by Livia Grant
“Tell me again, why are you being punished, Traci?”
When she doesn’t answer, he delivers a fast volley of a half dozen swats before stopping, waiting for her response. He patiently waits for her crying to diminish to demand her reply again. He’s surprised at the defiance that’s returned to her voice. “Because you’re being a big jerk, that’s why. I can’t believe you’re spanking me, Troy! I mean really spanking me. It hurts!”
Troy swoops in quick to squelch the attitude with both words and the unforgiving brush. “Damn straight it hurts. It’s supposed to. More importantly, you need it to hurt because the next time you get the bright idea to drink and drive or pick up strangers in a bar, I want you to remember this night and think twice, do you hear me?” He hasn’t let up one bit through his entire rant. If anything, he has bumped up the force he is using, and her sobs have returned. He wants her to learn her lesson. “Tell me, Trace. Do I have your attention now? Are you listening?”
“Yes! I’m listening. Please stop! I’ll be good, I promise.”
“Honey, you’re already good. You just made a couple bad choices is all. You are still the beautiful, intelligent sister that I love more than anyone else on this planet.”
“Troy, if you love me, you’ll stop. It’s too much!” She continues to struggle to free herself from his restraint.
Troy delivers a final dozen with the brush, before stopping. He throws the brush the few feet over to the love seat. To her credit, she stays in position as she lays there, vulnerably recovering. There’s one final important safety rule she’d broken tonight and he decides to add it to his lecture, hoping he can end the spanking.
“Okay, next topic. I tried to text you and phone you at least a half dozen times tonight. Why didn’t you answer me? If you had, you’d have known I was here waiting for you. If you had answered, you could have asked me to come get you so you didn’t have to drive. So many problems could have been solved. Where was your phone?”
Crickets.
“Trace?”
She doesn’t answer the question, but instead tries to wiggle away from him. “Can you move your arm so I can stand up now?”
“Watch your tone and no, you may not stand. I like you in this position so if I don’t like your answers, it will be easy to start round two.”
“Oh come on. You have to be kidding me.” When he continues to subdue her against the stool, she finally stops pressing up and answers with an attitude. “How was I supposed to know you would be calling me?”
“Well, for starters, have I ever not called you on your birthday?”
“Well, no, but…”
“Tell me. Where was your phone?”
“I left it in my car, okay? The battery was about dead anyway. I don’t have a car charger and I wanted to save what little battery I had for the drive home, but…”
“But, what?”
She is trying to stand up again, but he doesn’t allow it. Her precarious position obviously has not convinced her to check her sassy attitude. “It was dead when I got back out to my car. It didn’t matter anyway since Ronnie was following me home.”
“Let me get this straight. You were not only driving after drinking alcohol on snowy and icy roads, but you were doing it without a cell phone? For Christ’s sake, it’s like you’ve lost your ever-loving mind.”
“It was fine. I didn’t hurt anyone!”
“This time. Traci, you could have killed yourself. Scratch that, how would you feel if you had hurt someone else? I know you. You could never live with your guilt. It would ruin your life.”
“My life is already ruined. I’m a thirty year old spinster!”
He would smile more at her melodramatic over-reaction if he didn’t know how upset she was. He’d hoped the spanking would relieve her of her guilt, but he’d stopped too soon. “I’m sorry Traci, but we aren’t done yet. From now on, you need to have your cell phone with you when you’re out driving. No exceptions. Keep it charged and ready for emergencies.”
“Fine. I promise I’ll keep my phone with me, but seriously, Troy. I’m done.”
“That’s not how this works, and you know it. I can hear it in your voice. You haven’t learned anything, except that you remembered just how much you didn’t like Mom’s brush. Well, I’m about to reintroduce you to how much you hate the belt.”
Her anguished sob confirms he is on the right track. “Oh please, not that. I promise it’ll never happen again.”
“I’m sure it won’t after this lesson. Now stay in position.”
