“What can I get you, sugar,” a sickly-sweet voice asked her.
Glancing up, she found a woman in her late forties with her hair piled on top of her head in a haphazard bun looking down at her. She was wearing a blue and white uniform that read ‘Rosey’s’. The woman’s eyes clouded when she took in the bruises and her smile turned into a slight frown. Phoebe jerked her eyes away from the woman and stared at the menu. She wanted to sink down into the seat and never come up. It was so damned annoying that everyone could still see the proof of her shame. Why had she stayed with Johnny for so long?
“Just a coke, I need more time to decide,” Phoebe said curtly.
Her waitress huffed a little, but she just muttered sure and went away. Phoebe wished that her life had been different for the thousandth time as she decided that a burger was too heavy. Eggs, bacon, and toast were a better choice, although the coke wasn’t a great idea because of the caffeine. The book had said caffeine was bad for expectant mothers, but she had a serious addiction to the stuff. It was almost as bad as some people’s addiction to coffee was. She would attempt to only drink one a day.
Her waitress came back with the coke and after setting it down in front of her, she took Phoebe’s order before disappearing again. Phoebe leaned forward, allowing her hair to hang in her face as took a sip of her drink. She didn’t want anyone to see the bruises on her neck because the questions were always the same. Just yesterday a very bold woman had snarled at her to leave the bastard. Then she’d proceeded to complain rather loudly to her friend how women today were stupid because they stayed with men who beat them while insisting that they loved them obsessively. Phoebe hadn’t wanted to share with the woman the news that she wasn’t with Johnny anymore. It was none of the woman’s damned business.
Most people didn’t have the strength of mind to leave their abusers and it had been a hard lesson. When she evaluated what she was going through by staying with her abusive husband, she’d wondered why she’d stayed as long as she had. At first, she hadn’t understood why she was still with Johnny. It had taken much soul searching to discover the reasons why. The biggest one had been fear of the unknown.
The second had been where she’d go or who she’d have to help her. He’d somehow managed to remove all the people who might have offered her support from her life over the past few years. He’d convinced her before things got bad that he was the only person she needed. Several of the counselors had worked with her to overcome the fear that she wouldn’t be able to take care of herself without Johnny. The last fear was that he’d find out or track her down and things would be worse. Even with the thousands of miles she’d put between them she was scared to death that Johnny would find her and force her to come back. Or worse, kill her.
Johnny had been persuasive—charming even—when he manipulated her for the first two years. After he’d hit her the first time, she’d told him she was leaving. He’d lied and said he would get help. She had believed him at first. She’d let him trick her. He’d taught her to depend on him and she’d given him another chance—several chances. Was it dumb of her to have believed him? Sure, but it was a case of the devil you know versus the one she’d have to face without him. Not that she would ever go back to Johnny willingly.
It annoyed her that women and men who’d never been in her situation thought they knew all about it. All about what she’d suffered and dealt with on a daily basis. How they thought they knew how weak and insignificant she was for letting him convince her to stay. It was laughable. They had no idea and shouldn’t judge her.
She looked up to see the server coming back towards her with her food. As the woman set the orange juice and the two slices of toast with eggs that she’d ordered in front of her, she felt her stomach rumble. She picked up the slice of toast, applying a liberal amount of apple jam before taking a bite. Pleased when her stomach didn’t revolt, she sprinkled pepper on her eggs and scooped some up. Gosh, those were good. She didn’t know if it was that they were cooked really well or that she’d just been that hungry.
Lifting the glass of orange juice, she took a sip while checking the sidewalk outside. She couldn’t admit to herself that she was being paranoid. She couldn’t seem to stop herself from constantly watching for Johnny. Phoebe knew that fear wasn’t something you could reason with, it just was. It didn’t matter that the likelihood of him finding her was slim—she was still afraid.
Turning from the window, she gazed around the diner again seeing the handsome guy she’d seen when she’d walked in watching her. He was absently handing a napkin to his daughter while he watched Phoebe intently. Phoebe shifted nervously in her seat, her hands clutching the ends of her sweater, pulling them down over her arms. She didn’t like him watching her; it was really starting to freak her out.
She was grateful when his daughter said something that distracted him and he stopped staring at her. She found herself gazing out the window again. There was a hotel across the street, and she found herself wondering again if she should just get a room and sleep.
“You need anything, sugar?” the server asked, smiling at her.
“Maybe just some more juice,” Phoebe said.
“Sure, hon. Do you want the check too?”
“Yeah, thanks.”
Phoebe couldn’t stop thinking about the hotel and the idea of a good long nap took form in her mind. Spending some of her money on a room seemed like a bad idea. She needed to save as much as she could because she didn’t want to have to find a job immediately once she got where she was going. Having the baby to think of was another concern too. She was tired and the book had said sleeping when she was tired was good for the baby and less likely to stress her.
The waitress brought her second glass of juice which she sipped while she debated the pros and cons of getting a room. She was tired and she couldn’t sleep well on the bus. A few hours of undisturbed sleep won out and she decided to get a room.
