by Lori Foster
“With you?”
She shook her head. “He didn’t want to share...me.”
CHAPTER NINE
AN AWFUL EXPRESSION fell over Denver’s face. She’d seen him fight, but she’d never been up close when he went into battle mode—as he did now. He looked ruthless. The hardness in his golden hunter’s gaze, the flexing of steel muscles, might have unsettled someone else.
Before this moment, she’d touched him because it gave her comfort. Now she touched him to offer it, smoothing a hand over the tension in his chest, up to those bulging biceps and hard-set shoulders. “Carver said it was seeing me in the wet T-shirt that did it. His way of blaming me. But later, when I thought about it, I knew he’d been thinking along those lines for a while.”
Eyes narrowed and jaw tight, Denver growled, “He touched you?”
He’d done so much worse than that. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block it out. “He never raped me.” Not for lack of trying. Her words sounded like gravel, and she hoped Denver attributed it to lingering sickness instead of deep-rooted fear and revulsion.
“That’s not what I asked you.”
She shrugged as if it didn’t matter, when it mattered far too much. “He liked to manhandle me. They all three found one reason or another to yank me around, shove me. They threatened plenty, but they never outright hit me.”
He breathed harder and his eye flinched. “That sounds pretty awful for a young girl.”
Too awful to bear—especially when she knew it was leading up to worse. “After that day at the lake, everything changed. It’s like they were no longer rough just to be mean. It was more about...”
Denver waited, and under her palm she felt the strong thumping of his heart.
“About getting their hands on me.”
Though anger came through in the tightening of his muscles, his tone emerged as calm and controlled as ever. “Did you tell anyone?”
This particular calm, she realized, had a definite chill to it. “Being a ward of the state meant we got occasional checkups. Janet and Gary kept the boys in check.” For the most part. Going on tiptoes, she brushed her lips over his collarbone. “And they kept me in check.”
His big hands wrapped around her upper arms. “Meaning they didn’t let you talk?”
Concentrating on Denver’s appeal made talking about the past easier. “They told me what would happen if I did.”
Tone deadly, he whispered, “Tell me.”
There’d be no point. “You can already imagine.”
Disgust knotted his jaw. “Janet and Gary are the parents?”
“Janet is their stepmother. Gary was their dad.” At times it felt like Denver looked into her, like he already knew her every secret. It could have been intimidating but instead his concentrated attention felt like a balm. “You said he’s dead now.”
“That’s what they told me.” He pulled her closer until her body pressed into his and she either had to rest her cheek against him, or tip her head back to maintain eye contact.
She chose to cuddle closer.
“Gary knew what they did to you?”
This was the difficult part, what scared her the most and sometimes still gave her nightmares. “He caught them trying to get into my bedroom.” She hated thinking about it, definitely didn’t want to talk about it, but she needed Denver to understand so he’d let it go. “They did that a lot, accidentally busting in on me in the shower, in my bedroom.” None of the locks in the house were secure. It took little ingenuity to open any door and she’d forever been fearful. “More often than not, I took a two-minute shower when none of them were around.”
Whenever Carver drank, she found a place to hide—even if it meant staying out all night.
And that experience had its own terrors...
Denver muttered a low, foul curse. “What did Gary do about it?”
Hoping he wouldn’t notice, she squeezed in as close to him as she could get. “They tussled. That happened a lot, too. He’d belt one of them, they’d shove back. Same with Janet.”
“They hit their stepmother?”
“They had massive brawls.” And she’d known if Janet accepted the violence without leaving them all, she herself wouldn’t be exempt. “The fights were endless. That night it happened against my door with a lot of shouting. Carver...accused his dad of looking at me, too.” She appreciated it when Denver’s arms tightened. “Their voices dropped and, I don’t know, I felt like I had to hear what they were saying. I crept to the door to listen.”
She could still remember the exact words Gary had muttered to his twisted sons.