Troy releases her long enough to step back. He unbuttons the cuffs of his dress shirt, rolling up the sleeves several layers before reaching for the buckle of his two-inch wide leather belt. The sound of the leather sliding through the hoops of his trousers sends a visible shudder through Traci. Her crying is getting stronger at just the promise of the belt on her bottom. Doubling over the leather to fashion it into a sturdy strap, Troy measures the length and adjusts his stance to line up.
Troy takes a deep breath before proceeding. The crack of the leather whipping his sister’s backside startles him. There’s a loud clap followed by a split second of silence before Traci’s anguished cry confirms he’s getting through to her. Before he can lose his nerve, he delivers two more solid belt strappings, one above and one below the first stripe.
He recognizes she’s finally surrendering to her punishment. Her cries have changed, from angry disbelief to truly repentant wails of regret. For several long minutes, he continues with the final stage of her punishment at a slow and steady pace. Each slap of leather helping his sister to finally purge the guilt and anger she’d been carrying since her arrival home tonight.
His arm is pulled back, ready to deliver his final stroke when a loud bang crashes into the space followed by a gust of freezing cold air, carrying in snow. Before he can turn around to see the source of the commotion, Troy is tackled from behind. His first thought is Ronnie has returned, but he quickly dismisses that idea when he not only remains on his feet, but is able to carry the weight of the intruder easily on his back. Cold, wet, snow-covered jeans circle his waist from behind, legs hooking together in front, while one damp arm wraps around his neck as if to strangle him and a second arm begins punching him on his right shoulder.
A hoarse shout directly into his eardrum comes next. “Stop beating her, you asshole!” It’s the strained voice of a young woman.
Troy is momentarily confused by the strange intrusion into his sister’s living room. Traci has righted herself, letting her long flannel gown cover her, while turning to check out the brouhaha first hand. The look on his sister’s tear-stained face tells Troy she’s as confused at what’s happening as he is.
The attack from the waif of a woman on his back seems to be running out of steam. Dropping the belt, he easily pries her wrapped legs free and grabs her flailing, snowy arms. He turns to face his attacker, surprised when he has to look down nearly a foot to take in the ragamuffin standing in front of him. It looks like the only warm thing on her is the fire he sees burning from her deep, green eyes. They are strangely mesmerizing, yet he pulls his attention away to assess the rest of her, trying to piece together who she is.
Nothing he sees is adding up. Every inch of the woman is covered in heavy, wet snow. The coat she’s wearing is suited more for a cool fall evening than a Colorado winter’s night. The high-heeled boots, he suspects the only thing responsible for her topping the five foot mark, look more like they should be on a dance floor than hiking through snow. The gloves on her hands are the thin, one-size-fits-all variety you pick up for a dollar in the checkout lane at Wal-mart.
Troy sees her body is paying the price for her ridiculous choice of clothing. He has no idea how long she’s been out in the elements, but every exposed inch of her skin is an angry, wind-blown red. Her long sandy blonde hair, matting to her head like a helmet, is dripping wet as the snow melts onto Traci’s floor. When his perusal returns to her face, he can see the angry br
uised knot jutting from her forehead where it looks as if she’s recently banged her head. Troy thinks he sees a hint of an older, yellowing bruise peeking out on her otherwise wind-whipped cheekbone.
By the time his inspection returns to her eyes, he can see the fire that had been there just a minute before has extinguished, leaving pain and fear in its wake. The three of them had stood frozen in place, taking stock of the strange moment. Troy is quick to notice their trespasser has started to visibly shake, from cold or fear, he’s not sure. He takes a step closer, reaching out to stabilize her.
“Stay away from me!” She takes a tentative step backwards, wobbling on her heels.
Troy speaks softly, trying to keep things calm. “Traci, why don’t you close the door? I think we’ve let enough snow in for the night.”
From his peripheral view, he can see his sister tentatively moving around them to go and secure the door before returning to the middle of the room, stepping up behind the woman dripping onto the carpet, placing her between the two siblings.
