She held her breath while he took more pictures. Her ribs ached. Her heart hurt. Her mind wanted to shut down and go to that riverbank in her mind.
“Ashley, I’ll turn my back. Sit back on the toilet with the shirt draped over your hips. Cover your chest with one arm. I’ll take a few of the bruises on your neck, chest, and running across your ribs.”
She glanced at their reflection in the mirror. Sure enough he’d turned his back. Only the side of his face was visible and the pulsing muscle at his jaw. His free hand hung clenched at his side against his thigh. This wasn’t easy for him either.
She positioned herself on the toilet seat as he instructed with the shirt covering her and one hand covering one breast, her forearm covering the other. She used her free hand to hold on to the seat and help her sit as straight as possible to relieve the pain in her ribs.
“Ready?”
“Not really,” she admitted, her eyes filling with tears she thought had dried up.
“Take your time.”
“Hurry up and finish it.”
Beck spun around and raised the phone to take the pictures. She didn’t look at him. She couldn’t. Not sitting here completely exposed and vulnerable. She couldn’t hide what Brice had done to her. She couldn’t help but remember how she got every bump and aching bruise.
Beck turned his back the second he finished. “I’ll leave some clean clothes on the bed. I know it’s been a while, but I’m sure you can resurrect that high-maintenance movie star and be that girl who takes forever to get ready.”
Beck left her, if not with a grin on her face, than lighter for his small attempt at a joke and teasing her.
Ever considerate, he closed the door, but left it ajar, understanding her need to know she could escape, even if it was unwarranted.
Desperate to wash away the past year, she stood, letting the T-shirt slide to the floor, turned on the shower beside her, grabbed the washcloth and razor, and stepped into the spray. She didn’t care that the water took a minute to heat and steam the wide tiled stall. The blessed sluice of water over her skin sent a wave of relaxation through her.
The soap smelled like Beck, simple and clean. She used it and the washcloth to scrub her skin pink. It didn’t take away the echo of Brice’s hands on her body, but it made her feel better. She put the razor to good use, then lathered and rinsed her hair twice before she cleaned away all the oil and grime and mud from her tumble in the weeds on her mad dash to escape. She stood under the spray, letting the hot water ease her tired and sore muscles. Who knew she still had a few more tears to shed, but in the quiet with the monotonous beat of the shower spray over her head and body, she gave herself one more chance to grieve what she’d lost, rage for what had been done to her, and find the strength to keep going.
She shuffled out of the shower just as the water cooled. She dried off and wrapped the thick, lush towel around herself. She took Beck’s advice and took her time combing out her long hair with his brush. She brushed her teeth and blow-dried her hair.
She stared at the reflection of yet another version of herself. Not the movie star she used to be. Not the beaten down woman of yesterday. But a survivor who still faced several hurdles and obstacles before she could live her life again. She didn’t know how that new life would look or what it would include, but right now she told herself to take it one day at a time. That’s about all she could manage.
With Beck’s help, she’d been able to endure one of the hard things facing her. She hoped she had the strength to complete the rest.
She hoped she didn’t have to face them alone.
Chapter Eleven
Trigger walked out the front door and into the cold, needing an escape. He’d done some pretty shitty things in his life, and putting Ashley through that torment ranked among the worst in his book. He had a picture in his mind of her on-screen. The woman he just photographed resembled a starving refugee, not the gorgeous actress paparazzi chased for a photo to splash across magazine covers. It made him sick and angry and heartbroken.
Not even the falling snow cooled the fury running through him. He wanted nothing more than to get his hands on the bastard who hurt her. To think of all she’d endured . . . Days, weeks, months of abuse and torture. The long periods of time she spent locked in a dark room with no food, water, light, clothes, dignity, or hope. His gut soured. His chest ached. He’d seen some terrible things, things he tucked away, but he feared he’d never stop seeing the image of Ashley’s battered, bruised, and emaciated body.
Frustrated by the piling snow still coming down and his inability to do something productive to help her—like killing the bastard so he never hurt her again—Trigger slid open the barn door and stepped in to check on the horses. They nickered their hello and poked their heads over the stall doors to greet him. Despite the freezing temps outside, the interior of the barn remained comfortable, the horses made even more content with their blankets. He checked each one of them to be sure they had enough water and food.
He spent a few extra minutes with Gypsy. Her sweet affection eased his troubled mind and heart. Over the last weeks of being home and healing, he’d spent a lot of time with her. He planned to bring Adam out here to see her.
The child’s silence disturbed him. Little boys should be loud, boisterous, energetic to the point you wanted to strap them down. He stopped that thought because he didn’t want to think about anyone hurting that innocent boy. One bright spot—if there could be one in this situation—was that the boy hadn’t been as badly abused as Ashley. Skinny, but not starved. Bruised, but not hurt so badly he had any broken or cracked bones. Adam had suffered, but he’d bounce back physically a hell of a lot faster than Ashley. Especially if he kept eating like an NFL defensive tackle. But mentally, time would tell.
And what happened to his mother?
