"It's a shame she never had kids," she'd told Grace after she'd finished the first journal. "She would've been the best mom."
"She was," Grace said, hugging her arms around herself.
It was then Avery remembered how much they'd all lost. If they hadn't been broken by now, she had to assume they never would. "I forgot how long you spent with her."
"I didn't read these journals until she'd left. But then I understood why she got me-didn't yell at me about being promiscuous. She understood it was my way of taking back my power," Grace said.
The planning was happening around her. Gunner briefed her at night, and sometimes she fell asleep while he was talking. That was all right-it was as if what he said was solidifying in her brain, adding fuel to the fire. And every day, the need for strict vengeance wore a little thinner. The need for justice grew stronger. It was a much better balance.
After a month, they moved locations. A different state, a better safe house that Jem and Key vetted for a week before they allowed the others to move here.
It was all temporary, Avery knew. Her ultimate goal was to get Gunner back to his tattoo shop. Back to at least drawing, which she hadn't seen him do once.
She'd forced herself to look in the full-length mirror daily since Drea took the bandages off. Wanted to know exactly what Landon had done, wanted to watch the black stitches dissolve and the bright red scars fade to pink and then eventually white, knowing her anger wouldn't fade as quickly. Not until Landon paid, and paid dearly.
He didn't have family. No one close to him that she could hurt him with, beyond Gunner. Even if there were, she didn't think she could do that.
But not having anyone to care about was how the man stayed on top for so long. You couldn't care about anyone or anything that could be used against you. And that was S8's fatal flaw. She couldn't see that changing any time soon. It was the only way to keep their consciences in check, the only way they'd ever be able to love.
"We could retire to an island. Work enough to live and then just hang out," Jem had suggested yesterday.
"You? Hanging out? Doing what, lying in the sun? I give it less than an hour," she'd scoffed.
"Maybe I'd love it."
She knew she wouldn't.
She traced the scars now, her fingers trailing as her eyes never left the mirror.
Every night, she curled up next to Gunner, fully clothed. And every night, he'd held her through nightmares that went from multiple ones nightly to one per night and then a few times a week. Body and mind seemed to heal at the same time. Having Grace and Dare and Key there helped. She could concentrate on healing, without worrying that everyone was in danger.
There were thirteen scars in all. Different sizes, some vertical, some horizontal, done purposely to scar. The biggest one bisected her tattoo and she traced the X that marked her beautiful flowers.
Gunner would work miracles on this. She knew that. But she hadn't wanted him to see her naked yet, because she was more worried about how these scars would affect him than anything.
She drew a bath, sank into the bubbles and tried to relax. Time was passing. Plans were being made. Soon, it would be time to put up or shut up.
She would make Landon pay for everything he'd ever done to her family.
Chapter Twenty-seven.
It had been seven days since they'd moved to this house, and the closer they got to firming up plans to take Landon down, the harder Avery had been pulling away from him.
She'd been in planning mode. She was healing. Stronger. Sharp too, but that didn't mean she was totally ready for this. None of them were.
Gunner glanced into the kitchen and found the others there, except for Avery.
"Thought she was with you," Jem said.
"She's taking a bath," Grace told him. "I just checked on her."
And now he was going to. She'd been avoiding him and he wouldn't let that happen. He burst into the bathroom and found her soaking in the tub, up to her neck in bubbles.
"Can't a girl have any privacy?" she asked.
"No. None. You're not leaving my side." Jesus, he might as well have simply said, Me caveman, you woman.
She blinked, stared down at the bubbles. "Can you at least wait outside the door?"
"I won't leave you alone inside a room with a window."
"I'm below the window."
He wanted to tell her that a sniper wasn't the only way Landon could try to get to her, but instead he told her, "You need to get out."
"Is it me or Landon you're worried about?"
"Both. Now up," he said firmly, held up a towel.
"I'm all soapy. I have to rinse off."
He sighed, moved to the window and said, "Go ahead."
"Can't you at least look away?"
"No." Why was she being so stubborn? He'd seen her naked, made love to her. Now wasn't the time for false modesty. "And if you don't move soon, I'm hauling you out of there myself."
"Fine." With a determined set to her jaw, she let the water out of the tub and stayed seated and used the handheld showerhead to wash off for a while. And then she finally stood, her taut body naked and dripping wet.
He stared as something caught his eye. She stilled, because she knew.
She'd hidden the scars from him. Jem had helped her. He'd assumed the bandages she'd worn for weeks had been because of broken ribs.
He'd been so very wrong. There were deep cuts through her beautiful tattoo. And the initials DL carved into a heart. Slashes on her breasts that were on their way to healing still looked angry. They'd never fully fade.
