Holding Strong

by Lori Foster

  Once they were stretched out in the bed, Cherry asked, “How’s your head?”

  “Fine. Don’t worry about it.” He wanted her, but he also wanted her to know it wasn’t just about sex. “You?”

  She tipped her face up to see him. “I’m okay.”

  “You’re beautiful.”

  A smile flickered over her lips. Lifting up to one elbow, she inadvertently left her bare breasts close enough for him to lick.

  He fought temptation.

  Stroking her fingers through his hair, she tortured him. “Thank you for asking me to stay with you.”

  What he’d asked was for her to move in. Big difference. But she looked too exhausted to argue semantics. “Thank you for agreeing.”

  Her gentle fingers moved down his jaw. “I’m relieved to be here, but I need to figure out a few things.”

  “Like?”

  “It’s not right to just leave Merissa alone there. I know she’s staying with Cannon for a while. But that won’t last. She’s not the type to impose.”

  “How could she ever impose when he wants her there?” It was a message he wished Cherry would apply to herself.

  “This is my fault. Carver is here because of me. The least I could do is—”

  “No.”

  Denver tumbled her down in the bed and moved over her, pinning her in place. “You already agreed to stay.”

  She searched his face, and he saw so many questions reflected in her dark eyes. Questions about the future. Questions about them as a couple. He couldn’t answer them all just yet, so instead he made a suggestion.

  After he gently kissed her. “I know things are moving fast and we both have a lot on our plates already. I’m training, you’re working.”

  “And my past is closing in, mucking it all up. I’m so sorry about that.”

  “I’m relieved that you’re not dealing with those fucks on your own.” When she started to speak, he touched a finger to her soft lips to quiet her. “I know you’re independent, girl. It’s one of the things I love about you.”

  Going utterly still, her eyes darkened and her face flushed.

  Knowing he had her attention, Denver tried for a little leverage. “But being independent doesn’t mean you have to do everything on your own. Trust me when I say that I want to be here for you.” Now and always. “Trust Cannon to look out for his sister, and trust Merissa to understand the situation for what it is.”

  “It’s—”

  “Not your fault,” he emphasized.

  “Not directly because I would never, ever deliberately hurt my friends. But it’s a fact that Carver is here because I’m here.”

  “I’m glad you’re here—with me.”

  She relented enough to say, “I’m very glad about that, too.”

  To convince her, he gave her a different way of looking at it. “Blaming yourself because he’s a psycho punk who needs to be committed is like blaming me because Pamela was an unhappy woman stuck in an unhappy marriage of her own making.”

  Her arms came around his neck and she held him to her, her hold...protective. “That was not your fault.”

  Touched, amused and loving her more by the minute, Denver eased her back. “And what Carver does isn’t yours.”

  He felt her gearing up, knew he wouldn’t like it, and leaned back to see her.

  “I’m sorry, Denver, but I can’t just wait to see what he’ll do.”

  “Eventually he’ll screw up and we’ll have him. But no way in hell will I let him hurt you.”

  “I need to call him.”

  “No.”

  “I need to—”

  “I’ll call him.

  She hugged him again, tighter this time, her face against his chest. “He doesn’t want to talk to you.”

  “He’ll fucking well talk to me all the same.”

  Resolve had her scooting away from him until she sat on the other side of the bed. “You need to understand something, Denver.”

  Damn, but he felt the loss of her warmth. Assuming they wouldn’t be sleeping for a while, he sat up against the headboard and crossed his arms, his own resolve in place. “I’m listening.”

  “Carver isn’t a man swayed by logic. You can’t just warn him away. Threats will mean nothing to him. He thinks he’s invincible. He thinks he can always do as he pleases because usually he can.”

  “Then he’ll have to come to grips with the fact that this time he can’t.” Because he can’t have you. “He needs to know you aren’t alone.”

  She sucked in a breath. “If you do that, if you try to stress that you’re here for me, then you become his target.”

  Good. “Better me than you.”

