Beautifully Broken (The Denver Series Book 2)

by Eve L Mitchell

  “For how long?”

  “Until I let you go.”

  “No.”

  “Devon—”

  How did he know my name? “I won’t tell anyone, I swear, I’ll never mention it, I didn’t even see anything,” I rambled frantically, leaning forward now, my body language betraying my anxiety, my voice rising as I sought to assure him. “I won’t ever tell.”

  “Devon,” he said again, his tone light, like I amused him. Had he heard me?

  “I swear—”

  “Shut the fuck up, or I’ll end you now,” came the harsh whisper. I gulped audibly. My hands were shaking so badly I couldn’t even clutch the blanket. “You stay here, you don’t move from here, you don’t speak to anyone unless you can’t avoid it.” Tears ran down my face as I listened. “Do you understand?” he barked at me. I nodded frantically. There was silence. “Devon, I can’t see you, speak.”

  It took three attempts before I could say yes. I heard an answering grunt, and then the door was opened, and I saw a tall dark figure slip out of the room, nothing else. He was gone. I hadn’t even heard him cross the room.

  It took a lot longer than the actual time that he was in the room, to believe he wasn’t coming back. I had no idea what time it was. When eventually my bladder was in danger of bursting all over the sheets, I stood on shaky legs and made it to the toilet in the dark, my brain too overcome to switch the light on.

  When I was finished, I stood in the quiet of the room before I tested the lock on the door. It was locked. How the hell did he get in here? Did he have a key? Did he work here? He wasn’t the guy from earlier. No, this guy was dangerous. He had been so calm and…chilling. I recalled the casualness of him telling me he would slit my throat. I swallowed hard as I ran my hand over my neck.

  Bravely, I switched the light on. The chair had been moved from the window where it was earlier to the opposite wall. Had he sat and watched me sleep? No, that was too creepy, and my tired brain wasn’t ready to accept that he had been in the room that long before he woke me.

  I crawled back into bed and wrapped myself in the blankets. Sleep wasn’t going to find me tonight. I looked for my clothes that had been laid out to dry. They were gone. Sitting up in panic, I looked around the sparsely decorated room. Leaping out of bed, I ran to the bathroom and saw a thin clothesline in the shower cubicle, with my jeans, shirt and my panties hanging over it.

  He had hung up my clothes? The thought froze me. I wasn’t a heavy sleeper, almost two years on the streets taught you quickly to sleep light and always be ready to move. The idea that I hadn’t heard him in the room was as unnerving as it was terrifying.

  I tested the clothes and grimly realised that they were still damp. I could put them on and make a run for it, but I was pretty sure he may be waiting for that. Or, I stay here, where he could easily find me at any time. I didn’t like that option much either.

  As I went back to the bed and sat on it, drawing my legs up to my chest, I went over the conversation again. He said he wanted nothing of me, but he also wanted me to stay here, say nothing, stay off the street.

  Why? Was he worried he would lose me on the street? Good. Then it was to the streets that I would go. He may hang around outside just now expecting my reaction to be immediate. It’s what I would do. Hugging my knees to my chest, I placed my head on my knees. I would wait it out until morning.

  I stayed in the middle of the bed for a long time, and when I heard the sounds of movements from below me, I knew it was time to move. Grimacing, I pulled on my still wet jeans, tucking my long-sleeved T-shirt into my jeans, hoping to absorb residual wetness. My overshirt I usually wore in summer, I pulled it on top of the T-shirt. I was going to be too hot, but I didn’t care. I changed my sneakers, tossing the old pair into my backpack. I was going to get rid of them at the first opportunity. I didn’t want my once white sneakers with a pink trim to identify me. A new shirt and jeans I could pick up at a clothing bank, and I planned to head to one as soon as I got out of here.

  My hair, I could cut, so anyone looking for a woman with long brown hair and pink trim sneakers, living on the streets, hopefully wouldn’t immediately identify me. When I heard the sounds of the kitchen, I unlocked the door and stepped out into the hall. Making my way quickly along the corridor, I kept my head down and was out the back door and walking hurriedly away from the shelter, not too hurriedly, before I drew attention to myself. I looked over my shoulder once and saw nothing suspicious, but to be safe, I kept my face down and my pace fast.

  At the back of an old building that used to be a bank, I lost the sneakers and, after a brief thought, my overshirt. I also tied my hair up in a messy bun. Being freshly washed, I looked like nothing other than a normal woman in jeans and a T-shirt. For the first time in a long time, I lamented the fact I had no mascara or gloss. Having a little bit of colour on my cheeks would have helped too. However, I was content with my appearance enough that I passed as no one exciting and almost looked as if I hadn’t been making the back of an alley my home for the last twenty-one months.