“You look cold. Why don’t you let us help you get dried off and warmed up?” Traci’s voice is calm. Troy recognizes her therapist tone of voice and is proud of his sister that she can shift gears from punished sister to assertive psychologist in the space of a few seconds.
Their uninvited guest refuses to take her eyes off Troy, but answers his sister. “I can’t believe you aren’t calling the police. I’ll keep an eye on him while you call.”
Traci and Troy’s eyes meet over her head before Traci calmly asks, “Why would you think we should call the police? Are you just breaking in so you can get arrested?”
The girl’s anger flares again. “No! Don’t call them for me. You need to call and report him. He was attacking you. He needs to pay.”
Recognition flashes in Traci’s eyes. “You have it all wrong. He wasn’t hurting me; he was helping me.”
The confusion in the intruder’s eyes is easy to see as she answers Traci. “He just has you brain washed. I know a little bit about this. You don’t need to put up with his abuse. You can leave, you know?” Her voice is losing much of its earlier passion. Troy suspects her adrenalin rush has been spent. Just as he has the thought, he sees her eyes glazing over. She’s beginning to sway and he fears she’s about to topple over.
Troy has no clue what brings this young woman to Traci’s at this hour of the night, but his heart goes out to her. Anyone can see she’s in need of help. “Please, miss. Let us help you get warmed up and then we can talk about everything.”
Troy has barely finished his sentence when her eyes close just before she begins to crumble to the floor. He swoops in to scoop her up into his arms just in time to prevent her face-planting onto the carpet. Even with the wet, heavy snow covering every inch of her, she is still light in his arms. He cradles her close in an attempt to share his body heat. Her eyes flutter open briefly as he looks down at her. He barely catches her whisper. “Please… don’t hurt me, too.”
His heart breaks for her because in that moment he knows why she had burst in tonight. Some bastard has hurt her before. Her eyes are closed again and he has no idea if she can still hear him. Regardless, he makes her a promise. “Don’t worry, little one. No one is going to hurt you ever again.”
Troy’s not exactly sure how he’s going to deliver on that promise, but in that moment, he somehow knows it’s true.
Chapter Three
“I’m on the fence here. She is definitely feeling the effects of hypothermia. I’m confident we can deal with that here. It’s the bump to her head I’m concerned with. I’d like to get a CAT scan to make sure she isn’t suffering a more serious head trauma.”
Hallie is slowly becoming aware of her surroundings. She doesn’t recognize the deep voice speaking at all and is disoriented. She thinks about opening her eyes, but just the light coming in through her closed lids hurts.
“Can we just assume she has a concussion and treat her accordingly? I checked her pupils before you got here and I don’t think her concussion is too serious.” Hallie recognizes that voice. It takes her a second to remember, but she’s pretty sure that’s the abused woman she had tried to save talking. Memories of her accident and walk through the elements return with a vengeance.
“I agree, but it would be nice if we could talk to her and get information on what happened. Do we know who she is yet or how she got here?” The deep voice of the stranger sounds concerned, but calm.
Letting their conversation fade away, Hallie takes stock of how she feels. Her head is still throbbing, but she feels warmer. The soft bed she is bundled up in feels like a slice of heaven after sleeping in her borrowed car for the last few days. Most importantly, she feels dry, a sensation she wasn’t sure she’d ever feel again as she was walking through the deep snow.
‘I wonder how long I’ve been here?’
The voice of the abusive asshole jars her back to the present. “I looked through the pockets of her coat and jeans. I didn’t find any hints to her identity. She didn’t have anything else on her when she burst into the room.”
Hallie panics at the thought of that man searching her. Confirming her fears, her fingers touch the dry, flannel top she seems to be wearing, meaning someone had stripped her out of her wet clothes. Equal parts of relief to be rid of her wet clothes and anger at being stripped without her permission invade. Temporarily at least, relief at being warm wins out.
The concerned voice of the only other woman in the room asks a disturbing question “Marcus, any idea of how old the bruises we found on her arms and neck are? It might give us a hint of how she ended up here and who’s responsible for hurting her.” Hallie’s heart rate spikes at the thought of these people not only inspecting her naked body while she had been unconscious, but worse, them finding proof of her own failed relationship with Eddie.
