Trigger had to admit she made a good point. “The cops will prove what happened. They’ll tell everyone the truth.”
Disbelief filled her rolling eyes. “I’m famous. No one cares about the truth—they just want a good story.”
How many times had a suspect, witness, or family member exaggerated or outright lied to change the narrative of a case? Too many to count. Even though he gathered the evidence and presented solid facts, the public still believed those accounts because they missed the follow-up, or simply didn’t care about or believe what really happened.
“I’m not the princess in the story everyone wants to root for. I’ll be made into the witch everyone wants to burn at the stake. You’ll see. Look up on the internet any story written about me and you’ll find a dash of truth mixed in with a bucketload of lies. That’s why I’m not sticking around to find out how big and bad this turns out. As soon as the snow stops, I’m out of here. If I’m going to hide the rest of my life, I’m getting a head start and finding the most secluded and secure place I can for Adam and me.”
“You can’t just take him.”
“Watch me.” She stood and walked away.
“If he doesn’t belong to Brice, he must have other family.”
She turned and faced him. “Where the hell have they been? No one came for him. No one came for me.” The unrestrained anger he understood all too well. “Adam needs someone to care enough to keep him safe. He stays with me.” She glanced at the massive windows and the deluge of falling snow. “We need to get away as far and fast as we can.”
She wrapped her arms in front of her to hold off the shiver that shook her body.
He understood her fear, but the thought of her leaving and on the run turned his gut.
Ashley needed someone on her side, someone who cared about what happened to her. He did. But could he make her the princess in the story when his knightly armor had tarnished long ago?
Chapter Eight
Ashley woke to blinding white light and a high-pitched screech. She bolted out of bed, ignored the searing pain that flashed through her side, and ran toward the heart-wrenching sound. Unsteady on her hurt foot, she rounded the doorway and entered the large open room on the run, only to stop short at the half-naked man hanging from a bar attached to a thick wood beam in the center of the room. He pulled himself up to raise his chin over the bar. Adam squealed with delight, his arms secure around Beck’s neck, his legs hooked on Beck’s lean hips.
Beck rose and fell two more times in an easy motion despite Adam’s added weight. She took him in with one long sweep of her gaze. Big hands. Strong arms. Rippling muscles all down his chest and stomach. Black sweats ended in huge bare feet that hit the floor just as she snapped her gaze back to his face, then back to his chest once more before she met his dark gaze. His chest and everything else on display was worth a second glance.
Her heart thudded against her ribs, making them ache and stealing her breath. Dizziness clouded her vision. Her legs buckled with relief that Adam was okay, and she hit the wood floor hard on her bare butt. Pain lanced up her side. She tried to cover her legs with the too-big T-shirt and catch her breath, though it burned to suck in the tiniest amount of air.
Adam dropped to his feet behind Beck and ran to her, falling to his knees in front of her.
She reached up and cupped his face. “You were having fun.”
A bright smile split his lips. He nodded, but didn’t say anything.
Beck kneeled in front of her. Adam hooked his hand on Beck’s massive shoulder, his tiny fingers landing just above a large scar on Beck’s chest that looked healed but new. Beck stared down at her, his expression unreadable. One of the many things that probably helped him survive working undercover.
He held his hand out to her. “Come with me.”
“What happened to you?”
“Bad guy took exception to being arrested. He gave me a matching set about a month ago.” Beck used the hand he held out to her to tap the scar on his side. “Adam and I already had breakfast.”
She followed Beck’s gaze to the breakfast bar off the kitchen island and the empty glasses and plates still there.
“You slept in. I bet you’re starving. Sit on the couch. We saved you some bacon and I’ll cook you up some eggs.”
Her mouth watered just thinking about it. “I’d kill for a cup of coffee.” The lingering scent hung in the air battling with the bacon aroma setting off a new round of grumbling in her stomach.
“I don’t think it will come to that, but you might try to dial down the fear that I’m a threat. Adam and I are buddies. Aren’t we, little man?” Beck hugged Adam to his side. Beck didn’t smile. That sort of thing didn’t come easy to him. But Adam’s mouth curved with a silly grin and his eyes were bright with joy.
Adam reached out and brushed his fingers down her hair, grabbing hold of a huge chunk near the end.
She poked him in the belly. “Did you steal Beck’s shirt?”
Adam looked down at the shirt draping all the way to the floor and nodded.
“Help me out, little man. Go get the eggs out of the fridge and put them on the counter. Find a bowl and crack three eggs into it for Ashley.”
Adam ran off, eager to do what Beck said.
Ashley recognized the diversion tactic and waited to see what Beck wanted from her.
“How bad does it hurt?” He stared at her hand on her thigh covering one of the larger, darker bruises.
She blinked back the sheen of tears filling her eyes. “I heard him scream . . . I’ve rarely heard his voice.” She didn’t know how to explain to him the overwhelming urge to get to Adam and protect him in that moment that blocked out everything, including the pain and her understanding of where she was and how she’d gotten here. “I didn’t think. I reacted. Until I saw that he was okay and it was you, I don’t know, it all came back.” She glanced past him to the windows and behind her to the door. “Are we safe here? Is he coming? Have you seen anything outside? Heard anything on the news? We need to get out of here!” She tried to push herself up to get moving, but Beck laid a big hand on her shoulder to still her. The second her muscles relaxed, he removed his hand and the warmth that went with the touch felt oddly comfortable, not intrusive.
