by Linda Warren
Emily was fuming, but she tried to see patients, tried to get through her normal routine. By two o’clock, Becca still hadn’t called, so Emily phoned Mrs. Henry again. She said they hadn’t come back and she was worried. She was calling Dylan’s mom because she couldn’t handle him. Emily told her that was a good idea.
At three Emily had had enough. She told Jean she had to leave and that she’d have to take care of the patients. Jean didn’t say anything because she was aware of the turmoil in Emily’s life.
When Emily entered her condo, she stood there for a moment in shock. Pizza boxes and beer cans and other trash were all over the place. The coffee table was overturned. The litter showed there’d been more than two people here today. How many?
Mrs. Henry came up behind her. “Oh, my God, what happened?”
“That’s what I’d like to know,” Emily said. “Looks like someone had a party. Surely you heard something?”
“Just the loud music. Dylan said Becca invited him over. I didn’t know, Dr. Cooper. I’m sorry.”
Emily ran both hands through her hair. “Where do you think they’ve gone?”
Mrs. Henry shrugged. “I have no idea, but Dylan likes beer and bars. That’s why his mom sent him to live with me awhile. He had his driver’s license taken away and was one step away from jail. She thought a change of atmosphere might help.”
Emily let out a long breath. She’d figured Dylan had a past and Becca was no match for someone of that type. She had to find her daughter.
“There have to be a thousand or more bars in Houston,” she muttered under her breath.
“I’ll call his mother.” Mrs. Henry headed out the door. “She might know, and she’s coming to get him ’cause I’m not putting up with this.”
Becca’s Mustang was in the garage, so that meant she was with someone else. But who? And where? Probably with Dylan and his older friends in some bar, drinking. That answer tortured her mind. Becca was way out of her league with these people, who didn’t care anything about her. The boys were only looking for a good time and Becca knew nothing about the kind of games they had in mind.
Fear gripped her—fear for Becca. She sank to the floor, her wobbly legs unable to hold her. Tears welled up in her eyes and she brushed them impatiently away. She’d cried so much in the last weeks that she wasn’t going to cry anymore. She sat there feeling lost and alone.
But she wasn’t alone.
Someone loved Becca as much as she did. Finally she knew what she had to do, what she should’ve done weeks ago. Why had it been so hard before? She crawled on her hands and knees and reached for the phone, pulling it down to her. Her pride, the past, nothing mattered now. She called Jackson. Pride came before a fall, they said. Well, she had fallen and she needed Jackson to pick her up. Oh, she needed him. Becca needed him.
JACKSON WAS LIKE A ZOMBIE as he went through the routine of each day. Colton had practically taken over the running of the company, gaining confidence and establishing good working relationships with their customers. Colton was no longer the man behind the scenes; he was out in front and relishing his new role. Jackson was glad because he was in no condition to concentrate on work. He helped when a major problem arose and tried to bolster Colton’s ego, but other than that, he could have been hundreds of miles away, and he wanted to be—with Emily and Becca.
Becca hadn’t called in two days and he sensed that something was wrong. He tried calling the condo, but there was no answer.
When his private line rang, he immediately picked it up and his heart twisted as he heard her voice. “Jackson, I need you. I can’t do this alone anymore. She’s gone and I don’t know where to look for her. She’s with this wild boy and…” Her words trailed away.
“Where are you?”
“At the condo.”
“Hang on. I’ll get there as fast as I can.”
“Colton,” Jackson shouted, not bothering with the intercom. Colton appeared as if by magic.
“What’s wrong?”
“Call Bart. See if he’s free and can fly me to Houston. I need to get there as fast as I can. Meanwhile, I’ll check with the airlines.”
“Sure thing,” Colton responded, and disappeared into his office without another word.
The airlines didn’t have a flight right away. Jackson slammed the phone down as Colton came back. “You’re in luck. Bart says he was just sitting around wanting something to do.”
“Great,” Jackson said, heading for the door. He ran to his car. He’d waited what seemed like forever for Emily to call him, and now that she had, he wasn’t going to let her down. The pain and despair in her voice got to him, and his insides roiled with fear at what lay ahead.