“You heard what he said.”
The words would forever be trapped in her brain. Nodding, she repeated, “She’ll be eighteen soon, so lock that shit down until then.”
Denver stared in stunned disbelief.
“Carver argued with him.” As she’d later learned, he didn’t want to wait—and wouldn’t. Carver wasn’t known for denying himself once he’d set his sights on something.
The fight between father and son had been brutal, which maybe explained why Carver both hated her and wanted her.
An evil combination.
“Hey.” Denver smoothed back her hair, tipped up her face. “You’re here now, with me. No one is going to hurt you.”
“I know. I wouldn’t let him. Like I told you, I’m not a scared kid anymore.”
Brushing his thumb over her chin, he murmured, “Such a hardass.”
“No. But I’m not a wimp, either.” At least, she hoped not. Certain things, things she would not talk about right now, still had the ability to freeze her in terror.
“Carver’s father should have protected you.”
She shrugged with acceptance. “I guess because the state wouldn’t pay for me after I turned of age, Gary considered me fair game.”
Denver’s hands tightened on her in a gentle but unbreakable hold. “I’m glad the bastard is dead.”
She shared that sentiment. “I left a few days after that.” But it hadn’t been soon enough.
She wouldn’t go into how she’d managed to get away, the cruel nightmare that made it clear she either had to leave, or pay the consequences.
She said only, “I didn’t stick around to finish high school.”
“Knowing you had a very limited grace period left, it’s smart that you didn’t.”
All the mean tricks and torment had been bad enough, but what Carver had planned out... Feeling defiant, she raised her chin. “I was nineteen before I got my GED.” But by God, she’d gotten it. “I later got my associate’s degree through an online college.”
Denver rubbed her back, kissed her forehead, and then abruptly set her away from him. “You thought I knew them, that I’d go along with that warped shit?” The words were gentle, but his burning gaze scoured her face. “You actually thought that? About me?”
She shook her head in denial, but they both knew she had. “Not until you mentioned them and then it was just like a...a knee-jerk reaction or something.” She’d worked hard to put the Nelson family out of sight and out of mind. “I hadn’t even thought of them in so long, but when you said their names it came flooding back in on me.” Meaning it as an apology, she said, “It leveled me, Denver, thinking you would do that.” Because he was important to her when no one else had been.
It fascinated her, the way Denver popped his neck, then his knuckles. An enraged sort of energy pulsed off him in waves.
“Understand something, girl.” He pinned her with his gaze. “I would never hurt you.”
He looked hurt, so with apology she whispered, “I know.”
Thank heavens he was headed for the rec center and a prolonged workout. Not that Denver maimed innocent people. He had awesome control and from what she could tell, a real leash on his temper. But he still looked like he needed to blow off some steam.
“We’re clear?”
“Yes.”
“And you trust me?”
&nb
sp; She’d been waiting for that trap. “As much as you trust me.”
His demeanor darkened even more. “I trust you.”
Baloney. “Great. Then let me handle this.”
“After what you just told me?” His expression went from clear annoyance to accusing her of being nuts. “Fuck no.”
“It’s my business,” she reminded him.
He gathered her close. “And you’re my business.”
That was...okay, sweet. But he didn’t understand just how psycho the brothers were—and she’d prefer to keep it that way. “If I call him, he might not show up here.” But he probably would, because whatever Carver wanted, she couldn’t give it to him.
“Come on, girl, we both know if he can find you, he will.”
“You’re not turned on right now, so why did you call me—”
“Who says I’m not?” He pressed his mouth to hers in a quick smooch, then slid a hand down her back to her bottom. Against her lips, he murmured, “I’m pissed, yes. And it’s still undecided if I’m going to take them apart or not.”
“Denver—”
“But no matter what, when I see you I want you. Hell, I think about you and I want you. You plastered against me? Finally opening up to me a little? Yeah, I’m turned on. Never doubt it.”