“Stop. Calm down. The roads are completely impassable. The snow is still coming down, though it’s lightened up considerably. No one in their right mind would go out in this weather.”
“That’s just it. He’s not in his right mind.”
“Ashley, get a grip. If I thought for a second you and Adam weren’t safe here, I’d take you away myself.”
“We aren’t safe. We’ll never be safe.”
His hand came up and cupped her cheek and the warmth came back. “Right now, you are. The snow covered any tracks you might have left. It’s also preventing anyone from mounting a search for you or Adam. As far as I can tell, there are no new reports on you other than the ones that have already come out about the anniversary of your disappearance. I waited for you to get up before I called the police. Out here, the sheriff has jurisdiction. They’ll probably call in the feds to help out because it’s a high-profile case.”
She hadn’t stopped shaking her head throughout that last part. “No. No cops. The governor, a senator, any number of other people in a position to help him are in his pocket.”
Beck’s gaze sharpened. “What do you mean?”
“The house, the room he kept me in, it’s not his only secret. There are secret passages, two-way mirrors, and cameras. He recorded them and took pictures. He made me watch.” She shook her head. “Parties with underage prostitutes, drugs, or them just doing things others would find appalling. Drunken confessions,” she added, trying to erase all of it from her mind.
Beck raked his hand over his head. “Shit.”
“As soon as I can get out of here, I am.”
“You can’t just run. If you’re right and he goes after you, you’ll have no way to protect yourself or
Adam. Do you really want to risk that little boy’s life? Think, Ashley. The only way to get your life back is to stand up and fight. Take him down.”
“Easy enough for you to say. You’re not the one about to have your life explode on every form of media.”
“What the hell do you care about your name and picture splashed across the internet and TV screens when there’s a man out there who will come after you or someone else to feed his sick fantasy? Stop being his victim, get up off the damn floor, and figure out a way to make him pay for what he did to you. You’re so afraid of what he’ll make people believe, but what about your status? Your word. You make people believe you’re someone else up on that screen. Make them believe you in real life.”
She hung her head, knowing that what he said was exactly what she needed to do, but after everything, she didn’t know if she had the strength to do it. “What if they don’t believe me?”
“I believe you. Others will, too.” He dropped his hand to the hem of her shirt and pulled it up two inches to reveal the dark edges of the bruise that throbbed with pain up and down her thigh. She flinched, but the instinctive fear washed away with his deep voice. “There is nothing he can say that will ever make me believe you asked for, or deserved this.” His fingertips swept softly over her skin, sending another wave of warmth through her.
Comfort. Compassion. She’d gone too long without both.
“You trusted someone you knew, a man who called himself friend, who had treated you with kindness and never showed you any ill will. There’s no fault in that, Ashley. He fooled you once, but he won’t fool you again. Don’t let him fool the world, too. You know the real man. You can take him down.”
“Your faith might be a bit misplaced considering I can’t even get up from this floor on my own.”
He held his hand out to her and gave her what for him passed as a grin. “I’ll help you.”
She wanted to believe he meant more than helping her to stand up. But she shut down that delusion. Once she was back on her feet, she’d be on her own again.
Been there. Done that her whole life. She’d had to fight for everything she’d gotten, but Beck was right. She hadn’t asked for what happened to her. She hadn’t deserved Brice’s cruelty. She refused to stand back and take it anymore.
She hoped she had the strength to face what was coming.
Chapter Nine
Trigger slipped one hand under Ashley’s knees and the other around her back and under her arm. Unable to lift herself, she allowed him to pick her up right off the floor. He held her in his arms against his chest, dismayed by how little she weighed, and surprised by how right she felt against him.
She gasped in pain and leaned into him to ease her ribs. “Put me down.”
He adjusted her in his arms, carried her to the sofa, and gently set her on the cushion, her back to the side, feet spread out in front of her. He pulled the soft blue blanket off the back and draped it over her.
“Stay put. I’ll get you some ice for your injuries, more ibuprofen, and food.”
She gazed up at him, her eyes pleading. “Coffee. Please. I beg you.”
He laughed under his breath at the drama she put into wanting a simple cup of coffee. He wondered how long it had been since she had one. “We need to have a serious talk about what happened to you. We’ll need to file a report. Take pictures of . . .” He swept his hand in the air down the length of her.
She paled even more than her sun-deprived skin showed moments ago. “You can’t be serious.”
“Proof of his abuse can’t be denied.”
“Haven’t I been subjected to enough humiliation?”
He wanted to ask what else she’d been subjected to, but held his tongue because Adam waited patiently for him in the kitchen.
“It’s necessary. A female officer or nurse will take the pictures.”
“Right. And sell them to the highest bidder at some sleazy tabloid.”
