t let him up. He’d kill him first.
“That’s my grandson. Sort of. And he’s supposed to be in South America.” She huffs. “I told Bella I was fine. Better than fine even.”
“Gladys,” the man mumbles, “You were kidnapped.”
“Not by these people!” She marches right up to West and glares at him. “Let Xavier up. He’ll apologize right now.”
She pats my cheek, and I’m unprepared for the touch.
Don’t hurt her. She’s not a threat.
“You are a badass, sonny. Not many people can move faster than my Xavier.”
Huh?
I can’t deal with this any longer. It’s too much. Everything’s too loud. Too bright. Too…fucked.
“I…uh…need a minute.” Do I even say the words out loud? I hope so. Sidestepping West and the asshole who tried to kill me, I practically run for the bedroom and slam the door behind me.
***
Huddled on the floor next to the window, I suck in lungfuls of stale air. The fucking thing doesn’t open, but at least I can see the sky. Why doesn’t this place have a balcony? I could go up to the roof, but I’d have to pass by…everyone.
The door clicks open, then shut again.
“Leave me alone,” I manage. My voice doesn’t sound like mine. The hint of an accent I worked so hard to forget sends me over the edge. My chest tightens. I can’t breathe. Can’t feel my arms and legs. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
My vision tunnels.
A strong hand cups the back of my neck, and then I hear her voice.
“Jackson. Stay with me.”
She’s my anchor in the storm of emotions threatening to pull me under.
But when I look up, it’s not Cara’s brown eyes I see. Graham kneels in front of me, one hand on the back of my neck, the other holding a phone close to my ear.
“Jackson. Where are you right now?” Cara asks.
“Room. Hotel. F-floor.”
“Where else? Keep going, soldier.”
“Five…Points. D.C.” The words are coming easier. I can feel the carpet under my fingertips. “Safe. I’m…safe.”
“Good. That’s good. I’m right here. So is Graham. We’re not going anywhere. We’ll stay right here with you as long as you need.”
***
It’s half an hour before I’m steady enough to nod at Graham. “You can…go. If you need to.”
He drops his hand from my neck, passes me the phone, and sinks down onto his ass. “I don’t need to be anywhere right now. Unless you and Cara want some privacy.”
“No. Sunshine, you have to get up at 4:00 a.m. Get some sleep. I…should go apologize to West.”
“I can sleep tomorrow,” she says, and Charlie barks once, like he’s agreeing with her.
Fuck. I wish I could bring him with me on mission, but there’s always a chance I’ll have to leave the van. And I couldn’t live with myself if anything happened to him.
“No. I have to…handle this next part myself. Please?” We turned on video moments after Graham called her, and I hold her gaze through the screen. “I’ll be okay. And if I’m not, I’ll call you back.”
She frowns and lets out a long, slow sigh. “Promise me you’ll call back if you need to. If you even think you need to.”
“I promise.” Those words are sacred. To all of us. And though calling her back—even needing to call her in the first place—feels like a failure of epic proportions, she’s the only one who can bring me back from the edge.
“I love you, Jackson,” she says softly.
“Love you too, sunshine.”
When it’s just me and Graham, I stare out the window at the city below us. Twinkling lights, cars passing by on almost-empty streets. “How’d you know what to do?”
“Calling Cara? Just seemed like the best thing—“
“No.” I force myself to look him in the eyes. Fuck, why is this so damn hard. “The…neck thing.”
“I’ve seen Cara do it for you a couple of times.” He shrugs, and his cheeks tinge pink. “Was it too…personal? Shit. It was. I’m sorry—“
“No.” I reach out and clasp his forearm. Touching people isn’t easy for me. Unless it’s Cara. But Graham was the one who convinced me I wasn’t hallucinating when Ry and the others rescued me. He understands what I went through in ways the others don’t. “If anyone else had tried, I probably would have thrown them across the room. You…I know you’re real.”
It’s the closest thing to a “thank you” I can manage. Telling him he’s almost as much of a brother to me as Ry and Dax…that’s fucking impossible. But when he swallows hard and nods, I think maybe…he knows.