  Swiftly, I crossed over the streets, always careful, always making sure there was no pursuer or follower. I was so busy looking behind, I forgot to pay attention to what lay ahead of me. I walked right into a solid wall of muscle, and as I started to stammer out an apology, a firm hand clutched my upper arm, curling around my bicep.

  “Scream and you’ll be sorry.” His voice was low, but the tone held no room for negotiation.

  Glancing up, I saw him for the first time. The shock that he looked completely normal threw me. I didn’t know what I was expecting him to look like, but tall, lean, and dark blond was not it. I looked at his side profile again as he walked me back the way I had just come. He would be good-looking, I realised, almost momentarily forgetting that he was taking me somewhere. His slight stubble was darker than his hair, his nose looked straight and not too long, he looked…normal. I had been envisaging dark, swarthy, mean looking. This guy looked average.

  His hand gripped my arm slightly harder, and I faced front and then realised he was manoeuvring me out of the way of a woman and her stroller who were heading straight for me. “Pay attention,” he warned lowly as he pulled me into his side. “Try not to attract attention.”

  “Or what?” I challenged him and almost swallowed my tongue in fear when he turned his head to look at me, and his eyes met mine. His cold hard stare brooked no room for argument, at all. Did I really think he looked average?

  “You were told not to run,” he said as he turned to face front, and he walked me to a parked car. “Weren’t you?”

  “I don’t remember,” I lied. I didn’t know why I lied, it was pretty obvious he was the one who was in the room the night before.

  He said nothing as he opened the car and waited until I sat in the back seat. I hesitated for a moment, and he stepped into my space. “I have no trouble at all putting you in there myself. You have three seconds.”

  I dived into the back seat, the air rushing from my lungs when he slammed the door closed. I watched as he walked to the driver side, and lunged for the handle to get out. The door didn’t budge. He got into the car, his eyes meeting mine in the rearview mirror.

  “Child lock,” he informed me.

  I couldn’t get out of the car at all. Panic surged through me, and I forced down my nausea. “I told you I wouldn’t tell anyone,” I blurted. “Are you going to hurt me?”

  He didn’t comment, instead starting the car. He drove through the streets of Denver calmly, and the whole time I stared at his side profile, committing him to memory. Not that I could easily forget him, I was pretty sure I would still be waking from the nightmares of seeing those cold blue eyes of his in thirty years’ time.

  If I lived that long.

  Oh my God, is that what I was thinking, if I lived that long? It was the only thought in my head, and it just kept repeating continuously. I was going to be sick.

  “I’m gonna throw up,” I warned him
as I clutched my knees to stop my hands from trembling.

  Blue eyes flicked to mine in the rearview mirror. “There’s a sick bag in front of you.”

  I looked at the seat pocket. A single black paper bag was folded neatly in it. Glancing to the back of the other seat, I saw the same. With a shaky hand, I reached out for the bag, plucking it from its confinement. How often did he do this that he seemingly had a supply of sick bags? I stared at it as it sat in my lap. I didn’t know how long I looked at it, but my head jerked up when I realised he had stopped the car.

  He got out of the car smoothly, leaving me trapped inside. Raising my head, I realised we were a short distance from Cherry Creek Mall. Why the hell was I here? Scrambling around, I looked out the back window where I could see him in his black button-down shirt and black slacks, talking on the phone. He wasn’t looking at the car.

  Hastily, I climbed over the central console and half fell into the passenger seat, cursing at the thump I gave my leg. I reached for the handle. Nothing. “Fuck!” I cursed as I reached over to the driver side as I stretched over the seats, trying to gain purchase as I crawled over them. The door opened quickly, and the handle was torn from my grasp, causing me to yelp in surprise as the force of the door opening snapped my fingers from the handle.

  He bent down and appraised me coolly. My face flooded with heat as I lay half across the seat, looking up at him with despair. He straightened, and then he was getting into the car, regardless of the fact my body was in his way. Lurching backwards, I cursed again as I banged my elbow off the dashboard.

  As he closed the door, he turned to look at me. If he was amused by my actions, he didn’t show it. In fact, his face was blank, completely emotionless. I realised, as he looked at me with absolute detachment, I would rather he were angry or amused than assess me with nothing.

  He watched me struggle to sit upright and sort myself. The whole time, my face got redder and he remained…bored. When I turned to face forwards and looked out the windshield, mainly to avoid eye contact with him, he turned his head too.

  “Did I tell you not to run?”

  Even in the car, he didn’t shout, he didn’t sound angry, he sounded exactly as he did when he assessed me. Indifferent.

  “Do not make me repeat myself,” he warned softly.

  “Yes.”

  “Did I tell you to stay in the shelter?”

  Knowing what he was expecting, I nodded. I heard a tiny sigh. “Yes!” I answered hurriedly.

  “Did I tell you not to go back onto the streets?”

  “Yes.” My voice was a whisper as I looked down at my hands.