Trigger sat on the coffee table, leaned forward with his forearms on his thighs, and looked her right in the eye. “I know you’re scared to face what happened and tell your story. The cops will take it slow. They’ll explain everything along the way about the process and where they are in the investigation and arrest.”
“With the connections Brice has and the dirt he has on them, they won’t arrest him. They’ll simply find a plausible reason to dismiss my claims.”
Trigger stared at her. “Your appearance can’t be dismissed.”
She scrunched her mouth into a pout and took a minute to think through what needed to be done. She didn’t look at him, but said, “You do it.”
“The cops will want to control the case. I’m DEA. They won’t let me interfere, but I can make sure they’re doing what they should for you.”
She shook her head and wrung her hands in her lap. “No. You take the report. You take the pictures. I’ve already told you some of what happened. I can . . . I can try to tell the rest and put it in some kind of order.”
“Ashley, I hunt down drug dealers and infiltrate and take down drug trafficking rings. I don’t know anything but the basics of working a kidnapping, torture, and rape case.” There, he’d said his worst fear that for the last year that piece of scum had not only held, starved, and beaten this beautiful, fragile woman, but abused her in another horrific way, too.
Ashley’s whispered words barely registered to his ears. “He tried, but he couldn’t. That’s why he hurt me.”
“Christ.” Trigger raised his head to the wood ceiling and rafters overhead, pissed and relieved all at the same time. He didn’t know if his gut or the heart that woke up again in his chest the moment he found her could take much more of this.
He’d shut the damn thing off for a reason. Caring got in the way of doing his job.
Here she was asking him to do a job he never signed up for and didn’t want, but she trusted him to do it anyway.
“Once Adam eats himself into a food coma . . .” Trigger shook his head at the boy who’d made himself at home and gotten himself yet another handful of fudge stripe cookies from the pantry and his third glass of milk. The kid acted like he’d never had sweets. Trigger didn’t want to let his mind go to that place where a little boy had never been given treats or hugs or any kindness in his short but precious life. “No matter what happens, we have to be sure Adam gets all the cookies he wants.”
“We?”
Trigger tore his gaze from Adam happily chomping down his cookies to stare at Ashley. He didn’t know what to say because while he’d spoken without thought, he really did feel like they were in this together for Adam’s sake. Yes, that was it. For Adam. Not the woman he had a hard time keeping in the victim-who-needed-his-help zone in his brain.
“Kids should not be denied cookies.” As covers went, that one sucked, so he got them back on track. “Once he takes a nap, we’ll deal with the pictures, then you can take a shower.”
She nodded her agreement.
“Great. I’ll make you something to eat, take a shower, and find you something more suitable to wear.”
Trigger stood and went to the kitchen, giving Adam a pat on the head as he passed him at the bar. Trigger made quick work of scrambling up some eggs and reheating the bacon strips they’d saved from breakfast this morning. Adam found his way back to Ashley on the sofa and curled up with her. She gently brushed his hair over and over and stared at the fire Trigger built up to keep the place extra warm for them. Skinny, undernourished, Adam always seemed cold and tired.
Trigger plated up the food, buttered the toast that popped up from the toaster, added a generous amount of raspberry jelly, then carried it all over to Ashley, and handed her the plate and the cup of coffee she’d desired. She took one sip after another of the hot brew, then sighed when she satisfied that initial craving.
“I suggest you eat slow and eat it all even if you feel like you can’t. You need your strength and your body needs the energy to heal.” He stared down at Adam sleeping p
eacefully, his body tucked in the curve of Ashley’s. “Are you comfortable?” Her ribs must hurt like hell every second of the day.
“I’m fine, Beck. Thank you.”
“Want those pain meds now?”
She shook her head. “No, thank you. A good night’s sleep helped. I feel better this morning. Plus, I woke up here and not there.”
The relief in her eyes told him how much that meant to her. Freedom, even if the storm kept her here, meant a new day without crippling fear.
“I’m going to take a shower. Help yourself to anything else you want.”
She stuffed half a strip of bacon in her mouth and chewed, her eyes rolling back in ecstasy. “I’m good,” she said around the other half of the bacon strip as she chewed.
“There’s nothing better than bacon.”
“Amen.” She bit a smaller piece off the next strip.
He turned to head back to his room, but stopped when she called his name.
“Beck.”
She never called him Trigger.
“Yeah?”
She glanced out the big windows, then at the front door. “Can I have your gun?”
“No.” The last thing he wanted to do was walk out of his room when she got spooked and get shot because she lost her shit and perceived some threat that wasn’t really there. Still, he understood her fear and desire to protect herself from ever going back to that hell she escaped.
He picked up the remote from the coffee table and pointed it at the flat screen. He quickly changed the channel from CNN to his security setup.
“Hey, wait, go back to the news. I want to see what’s happening in the world.”
“No.”
She wanted to see what they were saying about her. She needed more time to settle into the fact she escaped and understand what came next.
“You’re not ready to face the full scope of reality. Eat. Rest. Take the time you need to breathe before we have to begin the hard stuff.”
He pointed to the screen. “Hidden cameras at the front and back of my place, in the barn—”
Montana Heat: Escape to You Page 8