Reclaimed (Powell Sanctuary #5)

Chapter 13

13

Aiden

I tear the headset off my head just in time to take Isla’s call on my cell.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” she says curiously. “I wasn’t sure if you would pick up. I was just going to leave you a message.”

“I work from home. It’s not often I’m away from my phone.”

“I wanted to ask if you could stay away for a bit tonight? I won’t be alone.”

Flicking the cap off my bottle of water, I guzzle down a mouthful while she speaks. “I was planning to stop by the diner and bring dinner over once I’m done here, do you want me to drop something off and leave you to it?”

She hesitates. “No, that’s okay. I’m having the girls over and we’re making homemade pizzas.”

I halt my trek across the room. “What girls?”

“The Powell women,” she huffs a laugh. “I managed to keep them at bay for a week, but Juniper said their patience has run dry.”

“Patience for what?” The words crawl out of my throat on a dry rasp. The plastic bottle in my hand crinkles as I chug more water.

“I’m their newest cause. Frankie said I need to roll with it.”

Frankie.

“Is she coming too?” I ask as an onslaught of images rip through my head. Frankie’s pale face in the woods as she ignores me telling her to run. Her flinch as he aims the gun at her head. Squeezing my eyes shut does little to ease the assault.

“Um. I think so. Juniper said they’re all coming. Even your sister managed to get the evening off. Said Sebastian is on a work trip.”

Cortney. Frankie. Juniper. Bree. Whitney. Nearly all the women in my life that I love are going to be packed into her small house, and I’m not allowed to protect them.

“Anyone else?” Like my brothers? I fight to keep my voice casual.

“A couple girls from the club. Juniper used to waitress there so we’re all friends.”

“That sounds like a nice evening, starshine,” I say softly. “I’m a little concerned about staying away.”

“You don’t have to worry. A serial killer isn’t going to break into a house with eight women in it.”

I lick my lips. No, but if he’s watching the place he could attack someone as they leave. Or once she’s all alone.

“You’re right,” I force a smile in my tone. “Just let me know when they’re packing up and I’ll head on over for the night.”

“Thank you. I owe you one.”

“I won’t say no to another batch of your blueberry pancakes.”

“I’ll make raspberry ones this time.”

“Deal. Later, starshine.”

A pause. “Later, Powell.”

My thumb moves immediately from the red button to the call list and I tap on the first sibling I see.

“Hey,” Corjan answers in surprise.

Somehow I find myself in the kitchen without even realizing I was moving. The fingers on my free hand wrap around the edge of the sink, gripping the stainless steel basin in an iron grip.

“You okay with Bree going to Isla’s tonight?”

“Only because I’ll be sitting down the block from seven to eight.”

My head pops up.

He continues. “Lee will be there from eight to nine.”

“What?”

“Jack from nine to ten.”

My lips twitch in a small smile. “Got it all covered, do you?”

“Jude’s there before me from six to seven, and if they kept going, Jack was going to call you and have you take over at ten until the girls leave, but we don’t expect them to stay all night.”

A strong unnamed emotion clogs my throat. “That’s good. A little overprotective but I think the girls would understand.” Not that I’m one to talk about being overprotective. I moved myself into Isla’s place to keep her safe from the unknown threat lurking about.

He snorts. “After the trouble these women have found after the last few years? We might all be a little on high alert. But that’s what we do. Good men have to be the buffer between women and bad men. We’ve all got your back, little brother.”

The fingers on my left hand loosen their grip on the basin. “It’s been a long time since any of you could refer to me as little.”

“You’ll always be that kid with two black eyes who looked at the rest of us like you’d just been given everything you ever asked for on Christmas morning.”

I cough. “I sort of was.”

“Yeah. Me too,” he says quietly.

We don’t hash out our childhoods, even less now that we’re all grown adults, but we know. None of us started with warm upbringings. It wasn’t until Nancy and Terrance took us in did we experience what true family was about.

The events of the last few months have pushed that to the forefront. I want that. More than anything, I want a family of my own to nurture and cherish and love.

“I should let you get back to work. If any of you need anything later, let me know.”

“Will do. I’ll pass the message along,” Corjan replies.

“I appreciate it. Later, Corjan.”

“Yup. Bye.”

I end the call.

My phone clatters against the countertop. Bracing my hands against the sink again, I let my head fall and blow out a relieved breath. The strain of late nights tossing on the couch is catching up to me. With nothing else to do, I finish my mandated hours at work and set my eyes on taking a mid-afternoon nap in my own bed.

The sun beats against my face, uncharacteristically hot. I reach up to twist my hat around for some shade when a strong wind knocks it off. The invisible force feels like a taunting fist, catching my hat in the breeze and flinging it across the grassy field.

“What the fuck,” I mutter.