Beck brushed his hand down Gypsy’s long neck and rubbed his head against hers. “Keep these guys in line,” he ordered the chestnut mare. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”
The blast of cold hit him the second he stepped out of the barn and muscled the door closed behind him. The lingering storm gave him time to think about how to handle Ashley’s and Adam’s situation. Ashley’s reservations and outright fears about taking this public weighed on him. The last thing he wanted to do was announce what happened to her only to have her hunted by the press and locked away someplace to keep her privacy.
The last thing he wanted to do was make her a prisoner again.
He scanned the yard and as far as he could see through the falling snow. He didn’t see anything out of place. Not one track in the pristine snow that he hadn’t left himself from the house to the barn. Though he had state-of-the-art security and monitors around the property, in these temps and weather conditions he couldn’t rely on them to work properly. The threat of Brice showing up, or someone from his past, remained ever present in his mind. Guzman wanted his revenge after Trigger killed his cousin Marco. Didn’t matter that Marco kidnapped Caden and Mia to uncover Trigger’s true identity. Marco never got that information. As far as Trigger knew, his identity remained a secret. It wouldn’t stay that way long. He couldn’t hide and help Ashley at the same time.
He needed to make a choice. While the easy way kept him safe and tucked away here at the ranch, the hard way put Ashley, Adam, and his life in danger on two fronts.
The storm provided security in one sense. Who the hell would be out in this for long? But on the other hand, it provided the perfect cover. No one would expect anyone to use the storm to conceal their approach to the house and take them by surprise.
Trigger had some fucked-up thinking to worry about such things, but that was how he stayed alive in a dangerous world where threats were serious and one misstep meant death.
He didn’t take protecting Ashley and Adam lightly. They needed someone like him to keep them safe. Because once the storm passed, Brice would come after them, hell-bent on getting them back or shutting them up. For good.
>
The cops worked by the book, and that could put Ashley in more danger. Because to take down a man who played without any rules, you sometimes needed to play dirty. He’d lived that life, and knew what they were up against. She needed him. He didn’t know if he was up for the task after everything he’d been through lately, but he couldn’t bring himself to turn his back on her. Or Adam.
The steps to the porch had already disappeared beneath another thick layer of snow. He’d shoveled the porch and them on his way out. He jumped the steps, leaving the pristine snow. The burned skin on the back of his leg, though healing, pulled and ached with the impact when he landed. He needed to put some more ointment on the wounds. Thanks to his workout this morning with Adam, his shoulder and side ached, but in a good way. He was getting stronger and feeling more like himself. Physically. Mentally, well, he hadn’t really had time to think about his problems when Ashley’s seemed far worse than his.
She’d probably call him out for not dealing with his shit and focusing on the plan forming in his head to help her. What the hell. Maybe helping her would help him. He needed the distraction.
And she was one hell of a distraction.
He couldn’t think of another woman he’d liked the way he liked her. He admired her strength and perseverance and even her spunk. She’d been hell-bent on saving Adam from him last night. If not for the storm, she would have taken that boy and run with him again even in her poor condition.
She knew what she faced. He did in some respects. He’d spare her the whole ordeal if he could, but running wasn’t the answer. No one should get away with what Brice did to her. Celebrity and blackmailed officials wouldn’t save him from paying for what he did. Trigger would make sure of that. He’d take them all down if that’s what it took.
He stomped the snow off his boots, trying to be quiet and not spook Adam or Ashley. He walked in the door and pried off his boots, setting them in the metal tray at the side of the door. He glanced to the sofa but didn’t see Adam sleeping there. The boy stood at the back of the room by the massive windows.
“Hey, little man, what are you doing?”
He stepped to the side, revealing Ashley sitting on the floor leaning back against a large pillow she’d propped against the wall, sound asleep wearing the black sweatpants and white T-shirt he put out for her. Her toes peeked out the too-long ends. Color had seeped back into her pale face. Her hair softly waved over one shoulder and down her chest. Soft, full, a temptation to run his fingers through the silky strands. The shower transformed her appearance but sapped her energy. She’d barely gotten through the peanut butter and jelly sandwich he left on the counter for her. The third of a sandwich she couldn’t finish sat on the floor beside her with the empty glass. She drank all the milk. The food would give her some energy, but what she really needed was sleep and time to heal.
“Is she okay?” he asked, just to be sure she’d nodded off and not passed out from something more serious. Her injuries and malnutrition were still a huge concern. He needed to get her checked out by a doctor.
Adam nodded.
Trigger walked over and kneeled beside Ashley. He reached to slide his hands under her to take her back to bed to sleep, but stopped when Adam tugged on his shoulder.
Trigger glanced over at Adam, who stared out the massive windows.
“Nice. Bright.”
Trigger looked back at Ashley. Her head rested against the pillow, her face turned to the luminous outdoors. Nothing much to see but the snow falling and yards and yards of white-covered landscape and trees.
“Pretty,” Adam said, his tiny hand steady on Trigger’s shoulder.
Yes, a pretty view, nice and bright for a woman who’d been held in a dark cell. “Maybe we’ll let her sleep a while longer.” Trigger turned to Adam. “Want to watch cartoons?”
Adam stared blankly at him.