  “No!” Shoving a hand into her hair, she left the bed. “This is bad enough already without you getting—”

  “Involved?” Though he tried, he couldn’t remove the edge of disgust from his tone.

  She whirled on him. “Hurt!”

  Well hell, that was even worse. A slow pulsebeat of fury brought him forward with a building scowl. The disbelief emerged as a grated whisper. “You think that mewling punk could hurt me?”

  Cherry threw up her hands. “He is not a fair fighter, damn it! He owns weapons. He skulks around in the shadows and...and...”

  And he’d done terrible things. To Cherry. Choking on the awful mix of love and rage, Denver rose from the bed. Arms folded and expression shuttered, Cherry turned away from him.

  He brought her back around. “Don’t do that, Cherry. Don’t ever shut me out.”

  It took her a second, but she got her chin up. “I don’t want Carver and his insane brothers going after you full force. I know I’m responsible for a lot—but not that, Denver.” She held his gaze, but her voice wavered when she said, “Please.”

  Carefully, he closed his hands over her shoulders and drew her closer. “What are you responsible for?”

  Her lips firmed. “I need to tell you more about Carver. So you’ll understand. So you’ll know that it’s not worth...”

  “Fighting for you?” Was that what she thought?

  She tried to push away from him, but Denver scooped her up and carried her to the bed, ignoring her struggles and excuses and all the reasons why he couldn’t, shouldn’t, know her in every way imaginable.

  Getting comfortable with his back against the headboard again, but now with a disgruntled bouncy blonde on his lap, Denver said, “Settle down.”

  That really got her going and he laughed while subduing her. Laughter was the wrong move, apparently, given the killing glare she cut over him.

  “We’re not going to sit through this, huh? Have it your way.” He stretched her out under him, pinning her legs with one of his, drawing her arms up high over her head. He took in the tantalizing sight of her, smiled and shook his head. “Damn, girl, no matter what, you do it for me.”

  “Damn it, Denver—”

  He lightly bit her earlobe. “Shh. It’ll be okay. You’ll see.”

  “You don’t know that! Carver is not a reasonable man.”

  “He’s not a man at all.” To tease her, he kissed a path from her ear to her throat. “Real men don’t bully others. They sure as shit don’t abuse women.” He lifted up enough to see her eyes growing heavy.

  Sweet Cherry. It always took so little from him to get her ready. That in itself was a blessing. To be wanted so much by a woman like her...

  No way in hell would he ever give that up.

  “Anyone who would terrorize a kid is the lowest scum on earth. Now, while I get that you’d rather deal with him on your own, it’s not fair to ask that of me, so get over it.”

  The sensual fog cleared from her gaze. “It’s not that easy!”

  “It will be if you’ll stop hiding from me. If you’ll put a little of that effort into trusting me instead.” Denver waited. When she said nothing, when her gaze darted away, he went back to nuzzling her fragrant skin. “I’ve got all night.” Hell, he had a lifetime. With her. Sooner or later she’d
get it.

  He nibbled his way down her chest to the top of her breast.

  Even as her breathing deepened, her mouth pinched. “Okay.”

  He saw the resignation in her gaze, and the belief that things would somehow change between them. He smoothed back her hair, lightly touched his mouth to hers, and rose to one elbow, bracing his head on a fist. “Trust,” he reminded her.

  Tightly strung, quivering with tension, she met his gaze. “I told you that Carver stayed after me.”

  “Yes.”

  “He knows I’m afraid of bugs. I mean, really afraid.”

  Denver had to point out the obvious. “And yet today, because you knew I needed a hand, you stayed and helped.”

  Her eyes closed, her voice strained. “I was so scared.”

  “When someone faces their fears like that, it’s called being brave.”

  She shook her head. “Not when the fear is—” she swallowed hard “—stupid insects.”

  “You’re wrong. There are all kinds of fears, and people are all affected differently.” When he released her wrists, she lowered her arms enough to put her palms on his chest. “I was so damned proud of you.”

