She pushes to her feet and wobbles. I react on instinct, reaching out and steadying her. The moment I touch her, electric charges race through my fingers. She must feel it too because her eyes raise to mine and flare slightly. Then she swallows.

“I can manage.”

“You’re dizzy,” I state the obvious.

“Only a little,” she admits with a wry smile that doesn’t chase the monsters in her eyes away. I’m not sure what will now that they’re there.

“Let me help.”

She pulls back and her eyes widen as she shakes her head. “You’re not showering with me.”

My cock twitches at her words, at the thought of her in the shower, the water cascading over her bare tits, over the globes of her arse. I push it aside quickly, before my dick gets ideas and I let my brow flick up. “I wasn’t suggesting that.”

Her face heats, pink staining her pale cheeks. It makes her look even more beautiful.

“I can manage,” she says, sounding a little breathy. It has my lips tugging into a grin that she’s so affected by me.

“I’ll grab you some fresh clothes.”

I leave her standing there and walk the short distance to my room. I was offered Sin’s room when I made vice president, but I couldn’t bring myself to step foot inside there, even if it is a bigger suite. I don’t want to touch anything that dirty fucker had his hands on. I’ve never hated a brother before, but what he did to Sasha…? Rav was too easy on him. He should have suffered more before he died.

As I step inside, I glance around my space. It’s not much, but it’s home. There’s a bed, drawers and two bedside tables. I have a big screen TV on the wall opposite to the bed, not that I watch a lot of it. The club keeps me busy.

It needs decorating, but I haven’t had the time, so the walls are cream and dirty.

I move to the drawers and pull out a pair of jogging pants and a hoodie that will probably drown her.

Clutching the clothes, I head back to the room and slip back inside. I move to the bed, intending to leave them on the end and get out of there, but a noise catches my attention. It takes me a second to realise what I’m hearing.

Lucy is crying—no, not just crying, she’s sobbing.

It’s like a thousand knives to my heart, hearing such an outpouring of grief. I should leave, let her have this moment privately, but I can’t bring myself to.

I stride to the bathroom door and try the handle. I expect it to be locked, so it shocks the shit out of me when the door swings open. My heart clenches painfully as I see her sitting against the wall, her knees drawn up to her chin. She’s removed her suit jacket, but that’s as far as she seems to have got.

Crouching down in front of her, I say her name softly. She doesn’t respond or lift her head, so I try again. This time, her eyes raise to me. They’re a pale blue and like a turbulent ocean. I get lost in them for a moment until I see the tears slip down her cheeks. I tug her into my arms, not caring that she’s still spattered with blood and fuck knows what else.

I feel the tension ripple through her before her spine seems to melt and she presses against my chest, gripping my kutte as she sobs. I let her get it all out. Lucy needs this. I knew once the shock wore off, she’d feel what happened. I know because I’ve been in that situation many times before. I’ve learnt over the years to shut my feelings down completely.

“Hank didn’t deserve this,” she blubbers.

If he’s into something dodgy, the likelihood is he got exactly what he deserved. People don’t get murdered at their place of work for no good reason. Good old Hank had to have done something to piss someone off.

I don’t say any of this to Lucy. Instead, I just hold her against me, feeling her softness in my arms, liking how right she feels there. Too right. That shit confuses me. I tell myself I’m just looking after Sasha’s best friend, that all I’m feeling for her is because I’m grateful she helped out Sash, but it’s more than that. I like this woman, even if I shouldn’t.

After a while, I know I have to move, get her moving. “You need to clean up.”

“Yeah,” she agrees.

“Let me help you.”

Her eyes meet mine and I got lost in them again. I watch as her chest heaves as she peers at me, see the indecision weighing on her before she breathes out an, “Okay.”

Relief washes through me. I move to the buttons of her blouse, my eyes shifting to hers as I undo the first one. Lucy doesn’t move to help me, her eyes heavy, full of pain. I pull it off her shoulders and let it pool on the floor, leaving her in a lacy black bra. Already, a smattering of bruises is starting to form over her skin. She must be in pain, but she doesn’t complain. I watch as goosebumps pebble along her skin as the cooler air hits her. Maybe it’s not just the cold affecting her. I feel a little off kilter myself.

When I move to the button on her trousers, I don’t miss the quiver of her belly as my hands graze over her. Her eyes come to mine and there’s so much emotion shining in her gaze that I don’t know how to help her.

I shove her trousers down, revealing a pair of knickers that match the bra. This is a special kind of torture, but I keep my hands to myself. Lucy’s barely with it right now and I’m not the kind of fucker to take advantage. I’m not fucking Sin.

I lean around her and switch the spray on, running a hand under it until it’s hot enough. Then I push her gently under the stream, careful to avoid the gauze covering her head wound.

Leaning into the shower, I wet her hair and her eyes move to my face. I’m not sure what the hell is going through her mind right now, but her tears have stopped as she watches me through wide eyes as I squirt some shampoo on my hand.

“It’s not the girly shit you’re probably used to.”

“It’s fine,” she tells me in a whisper, her eyes still locked to my face. There’s confusion there. “Why are you doing this?”

It’s a good question, and not one I’m sure I have a good answer to. Eventually, I say, “Because you need it.”

She falls silent and I watch the water as it runs red, mixing into a light pink. She swallows hard as she sees it.

“I feel so dirty,” she murmurs.

“I know.”

I don’t feed her platitudes.

I know what it’s like to come home covered in someone’s brains and blood. I know how that makes your skin crawl and feel soiled. I want to press her on what happened, get answers, but I don’t want to push her. She’s already balancing on the edge, so I just clean her hair until it’s back to its pale blonde colour. I don’t miss how she closes her eyes and bites her bottom lip as the spray moves over her head, as my fingers massage her scalp, washing the soap free of the strands. I want to take her pouty lips, kiss them until they’re swollen, but I jump down on that thought. She’s been through enough today.

I wrap her hair in a towel.

“Thank you,” she says as she straightens. Her mascara is smudged under her eyes, but she still looks beautiful.

I pull her out of the shower, ignoring the fact I’m a little soggy myself and wrap her body in a towel that has seen better days, then I move into the bedroom and grab the clean clothes.

When I step back into the bathroom, she’s wiped the steam from the mirror and is peering at her reflection. Her eyes shift to me and I watch as she swallows, watch the monsters that dog her steps rise for a moment before she regains control.