Fifteen minutes later, he was in the sky on his way to Houston.
Please, Emily. Be patient. I’m coming.
EMILY COLLECTED HERSELF before Mrs. Henry came back. Jackson was coming. She could deal with the situation now.
Mrs. Henry rushed in, waving a piece of paper. “His mother wasn’t sure about the name, but she said his favorite bar was called something like this.” She handed Emily the paper.
She studied the names. Peek a Boob. Peek a Babe. Babes and Boobs. One of these or something similar was written at the bottom. Great, she thought sarcastically. This would be like finding the proverbial needle in a haystack. She grabbed the phone book. There were two clubs with similar names and she jotted down the addresses. These clubs were for older people who favored a risqué lifestyle. Becca didn’t know anything about such places. Emily knew very little herself, but she was certain they weren’t for Becca.
Scribbling the addresses again on a pad, she handed it to Mrs. Henry. “Mr. Talbert is on his way from Dallas. When he arrives, please give him this.”
“Don’t you think you should wait for him?”
“I can’t,” Emily said, running for the door. “I have to find my daughter.”
Emily drove around and around, and she felt as if she was going in circles. She’d never been in this area of Houston and she got lost several times. Finally she located one of the bars. As she walked inside, her skin crawled with revulsion at the dimly lit room, the scantily clad girls and men with leering eyes. But she forced herself to keep looking. She sat a table and scanned all the faces. Becca and Dylan were nowhere in sight. She ordered a beer because she was expected to order something. A man came over and tried to pick her up. She told him she was waiting for her boyfriend and he moved away. Clearly Becca wasn’t here, so she gladly left.
Wondering if Jackson had arrived yet, she phoned her condo before going to the next bar. Mrs. Henry said he hadn’t. Her heart sank, but she told Mrs. Henry where she was so Jackson wouldn’t have to waste time at the first club.
She found the second place easily. She waited a few minutes, gathered her courage and went inside. This dive was worse than the other. It was filthy and full of depraved men screaming catcalls at a topless dancer on a runway in the center of the small room. One man reached up and yanked her bikini bottom and it came off. The men shouted and hooted, and the girl ran from the stage. Emily glanced around, but she didn’t see Becca or Dylan. They weren’t here, either.
She’d just started for the door when someone pushed a young girl onto the runway. She wore a miniskirt and a halter top. Emily froze. It was Becca. A Becca she’d never seen before. Her face was heavily made up and huge earrings dangled from her ears. The skirt barely covered her rear, and the top left little to the imagination.
Becca wrapped her arms around her naked belly and she was visibly trembling. Her eyes were glazed and filled with fear. What had they done to her child? Was she drugged?
A mother’s rage ran through Emily and she pushed men aside to get to Becca. She reached up and pulled her from the runway. Sobs of terror emanated from Becca’s lips and Emily had to drag her bodily to the door. She had one goal—to get her out of here as quickly as possible.
A big man with tattoos down each arm stepped in front of them. “W
hat the hell do you think you’re doin’?” he asked, his voice thick.
“I’m getting my daughter out of here,” she said angrily. “She’s underage, so get out of my way.”
The room suddenly became quiet and the man didn’t move. “I don’t think so, lady. I paid that boy for this girl to dance and she’s gonna dance.”
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Dylan lurking in a corner and she wanted to scratch his eyes out.
“My daughter is not dancing,” she repeated fiercely.
“I’ll refund your money.”
Emily tried to get past him, but he wouldn’t budge. “These good ol’ boys want to see the little girl without her clothes and that’s what they gonna see. Now, you can either leave or enjoy the fun.” He seized Becca’s arm, pulling her toward the runway. Becca made a whimpering sound and Emily went after the man. She grabbed his arm and kicked him in the shin.
“Let go of her!”
The man slapped her hard across the face. Emily tumbled to the floor. The room spun and voices were muted in her head, but she couldn’t lose consciousness. She had to help Becca. She crawled to her knees and the man kicked her in the ribs knocking her backward onto the floor. Pain ripped through her, but she struggled to get up.