  Her self-conscious laugh hurt him. “If I was brave, it’s only because you were there and I knew you wouldn’t let anything get me.”

  Progress. “I won’t let anything or anyone ever hurt you.”

  Lashes lifted, showing him her beautiful dark eyes—and her stubborn pride. “I want to take care of myself.”

  “You do, girl. Given the foundation you started with, you’re doing great. I’m proud of you, so I wish you’d be proud of yourself, too.”

  She did some of that sexy-bottom-lip-nibbling, then gave an uncertain nod.

  “Good,” he whispered, choking on his damn pride before steadying himself with a deep breath. “Now I need you to understand that relationships are all about taking care of each other.”

  “Right.” Her mouth quirked. “Except I don’t do anything for you.”

  She couldn’t be more wrong. Thinking of everything she did for him, to him, made him desperate to taste her. Groaning, he took her mouth for a long, deep kiss then, keeping his forehead to hers, he admitted, “Seeing my dad again after all this time feels easier because I know you’ll be there with me.”

  “Really?”

  “Definitely.” This time he pressed his mouth to her forehead.

  “I suppose if you’re determined to take on Carver, you need to know everything. You have to understand exactly how twisted and sick he is.”

  Denver already had a good idea, but he hoped that by telling him, by sharing the nightmare, it’d take some of the burden off her narrow shoulders.

  She pushed him to his back and crawled atop him, then laid her head on his shoulder. “Once, before I could get away, Carver held me down and made me kiss him. He said if I didn’t, he’d put this enormous cicada on me. It was screaming—” She lifted her head. “You know how those things do?”

  His heart twisted. “Yes, I know. They scare a lot of people.”

  She hugged up against him again. “It was making that awful noise and he kept getting it closer to me just to see me go hysterical. I tried not to, but...” She took his hand and wedged it beneath her left breast. “Even talking about it now makes my heart race.”

  Carver had traumatized her. Deliberately. No wonder she was so afraid of bugs. If ever a man deserved a beat-down...

  “He kissed me,” she whispered, “but I was sobbing the whole time. And...and he liked it.”

  Motherfucker. Rage exploded, but with Cherry being his blanket, she’d feel it if he bunched up the way he wanted to. Determined to shield her from seeing his rage, Denver suppressed what he could and instead relaxed his hands so that they cupped her ass. It took him two tries before he managed to ask, “How old were you?”

  “Not quite seventeen.” Her fingers toyed with his chest hair. “Carver was twenty-three. Big and muscular.” Again she lifted up to see him. “His brothers always watched. Carver enjoyed playing with me and they enjoyed seeing it. It was like he was showing off or something. Gene would go all intense and serious, practically drooling. Mitty would laugh like a kid watching a cartoon. Their reactions were so creepy. And they made me feel...” Her voice faded away. Cuddling down against him again, she whispered, “Helpless. They made me feel so damned helpless.”

  The reality of what she’d gone through was even more destructive than what he’d imagined. Physical abuse, yes. But also very emotionally disturbing. “I’m so damn sorry.” He’d make them pay. All three of them.

  “A few months after that, he caught me alone and he forced me to the woods.” She sounded impassive, as if she were telling a dull story.

  Denver felt the sharpening tension and stroked her from her behind to her shoulders and back again, even down and over her thighs. He wanted to touch every inch of her as if he could somehow heal the nightmare, maybe make the memory go away.

  He turned them to their sides, tucking her close, protectively holding her. “Take your time, honey.”

  While he waited, he continued to stroke her, his brain in turmoil, his stomach sick.

  After a shuddering breath, she started talking again. “He’d cleared a spot in the woods and he had a stake in the ground, with ropes tied to it.”

  Jesus.

  “All around it, the locals waited, some looking uneasy, some anxious. He planned to make me the show and I knew it was going to be bad but I couldn’t get free.” Suddenly she sat up, but held his hand. “I’m going to rush through this, okay?”