Phoebe lifted her glass, drinking the last of the orange juice, and found herself thinking about the last time she’d had sex with Johnny. It was odd that she thought about it while deciding to get a room for the night. They’d had a weekly date night and it had been a particularly good night. She’d had a few glasses of wine and he hadn’t hurt her in a few days. She snorted; it was sad that him not being violent for a few days had made her feel sex with him was a good idea. Thankfully he’d never actually violently raped her, but with his escalating violence if she had ever said no, she was sure it would have happened. That night was the last time they’d had sex and she’d guess she was likely between nine and ten weeks along.
Thinking about how little they’d had sex in the past year, she realized that Johnny had likely been cheating on her. She cringed a little and wondered if she should get STD testing when she finally found a doctor. Who knew who he was sleeping with while hopped up on drugs or if he even bothered to use a condom? It was nerve racking to think about it and she felt queasy. Phoebe felt her cheeks heat; it would be embarrassing to tell a new doctor about the possibility that the bastard had been cheating on her. Phoebe realized that she’d have to have invasive testing that would likely cost a fortune.
Shit, could she even afford the testing for STD’s? Damn, she’d have to get a job quickly instead of waiting like she’d planned because she needed insurance. There were too many things to worry about even without the baby, but with it problems were quickly adding up. Not that she would change anything. No, she could do this. She had left Johnny and that was most of the battle; everything else would work itself out. She wouldn’t stress. Even as she thought it, she felt her stomach twist again.
Despite this baby being unexpected she needed to keep it together. She reached down to grab her bag from the floor and dug out her money pouch which she tried to hide inside the bag as she removed a few twenties for the bill. Phoebe glanced around, hoping no one was looking. She didn’t want anyone to know she had about five thousand dollars in her duffle. Someone being aware of
that was a good way for her to get mugged. The server came over to take the check and asked if she needed anything else. Phoebe shook her head and handed her the little black tray with one of the twenties on it.
She sat back waiting on the change. No way was she giving the woman a nine dollar tip—three maybe, but nine was too much on her shoestring budget. She zipped her bag back up and her eyes were again caught by the guy and his daughter. She saw him frown darkly at the little girl and wondered if he was like Johnny. Would he hurt his daughter like Johnny had hurt her? No, she wouldn’t think like that. She wasn’t going to see darkness around every corner. He was likely a great dad. He probably took her to the mall to buy things and spoiled her with ice cream. If only Johnny hadn’t been such an asshole. They could have raised this baby together and been a happy little family. Only that wasn’t meant to be. She just hoped that she could give her child the life he or she deserved. Too bad the baby’s father was already a deadbeat.
The waitress handed over her change and she quickly left the tip before picking up her bag and heading out the door. Phoebe had just walked outside when she tripped on her shoe laces and nearly fell. She managed to catch herself and moved to sit on a bench which was up against the building. She set her bag down next to the bench and her hands began pulling at the laces as she fixed her shoe. That was when the person struck, jerking her bag up and running away.
“Hey!” she shrieked.
Phoebe started to chase after him when a stern male voice yelled out for the guy to stop and a hard body took off past her.
Chapter Seven
Peanut wiped a bit of ketchup from beneath Jazzy’s chin. He glanced up when the door opened and his eyes were drawn to the slender figure that entered. She was wrapped in a thick sweater. He frowned, wondering why she’d be wearing such a heavy sweater in the middle of summer. It seemed odd since it was in the seventies outside. He scrutinized the tiny blonde, watching as she slid into a booth near the front window. She scanned the street before letting her bag go, reminding him of a skittish cat making sure it was safe.
She turned to survey the room and that’s when he noted the bruises on her neck. He inspected her as her shadowed eyes bounced around the diner never settling for too long. A scowl darkened his face as he noted how the bruises marred her pale pink complexion. Peanut didn’t like the stark contrast those marks made on her soft-looking skin. She’d obviously tried to cover them, but the concealer wasn’t hiding them well.
Memories surfaced, leaving his jaw clenched and his teeth aching. Peanut didn’t want to think about the past—or Melony. Thoughts of her and what had happened always left him angry and out of sorts. He could remember finding new bruises on Melony. Each time he’d felt a murderous rage threaten to take him over. The Redfins had moved in next door to him and his mom when he was eleven, which meant he’d seen them more than he’d liked to. Every time he thought things were okay, another bruise’s arrival had reminded him that it wasn’t true. He remembered how she’d tried to tell him that they didn’t matter or that they hadn’t hurt. How she’d hidden them with make-up and long sleeves just like the blonde. His hands curled around the napkin and he found himself staring hard at the woman across the diner. He absently answered Jazzy when she spoke, but his brain was too focused on the past for him to really pay attention.
He’d only been seventeen when he’d ended up in prison. Peanut shifted in his seat thinking of that night and the assault on Melony that had led to his arrest. Remembering how furious he’d been made his chest ache. By that time Melony was staying at his house more than her own.
