by Bella Street
Trent was silent, but nodded, holding her all the tighter.
“Do...” She licked her lips. “Do you think I'm dirty?”
He pulled back and stared at her. “What?”
A flush heated her cheeks, and she shook her head.
“Why would I think you're dirty?” He gripped her arms. “You do know you were the victim, right?”
“Yeah.” But her words held no conviction.
“Who put that idea in your head? The guy?”
Seffy sighed. “Forget I said anything.”
He stared at her. “If it wasn't the guy, then...God, it was Gareth, wasn't it?”
Her silence essentially answered his question.
“That son of a bitch.”
“He's never said such a thing...until—”
“Until he was on the juice.”
“Yes,” she said in a low voice.
“Regardless, he revealed something about himself.”
“Trent,” Seffy said, feeling the familiar depression weigh down her heart, “he's not the bad guy here. When we moved to L.A. he even insisted I get counseling.”
“And did you?”
“Yes,” she said slowly. “I had sessions for a year. I guess it helped some, but I just wanted to forget it ever happened.”
Trent's mouth tightened. “Okay, so we go after the real perp. Do you know where he lives? Can we kill him?”
Seffy touched his face. “I don't know where he is, plus we're twenty-six years in the past.”
“What's his name?”
“Trent, it doesn't matter. He could be anywhere in the world. Anyway, when I went to seventh grade, that first day of school, I met Gareth. He stared at me, too, but not in a way that made me feel ashamed.” She felt Trent tense up. “I know how you feel about him, but he befriended me. He and the girls.”
“Why didn't he do anything to protect you?”
“Trent, he did. One day he came to my house to see if I could hang out and he...” Seffy pressed her hand to her forehead, struggling to calm the feeling of panic. “He walked in when no one answered the door and found...us.”
“Oh, God.”
She had to breathe through to the other side of the darkness. “When the mayor realized he was discovered, he threatened Gareth with all sorts of dire consequences. But Gareth didn't care. He tried so hard to make sure I was never alone with him after that.” She blew out a shaky breath, her heart still pounding hard. “I was always either with one of the girls—I practically lived with them—or with Gareth's family.”
Trent's face hardened. “Why didn't you go to the police? A teacher? Anyone?”
“Gareth did. No one believed him. We were twelve. We were nobody. My foster father was the mayor.”
“Seffy, I can't imagine...”
“Gareth never told Addison and Lani what he saw. He just asked them to have me over, so they did. Even when I started having emotional disturbances. So, I did think of him as my hero.” She looked up at him. “What he didn't know was that the abuse still happened, but a lot less frequently. I kept quiet because I was no longer cold or hungry. I went inside my own mind to deal and on some level, I viewed it as a trade.”
“Like those directors you told me about?”
“Yeah.”
He stared at her in disbelief, which brought a sharp pang of disappointment.
She edged away from him. “I've never been a fighter, Trent. You know that. I just gave in and tried to cope.” A bitter smile tipped her lips. “Not much has changed, I guess.”
White lines appeared around Trent's mouth and his eyes burned with a fierce light. After several minutes, he spoke, his voice tight. “And if you said something then, caused a fuss about the mayor, maybe Gareth wouldn't hang around anymore.”
Heat swept up her neck into her face. She didn't bother to answer. Of anyone, Trent had known the bite of being a sellout fueled by desperation.
“So, what is this? You and me?”
Seffy had to look away from his banked frustration. “It's not the same thing.”
Trent tipped her face back to his. “Damn straight. This needs to be because we can't bear to be apart, because we care more about each other than we do ourselves. If it's not that for you, I need to know.”
Ashamed that he felt the need to lay out the differences, she swallowed. “You don't have to worry about that.” As soon as she said the words, more for him than herself, she was suddenly filled with a suffocating longing for it to be true. She could say she loved him, and that was the only way she could describe her feelings for him, but even getting to this point had been difficult and painful. Proving it would be even more of a challenge.
He dropped his hand. “Did you ever try to find your parents?”
She released a breath. “No.”
“So you're not even curious?”
“What would I do? Go up to them with my hand on my hip and say 'how do you like me now?'”
“What about Gareth and the girls? What were their experiences?”
She relaxed slightly now that the worst of the story was over. “Gareth and Addison were also in foster homes with other kids. They seemed okay. Lani had wonderful foster parents. I guess it's like any family—some are great, some not-so-great.”
Trent stared at her for a long moment. “I think we're in Montana for a reason. I think we're here to stop that guy. For good.”
She shook her head. “No.”
“No what?”
“No to all of it. It's in the past. You can't change the past.”
He gripped her arms. “Yes we can. We're in the past. I'm not willing to stand by and hope it all goes away. ”
Like some people. His expression said it about her if his mouth didn't. She briefly closed her eyes, wishing she'd put him off again instead of giving in. As if they needed any more pressure on their already fragile relationship.
“Look, even if we found out he's in the state, and let's not forget how huge Montana is and how stranded we are, do you think I want to go anywhere near him? Just the idea makes my skin crawl.”
Trent was silent for a moment. “Is he the one you thought you saw in the mall that day?”