Leaving the path, I chase after it. The black cap rolls across the terrain. Rocks hidden beneath dead leaves and brown grass snag the toe of my shoe. I stumble. Righting myself, I curse again, and turn in a confused circle. Where the fuck did my hat go?

Something moving closer rustles the leaves on a nearby bush.

Then a twig snaps.

“Who’s there?” I call. Two dogs from the Sanctuary appear on my left. Ashe and Remy stand with their ears flat against their heads, growling in the direction of the bush. Leashes drag behind them as if they ran away mid-walk. I crouch down and secure them both in my grip.

Something is wrong. We don’t let the dogs roam out here unattended.

A man steps out from between the trees like an apparition, a gun barrel glinting in the sun as he aims at Frankie to my right.

Where did she come from?

“Don’t fucking move,” the man orders.

“Whoa…” I raise my hands, palms out toward the threat and step carefully in front of Frankie.

Fuck. Where’s Jude? Doesn’t he know his girlfriend is in mortal danger?

“Hey man, put the gun down.”

“Step away from her,” he demands.

My heart slams against my ribs as I stare him down. “Like hell I will.”

She eases away from me, and I have half a mind to reach out and grab her hand. I need her closer so I can protect her until Jude gets here. I can’t… I can’t let anything happen to her.

“What happened to you?” Frankie speaks, her voice distorted like she’s underwater. I watch her from the corner of my eye, keeping any large movements to a minimum.

A conversation takes place in a bubble. Their mouths move, but the words don’t reach my ears. Even the sound of the growling dogs has gone quiet.

I shift closer to Frankie and catch her eye. Run, I urge silently. A certain death sentence for me, but a possible escape for her. That’s all that matters. Keeping her safe for Jude.

She shakes her head.

I pinch the back of her shirt and touch her hand, pushing the leashes into her palm. She needs to take the dogs so I can fight back. They’ll protect her when I no longer can.

I blink, readying myself for what’s to come when the scene changes. Frankie’s gone and the man is pointing the barrel at my head.

“Aiden!” A scream, but isn’t Frankie’s voice. It’s Isla’s.

Then the gun goes off.

I bolt upright in the dark. My shoulders heave beneath the strain of heavy breaths.

A dream. Fuck, it was just a dream.

I groan and cover my face with my hands.

I knew I wasn’t sleeping well at Isla’s, but I haven’t ever had a dream like that. Even in the nights that followed the incident. The attack itself isn’t what’s haunted me, but the inadequacy of my life that it brought into stark clarity lingers like a stubborn storm cloud.

This… I don’t know what this is, but I know I don’t fucking like it. I haul my legs over the edge of my mattress and sit on the side with my head in my hands.

Frankie is safe. Isla’s safe. My family’s safe. I’m safe.

It was only a dream.

The red numbers of my alarm clock glow in the dark. 9:27 . I slept the entire evening away. Digging my phone from the front pocket of my jeans, I check for messages. A few in the group chat between my brothers checking in and switching places, but nothing urgent.

The idea of keeping someone safe again, two someones , must be fucking with my psyche. It’s the only way I can explain what just happened.

I spend some time freshening up and repacking my bag for Isla’s before I hit the road. After an expedited grocery shop, I pull up outside of Isla’s at ten on the dot.

Jack’s black SUV idles along the curb two houses before Isla’s. His headlights cut through the darkness of the road in front of him. I park behind him and exit, leaving my groceries on the backseat.

His window is already rolled down by the time I reach him.

“Nice night,” he comments, a small smirk on his face.

“Quiet, I hope?” I tuck my hands into the front pockets of my jeans and lean against his door. My gaze fixates on the road in front of us, staring into the nothing beyond the yellow beams.

“Not a peep.” He turns his attention toward Isla’s house.

“Do the girls know you’ve been out here?”

“Nope. Jude dropped a van-load of them off and circled the block until they were all in the house. They’re supposed to be riding home with me and Whitney, so my presence is expected.”

“I’m surprised you guys pulled that off.”

“There’s not much we take more seriously than keeping an eye on our women.” He turns his face to me. “I suspect you know something about that.”

Whether he’s talking about what went down with Frankie or what’s happening with Isla now, I can’t be sure.

“I appreciate you all helping out. She didn’t want me to stick around.”

“I imagine that wouldn’t have been too fun for them,” he laughs.

“Hey. I know how to have a good time.”

“I might not have seen you around lately, but if I recall, you have too much of a good time.”

“I’ve only wound up in Sutton’s cuffs once.” I defend my position, not telling him that was a sham arrest.

“Haven’t we all.”

The wind blows the fringe of hair around my ears and I adjust my hat. “They tell you when they’re done?”

Jack checks his phone, his sleeve riding up his arm enough to reveal the dark ink of his tattoos. “Whitney said they’d be ready in three minutes. That was fifteen minutes ago.”

I chuckle. “Here they come now.”