  Volatile emotion made a fist around his windpipe and he had to swallow twice before the restriction eased enough for him to speak. “Whatever you need.” He sat up, too, and there, in the bed, they faced each other, him big and capable and her, whether she’d admit it or not, small and vulnerable.

  “He stripped off my shirt and bra and tied my arms behind me to the stake. I thought he was going to rape me. I still think that was his plan.”

  With others to watch. To regain his composure, he closed his eyes, but only for a second. Cherry needed him. He’d asked for the whole truth so he’d damn well stick with her, body and soul, while she shared.

  “Anyway,” she said, her hand in his, “he’d wasted too much time for rape.”

  “Wasted how?”

  “He... He had all these disgusting bugs and he kept throwing them at me. Some of the people watching laughed about it. Some just watched. No one helped me.” Her hold on his hand tightened. “Every so often he’d come get a bug off me, but he’d use that as an excuse to cop a feel, too, and I was so hysterical I can’t even remember what I said. I just remember...crying.”

  He’d tortured her. And some sick fucks had stayed to watch.

  “There were maybe ten people there. Two of them girls who screamed each time one of the bugs took flight. I think I hated them the most, because they were just as scared of the bugs, but they stayed and watched anyway.” She shook her head. “About the time Carver tired of that game and told me he was going to take off my shorts, Janet showed up.”

  “The stepmother?”

  Cherry nodded. “I can still see it exactly as it happened. She stepped into the clearing wearing pajama pants and a man’s T-shirt, her hair all ratty, a cigarette caught in her teeth and her shotgun aimed at Carver. She said she was looking for a reason to shoot him.”

  “Did she always look like that?”

  “The cigarette, yes. The shotgun, often. But she usually cleaned up. I think she must’ve woken up after a late night of drinking and when we were all gone, she got suspicious.”

  “Thank God.”

  Cherry nodded. “She was like this crazy, mean avenger. She told one of the idiot girls there to cut me loose. Everyone was silent, unsure of what would happen. It was eerie quiet—except for the bugs. Bugs are never, ever quiet.”

  Using only his pinkie, Denver teased over her cheek, easing a tendril of hair away from her f
ace.

  Cherry didn’t seem to notice.

  “After I was free Janet backed us out of there and put me in her truck. It was so weird, but still no one said anything. Carver just stared after us like he hated us both—or like maybe he was planning...something.” Her brows twitched as if even now, she couldn’t understand his hostility. “Janet told me she’d had enough of worrying about Carver bringing the law down on them. She was so mad at him, saying he was too reckless.” Cherry swallowed hard. “She also said she hated any man who’d rape a woman, and she knew that’s where Carver was headed. So she’d brought some cash for me, my purse and papers and a few of my clothes in a bag. She drove me to the highway, told me to get out, to leave and never come back.”

  That was more than he could take, so Denver scooped her up to his lap again and squeezed the breath right out of her. She didn’t complain, not even when he started to rock her.

  Sliding her fingers into his hair, she whispered, “I’m okay.”

  She wanted to soothe him? Denver gave a low, gravelly laugh. “Better than okay. You’re perfect.” A thought occurred to him. “Did you ever consider reporting them? All of them?”

  Shaking her head, she said, “It wouldn’t have mattered. The local authorities covered for them. They came around and visited. Left with cash and sometimes drugs. Carver and his whole family had immunity in the town.”

  And she’d been stuck in the middle of it with nowhere to turn—except to escape on her own.

  Cherry cupped a hand to his jaw. “Do you understand, Denver? I took drug money. They never discussed the business with me, but I knew. I’d have had to be a special kind of stupid not to know. Stupid and blind.”

  “And you’re neither.”

  As if she didn’t understand his nonchalant attitude, she searched his face. “They sold to dealers who ruined peoples’ lives. There were beatings.” Her gaze held desperately to his. “My own parents died because of a drug deal. Maybe even from trading with Carver’s family. But at the time I didn’t care. I just wanted out of there.”