His voice broke and she did know. They were the only family each other had, barring S8. And they’d only found each other months before. “I’m okay, Dare. I will be. Please . . . it’s not Gunner’s fault.”
He didn’t say anything about that. But he knew enough to avoid touching her in any of the places she’d been cut. He eased away from her, helped her back onto the pillows and she saw they were alone in the room. “Avery . . . don’t do that to me again.”
She’d feel the same way if Dare had done something like this. “I had reasons.”
“Not good enough. You’re my family.” He squeezed her hand. “You rest, okay? We’ll deal with all of it when you’re better. I don’t want you to worry. About anything.”
She nodded and then Grace was in the room and Dare was leaving. She grabbed Grace’s wrist, told her, “Don’t let them treat me like . . .”
“Like a woman?” Grace finished. “Good luck with that.”
There was a knock on the door and after Grace called, “Come in,” the door opened and Drea stuck her head in hesitantly.
“Sorry, I just wanted to see if you needed anything.”
Avery waved the woman in. “Grace, this is Drea. She’s the doctor who helped me.”
“We owe you, Drea.”
“And now I owe all of you.” Drea hugged her arms around herself.
“Seems to be an epidemic around here,” Grace murmured.
Chapter Twenty-one
Drea had stayed in the room with Avery and Grace until the meeting with the guys had broken up. Without Grace or Avery there—especially without Avery there—it hadn’t felt right.
But at least they were all in agreement that she needed a part in this. That none of them would ever rest if they’d been in her shoes.
Now Drea came out of the bedroom behind Grace, after Gunner went inside and closed the door. Grace took Dare’s hand and Jem motioned to the couch. “It pulls out. You can sleep there and I’ll take the chair, okay?”
He’d given Key the last bedroom, mainly because he needed to figure some shit out about their newest houseguest. He pulled out the bed—Grace had already put sheets on it, and put pillows and a comforter on the chair. When he finished, she stripped out of her jeans and crawled under the covers.
He snagged a pillow and made himself comfortable in the recliner closest to the door, his weapon tucked in by his side. The security cams were in easy viewing range and so far it was all quiet.
“Was Avery okay?” he asked.
“I think so. She and Grace have both been through a lot, it sounds like. They’re . . . nice. I didn’t expect them to be so nice to me,” she said honestly.
“They’re good judges of character.”
That got a small smile from her. “I feel like I’ve lived a thousand lifetimes in the past twenty-four hours.”
When she’d left the house, he’d destroyed her SIM card and left her phone behind. No reason to let the past follow her. A clean break was what was required and necessary, for her safety and her sanity.
Now he just needed to know what, exactly she was running from.
She wiped a tear away. “Sorry. Just . . . hearing Grace talk about what she went through and Avery . . . I know what she’s been through. Brought up a lot.”
She didn’t elaborate and he didn’t push. Hopefully, she’d talk to Grace and Avery about it, if for no other reason than catharsis.
He knew that Landon hadn’t raped Avery. But, as Drea had told Avery earlier, what he’d done to her was most definitely a violation. No mistake on that. “Did something similar happen to you, Drea?”
“In a way.” Her voice had that quiet strength he’d come to expect from her over the past twenty-four hours. He wondered if she’d always been this strong, or if life had forced that strength into her.
He didn’t push for a better answer. “Been a shitty couple of days for all of us.”
“Tomorrow, I can find someplace to stay. I have a bank account set up for this eventuality, and I have other IDs. I can use that for a while . . .” She trailed off. “Or, I mean, I’ll take care of Avery until she’s healed and then—”
“Drea, we don’t expect anything from you. We got you out of there because we compromised you. I didn’t know your ex watched your every move. It’s our fault and—”
“What? You’re not going to force me to perform medical services,” she asked wryly.
“Something like that.” He paused. “You were in danger back where we found you, but you’re in danger with us too.”
“Because whoever did that to Avery is still out there?”
“Yes.”
“So you’re not kicking me out?”
“No.”
She stared at him, her gaze a cross between grateful and suspicious. “I want to ask why, but really, I should just shut up and be grateful.”
“Why suspicious?”
“Because the last time I let someone help me out of a bad situation, I ended up in something much worse.” Her hands were fisted in front of her on the blanket. She was sitting up, refusing to get comfortable. She looked like she didn’t know the meaning of the word anymore.
He hated that. Wanted to make it his mission in life to make her goddamn smile, just for the way she’d helped Avery alone. “This isn’t anything like that, Drea. I can promise you that.”
And he could, because he had connections. He could make sure, even if shit rained down on S8, she could escape without a scratch.
“Don’t, please. Promises . . . I don’t believe them anymore. Just tell me you’ll try—I’ll believe that much more.”
“I’m a man of my word. I don’t think you’ve met many of them—any of them—so you might find it hard to recognize them. Recognize.”
She stilled and stared at him. Raised her chin like she wanted to defy him, but fuck it, he wouldn’t let her—not for something like this. “I’ll try.”
“Talk to me, baby. Tell me what I need to know. Always helps to know what I’m up against and why.”
“I figured,” she said softly. So reluctant and he couldn’t blame her.
He started, leading her. “What’s your connection to the OA?”
Drea stared up at him, her amber eyes troubled. “Danny’s my ex. Danny Laurel. He’s the enforcer of the New York chapter of the OA. Wherever I move, he’s got people . . . following me.”
“Because he doesn’t want to be your ex?”
She nodded, chewed her full bottom lip for a second. “You bought a world of trouble when you kidnapped me, Jem.”
“Don’t you worry about me.”
Her face clouded when he said that, but she schooled her expression quickly. “Right. Because this is what you do. You save people.”
“Right.”
“So you guys could just put me somewhere to start over. Maybe you know someone who could just switch the names on my medical license? It’s not like I didn’t earn it.”
“I know someone who could do that,” he agreed. “But if you stayed with us, you really wouldn’t need to. Course, you couldn’t work in a hospital either, but I’m betting we could keep you busy.”
She nodded, relaxed her hands a little.
“We’re getting ahead of ourselves. Tell me more about Danny. I know you didn’t just meet him one night and ended up not being able to shake him.”
“No, that’s not the way that happened. We went to school together in New York. I was raised in Hell’s Kitchen by my grandmother. At least until my mom got her shit together—pretended to. Grams never would’ve given up custody, but she had a bad heart. She died when I was twelve and I went to live with my mom. God, it was horrible.”
He’d been there. Wanted to get into bed with her and give her a hug, but couldn’t afford to let her stop talking. And if he got closer to her, he’d be kissing her.