Isla’s door swings open, bathing her front porch in a golden glow. The girls chitchat in the entry, exchanging last-minute smiles and hugs.

“I’ll get my things. Thanks again, Jack. Tell the others.”

“Anytime.”

As I move back, he exits his car, his smile broadening as his wife bounces down the stairs and into his arms, her swollen belly keeping him from pulling her fully flush against him. She’s due next month, adding a third to the two kids she already had before they met. But those babies were so young, they only know Jack as their father. And now he’s about to have one of his own.

His happiness is infectious, most of the time. But tonight, after that dream, watching him have everything I want, but didn’t realize I wanted, I feel absolutely foul. By the time I haul the two paper bags and my duffel onto the porch, my mood hasn’t improved.

The rest of the women filter out, anyone with the last name or a partner with the last name of Powell jumping into Jack’s SUV while the two girls who must be Isla’s coworkers climb into their own hatchback and drive off.

The porch is empty. No Isla.

She isn’t in the entryway either.

After locking up behind me, I toe off my shoes and carry the paper sacks into the kitchen. She’s bent over the sink, furiously scrubbing a black pizza pan. At the sound of my bags hitting the wooden table, her head flies up.

“I’m almost done.” The red hue of her cheeks has me crossing the room.

“Almost done what?”

“Cleaning up.”

My eyebrows race up my forehead. “They didn’t help you clean up?”

“They did, but this pan got all gross from going in and out of the oven so many times. We had it soaking, but I was hoping to finish before you got back.”

I slowly close my eyes and inhale through my nose, reining in my irritation. “This is your house. No need to scrub it spotless on my behalf.”

“I just didn’t want to leave you a mess,” she whispers.

Easing my fingers into her grip, I extract the green sponge. “Out. You’re off duty, starshine.”

“But—”

“No buts.”

She takes in the straight set of my lips and the wrinkle I feel between my brows. A headache forms from the tense expression.

“Okay,” she mumbles then rinses her hands. “Can I see what you got?”

I drop the sponge into the sink and move to the table. “You can sit your cute ass down and watch me unpack what I bought.”

“I can’t help?”

“On a scale of one to ten, how sore are your feet right now?” She doesn’t know it, but I’ve been doing some reading up on pregnant women. Swollen feet, sore backs, and exhaustion are big symptoms I know Isla will play off as normal.

She scrunches her nose. “Like a three.”

I fixate my eyes on hers until her cheeks pink even more.

“Okay, like a seven,” she admits.

I yank out the chair. “Sit.”

She sinks her teeth into her lower lip as she concedes.

“You can take things out of the bag and set them on the table, but I’ll be in charge of putting them away.” I cross the room and roll up my sleeves. “I’m just going to finish this pan first before you go crazy.”

A glance over my shoulder has me discovering her eyeroll.

“I’m not going to go crazy.”

“You’re practically bouncing in your seat.” I find the green sponge in the sink and resume scrubbing her pan. The motion is the perfect outlet for my mood.

The rustle of paper precedes her retort. “Am not. Ooh. Pickles.”

For the first time all day, I laugh. “I’m glad those are a hit.”

“You discovered a craving I didn’t even know I had.”

“Must be some solid intuition.” I rewet my sponge and resume my task. “Did you have a nice time tonight?”

“I did. Your brother’s wives are all really nice and welcoming. I even gained some deep insight.”

My head pops up. “Into me?”

Isla laughs. “Unfortunately, no. We mostly talked about babies. Don’t worry, your deep dark secrets are safe. For now.”

“Good luck finding any. I’m squeaky clean.”

“Like that pan?”

I grunt in response.

A particularly rough spot requires my focus. After two straight minutes of scrubbing, the stubborn stain finally comes free. I rinse and drain the water, happy to help her complete her final task.

“Dishes are done— My god, starshine, are you putting ice cream on your pickle?”

She catches a drip on the corner of her mouth with the side of her thumb. “It tastes so good. You should try it.” She adds another dallop and holds out the pickle like it’s an ice cream cone.

I bite back a gag. “No thanks, babe. It’s all for you.”

“Please?” she pouts.

“Isla, no.”

“Please?” she tries again, this time her lip wobbles. “You’ve shamed me. Now I feel like I’m doing something gross.”

I grimace. “It’s a little gross, but it doesn’t make you gross.”

“Please try it.”

She actually looks like she might cry. Oh, what the hell. It’s not going to kill me. I move cautiously closer.

“One bite. That’s all.”

She nods.

With one hand on the back of her chair and the other braced on the table, I lean in and bite her weird ass ice cream cone.

“Ugh. What the fuck, Isla.” My mouth twists as the sweetness and vinegar taste coats every inch of my mouth. I seize a napkin left over from the party and wipe my tongue. “How can you eat that?”

Gone is the sad face. She outright cackles. “I can’t believe you actually tried it. Is it that bad?”