She sighed. “I’m the same with you.”
Groaning, he hugged her off her feet. “Thank you for telling me.”
“It wasn’t news. You already knew how much I cared for you.”
“No...” He looked struck, then resigned as he shook his head. “Not that—and quit talking about it or I’ll blow off the rest of the day when I shouldn’t.” He sucked in a chest-expanding breath. “I meant about the foster family. The Nelsons. Their asshole sons. I know it wasn’t easy to tell me everything.”
Telling him everything would be impossible. Whoever said sharing problems made them easier to bear didn’t understand her problems.
“Know what I think we should do?”
Every time he said “we,” her heart leaped, and then her stomach cramped. She’d never really known love before. It was as foreign to her as wealth or security. But with Denver, she was so ate up with him, she loved him more than she’d ever thought possible. No way did she want him anywhere near Carver.
But how could she both keep him, and keep him away? No words would emerge, so she mustered a questioning look.
“I’ll call him.”
“No.” No, a million times no.
“I’ll set him straight.”
The laugh nearly burst out. Carver was so crooked, so bent, no one, not even Denver, could set him straight. If Denver tried, he’d end up on Carver’s radar—more than he already was.
His brows tweaked down, and he half smiled. “You’re worried for me? Seriously?”
Oh crud. He sounded disbelieving and irked. How did he do that? How did he read her thoughts even before she’d sorted them out?
Her mouth felt dry. “I know you can take care of yourself.” Denver was an amazing man and an incredible athlete.
But he wasn’t superhuman.
And he wasn’t the scum of the earth, willing to stoop as low as it took to get his way.
His advancement to the SBC was still new enough, his career so fast-growing, that she didn’t want her troubles to interfere in any way.
Carver was that type of man, the kind who brought destruction. He didn’t fight fair. Not face-to-face, man to man, as Denver was used to. No, he’d fight dirty in ways Denver would never expect—and couldn’t prevent. She knew well the cruel and abnormal way Carver’s brain worked. He justified the most unjustifiable forms of brutality. He made up reasons for unreasonable acts of violence.
He did it all without a conscience.
And took pleasure from it.
She couldn’t tell Denver everything she knew about Carver and his brothers, because that would only encourage him to want to defend and protect her. But she had to try to talk him out of digging in. “You don’t understand how Carver is.”
“I met him, spoke with him. I understand plenty. And, honey, hate to break it to you, but he already sees me as an obstacle, guaranteed.”
She was very afraid he might be right.
“Talking with him again isn’t going to make that more of a fact. But it might reinforce for him that you aren’t alone. Maybe,” he said, then more firmly when she tried to interject, “just maybe it’ll deter him.”
Out of ideas, she said, “I don’t want you to.” That sounded petulant, but damn it, how could she convince him without spilling her guts about things better kept private? “I just need to find out what he wants.” Because Carver had to want something. She couldn’t imagine what, but—
“And if he wants you?”
For a split second, her heart stalled, then started again in a rush. “Why would he after all this time? No, it has to be something else.” Though sure, once Carver found her she didn’t doubt he’d revert to his same grabby, obnoxious self. “I’m not a kid now. He can’t bully me anymore.”
Denver didn’t buy it—but then she didn’t, either.
“You’ll give me his number, okay?”
What a mess. She could really use a sounding board, but she didn’t want her friends to know about her awful upbringing. It was painful and very private. It killed her that Denver now knew.
The many worries lay heavy on her shoulders, wearing her down. “I just wanted to be with you, that’s all. And everything is screwed up. First I’m sick and now the idiots want to see me again—”
“But I’m going to take good care of you, remember?” He gently held her face. “You’re not alone, girl, so stop acting like you are.”
Right now, maybe being alone would be better. Except that she loved Denver and the thought of losing this time with him...
Exasperated, he tipped her face up and gave her another, slightly longer kiss that sent a pool of warmth through her belly and obliterated clear thought. “You’ll stay in today?”