“You stupid bitch,” the man growled, and tried to kick her again, but Becca attacked him. She punched him and kicked him, all the while screaming, “Don’t hurt my mother! Don’t hurt my mother!”
Through the pain and horror, Emily heard that one word mother. Becca had called her mother.
The man swung Becca up in the air and laughed at her puny struggles. Emily tried to move. He was not going to harm Becca.
“Put the girl down.” Emily heard the strong voice and thought maybe she’d imagined it. The next words proved she hadn’t.
“Put my daughter down,” Jackson repeated. He saw Emily lying on the dirty floor, so still, and his heart split open in pain. Was he too late? Oh, God, he prayed he wasn’t too late. He wanted to run to her, but he couldn’t. The man held Becca and he had to free her. He was torn between his daughter and Emily, and in that instant he knew just how Emily had felt weeks ago. Becca had to be their top priority. For the first time he understood instinctively what it was like to be a father—loving unselfishly without regard for personal feelings.
“The girl’s gonna dance,” the man sneered.
“On your grave,” Jackson spit out.
“Says who?”
“I say, and so does the Houston police department who are right behind me. So if any of you don’t want to spend time in jail, I suggest you get the hell out of here.”
People scurried from the room, and the big man released Becca just as the police burst through the door.
Jackson and Becca dropped down beside Emily at the same time. “Emily,” Jackson cried, lifting her head.
She moaned and he let out a grateful sigh. She was alive. Now he had to get them out of this dreadful place.
“That man slapped and kicked her,” Becca said. “I think he hurt her. Em, are you okay? Please be okay.”
Becca was calling her Em again. That was worth all the pain. Becca wasn’t mad at her anymore. Emily could tell by her tone.
When she didn’t respond, Jackson got to his feet. “I’d better get an ambulance.”
“No,” Emily shouted, then winced. Jackson was immediately at her side again. “Take me home. Please, take Becca and me home.”
He gathered her into his arms and did just that.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
JACKSON DROVE EMILY’S CAR back to the condo. She didn’t know how he’d gotten here so fast and she didn’t have the breath to ask. She was just grateful, so grateful. She couldn’t bear to think what would have happened if he hadn’t appeared.
When they got to the condo, Jackson wanted to carry her inside, but she refused. She walked gingerly into the living room and sat carefully on the sofa. Becca hovered beside her. They hadn’t spoken much on the way home. Jackson was angry, Becca was upset, and she was hurting like hell. She probably had a cracked rib. She’d get it x-rayed later. Right now, she needed to talk to Jackson and Becca. She had to find out if those men had drugged Becca, but this time her concern for Becca would not overshadow her deep love for Jackson. She had to tell him how wrong she’d been, but that scowl on his handsome face stopped her.
“What the hell happened here?” Jackson asked, glancing around at the trashed living room.
Becca hung her head.
“I’ll explain later.” Emily looked at Becca. “I—”
“No,” Jackson interrupted. He had reached his limit. They weren’t going to mollycoddle Becca anymore. She needed a strong hand, and right now Jackson was in a mood to give her one. His eyes fastened on her. “Go upstairs. Get out of those clothes and wipe that stuff off your face. I want you back down here in ten minutes, then you’re going to clean this place up and do some heavy-duty apologizing and mean every word of it.”
“Yes, sir,” Becca replied, and ran for the stairs.
“Jackson,” Emily appealed, not wanting him to be so angry with Becca.
“No, Emily.” Jackson held up a hand. “I’ve let you handle her for weeks and it hasn’t worked. Now we’re going to do it my way. She’s out of control and she’s hurting you. I’m not standing for that.”
She knew he was right—and, oh, it felt so good to have him help her with Becca. “Don’t be too hard on her,” she said. “I think she might’ve been drugged or it could have been fear. I’m not sure, but we need to find out.”
“You’re damn right we will,” he snapped. “I’ll inform the police.”
“No,” Emily said as he reached for the phone. “Why don’t we talk to her first?”