“Shouldn’t you know?” I yank open the fridge and find a can of Diet Coke. The lid cracks loudly and I dump in a hasty swallow. My mouth tastes marginally better.

She shrugs. “It tastes good to me.”

“Any other weird cravings I should know about?” I ditch my soiled napkin in the trash and put away the groceries.

“Not yet. I’ll let you know when the next one strikes. Who knows, I could be onto something.”

“I think you can safely keep pickle ice cream to yourself.”

“We’ll see.” She pops the last bite into her mouth and stands. “Don’t forget, pancakes on me in the morning.”

“After that little episode, I’m not sure if I want to trust your cooking anymore.”

“I promise if I create any inspired concoctions, yours will still be normal.”

I hold out my pinky. “Promise?”

She wraps her finger around mine. “I promise.”

The warmth of her finger wrapped around mine settles my mood some.

“I’m off to bed.” She yawns and scratches Chevy on his head. “Goodnight, Powell. Thanks for letting me have the house tonight.”

“Anytime. Goodnight, starshine.”

Her soft footfalls disappear down the hall. Once her door clicks shut, I let my shoulders sag with a sigh.

I brush my teeth and strip off my shirt, tucking the cotton into my bag. I swap out my jeans for a pair of soft flannel sleep pants and plug my phone on the charger. I keep it on the end table near my head, just in case I need to call someone at a moment’s notice. As I click off the lamp and lay down on the couch, I slip my hand into my bag on the floor and wrap my fingers around the grip of my gun, feeling the weight of the cool metal beneath my palm.

Only then do I let my eyes slip closed.

The sound of a gunshot startles my eyes open. Sweat gathers in my palms, and my fingers curl back around the grip still touching my hand. My pulse thunders hard against my ribs.

What the—

I listen. The house is quiet and calm. Chevy purrs against my side, kneading his paws into my abdomen.

I blow out a harsh breath. The sound was entirely in my mind.

Leaning up, I punch the pillow beneath my head and fall back down on my side. My shoulder screams beneath my weight, but I ignore it. Instead, I let the ache spread. The couch creaks under my movements, the only sound in the room besides my heavy breaths.

I lie there. And wait.

My eyes drift.

Pop!

It happens again.

Pop!

And again.

Pop!

And again.

I flip over the other way, my left shoulder protesting the position change, and stare at the back of the couch.

“Aiden.”

Fuck.

“Can you come here, please?” Isla calls.

“What did I tell you about saying please?” I retort.

“Come here, Aiden.” Her response is firm.

I’m off the couch and down the hall in ten seconds. My fingers wrap around the silver knob, pausing as the gravity of the moment hits. Besides the walk through, I haven’t been in her room in the entire time I’ve stayed here.

My molars grind together and my hand tightens on the knob.

“I know you’re outside my door, Aiden.”

The door creaks loudly in the quiet night as I push it open. The room smells like her, something warm and floral. The first step over the threshold has nerves firing to life in my stomach.

I’ve fooled around with a few women in my life, but not once have I been inside their bedrooms.

Isla looks like a goddess lying in her bed. She has one elbow shoved in her pillow, her hand propping up her head as she watches me step into her room with only a sliver of moonlight providing light. A puffy duvet is tugged to her waist. I follow the fabric upward and nearly choke on my own spit.

Good god, she wears that to bed?

The black lacy nightgown is held up by two thin straps on each shoulder, and a plunging neck dips deep between her breasts. The satin bodice appears to be both sexy and comfortable as it flows loosely around her stomach. How short is it? What does she have on underneath? Is this her normal sleeping attire or did she put it on just for me?

“Can’t sleep?” she asks, and I realize that in the dark, she probably can’t read my face very well, or the way my heated gaze sweeps her from head to toe. I blink to clear it.

“I’m okay,” I mumble, pissed at myself for bothering her.

“I can hear that you’re not. Come here.” She scoots over and pats the empty side of the bed.

I stiffen, my shoulders rising toward my ears as tension creeps into my body. “I’m fine on the couch, starshine.”

“Please,” she whispers.

The seriousness etched into her features is only highlighted by the moon. A shudder courses down my spine as I ease myself onto the edge of her mattress and slide beneath the covers.

She finds my hand at my side and slips her fingers through mine. A bit of the tension leaks out of me. “You’ll sleep better here.” Then she rolls over while still holding my hand, pulling me until I’m flush against her back.

Something in me splinters, jagged shards pricking my insides and shredding all the flimsy pieces holding me together.

With a groan, I bury my face in her hair, the brown strands still smelling faintly like the dye, as a tremor jerks my body. I throw my thigh over both of hers and wrap my arm snug around her middle, dragging us as tight as two people can possibly be. The rise and fall of her back is steady, an anchor, as I breathe her in.

“I needed this, starshine. More than you could ever know.”