When they were young, he hadn’t understood at first that there was a reason for all the injuries she showed up with. He hadn’t realized where those marks were coming from until they were thirteen. That was the night he’d seen Daniel Redfin beat her for getting home late. They’d gone to a high school party with some of their friends and he’d helped her sneak back into her room. Melony had been laughing when her father banged on the door. She’d stilled and her eyes had widened before she’d shoved him in the closet.
He thought she’d get grounded like he sometimes did. He hadn’t thought that he’d be in that closet watching her father beat her so bad she could barely walk the next day. Peanut could still remember the shock that had held him silent and stiff inside the tiny closet. He wasn’t proud that he’d stayed put and watched it happen, and his only excuse was he’d been a kid. He hadn’t really understood that type of violence back then.
After that night he’d tried to get her to tell someone, but she’d told him it wouldn’t help. He hadn’t known at the time, but she’d reported it when she was younger, and it had only left her in foster care. Melony had insisted when they talked about her not telling the police that foster care was worse, although she’d never explained why. Her eyes had been haunted and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know why or not. For years she had tried to brush it off, telling him it wasn’t a big deal, but he’d known better. He still wished every day that Mrs. Tate hadn’t called the police after hearing the fight break out between him and Redfin. If the cops had only been five minutes later to the scene, he would have killed the bastard.
Of course, he would have done a hell of a lot more time inside for that, but he didn’t really give a fuck. Even after serving time, Peanut wasn’t a bit sorry that he’d beat the hell out of Daniel. That son of a bitch had deserved every blow he’d received. More than that, he deserved to die for killing Melony. Peanut had stood in that courtroom and told the judge that he wasn’t sorry and he’d damned well meant it. Since he’d been only a few months shy of his eighteenth birthday the night Redfin beat Melony to death, they’d tried him as an adult. His assault on Redfin had been brutal and he hadn’t been repentant, so despite the circumstances they’d thrown the book at him.
He’d never understand how anyone could be okay with a system that didn’t protect those who couldn’t protect themselves. He just didn’t fucking get it. Peanut consoled himself with the fact that he’d put the man in a wheelchair. He’d caused enough brain damage that the man was catatonic and eating from a feeding tube. Daniel Redfin would never get to beat anyone ever again.
He’d never regretted what he’d done that night. It hadn’t saved Melony, but it had made her father unable to ever hurt anyone again. He could still remember walking into the unlocked house and seeing her crumpled on the floor while her father kicked her in the ribs. He’d lost it and attacked the older man. His first punch sent him crashing into the table, destroying a chair in the process. Peanut had a feeling that the judge might have been more lenient if he hadn’t used pieces of the chair to try and break that bastard’s head. The repeated blows were the reason for the brain damage. To Peanut, the injuries that he’d caused were worth every year he’d spent in prison. His only regret was not finishing the job.
They’d given him seven years and he’d served five before getting out for good behavior. Those five years in prison had led him right where he needed to be. That’s where he’d met Hemp who’d been serving out a possession charge at the time. They’d become friends during their incarceration and when he’d gotten out Hemp had introduced him to the club. Hemp had been a prospect who’d gotten caught while out on a bad run. Luckily it was his first charge and he’d only gotten two years with a year of probation.
Meeting Hemp had given Peanut direction. He’d learned what it meant to be a part of a family. How life could be good despite his not so great history. He’d lost his mom the first year he was in prison. She’d gotten sick with a bad case of pneumonia and she’d died less than a month later. If he hadn’t met Hemp, he likely would have spent the rest of his life drifting in and out of the system. He’d been a ship without a rudder and having the club had saved him from that life. He had worked his way up to a patched member by the time he was twenty-five and was proud of that achievement. He was damned glad that life had led him in the direction it had eleven years ago. Otherwise he wouldn’t have his sweet
little angel or his brothers.
“Dad, you’re not paying attention,” Jazzy grumbled, bringing his attention back to her.
“Sorry, Jazzy. I was just thinking for a minute,” Peanut apologized.
“I was asking when can I get my bangs cut? Can we go today?” she begged looking at him with those cute as hell puppy dog eyes. Peanut felt a smile tug at the corner of his lips and he wondered if there would ever be a time when he didn’t want to give her everything she asked for. He wouldn’t do it of course, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want to. She was his little girl and he wanted to give her the world on a silver platter.
“Not today, Jazzy. We have to get back to the house. I have to go over to help Uncle Viking handle something this afternoon. I can ask Star if she can make an appointment for next week,” Peanut said.
Jasmine looked disappointed but she nodded. “Okay,” she agreed before her eyes lit up and she smiled. “Maybe we can get our nails done again like last time!”
“Maybe, but that’s up to Aunt Star. She might not have time to do both. You might also have the boys with you if she can’t get someone to keep them,” Peanut warned before finishing off his burger.
“Boys ruin everything,” Jasmine complained, her arms crossed and her little lip stuck out in an exaggerated pout.
“It’s true, they most certainly do,” Peanut replied dryly. He couldn’t help thinking of teenage boys and their hormones. He really wasn’t ready for that and the longer she thought that boys were bad news the better.
Saved by the Devil (Devils Arms Book 3) Page 5