“What the hell are you talking about? Traci, you didn’t tell me you found bruises on her? I thought you said Corbin’s Bend was a safe DD community. I want to know who the hell hurt her here. They need to be booted out.” Abuser-guy seems so angry, which only frightens Hallie more. The irony is thick that he seems angry about Eddie beating her considering he was caught red-handed hurting his own wife.
“Troy, calm down. Marcus and I have never seen her before so I highly doubt she is from Corbin’s Bend. My guess is she was just passing through or something. Anyway, the bruises appear to be a few days old so she probably got them before she got to town.”
Troy, Traci and Marcus. She is one up on them since she now knows their names, but they still haven’t figured out her’s. Hallie is a bit perplexed. She’s sure she had her purse with her when she left the car and walked into town. She tries to remember what happened to her purse, but her memory seems sluggish.
The nice lady is talking again. “I have her wrapped in an electric blanket. The heat’s on low, but it should start to level out her core temp soon.”
“That’s good, but I’m still not sure we shouldn’t call for the helicopter and take her into Denver to have her admitted. I’m pretty sure she’s dehydrated. We need to push some fluids. I’d also like to do that CAT scan.”
“I really don’t want to move her. The storm is still raging. I’d feel better keeping her safe here where I… we… can keep an eye on her.” Hallie is surprised that the man of the house she’d attacked isn’t trying to get rid of her. What could his motive be for wanting to keep her here? Alarm bells are going off and it’s getting harder to lay quietly while they talk around her.
The woman, Traci, makes the final decision, something that surprises Hallie. In her experience, when Eddie is in his caveman mentality, she’s learned to keep her opinions to herself. “Marcus, I know you want to take her in, but I’m with Troy on this one. Let’s keep her here at my place. Can you just go pick up the supplies to start an IV to push her some fluids and something for her pain? Troy and I can keep an eye on her and honestly, when she wakes up, I’m the best person to talk with her. I thin
k I’ll be able to help her.”
Hallie can hear the uncertainty in Marcus’ voice. “I guess I can go along with that since it is 1:00 a.m. Let’s get through the night and we can reassess in the morning. Are you going to stay up with her, Traci?”
“No. Traci needs to get some sleep. I’ll stay with her tonight. I’ll sleep in the armchair in the corner. I’ll sound the alarm if anything changes.”
There is no way in hell Hallie is going to be left alone with the jerk named Troy. She needs to get to Aunt Gina. Just as she decides to open her eyes she feels the prick of a needle in her arm. Within a minute she is feeling so drowsy, all thoughts of seeing her aunt tonight fade to black.
* * * * *
“Come on in. You must be Brent Carmichael. Sorry to drag you out in the weather at this hour, but Traci convinced me this is the kind of thing you’d want to know about right away.” Troy is not used to having to look up at many people, but as the President of the Corbin’s Bend Housing Board arrives just after 1:30am, Troy has to look up to meet the grey eyes of the blond man.
Brent doesn’t look angry, but concerned, as he takes off his snow-covered coat and boots before turning to Troy to shake hands. “Hey. Sorry to see you again under these conditions, Troy.” When Troy stands there confused, Brent smiles. “It’s okay. You met at least a hundred people last summer at the town picnic. I only had to remember one new person. You had a lot of people to meet. I know Traci must be happy to have you here again for another visit.”
Troy displays a doubtful smile. “Well, I’m not entirely sure about that, but I know I’m glad I’m here.” Brent looks confused at his comment. Troy deflects. “It’s nothing important. Come on in. We’ll get you up to speed.”
Just as they get to the kitchen island, Traci makes an appearance in jeans and a sweatshirt. She had decided if they were going to be having guests, she’d rather be dressed. To anyone else, she looks exactly like the Traci they all know, but Troy can sense the tension between the two of them from having gone through a rather strange evening together.