"Not as pretty as tattoos," she said tightly.
"You'll always be beautiful to me, Avery."
"Dammit, Gunner, I didn't want you to find out about them like this."
"Come on." He wrapped her in the towel because she'd started to shiver.
"I don't have regrets."
"I do, Avery. It's my fault you sank deeper into this world."
"I would've been here sooner or later. It's my legacy, remember?" she said almost defiantly as she stepped out of the tub and walked into the adjoining bedroom, holding the towel around her.
Gunner started after her. She was still in pain, and pretending everything was fine when it goddamn wasn't. So what was this all about? Revenge? Redemption? Or more than a generous helping of both?
He followed her now, found her sitting on the bed, holding a sketch pad. It was brand-new, and there were pencils there too. She must've asked someone to pick them up on one of their runs into town.
"Draw me," she told him.
The seeds for his revenge against Landon had been planted when he'd found Josie on the floor. He just hadn't seen a way out that didn't involve him losing what little he had left. And when his art had soothed him, he'd clung to that, because he didn't want to lose it again.
The art-the tattooing-was to honor Josie and what she'd done for him. But she'd always known that his art was important to him.
Avery wasn't going to let him forget that. She dropped the towel. "Do it. Scars and all." And just like that, she fucking posed for him. "Plan what other tattoos you'll do after that."
Those he would draw right on her body, just so he could get the curves right. For now, he concentrated on sketching the warrior he saw in front of him. Because he didn't see the scars, not the way she'd thought he would. "I'm drawing you exactly as I see you."
"Tell me what you see," she said.
"You. Beautiful survivor. Map of where you've been, how far you've come." He looked up.
"The scar over your heart . . ." He paused, then bent down to sketch again. "Means you've been given more room to let people in. More room for me and all my mistakes."
"Not so many mistakes," she said softly. He heard the smile in her voice as he traced a breast on paper with the edge of the pencil.
"Scars make you stronger."
"Until I had them, I never understood what people meant when they said that."
"But now you do."
"Yes."
"When I look at you, I don't see scars, though. I see . . . you."
"And places you want to tattoo."
"That too." He stood, moved closer. Traced the pencil's eraser over the lines on her breasts. "I've got plans. Short-term and long-term."
"Does short-term involve you in my bed?"
"Definitely."
Gunner's hand wound around the back of her neck as he spoke. He dropped the sketchbook onto the night table as she stood, pressed her naked body against his clothed one.
Her heart was beating so loudly she was sure he could hear it. But she'd never felt more strong and sure in her life.
"Don't be gentle with me. Don't you dare," she told him. Something glinted in his eyes and he swooped her up and brought her over to the bed. But instead of covering her body with his, he rolled them so she was on top of him. She stared down at him, wondering how he could know so much, how he could just know what she needed.
"Go ahead, woman. Have your way with me," he murmured. He wound his hands around the metal bar across the headboard. "Use my T-shirt. Cuffs. Whatever you've got."
"I want you to touch me," she said, even though she knew he was right, that she wouldn't handle that well.
Reluctantly, she used the handcuffs from Gunner's bag, because she knew he would have a tougher time getting out of those. Hated that Landon had done this to her and then realized that she never, ever wanted Landon in her mind, in her bed ever again. That would mean he won, and she couldn't let that happen.
She kissed him. He kissed her back but let her set the rhythm. She gripped his hair, kissed him like there was no tomorrow as the familiar passion filled her. She was wet between her legs, her nipples hard.
Her body still worked. Maybe scars really did make you stronger.
His cock was hard against her sex. And although she wanted him inside her, this felt too good to stop. It had been too long, and before she could think about it, her belly clenched with pleasure. "Gunner."
She heard the surprise in her own voice.
"Yeah, baby. Just like that. Keep looking at me. You're with me, and you're safe. And you're so fucking beautiful, I can't stand it."
She rubbed against him until the orgasm burst through her. She saw stars, held on to his shoulders.
And then she wept. When she was able to stop, she wiped her eyes, looked at him and then at the sketchbook.
He'd drawn her with no scars at all.
I drew you exactly the way I see you.
Chapter Twenty-eight.
Nearly four months had passed since Landon tried to firebomb them. He hadn't called, and things had been quiet on that front. Not so much with Landon's business, which Jem helped Gunner trace.
Landon-Drew, Donal or both-was still active. And so their plan to have Drea pose as the wife of a recently indicted businessman was moving forward full steam.
And Jem wasn't happy about it at all. He'd voiced his unhappiness in every way, shape or form he could think of.
"It's not them. It's us," Gunner had muttered just last night, and Key nodded in agreement.
"And we'll drive ourselves and them crazy if we keep focusing on it," Jem had added.