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Charged (Saints of Denver #2) Page 45
Author: Jay Crownover

He had been helping from the very beginning, so unsurprisingly I was going to make the only choice that made sense … the absolute worst one.

I nodded at him and saw my dad frown as Asa gave me a speculative look.

“I’m going to stay with Quaid.” And maybe when I was done letting myself fall in love with him, which would inevitably lead to him breaking my heart, I would finally have hit the threshold of hurt I was willing to put myself through as punishment. Because I was pretty sure when Quaid Jackson was done with me, there would be nothing on earth that could feel as bad or be as painful as that was going to be.

CHAPTER 10

Quaid

The cops grilled Avett for hours. They asked her a hundred different questions about her relationship with Jared¸ about the guys he stole the money and drugs from, about the robbery, and the guys parked out in front of her house. I was glad they were taking the situation seriously, but I was frustrated beyond belief that there was nothing they could do with the minimal information she gave them. All she could tell them was what the car that was parked out in front of the house looked like, and she had a vague description of what the guys that broke into Jared’s apartment and roughed her up looked like. Hearing her halting and jerky words as she went over that evening and the details that she remembered made me want to put my fist through the nearest wall. This girl was a fighter, a tornado full of life and energy, and when those winds died down as she explained how scared she had been, as she told the detective interviewing her how close she had come to being violated and changed forever, the echo of emptiness and fear in her voice ripped at me and fired up possessive and protective instincts that I only seemed to have when it came to this pink-haired hurricane.

The detective told us he was going to speak with Jared, who was still behind bars as he was denied bail, and he informed us that he would be in touch as soon as he heard from the fire department on whether the fire was accidental or purposely set. There was no doubt in my mind the fire was a message, that it had been set for the purpose of intimidating and frightening Avett, but I couldn’t figure out what they were trying to scare her or warn her off of. In my line of work, I knew there was always a motive behind actions, and once we had the motive I would feel a whole lot better about her safety. It was impossible to win a fight if you didn’t know what exactly it was that the opponent had to lose, if they lost.

I hustled a very somber and very quiet Avett out of the cop-shop and offered to swing by the closest mall or Target so she could grab some essentials, but she shook her head and told me that all she wanted was a shower and a nap. Her normally creamy and rosey complexion was deathly pale and her pretty, pouty mouth was pulled in a tight line as she nibbled anxiously on the inside of her cheek. Her colorful eyes were bleak and rimmed with fine red lines as she blinked rapidly to keep the moisture I could see trapped inside at bay. The finality of the fire, the absolute destruction of everything tangible that she held near and dear to her, was hitting her hard. She was trying to keep the enormity of the loss and the emotions that went with it in check, but the pain she was feeling, the hurt that was swirling around her like a living and breathing thing, couldn’t be ignored. I wanted to reach for her hand, to offer some kind of comfort and solace, but she was so close to the edge of entirely breaking that I figured I should wait until we got back to my place. She could shatter once we were there. Truthfully, the place was so sterile, so untouched by any kind of real life, that it could only be improved by the kind of mess that came with someone like this pink-haired handful. Her kind of destruction could be beautiful, if the right person was around to help her clean up the rubble and put the pieces back where they belonged.

I parked the truck in the attached parking garage and took her elbow so I could guide her to the elevator that would drop us off in the penthouse loft. She didn’t say a word the entire ride up, and when I unlocked the door and ushered her inside, I was expecting her to be impressed by the high ceilings with their crisscrossed ductwork and the exposed brick that made up the back wall of the kitchen. I was expecting her to let out a little gasp at the three-hundred-and-sixty-degree views that showcased both the sweeping Denver skyline and the soaring mountains off in the distance. It was literally a million-plus view and it often did more to seduce women once they were in my home than anything I could say or do.

I should have known Avett wouldn’t respond in any of the ways I was used to. She paid no attention to the expensive leather sectional. The colossal media center, which could rival an IMAX movie screen, didn’t faze her. The imported marble floors under her combat-booted feet went ignored and so did the massive king-sized bed that was pushed up against a wall decorated with carefully curated artwork that probably cost more than her tuition for college had been. As a whole, she seemed entirely unimpressed by my meticulously decorated and designed home, but when her eyes hit the kitchen with its shiny, never-used stainless steel appliances and chef-quality range, some of her fire flared in her eyes.

She wandered over to the one part of my home that I never spent time in and caressed the six burner stove like it was her lover. She looked over her shoulder at me and flashed me a weak grin. “This kitchen is beautiful. I could spend a lot of time in here.” It was on the tip of my tongue to ask her what she thought of the rest of the place, but considering she had lost everything and no longer had anything, seeking validation for a place filled with useless trappings she didn’t even notice seemed thoughtless and adolescent. I wasn’t sure why I wanted her approval so badly anyway. I was the one that had to live here, the one that had to have the packaging that matched what I was trying to sell to the world.

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Jay Crownover's Novels
» Charged (Saints of Denver #2)
» Built (Saints of Denver #1)
» Leveled (Saints of Denver #0.5)
» Honor (The Breaking Point #1)
» Better When He's Brave (Welcome to the Point #3)
» Better when He's Bold (Welcome to the Point #2)
» Rule (Marked Men #1)
» Asa (Marked Men #6)
» Jet (Marked Men #2)