Just One Touch (Slow Burn #5)

They burst into the room and Jaysus whirled around, and oddly, he looked relieved. Did the stupid fuck think they were there to save him?

And then Isaac’s gaze finally found Jenna and his stomach bottomed out. She was bruised, battered and bloody. There were over half a dozen bodies strewn around the room, blood covering the floor in a macabre scene. And she was standing, her entire body rigid, leaning against the wall for support, and she was holding a gun pointed directly at Jaysus’s head.

Isaac rushed forward, leaving the others to take care of any potential remaining threat.

“Jenna, don’t, honey! Jenna, it’s me, Isaac. I’m here, baby. Don’t do this. Please, this isn’t what I want for you,” he said softly. “You don’t have to kill him. Let us take care of him, but more importantly, let me take care of you. Let me take you away from here. You’ll never have to worry about this son of a bitch again,” Isaac vowed.

Jenna’s eyes were grief stricken and tears spilled over the rims as she turned slightly to acknowledge Isaac’s presence.

“You have no idea what he’s done,” she hissed. “He has to die. He deserves to die.”

“I do know, baby. I was here with you through it all, and there’s not a single person who’d dispute that he deserves to die,” Isaac said sorrowfully. “I’m so sorry I let you down. But please, honey. Just drop the gun and come with me now and let me take you away from all of this forever. You don’t have to be the one to serve justice.”

“Justice is mine to dispense,” she whispered.

Jaysus, obviously believing he was well and truly fucked, proceeded to do the dumbest—and last—thing he’d ever do. He drew a weapon from a concealed holster on the inside of his thigh while Jenna was momentarily distracted and he turned it on Isaac, his clear intention to shoot him. Or maybe he was just going to attempt to bargain with Jenna. Either way, it was the wrong thing to do when the woman he’d tormented for hours was hell-bent on delivering her own brand of justice.

Before any of the men could take Jaysus out with one of the many guns pointed directly at him, Jenna pulled the trigger and shot him right in the temple. He went down like a domino and Jenna curled her lips in disgust and hatred, giving him one last look of contempt, before she slid down the wall, her legs no longer able to hold her up. She carefully placed the gun to the side and buried her face in her hands, heartbreaking sobs shaking her entire body.

Isaac slid down beside her and simply wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his lap, anchoring her to his chest as he rocked her back and forth, tears stinging his own eyelids while Jenna wept as if her heart was broken.

“Baby, you have to stop crying,” Isaac choked out. “I can’t bear it. I can’t stand to see you cry. It makes me crazy. You have to know that I’m utterly helpless against your tears. I’ll do anything to make it right again, baby. God, I love you so much. You have no idea how fucking scared I’ve been since the moment you disappeared from the bathroom. My heart stopped, baby. And it hasn’t beat worth a damn until . . . now. Right here and right now with you in my arms, I can finally breathe again. I can live again. Please look at me, baby. Tell me you’re all right. Tell me what to do for you.”

He was begging and pleading and didn’t give one damn who saw. He ignored the others as they surveyed the carnage of Jaysus’s earlier rage.

Jenna finally lifted eyes filled with so much grief and devastation to Isaac that he wanted to die right on the spot.

“He k-killed them,” she wept, gesturing at the bodies that were still fresh, rigor not having set in yet. “And he wouldn’t let me heal them. He wanted me to see them die and all I wanted was to see him die,” she whispered as if confessing a great sin.

Isaac cradled her gently in his arms and then shakily stood to his feet, determined to get her out of this room of horrors. The stench of blood and so much death clung to his nostrils, and he wanted nothing more than for both of them to be cleaned of the whole experience.

Shadow waited until they were outside the door, and then he stopped Isaac and tucked his hand beneath Jenna’s cheek. “Look at me, angel face,” he said gently.

When she reluctantly lifted her gaze to his, he leaned forward and brushed a kiss across her forehead. “Not a single person blames you for wanting to see him die or for being the one to kill him. He drew and would have shot Isaac. You saved Isaac’s life as well as your own. Don’t know how the hell you managed to get the upper hand, little bit—hell, you didn’t even need us—but I’d sure as hell love to hear the story sometime when you’re up to it.”

She offered him a shaky smile. “Maybe one day. Right now I just want to go home.” She glanced up at Isaac, a pleading look in her eyes. “Can you just take me home now? To our home? Please?”

If he hadn’t been holding her in his arms, his knees would have given out in that moment and he would have face-planted on the floor in relief. After failing her time and time again, all she’d asked was for him to take her home. To their home.

“Baby, you don’t even have to ask me for a damn thing that’s in my power to give you,” Isaac vowed. “There’s nothing I’d love more than to take you home so you can rest in my arms for as long as you need. Always whatever you need. I’ll give everything I own to make you happy, my angel.”





THIRTY-TWO

ISAAC carried Jenna into his bedroom, in his house, marveling that he could finally bring her home—to their home—instead of having to move her from safe house to safe house because of the constant source of threats she was forced to live under.

She was already sound asleep in his arms, having succumbed to exhaustion halfway into the ride home. He gently laid her down and very carefully removed the clothing that still had blood on it, anger building all over again as he examined the bruises on her small body from the repeated blows Jaysus had given her.

Her poor little face was swollen on one side and a dark bruise covered one cheek. He bent to kiss it, unable to control himself. In the morning, he’d draw a bath and wash away every last memory of this night and of the bastard who’d terrorized her, and he would wait on her hand and foot every single day until he was satisfied she was fully recovered.

Stepping back, he stripped off his own clothing and after hesitating to leave her even for the briefest of moments, he ducked into the bathroom to take the world’s fastest shower, because he wouldn’t taint their bed or her with so much as a drop of the blood on his clothes and skin.

He strode back into the bedroom in the act of toweling himself dry and then dropped the towel and rushed to the bedside, sliding beneath the covers to wrap his arms around her when he heard her pained whimpers that whispered past her lips in her dreams.