Seffy nodded.
A muscle flexed in his jaw. “If we stop him now, he can't hurt others.”
She looked down at his hand still clutching her fingers. “So you punish people before the crime occurs?”
“How do you know that it's not already a pattern with him?”
“I don't know. And I don't want to know.”
“So that's how you deal with everything? Denial?”
Her head snapped up. “It beats sticking a needle in my vein.”
Trent scowled. “We're not going to go down that road.”
She lifted her chin at his implication.
“Anyway,” he said, his tone softening, “you can't deny that we might be here for a reason.”
Seffy sucked in a breath, trying to tamp down rising panic. “If that was the reason, then it would just be me. Not you.”
He rubbed his face. “There's a connection somewhere. I get why Gareth, Lani and Addison would end up here with you, since you guys went through this together.”
“You said you were born in Montana, right?” Seffy said, grateful for a different angle.
“Yeah, but we moved away when I was two.”
“Why did your parents move?”
He shook his head. “I'm not sure. It was because of some problem, though, because my mom never wanted to move to L.A.”
Seffy touched his chest. “Maybe if you hadn't left, we would've met here.”
Trent covered her hand with his own. “But we didn't.”
“Maybe your parents were never supposed to leave.”
He sighed. “Well, there's no way to find out. In one universe, I'm dead to them, and in this one, I'm a little out of range to make a call and find out the reason.”
Seffy scooted closer to him, needing to feel his solidity. “All that
matters is that we're together now, okay?”
His hand moved up her back, ending up in her hair. He didn't answer right away.
Seffy leaned against him, wondering why the sour always had to come with the sweet.
Trent's touch was gentle. “So how do Cynthia, Eva and Jared fit in? What about Clay?”
“I never knew them, but the girls said they were born here.”
He sighed. “I met Clay on the job a few days before the blast. Jared was a friend of his. When I mentioned I was heading to the sushi place for lunch, Jared insisted they come with me. I just figured I'd shake them off later.”
She leaned back, unable to keep regret from her expression. “All this is so nuts. Whether it's denial or common sense, I just don't want to think about it anymore.”
Trent grazed her cheek with his fingers. “Okay, we'll give the theories a rest for the time being. But one other thing, Sef.” His eyes darkened. “Us, being together like this, I didn't realize what you'd gone through and I don't want to add to anything—”
“Trent, I know what you're trying to say, and I appreciate it.” She compressed her lips, hating that this conversation ever had to take place.
His gaze held hers for several moments. “I feel bad about all the times I teased you, pressured you—”
“You never took without permission.”
“Still, if I ever do anything, anything—”
Seffy squeezed his hand. “You won't. Because you're not that person.”
He nodded and nudged her closer to his side. She rested her face against his chest, reveling in the sound of his heartbeat, and the knowledge that, for the moment, his heart beat for her.
Chapter Twenty
Seffy began to wonder if perhaps she might be an angel after all. At least she'd become familiar with being worshiped. Trent's tenderness had gone a long way to loosening the Gordian knot of her angst, to calming the feeling of degradation in the aftermath of pleasure.
As she watched Trent sleep in the faint light of dawn coming through the Light Room skylight, she thought about the past two weeks they'd spent in each other's arms. They'd shelved the discussion of her past and focused entirely on their present where he had pursued her...happiness with single-minded devotion.
Seffy traced the veins on the back of his hand that twined down his fingers. These hands, his lips, his body, had transported her to places further than any tangent universe could take her. But that would've been meaningless, base, without his heart. She treasured every small act of affection, every whispered word of love, then wondered how she ever existed without him—wondered at the powerful forces that had brought them together. Why had she fought it for so long?
Perhaps because she'd never knew it could be like this.
Seffy wondered about her friends. Aside from brief public appearances, she'd stayed tucked away with Trent. Last time she'd checked, Lani had been preoccupied with Malone, Addison was sullen and distant, and Gareth was just...distant. Life at the compound had apparently fallen into some kind of routine for the others.
How long would this last—this pseudo idyll with Trent? She feared it would end too soon. What was their future? Would they ever escape the compound? Did it matter anymore?
Seffy's hand traveled up Trent's arm to his shoulder. She should let him sleep, but she couldn't refrain from touching him. Edging closer, she rested her cheek on his arm, reveling in his warmth. After a moment, his eyes fluttered open. When he saw her, his arms snaked around her, pulling her closer. Just as his mouth moved from her lips to her breast, a crash sounded from below.
Trent sat up, his eyes wide. He reached for his Levis and tugged them on. As Seffy scrambled into her clothes, she watched him silently cross the floor, his head cocked for another sound. It came within seconds—a giggle. Trent looked at her, and she knew his wary expression matched hers.
He pointed to the ceiling tile that covered the room below on the far side of the Light Room and approached it with caution. Sliding his fingers under the panel, he eased it up and peeked through the crack. Seffy quietly joined him and stared in shock at the sight of an amorous compound couple grappling on the bed below, a knocked-over lamp evidence of the crash.