She wanted to say no, to tell him she had a life to get back to. But she’d already called off work, her friends were all at their jobs and her body declared it time for another nap.
“Yes.” Before getting sick, she’d had a ton of energy. Staying in would have been unthinkable. Now, even with a megasexy guy kissing her senseless, she had to fight off a yawn.
“It’s going to be okay. You’ll see.” His attention went from her face to her body. Briefly, he cupped both her breasts, made a low sound in his throat, and stepped away. “I’ll be back over tonight, okay? Not sure when yet, but it won’t be real late. If anything comes up, call me.”
He expected her to think after how he’d just touched her?
“Cherry?”
She got her head to bob a few times. “All right.” She’d take her nap and maybe afterward she’d be refreshed enough for a solution to come to her. Doubtful, but she’d give it a try.
Together they walked to the door.
“Lock up behind me.”
“I will.” Even before Carver resurfaced, she and Rissy kept the doors locked.
“Cherry?” He paused in the open doorway. “I can’t imagine any male of any age not wanting you. Odds are every guy who played you for Carver did so with regrets. Know that, okay?” He pulled her in for one last, blistering taste of her mouth, then jogged down the walkway to his car.
After closing and locking the door, Cherry leaned back against it. As bad as things were right now, she realized she was smiling—because of Denver.
Now, if she could just figure out what Carver wanted, if she could deal with him and his perverse demands without drawing anyone else in as a victim, she could get back to the fantasy of finally having Denver Lewis’s attention.
* * *
A SLASH OF sunlight warmed his face and caused him to flinch when he cracked his eyes open. He closed them again, went to stretch—and stilled with agonizing aches and pains.
What the hell?
A w
hisper drifted past his ear: “So he ain’t dead?”
Pausing, Leese peeked his eyes open again. The sunlight blinded him, but he heard traffic and more whispers. Weird. Had he left a window open last night?
“Mister, do you need a hospital?”
That voice came entirely too close. He got one eye open and found a very dark face with wide, even darker eyes, close to his, blocking the morning sun. Startled, he sat up—and groaned. Jesus, it felt like a herd of buffalo had stampeded over him.
With another, more cautious peek, he saw that the dark face belonged to his neighbor’s ten-year-old kid. Beyond her stood another girl wearing mismatched clothes, with red pigtails and freckles everywhere.
Disoriented, Leese looked around and realized he was on the steps to his apartment building. He had drool on his chin. A very bruised chin, judging by how it hurt to move his jaw.
“Can he talk?” the redhead asked.
“I’m okay, Mayla.”
Even as she nodded to her friend, Mayla didn’t move away. “Why’d you sleep outside?”
How could he tell a ten-year-old girl that he’d gotten stinking drunk and apparently... No, wait. That wasn’t right. Memories tried to nudge in, but that sent his stomach roiling.
“He’s gonna puke!” the redhead yelled with horrified excitement.
“No.” At least, if she’d stop screeching he might not. “Shh...” Remembering something he’d heard Mayla’s mother say, he told her, “Inside voice.”
“But we’re outside.”
Yeah, there was that. Grabbing the iron railing at the side of the stairs, he dragged himself—slowly—up to his feet. “You know what time it is?”
She shrugged. “Play time.”
He dug in his pocket for his phone, saw it was nearly nine, and swallowed back a curse. Another search of his pocket produced his keys, but no wallet. Son of a bitch.
He’d gotten played, big-time. How many people had seen him passed out? His neck burned thinking about it. “Does your mom know I was here?” Hard to imagine or she’d never have let the girls out to play.
“No. Want me to go tell her?”
He couldn’t ask a kid to lie to her mother. Mayla’s mom was the good sort, babysitting other kids, taking in laundry—including his own—and playing manager of the beat-up apartment building in order to stay at home with her daughter. She made ends meet, but Leese knew it wasn’t always easy.