Raid (Unfinished Hero, #3)

by Kristen Ashley

“Proud of you, chère.” I heard her say, but I didn’t take my eyes off Raid as he monitored the game. I turned my hand and curved my fingers around hers. “Battled the blaze,” she went on. “It’s still burning.” “Yes, I see. But I believe in you, precious girl. You’ll get it so it’s warm and cozy.”

😭🩵

“Hopefully, it won’t happen. If it does, more advice. Make a statement, Raid. Make a statement no one can miss. Am I being clear?” Sloan asked. He was, and Raid didn’t like what he was being clear about. “Nothing’s gonna happen to Hanna,” Raid rumbled. “No, likely not, but if it does, pray for her strength. But make your statement clear,” Sloan shot back. Raid’s blood ran cold. “You know something I don’t know?” he asked sharply. “I know this life. You’re the man I think you are, you now have a new number one priority. See to making sure everyone knows exactly what that is and what you’d do if they don’t take that seriously.” Jesus, the man had another point. Raid didn’t concede it this time.

It was unlocked. “Didn’t I—?” I started to ask the doorknob when it turned. The door was thrown open, my hand was caught in a vice-like grip, and on a terrified scream Spot and I were pulled inside. For the next ten minutes I felt a lot of terror. And a lot of pain. This was because in the foyer of my childhood home I got the shit beaten out of me by three men with one man watching.

When she opened them, she whispered, “Wash it away. God gives tools to His earth that He uses, son. He puts men here like you to love girls like her, to protect them.” She lifted her hand, rested it on his chest and her sharp eyes flashed with wrath. “And, if necessary, to avenge them.” It was then Raid closed his eyes. She knew. “But you know that already, don’t you, Raiden Miller?” she asked. “You already know God’s use for you ’cause He’s needed to use you before.” Raid kept his eyes closed and said nothing. “Wash it away,” she kept whispering, the words flowing through him, leaving him clean. Jesus. Fucking clean. Raid hadn’t felt clean in nearly five years.

“She thought you were the cat’s pajamas,” Hanna told him. He fucking loved that. But Raid said nothing. “She also told me she thought you were the bee’s knees,” she continued. He fucking loved that, too. Raid again said nothing. Finally, her voice broke when she whispered, “She was always right.” Raid slid a hand into her hair and held her cheek close to his chest as she poured her grief into his sweater. Through her tears, she shared, “This is okay. Even Grams would think being in your arms was an okay place for a Boudreaux to cry.” Raid closed his eyes and kept holding tight.

Finally, her eyes came to his. “Grams. She loved you. She respected you. She wanted me to have you. She knew exactly who you were. She knew everything. And she was worried I might not go the distance. So she warned me off you, knowing the minute she did I would not back down. She did this by scaring the pants off me then telling me that if I saw it through, I’d know nothing sweeter in my whole life,” she snuggled Clay closer before she rocked his world, “than the love you’d give to me.” Raid held her eyes. “She was always right,” Hanna finished, and that burn came back into his chest.

“Raiden?” she called even though his eyes were locked on her. “Right here, baby,” he answered quietly. “I figure she thought she knew something else and I have to know if she was right about that too.” “What?” he asked. “Only you can answer,” she told him. “What is it, honey?” She gave it to him. “She knew you’d know nothing sweeter than the love I give to you.” Jesus, fuck. “Was she right?” Hanna asked. Raid held her eyes. Then he unfolded his body from his chair, taking her in swaying on her porch swing with his son held close to her chest, wrapped up in home, warmth, comfort, nurture. Love. He got near and bent deep, put his face close to hers, looked into her pretty blue eyes and curled a hand around the side of her head. Only then did he reply, “Absolutely.”