The Way Home (Chasing #3) (7 page)

A steady flow of tears raced down Miley’s cheeks. My stomach churned. I’d only felt this kind of helplessness once before, and I fucking hated it with a passion. I also hated lying beneath her and feeling her body shake against mine while knowing that there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.

“Did you know him?” I asked, silently racking my brain and trying to figure out who he was and exactly what he meant to her.
Why would she associate with someone like that?

I tried to ignore the racing of my own heart. I tried to ignore the fullness of her breasts mashed against my chest. It was fucking impossible. I may be a piece of shit for even having such thoughts, especially now, but I’d have to be dead to deny the lush curves of her body pressed against mine.

Even though the stranger was more than likely long gone and we needed to move, I found myself remaining still. I held her and continued stroking her hair. Minutes passed as my mind drifted, replaying the events that had just occurred. Then, the lightest brush of fingertips along my chest had my muscles clenching. She didn’t even seem to be aware of what she was doing to me and, for the first time in a long time, I found myself experiencing emotions I’d thought were long since buried.

This woman was starting to get under my skin, but right now, the need to protect someone other than myself outweighed my fears. Deep in my gut, I knew this wasn’t some random attack by some stranger. I’d learned a long time ago to trust my instincts, and if I were a betting man, I’d bet everything I owned that Miley knew the guy.

“Who was he, Miley?” I asked, absorbing the sudden slight shudder of her frame against mine. It was obvious she was afraid of whoever he was, and she had every right to be after what I’d just witnessed firsthand. I found myself silently wondering if this was also the reason her child was so weary of strangers. There was always the need for caution, but Sierra’s reaction earlier wasn’t typical. The child was afraid. Someone had scared her. Someone had taught her to fear.

Miley sobs began to lessen until, finally, she grew quiet in my arms. Beneath her, I lay still, listening to the sound of her breathing. She made no to move to pull away, and having her in my arms outweighed any sense of righteousness or goodwill I may have possessed.

Damn, I liked holding her just a little too much.

“Sierra’s father,” she suddenly whispered; the words taking me by surprise and so faint that I wasn’t sure if I’d heard her correctly or not. She drew in a deep breath then raised her head from my chest and stared down at me with grief stricken eyes. Her expression, though, was relatively calm. “I haven’t seen him since Sierra was a baby.”

She shifted, rolled from me, and landed on her back lying beside me. My mind tried to make sense out of what she’d just told me.
Miley knew him. He was the father of her child. I couldn’t believe it.
When I turned to look at her, she was lying there silently watching me. Even though her hair was a tangled mess and her face was battered and bruised, she reminded of an angel — a broken angel that someone needed to look after — but I would never be that man. I just didn’t have it in me, not after losing Natalie, and especially not after losing my child.

“We need to get you to the hospital so you can file a report against him.”

“No!” she gasped, sitting upright. She drew her knees up to her chest, and at that moment, she resembled a frightened child instead of the woman I’d admired earlier this morning. “No cops. No hospital,” she insisted. “I need to pick up Sierra and go home.”

Long red scratches ran along the creamy skin of her neck and chest. She didn’t even realize her shirt was torn and hanging open. Her white bra was smeared with dirt. The thought of what had almost happened to her had my blood heating to a boiling rage. Anger momentarily stole the breath from my lungs.
What if I hadn’t decided to drive this route? What would have happened then?
Unconsciously, my hands clenched into fists at the possibilities.

If I caught that motherfucker, I’d rip him limb from limb.

The way this woman managed to make me feel wasn’t natural. In truth, it was terrifying. The possessiveness she inspired from me only managed to piss me off even more. For fuck’s sake, I’d only just met her. I didn’t want these feelings, not about her… not about anyone. I didn’t need this shit, not now, and especially not with her.

I pushed myself up from the ground staring at her. We sat there in silence looking at one another. Her state of undress was unnerving. She was probably in shock. I tugged my shirt over my head, hearing her gasp in surprise. That tiny sound issuing from her lips had my chest growing tight. She had no reason to fear me. I would never harm her or her child.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” I said softly, but she remained as still as a statue frozen in place. I could feel the weight of her stare, her eyes hesitantly sliding over my chest.
What in the hell was wrong with me? She’d almost been raped. There was no connection between us. It was all in my mind. Shit!