Everything can get worse. What four-year-old didn’t know about cartoons? “You’re in for a treat.”
“Cookies?”
“No more cookies until after dinner. Come here.” Trigger stood and guided Adam to the couch. He turned the TV on and flipped through channels until he found a Scooby-Doo rerun.
Adam smiled up at him and settled back into the couch.
“Cartoons, little man. Enjoy. I need to make a call.”
Trigger went to the spare room to grab his laptop, a pad of paper, and a pen. He started out of the office to keep an eye on Adam and Ashley, but turned back at the last second, rounded the desk to his printer and pulled out several sheets of blank white paper. He dug through his desk drawer and came up with half a dozen colored pencils. He liked to use different colors on his case files to organize things for each suspect. He stacked everything on his laptop and headed back to the living room. Adam giggled, completely lost in Scooby chasing after more Scooby Snacks.
Trigger set the colored pencils and paper on the coffee table in front of Adam. “In case you want to draw or color.”
Adam’s gaze shot from the TV to the table and back. Cartoons won out over everything else again.
Trigger left him to Scooby and took a seat at the dining table facing the living room. He stared at Ashley, sound asleep, light shining on her hair and pale face. She looked better after the shower, but he wondered if he’d set her back making her endure those pictures.
Better the stranger you know than the one you expect to sell you out.
At least she trusted him that much. He still needed to convince her to stand and fight and that running away solved nothing and might make things worse.
To that end, he called a friend, hoping she could help him out. After all, she’d saved his life once.
“Hello.” The sweet voice came on the line, taking him back to one of the nightmares that haunted his sleep. A knife plunged toward him and Sadie laid herself out over his chest and saved him from being stabbed right through the heart. He’d never forget the sight of her blood oozing out of her shoulder, or discovering that she was pregnant at the time, too.
“How’s my favorite guardian angel?”
“Beck. How are you?” Funny, she always called him by his name, too. Never Trigger.
“I’ve been better.” He told her the honest truth. “How’s that baby boy? Big as his father?”
“If John keeps eating the way he does he’ll be as big as Rory by Christmas. Thank you for the baby gift. John loves his stuffed horse.
“What’s going on, Beck? Are you okay?”
Because she’d been through hell with her brother cooking meth on her husband’s ranch and trying to kill her in a drug-hazed rage, she understood a little of what he faced undercover on the job. Hell, she’d saved his ass when she figured out he wasn’t with her brother and his friends, but trying to take them down, and she stayed quiet.
“I ran into some trouble several weeks ago. I got shot and burned when a drug lab blew up.”
“Oh God, Beck, why didn’t Caden call me? I’d have come to see you. What can I do?”
“The injuries have healed. For the most part,” he added. “But I’ve taken a leave of absence to clear my head.”
“You should have done that after the business with Connor here.”
Yes, he should have. Instead, he’d found himself easily infiltrating a branch of the same cartel Connor got mixed up in and everything went to shit and an innocent woman lost her life. Because of him.
“Beck?” Sadie coaxed.
“Listen, Sadie, I’m mixed up in some other stuff and thought maybe you could help me out.”
“Anything you need. You know that.”
Rory Kendrick lucked out when he hooked up with Sadie. If a guy as guarded as Rory could win the heart of a sweet, kind woman like Sadie and the kind of love he found with her, then maybe there really was hope for Trigger. Maybe. Someday.
His gaze strayed to the woman across the room he vowed to protect.
“The situation I have on my hands is tricky. I need someone at the sheriff’s office I can tru
st to keep his mouth shut. Someone who can handle something by the book but do it with an eye for the victim.” He hated calling Ashley that because, although she’d been Brice’s victim, given a chance to fight, she took it. He may have stripped her down to her last shred of strength and endurance, but she found her reserves. Tired now, she’d bounce back. She’d be a force. He sensed it in the way she snapped at him and instinctively came out with the claws to protect Adam. “The deputy who kept after Connor. You said once that he’d looked out for you and your father and even tried to massage things to help you get Connor the help he needed.”
“Not that Connor ever cooperated, but yes, Mark saw Connor got caught up way over his head. He gave Connor several ultimatums. In the end, Connor chose not to take the lifelines offered to him.”
“Do you think he’s objective enough to bend the rules to protect a victim?”
“Bend, yes. Break, no. No matter what, Mark meant to take Connor down. How, he gave Connor a choice. The easy way, or the hard with many more consequences.”
Exactly the type of guy he needed on his side and inside the investigation. And he hoped a guy not in Brice’s pocket. “How do I get in contact with Mark?”
Sadie rattled off the phone number. “If you need anything else, call me.”
“I keep calling you, that big man of yours will knock my head off.”
Sadie’s soft giggle eased his heart. She’d been through so much with the loss of her father and arrest of her brother after he tried to kill her. “Come by the ranch anytime. Rory would love to see you. I’ll put little John in your arms and you’ll feel some of the best of life.”
Trigger stared at Adam smiling at the TV, enjoying another episode of Scooby-Doo. The little boy took him out of his head and made him forget his problems. He had a new focus, to make it safe for that boy to smile every day for the rest of his life.
Montana Heat: Escape to You Page 10