Trent replaced the tile and directed her toward the exit. With slow, steady movements, they returned to his room. He helped her through the opening above the desk and as they got onto the floor, Seffy couldn't hold it in any longer. She burst out laughing.
Trent looked at her, his eyes sparkling. “Well, well, looks like we're not the only ones.”
“Did you recognize them?”
He shook his head. “I wonder why they came to this part of the building?”
She shrugged. “Weird, huh?”
Linking his arms around her waist, he bent to kiss her neck. “Why don't we hit the shower and finish what we started, then go do a little investigating?”
Seffy tried to remain coherent as his touch grew more insistent. “Um...yeah.”
Sometime later, they emerged, freshly scrubbed, and left Trent's room. He took her hand and they walked slowly down the hallway, listening for anything unusual.
She tensed slightly as they neared Addison's room. “Should we check on the others?”
“Let's do it on the way back.”
Seffy's craven soul was privately relieved. She wanted to savor as many days with Trent free from cynosure as possible. She squeezed his hand, grateful to have it a little longer. His answering smile seemed to understand.
As they left the psychiatric section and entered the main residential area, Seffy thought she could hear odd sounds echoing off distant hallways. Usually the compound was so quiet—even unnaturally so—as the residents kept to their rooms or congregated elsewhere. She looked up to get Trent's reading and his narrowed eyes told her he thought something was off, too.
Seffy stopped when she heard the distinct patter of footsteps. “Is that getting closer?”
Trent nudged her toward the wall with his arm, looking around the corner.
Suddenly a girl of about sixteen burst around the turn. Seffy watched in astonishment as she ran past them, barefoot and sobbing.
“Hey, do you need any help?” Trent asked, but she'd already disappeared around another turn.
Seffy tugged on his sleeve. “Trent, look,” she said faintly, pointing to a trail of blood spatters on the dingy linoleum tiles.
His expression darkened, but they continued on. As they neared the cafeteria, they heard a growing din. The sound of glass shattering and muffled blows made them pause.
“Stay behind me.”
Gladly. Seffy took hold of the hem of his shirt and followed him to the door of the cafeteria.
“What do you see?” She peeked around him and saw three men fighting with a frenzied intensity. As fists landed on one, another threw a chair, crashing one of the men in the back. He crumpled to the ground.
“Hey!” Trent entered the area and stood facing them.
The three men paused and turned to stare at him. Blood poured down their faces but it was the demonic look in their eyes that had Seffy grabbing a handful of Trent's shirt and pulling. “Let's go,” she whispered.
He backed up slowly, his hands raised. They hustled away from the cafeteria and got several hallway lengths away before he stopped. As they passed another set of residences they heard voices—some, laughter, some screams—behind the doors.
Trent frowned. “What the hell is going on?”
“Maybe we should check on the others?”
“We're closer to Fenn's quarters now. We won't stay long.”
Seffy held onto Trent's upper arm with two hands as they entered the west wing of the compound. She resented the sick feeling churning in her stomach. Why couldn't a place named for the word 'refuge' behave like it once in a while?
When they turned the corner to where Fiona and Fenn kept rooms, they stopped. Just outside Fiona's residence, a guard sat slumped on the ground.
“Oh no,” Seffy sai
d in a low voice.
Trent approached the form of the guard and pushed on his shoulder. When there was no response, he felt for the man's pulse. He turned to her. “He's cold.”
Before Seffy could react, a sudden pounding made her jump.
“Let me out! Damn you, let me out!”
The frantic pounding continued. She looked at Trent. “It's Fiona.”
He crouched down next to the guard. “His weapon and keys are still on his body. Who would kill him and not take the gun?”
Seffy bunched up her shoulders. “I don't know.” It was hard to think now that Fiona was now body-slamming the door.
Trent took the guard's guns and keys. “I think we better let her out.” After trying several keys while Fiona screamed and cursed, one finally fit and turned the tumblers.
Fiona exploded out the door, her eyes wild with fury, but she stopped when she saw them. Her face broke into a smile. “You!”
Trent and Seffy stared at her appearance—the spiky hair, crazy eyes, and gaunt cheeks. Then at the thin trickles of blood on her arms.
“For once you two do something right. It's about time!” Fiona linked arms with both of them and turned in the direction of Fenn's quarters.
“What's going on?” Trent asked, his tone clipped. “Your guard is dead.”
The diminutive woman laughed suddenly, her eyes bright with some weird light. “Everything's fine now that I'm out! The guard had it coming to him for daring to keep me in that room. I lost track of time. But it might have well as been forever. I want to see Fenn.”
“Fiona,” Seffy said quietly, “why is there blood on your arms?”
The woman stopped, pulled away and looked down at the scratch marks inside her arms. Then she shrugged. “I was itchy.”
Trent looked at Seffy in alarm.
“Fenn's going to be furious that his orders were disobeyed, keeping me under lock and key that way.”
“Actually, Fenn's orders were to keep you under lock and key, Fiona.” Trent watched her reaction, which went from bright to dark.
She frowned, staring at the floor, and began scratching her arms. “He misses me. He needs me.” Suddenly, she bolted down the hall.