“Take that off and put this on,” I growled and tossed my shirt to her.

It was only then that she finally realized she was half naked. Her cheeks flushed a telling shade of soft pink, and then she crossed an arm over her chest as if trying to shield her breasts from my sight.

“It’s a little too late for modesty now.”

I was such a dick
.

I stood and turned around to offer her some privacy while silently cursing myself. The most heinous act a man could commit was rape, whether it be against another man, woman, or child. I’d seen my share of sick bastards who’d preyed on the weak and unsuspecting. The world was full of sickos and, over the years, I’d dealt with my fair share. They were nothing but scum.

No meant no… end of story… bottom line. There were no lame ass excuses. How someone could derive pleasure in the act of taking what’s not freely given from another was beyond me. Don’t get me wrong, on occasion I liked a little role play as long as it was consensual.

“You can turn around now.”

The sight of her standing before me dwarfed by my black t-shirt, battered and filthy, filled me with remorse. Her expression was a little lost. Hurt shone brightly from her blue eyes. It was tragic, but she was still so fucking beautiful that the sight of her stole the breath from my lungs. For a moment, I wished I could chase away all of those dark shadows lurking within her eyes. Then, I managed to come to my senses.
What the hell was wrong with me?
I wasn’t that guy. I couldn’t take away her pain, but I would help right this wrong. I could make sure she and her child were safe by catching the bastard who had hurt her.

“You, okay?’ I asked, and held out my hand to her. I wasn’t even sure if she would take it. I also wasn’t sure if I wanted her too. She stood there staring at me and then began walking toward me, only to come to an abrupt stop. There was a half-smile on her lips. She drew in a deep breath staring back at me with wide eyes then her lower lip began to tremble.

“I stepped on a rock,’’ she stated, and a lone tear streaked down her cheek. Unwanted emotions clawed at my heart.

“Come here,” I said, holding myself in check.

She wiped the moisture from her cheeks then closed the remainder of the distance between us. She was small and delicate in comparison to my big, bulky frame. At that thought, I grew even more pissed.
That bastard had put his hands on her. I would make him pay.

“I’m going to carry you to the truck,” I informed her, and her eyes widened. She shook her head no and immediately began backing away from me. “No shoes,” I reminded her, and pointed at her bare feet.

She stopped and glanced down. I advanced closer and stopped to stand before her. She raised her head. Her eyes meeting mine and when I received no further objections, I lifted her against my chest. She was as light as a feather. Her arms timidly slid around my neck, even though, only moments before, she had been clinging to me like a vine. The weight of her body settling against mine made me weak in the knees. I wasn’t aware of how or when it had happened, but I was turning into a certifiable pussy. I needed to rectify this situation and fast, but when I drew in a deep breath and inhaled the faint scent of her honeysuckle perfume, my resolve disappeared.

“It will be all right,” I murmured while unconsciously lowering my head closer to hers. My lips accidently skimmed her ear. Unable to control my reaction, I jerked back as if I’d been shot. Thankfully, she didn’t seem to notice.

Consoling damsels in distress was not one of my strong suits. I wasn’t her hero, but I could be her avenger. Soft breath lightly fanned my cheek before she turned her head away, lowering her eyes.

“Will it be all right, Nate?” she asked, her voice softly trembling. She sounded distant and far away. Then, she turned and met my gaze. “I don’t think anything will ever be all right again.”

The desolation behind those words tugged at my heart. I would catch him, but first, I needed to see to her. I also needed more information.

“What was his name?” I asked. She was my best source for information. I would also dig around in town later to see what else could be uncovered.

“Declan Ryder Blade.” Her eyes lowered. A soft sigh escaped her lips. “A few years ago, I met him at a party. It was only later I found out he was a member of the Retribution MC. By that time, I was pregnant with Sierra.”

Fuck!
The Retribution MC were well-known. The motorcycle club had charters stretching across the lower half of the United States. Of course, I’d heard of them. Everyone had. They dealt in illegal guns, drugs, and prostitution. If Declan Blade was a part of that, Miley and Sierra were not safe.

