“I’m sorry,” he said hoarsely. “God, I’m sorry, Ramie. I didn’t know. I couldn’t have known what it does to you. Or that I’d lead you back into the hands of a killer.”
“Can you honestly say you wouldn’t have done the exact same thing even if you had known?”
Her voice reminded him of cracking ice after a winter storm, though rare this far south, and the sound of the tree branches splintering away, their burden too great to bear any longer. He refused to allow her to slide away from him, like water through his fingers. He curled those fingers into tight fists as if to prevent that very thing from happening.
He closed his eyes and lowered his head. “No. God forgive me, but no, I would have done anything to save my sister. I know you hate me. You have every right to. But as you said, I owe you, and I fully intend to repay my debt to you.”
“I don’t hate you,” she said in a low voice. “I don’t even blame you. In your shoes I would have done the same for a loved one.”
“How can you not hate me when I damn near caused your death? When I forced you to endure being brutalized by a psychopath? You may not hate me, Ramie, but I damn sure hate myself for what I did.”
She reached out her hand and slid it gently down his cheekbone before cupping his jaw. He visibly flinched and his breath caught. He went so still that she couldn’t even detect his breaths.
Warmth spread through her hand and up her arm before spreading through her chest like a wildfire. She yanked her hand away, appalled by the familiar way she’d touched him. But he caught her hand and carefully put it back to his cheek, keeping his hand over hers so it was trapped.
“Desperation makes us do the unthinkable. How can you hate yourself for being able to save your sister? How does it help your sister that you hate yourself? Never let her sense you regret your actions because those actions saved her from certain death. I’m sure she’s very grateful to you for her life.”
“She’s grateful to you,” Caleb said gruffly. “You are the one she owes her life to.”
“You providing me sanctuary is payment enough if you feel you’re in my debt.”
“Count on it,” he vowed. “You’re coming home with me, Ramie. I formed a security firm with my brothers after Tori’s abduction. I swore never to be without the right tools to ensure the safety of my family. We hire only the best.”
“I need the best,” she said in a low voice filled with conviction. “Because he’s always only a footstep behind me. No matter where I go. No matter what I do. And until he’s taken down, all the women he kills will be my fault. I can’t live with that guilt any longer.”
Caleb emitted a soft curse as he slid his hand underneath her chin, framing it between his thumb and the rest of his fingers. His gaze bored into her unwaveringly.
“I will protect you, Ramie. I don’t make promises I can’t keep.”
EIGHT
CALEB watched a myriad of emotions flicker and swirl in Ramie’s smoky gray eyes. The pupils were slightly dilated, making her eyes appear enormous in the delicate bone structure of her face. She was thin. Perhaps too thin because there was no spare flesh at her cheeks or eyes and her shoulders were narrow, her collarbone pronounced, making hollows between it and her neck.
He could circle her wrists with a thumb and one finger and she felt delicate. As though she would simply break if someone handled her with anything but the utmost care. And yet she was hauntingly beautiful. Not the sort of woman he was normally attracted to but he realized he was indeed attracted to her. The idea of another man causing her harm infuriated him beyond the fact that no woman should ever be brutalized by a man. It felt personal to him. As though she were his woman and another man had put his hands on her.
The idea that she would somehow blame herself for him still being at large, out there hunting new victims—God only knew how many there were that no one ever knew about or discovered. If he had anything to do with it, he was going to make sure she absolved herself of any ridiculous blame over the fact that one out of dozens had escaped the grasp of the authorities.
He paused a moment, his brows furrowing as he considered his sudden vow. Yes, he owed her a great deal, and yes, he would ensure she was safe, that nothing would ever touch her again. But to take on the monumental task of absolving her guilt?
It was an arrogant assumption on his part to think he would bring her anything but more pain, more regret. But if he could even bring her a small measure of peace, anything but the hell she must endure on a daily basis, then he would move damn mountains to make it so.
He frowned again when he took in the dried blood and the bruise that had already formed on her chin and mouth area. He released her hands, carefully placing them back in her lap before he pushed upward to his feet. He held up one finger to her.
“Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”
The instant fear that sparked in her eyes made him angry all over again at the bastard who’d made her life a living hell for the last year and a half.
“I’m not leaving the room,” he said gently. “I’m just going to the bathroom to get a warm washcloth so I can wipe the blood and see how badly you’re bruised.”
Her hand shot upward, a faintly puzzled look in her eyes as though she’d forgotten all about her injury. She winced when she pressed too hard on the bruise and he reached out to tug her hand back downward in a silent command for her not to touch it and cause herself more pain.