The word we worked wonders. Emily was including him. On the phone she’d said she needed him and couldn’t handle Becca alone anymore. He hoped that meant exactly what it implied—that they would now raise their daughter together. Even when he’d been so upset with her, he’d never stopped loving her. But he had to know how she felt.
She patted the spot beside her; even that small movement seemed to hurt “Come sit with me,” she whispered. “I have to say something to you.”
That look in her eyes sent his libido into overdrive and he knew he’d do anything she asked, so he had to keep his distance. He couldn’t give in to her—not this time.
As he hesitated, she asked, “Don’t you want to sit by me?”
“More than you’ll ever know,” he admitted openly. “But if I get near you, you’ll talk me into changing my mind about Becca and I can’t do that. We have to be firm with her.”
“This isn’t about Becca. It’s about you and me.”
“Oh,” he murmured guardedly.
“If you won’t come over here, I can still talk.” She paused. “I was wrong in asking you for time. Becca and I didn’t need time alone. What we needed was time together. Time as a family, all three of us. I can see that now. I’m sorry if I hurt you, but I was as confused and mixed up as Becca.” She paused again. “I’ve missed you so much. Please don’t stand there forever.”
Jackson didn’t move. He stared into her dark eyes, seeing the future and everything else he wanted to see, but he had to be sure. “I can’t,” he said quietly. “I can’t hold you and kiss you and then leave. I can’t go through that again. The last time almost killed me.”
Her eyes didn’t waver from his. “I love you. I’ve loved you since I was seventeen and I’ll never ask you to leave again. That’s my promise to you.”
Jackson’s heart jolted at her sincerity. It was exactly what he needed to hear, but still he hesitated.
“Jackson…”
He raked both hands through his hair. “I have to know if you forgive me for not coming back all those years ago.”
Her eyes still held his. “Yes, I forgive you,” she replied, and she knew it was the truth.
He had to restrain himself. “Then you want the same thing I want—love,
family, a future.”
“Yes.” She smiled. “I want that, too.”
“Emily…” He was by her side in an instant and gazing into her warm, dark eyes. He drew back when he saw the side of her face. “My God, what did that man do to you?”
“Why? Is my face turning blue?”
“Yes,” he answered honestly. “Let me take you to the emergency room.”
“No, I’m just bruised. Nothing’s broken. Maybe a cracked rib—I’ll tape it later. Just kiss me. That’s all I need right now.”
Ever so gently he kissed her swollen cheek.
She leaned into the kiss, needing his touch, his caress, more than she needed anything. She turned her head and their lips met, softly, sweetly, then it became a kiss that swept them away with burning need. “Oh, Emily,” he breathed against her lips. “How did everything go so wrong when we feel like this?”
“I don’t know, but I hope it’s something we can fix.” She ran a hand through his hair, loving the texture of it.
“We sure can, and we begin when Becca comes down. We have to be stern with her and we have to be in agreement on that.”
“I know.”
They heard a door slam upstairs.
“Let me do the talking,” he murmured.
“Okay,” she said simply.
Jackson gave her a quick kiss and got to his feet. As soon as Becca entered the room, she began to pick up pizza boxes and beer cans. She wore jeans and a T-shirt and she looked more like the Becca Emily loved. Jackson helped her. When they’d finished, he pointed to the sofa. “Sit by your mother. I have a few things to say.”
Becca meekly sat beside Emily.
“What possessed you to go to that place?” Jackson asked with as much calm as he could muster.
Becca shrugged her shoulders. “Dylan called and said he was bored and he wanted me to stay home and hang out with him today. I said I couldn’t. I had to go to work. He started calling me names like staid and Goody Two-shoes and I said I could have fun like anyone else. He came over and we listened to CDs and he called some friends. They brought beer and pizza. I didn’t know they were going to do that. The girls said I needed a makeover and they did my face and lent me some of their clothes. Then the guys decided to go out and we went from bar to bar. I was scared, and I wanted to come home, but they laughed at me.” She stopped for a second. “Finally we ran out of money and one guy said he knew how to get some fast cash and have fun at the same time. Dylan said to do what I was told and I’d better not make a fool out of him or he’d…he’d hurt me.”