“We’ll pick up Sierra from daycare. Can you stay with your parents until I track this guy down?”

She laughed, bitterly. “No, Nate, I can’t stay with my parents.” She squirmed in my arms and since we had already reached the main road, I set her down on her feet. “I’m going home,” she informed me matter-of-factly.

Her eyes flashed with annoyance. For a second, I caught a glimpse of the girl I’d remembered as a child. “Are you his old lady?” I asked, and her eyes widened.

“No, Nate Lucas, I’m not. I appreciate your help, but in case you hadn’t noticed, you’re not my keeper.” She crossed her arms over her chest, eyeing me.

Well hello, hellcat. I liked this side of her a lot better than the broken one I’d witnessed earlier.

“You need a keeper,” I muttered, and heard her angrily huff at my words. “Your keys and purse are in my truck.” I started to walk past her, and it was then that I noticed the flat tire.

“Son of a bitch,” I growled, suddenly distracted by the size of the puncture marks in my right front tire.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, and I turned around to find her standing right behind me.

“Your ex knifed my tire. I guess he’s not called blade for nothing. I suggest you get your ass in the truck and on the phone. Call Sierra’s school while I change this tire. Make sure she’s all right. Then we’re going by your place to pack a bag.”

Miley eyes widened. Her brow knitted in confusion. For a second, I temporarily forgot my frustration and was momentarily distracted by her lips. “Why am I packing a bag, Nate?” she asked curiously. I heard the warning tone in her voice but decided to ignore it. Instead, I opened my truck door, grabbed the spare shirt I kept hidden behind the seat for emergencies and yanked it over my head. I shut the door and turned.

“Why do you think?” I grumbled and walked past her. She was as aggravating as shit. I was pissed as hell. I didn’t mean to be such a prick, but there was only so much I could take. First, I was angry over what had happened to her. Secondly, I was angry because that the son of a bitch had gotten away, and lastly, I was angry over my truck. This day just kept getting fucking better and better by the second.

“You listen here, Nate Lucas. I am not your problem.”

Her voice had this funny little way of rising on each word she spoke. She was right on my heels and livid. The sight of Miley pissed reminded me of an angry hissing kitten. I didn’t need this shit but trouble seemed to follow me around, and right now all five-foot-six-inches of it stood behind me, probably glaring at my back. It was obvious she had no one else to turn to. Like it or not, I was it. I was stuck with her. There was no way in hell I was allowing her and Sierra to stay by themselves after what had just happened. If Miley Triton thought differently, she had another thing coming.

Leaning over the side of the truck bed, I tried my best to ignore her and opened the tool box, grabbing a jack and a tire iron from inside. I wasn’t joking when I said she needed a keeper. The Retribution MC were bad news and not to be messed with. She was in over her head, and I was her lifejacket, whether she wanted to admit it or not. She was stubborn and obviously didn’t realize she needed me. Besides, her ex already knew what she drove, and more than likely, he knew where she lived.

When I turned around, I almost plowed into her. She took a step back then raised her hand and pointed a finger hard in the center of my chest.
Thank god, she hadn’t smacked me.
The touch of that single fingertip shot a current of need straight to my groin. Even a pissed off Miley managed to turn me on.

“I,” she said loudly, poking my chest once more. “Am. Not. Your. Problem.”

“But you are,” I said casually and walked around her dropping down on one knee to look up underneath my truck.
If it wasn’t one thing it was another.
Shit, my big ass would be lucky to fit underneath there!

She stood hovering over me. I fought against the urge to grin as I laid down on the ground. I’m hoping she won’t give me a swift kick to the ribs. She was madder than a wet hen.

“Did you hear what I said?” she demanded, her prissiness level now at an all- time high. While the thought of picking up this distracting, aggravating bundle of female and slinging her into the truck did cross my mind, I decided against it. She’d already been manhandled enough for one day.

“Yeah, sure, whatever.” I focused on loosening the bolts holding the spare in place. Just like a little teapot, hopefully soon she’d lose her steam.