While Clay gave into a very hot, very sexy makeout session with me, it didn't get a chance to go further. Just as I was pressing my luck by sliding my fingers into the elastic waistband of his boxers, hearing his groan and knowing that he was about to argue that I was still too tender to go further, someone started pounding hard enough on my door to make me worry that it was going to splinter.

We both groaned, me for the loss of him and him at the irritation of whoever was banging on the door. "Do you think it might be Davey or George?" He asked, as he pulled his shirt on, and yanked on his pants.

I shook my head and he looked like he already knew it, but wanted confirmation. I wasn't surprised that he had a gun, or that he had it close by, so when it showed up in his hand I internally shrugged. I'd just been held hostage by twin assholes, I was going with the flow, and staying in bed.

I heard him call out to whoever was making the ruckus, then the hammering stopped and then the voice that joined his had me groaning for a whole new reason.

It took me a couple minutes to toss on my pajamas, since Clay had divested me of my night out clothes when he'd brought me home after the medics gave me the once over and deemed me safe to sleep it off. My hair was a nightmare, but I forewent attempting to brush it since I KNEW it was going to hurt like a bitch after Alex had tried to scalp me with his fucking fist. Clay's voice was staying calm, which was more than I could say for my internal dialogue after I heard my visitor's.

"Walter," I greeted the man that I honestly wished I'd never once seen in my entire life, much less as often as I had in the past month. "To what do I fucking owe this-" I gestured to his body in my apartment, noticing that he looked less tailored than normal.

"Are you alright, Charlotte?" His eyes were wide, and he looked almost rabid, bits of spit had collected at the corners of his mouth and his hair looked like he'd been running his fingers through it for hours. "I heard the worst rumors. Your face," he flinched and even though I had ignored the mirrors in my room, I knew I looked horrible. "It's true then."

"That your asshole pals kidnapped and beat me?" I shrugged and sat down, pulling the blanket from the back of the sofa to cover my legs. "Yep."

"Charlotte, if I had ANY idea that they had THIS in them, I would have-"

"What would you have done, Walter?" Clay asked, sitting beside me, and pulling me so my back was cradled against his chest. "Would you have turned them in to the authorities if you knew that they had a hand in killing 25 children?" I watched Walter's face pale. "Guess they forgot that part in their tale about my time in Bolivia, huh?"

"Children?" Walter stumbled to the chair and practically collapsed into it. "That was-" His eyes closed as he seemed to recall the news cycle at the time. "The helicopter, the team that died-" His eyes opened. "That was you."

Clay's lips brushed my temple and he nodded. "That was us." He sighed. "MAX, that's the name the Xaviers were using at the time. They planned on unleashing something worse, trust me, but we thwarted that, and then it was a game of cat and mouse until we got here." His fingers linked with mine and I smiled, knowing that Clay's life was going to finally get back to normal, or at least he'd be alive again. "I never wanted Charlotte to be a target, and I wanted to kill both of them when I realized they took her and Carrie."

"Carrie," Walter sighed, his eyes pinched. "Is she-"

"She'll be fine," I assured him, more for me than him. "Jensen is looking after her, and professionals, since they were heavier handed with her than me."

"Why?" He was staring at me and I knew he had come to the understanding that I was the bigger prize in their picks. "Why hurt her more than you?"

"I took the pain better," I offered, chin up. "But I didn't take hearing her being dealt the pain as well." His eyes locked on mine and I think he saw it. What I'd gone through when he left finally hitting home. Watching Mom deteriorate daily, while staying strong and angry, moving forward but feeling like every ounce of pain she felt pierced me too.

"Have you been seen by a doctor?" I nodded, and he shook his head. "Are you sure you're alright? Here?"

"I'm fine. I have Clay."

Walter left, looking for all the world like his entire foundation had shaken loose which it had. His best friends were even worse people than he was, which as a fucking low bar. They'd crossed a line that I'm not sure even he would have, which was something I might have to think about one day, but not anytime soon.

"You didn't scream." Clay was saying as he tucked me back into bed, his shirtless yet still stubbornly boxer wearing body joining me. "You didn't order him to get out. I think you might be more tired than you're letting on, Char."

I chuckled, rolling over so we were facing one another with the bedside lamp creating a halo behind his head. "No, I just didn't feel up to it." Raising my hand, I traced his lips with my fingertip. "My head hurts a little, and honestly, he looked like he'd been beaten shitless already."

"He was scared," I nodded, that was apparent. "He thought you might be worse than the rumors let on." What? "He was demanding to see you before you came out."

"Wonders never cease," a whisper, as I moved closer, letting my lips replace my finger. "I love you, Franklin Clay."

After he kissed me thoroughly, and I mean very thoroughly, he pulled away and took my breath away again. "Marry me."