“I didn’t have time.” Rosita spoke just as quietly, frowning at the girl then glancing to him. He knew what she was worried about, he was worried about it too.
The girl had hardly moved, let alone talked since they left.
Poor little bird.
“Sweet girl, I would like you to meet someone that is very dear to me. This is my Marcus. You remember my boys that I talked about.” Mark scoffed at her name for them.
Dominic, Rick, Danny and himself were hardly boys. But Rosita had been around long before he was rescued by Sergio Mancini.
“Marcus this is Winter.”
“Miss,” he said and she finally looked up at him.
His breath stuttered to a halt, and he could swear that his heart stopped as her crystal grey eyes full of despair and fear stared back at him.
When she had first walked into the dining room, he hadn’t been able to see her very well. Then through fighting his way out of Ernesto’s property, he hadn’t paid attention. Now it was there for him to see, hitting him like a freight train straight in the chest.
Her grey eyes were marbled with blue, making them seem as if they were swirling with emotion. Broadcasting her fear like a beacon. Her white, blond hair was flowing around her, casting a light toward him.
He could see why her name was Winter.
Beautiful.
She gave no indication looking up to him, just continued to stare right back at him. Almost as if she was looking through him.
“My Marcus will keep you safe. Okay sweet girl?” Rosita said giving him a side eye.
The girl nodded.
It wasn’t much, but at least she was listening to them.
Quickly he got out, transferring everything to the truck, before going back for Winter and Rosita. He held out his hand for her to take but she just continued to stare at it, like she didn’t know whether his hand was going to reach out and bite her.
“Go with him. I promise everything will be okay. You are free now,” Rosita said quietly to her from the back seat, but he heard it.
Clenching his jaw so that he didn’t reach out and punch something, he smiled gently to her, when she looked up at him. Her face was pale, and her eyes held a sheen that he knew was from shock.
Poor little bird.
She tentatively reached out, and her fingers slid into his.
He wasn’t a person big on touch. A product of his upbringing. Being transferred from foster home to foster home left a bitter taste in his mouth at the thought of trusting people, touching people.
But this time, the agony that he always felt, a combination of being uncomfortable and too much stimulation, wasn’t there.
It was like a small slither of pleasure raced up his arm, wrapping around him like the tail ends of a ribbon.
Pure white-hot need hit him in his chest. Flaying him open, leaving his heart reeling under all the emotion.
His mouth parted as she stood, grasping his hand tightly, her legs visibly trembling, as his heart beat in his chest so loud he was sure they could hear it.
“Marcus?” Rosita questioned with a frown on her face, and he snapped out of his mood.
Shaking his head, he pulled himself together.
He turned and guided Winter to his truck, making sure that she was buckled in again before shutting the door gently.
Then he turned to Rosita.
