hit the street ninety seconds later and slide into the passenger seat. We don’t talk as he accelerates from the curb.
Ten minutes later, he parks in front of Bethany’s parents house. We head through the house and straight out the back. He keys in the code that lets us into Wanda and Leslie Davidson’s house. We enter through the kitchen and up the stairs to the room at the back of the house.
Philips opens the door and stands back to let me in.
Dillon Davidson is strapped to a chair in the middle of his bedroom, his mouth taped shut.
Every single particle of composure I’ve managed to hang on to flees my body at the sight of the man who made my Bethany stop breathing.
The first punch to his solar plexus knocks the air out of his lungs and sends him crashing to the floor. I plant my feet on either side of him and watch his eyes bulge as he stares up at me.
“Having a little trouble breathing , asshole?” I snarl.
Color washes in and out of his face as he fights to breathe. I wait until he starts to catch his breath. Then I punch him again.
“You know what you did by attempting to take what’s mine?”
Naked fear mushrooms in his eyes, and he looks as if he’s about to pass out.
“You brought hell to your doorstep. And guess what? I’ve decided to stay for a while.”
TWELVE
All The Broken Pieces
Bethany
“Z ach.”
The moment I say his name, his head jerks up from where it’s pressed into my hip. His day-long vigil by my bedside has been unwavering.
Grey eyes pierce mine, a thousand powerful emotions fused into that single look.
“Bethany,” he breathes.
I tighten my grip around the hand meshed with mine. I attempt to swallow despite my throat feeling worse than it did last night when I was brought in. Zach sees my pain and his eyes darken.
“Lock. Door,” I manage.
He frowns. “There’s no lock on the door. And I really don’t want you to speak, baby. It’ll just aggravate your throat.”
Irritation and frustration bite hard. “Lock. Door.” I love my family and friends and their concern for me has been beyond touching. But I want to be alone with Zach.
He drags his gaze from mine to the door, and his jaw clenches. “Fine.”
He reluctantly lets go of my hand and grabs a spare chair. He wedges it beneath the handle, then comes back to the bedside. I look up into his eyes.
Zach is doing a great job of being strong, but I see the ravaging anguish in his eyes every time he look at me. The harrowing pain intensifies when his gaze drops to my throat.
I shift to make room on the narrow bed and pat the empty space.
His face clenches hard. “Peaches...”
I pat harder.
He nods and shrugs off his leather jacket. If I was even remotely in the zone, I would’ve laughed at the delicateness of his move to get into bed with me. Eventually, he folds his large frame beside me, and I move into the circle of his arms.
This close there’s minimum exertion on my throat, when I whisper, “I love you, Zach.”
A full body shudder fires through him. “God, Bethany.”
I look up and his eyes are squeezed shut.
“I love you. This wasn’t your fault.”
“ Bullshit .” The word is visceral. Definitive. Condemning. “He was right next door . I perform double background checks on complete strangers who board my planes so I can ensure they don’t come to any harm. What the fuck fiancé does it make me when I don’t check on the guy who already attacked you once?”
My heart shakes at the finality of the indictment. I know he’s going to blame himself for this for a long time, possibly forever.
“No,” I attempt anyway. “Please, Zach. Don’t put this on yourself.”
“Stop fucking talking , Bethany,” he pleads in a ragged voice.
I sigh and move closer. His eyes are still shut, his nostrils pinched white as shudders continue to rack him. I cup his jaw and force him to face me.
His eyes are bleak pools of self-loathing, his lashes damp from emotions he can barely
Ten minutes later, he parks in front of Bethany’s parents house. We head through the house and straight out the back. He keys in the code that lets us into Wanda and Leslie Davidson’s house. We enter through the kitchen and up the stairs to the room at the back of the house.
Philips opens the door and stands back to let me in.
Dillon Davidson is strapped to a chair in the middle of his bedroom, his mouth taped shut.
Every single particle of composure I’ve managed to hang on to flees my body at the sight of the man who made my Bethany stop breathing.
The first punch to his solar plexus knocks the air out of his lungs and sends him crashing to the floor. I plant my feet on either side of him and watch his eyes bulge as he stares up at me.
“Having a little trouble breathing , asshole?” I snarl.
Color washes in and out of his face as he fights to breathe. I wait until he starts to catch his breath. Then I punch him again.
“You know what you did by attempting to take what’s mine?”
Naked fear mushrooms in his eyes, and he looks as if he’s about to pass out.
“You brought hell to your doorstep. And guess what? I’ve decided to stay for a while.”
TWELVE
All The Broken Pieces
Bethany
“Z ach.”
The moment I say his name, his head jerks up from where it’s pressed into my hip. His day-long vigil by my bedside has been unwavering.
Grey eyes pierce mine, a thousand powerful emotions fused into that single look.
“Bethany,” he breathes.
I tighten my grip around the hand meshed with mine. I attempt to swallow despite my throat feeling worse than it did last night when I was brought in. Zach sees my pain and his eyes darken.
“Lock. Door,” I manage.
He frowns. “There’s no lock on the door. And I really don’t want you to speak, baby. It’ll just aggravate your throat.”
Irritation and frustration bite hard. “Lock. Door.” I love my family and friends and their concern for me has been beyond touching. But I want to be alone with Zach.
He drags his gaze from mine to the door, and his jaw clenches. “Fine.”
He reluctantly lets go of my hand and grabs a spare chair. He wedges it beneath the handle, then comes back to the bedside. I look up into his eyes.
Zach is doing a great job of being strong, but I see the ravaging anguish in his eyes every time he look at me. The harrowing pain intensifies when his gaze drops to my throat.
I shift to make room on the narrow bed and pat the empty space.
His face clenches hard. “Peaches...”
I pat harder.
He nods and shrugs off his leather jacket. If I was even remotely in the zone, I would’ve laughed at the delicateness of his move to get into bed with me. Eventually, he folds his large frame beside me, and I move into the circle of his arms.
This close there’s minimum exertion on my throat, when I whisper, “I love you, Zach.”
A full body shudder fires through him. “God, Bethany.”
I look up and his eyes are squeezed shut.
“I love you. This wasn’t your fault.”
“ Bullshit .” The word is visceral. Definitive. Condemning. “He was right next door . I perform double background checks on complete strangers who board my planes so I can ensure they don’t come to any harm. What the fuck fiancé does it make me when I don’t check on the guy who already attacked you once?”
My heart shakes at the finality of the indictment. I know he’s going to blame himself for this for a long time, possibly forever.
“No,” I attempt anyway. “Please, Zach. Don’t put this on yourself.”
“Stop fucking talking , Bethany,” he pleads in a ragged voice.
I sigh and move closer. His eyes are still shut, his nostrils pinched white as shudders continue to rack him. I cup his jaw and force him to face me.
His eyes are bleak pools of self-loathing, his lashes damp from emotions he can barely
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