  “And yet, here I find you, on the streets, running.” He turned his head towards me again, and I tried to keep my hands from quaking. “Was I unclear?”

  If I thought he was being droll, I would have relished it; however, I knew he wasn’t even being facetious. Cold. He was just…cold.

  “No.”

  He said nothing for a long time, and then he started the car again. Soon we were back outside the shelter, and he turned the engine off. He got out, and I knew not to move. When the passenger door opened, I got out without a word. I eyed the shelter and chanced a look at him. He was staring at me, and I hurriedly averted my eyes. He walked in and headed straight for the upper level from the night before. He stopped outside a door that had a plaque that said Admin, and he knocked twice.

  “Come in,” came a happy, cheerful voice.

  Opening the door, he walked in and turned back to me. The look was expectant, and I hurried to follow him.

  “Hi?” The woman was older than me, she looked to be mid-thirties, maybe forties, I was crap at ages. Her dark skin contrasted nicely with the cream blouse she had on. Her hair was in cornrows styled in a lemonade braid. She was very pretty, and as she looked at my captor and then at me, she appeared confused. “Who are you?”

  “You don’t need to know,” he said as he closed the door behind me. “You have an open spot for a volunteer. She’s it.” His head jerked towards me. “She stays here, you don’t need to pay her. Room down the hall, beside the fire escape, it’s hers.”

  The woman stood, and I noticed how tall and slim she was, her blouse was tucked into a neat black pencil skirt, and her shoes were a low-heeled pump. I knew this because I took it all in as she walked around her desk to stand in front of him. I wanted to warn her not to confront or provoke him. Even as tall as she was, she didn’t meet his height. “Why don’t you tell me who you are, and maybe I won’t call the police.” She crossed her arms and smiled at him, but it was in no way friendly. She also had beautiful teeth, I noted. They were perfectly aligned, and I was very grateful as I watched them both that I wasn’t on the receiving end of her smile.

  He wasn’t perturbed, simply ignoring her as he turned to me. “You’ll stay here, and when I tell you that you can leave, you’ll leave. Do I need to repeat this?” His look was pointed, the word again unspoken but very clear. I shook my head wordlessly. “Good. Out.” He gestured to the door with his head. “Wait in the hall.” He turned away, and without questioning, I slipped out of the office, leaving him in there with the lady.

  He was obviously delusional.

  As my feet carried me straight down the stairs and out into the street, I marvelled at his arrogance in thinking I would wait in the hall like a trained monkey. I ran for two blocks before the car screeched to a halt in front of me. Two guys got out and approached me. Both huge with buzz-cut hair, and one had a scar on his face. I turned and legged it back the way I had come, which was stupid, because for the second time today, I ran right into him and screamed.

  His hands grabbed me, and unceremoniously I was flung over his shoulder. I yelped once, but his hissed quiet made me shut up. Vinyl covered floors passed under me as he marched me along the halls, my hands and feet hitting off of him as I tried to get out of his hold. With a muffled curse, he flung a door open, and by the sounds of it thudding off the wall, I would be surprised if it was still on its hinges. I was dumped in the shower cubicle, and as I tried to get to my feet, the cold, freezing water made me yell out in surprise, my sneakers slipped on the shower tray, and I landed on my ass with a thud.

  “Stay there, cool off, do not make me come back.” I heard the door slam again as I sat shivering under the water.

  The tears I had been holding back burst forth, and as I struggled out of the stall and lay on the floor, I fought the urge to just stay there and sob. A short time later, a pair of black pumps came into my vision, and I looked up.

  The lady looked down at me with a frown. “You have any other clothes?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “Of course you don’t.” She sighed as she looked at me. “Well, get up, let’s get you clothes. You can’t work downstairs if you look worse than the people we’re feeding.”

  “I’m staying?” I asked incredulously as I got to my feet. My hands wiped my face dry as I stared at her.

  “Your friend is very persuasive,” she told me as she handed me some sheets of toilet paper. “Dry your eyes, wipe your nose, we have a lot to do.” She turned and walked out of the bathroom. I was so stunned I didn’t even correct her assumption that he was not my friend. “My name is Lucille, not Lucy, not Luce, Lucille.”

  “Understood.”

  “I don’t appreciate being strong-armed into anything; however, you look so miserable I can’t even be pissed off at you.” She turned to look at me, her eyes critical as they swept over me. “I hope he isn’t going to be a regular visitor?”

  “No, ma’am.” I had absolutely no knowledge if I lied about that, it’s not like he told me.

  “Lucille,” she reminded me.

  As I followed her, dripping the entire way, I couldn’t wrap my head around what was happening. I was to stay here? In my own room? He told her I was a volunteer, so he wanted me to work here. “What am I to do?” I asked quietly when she led me back into her office, and she pulled out several trash bags from a large storage c
upboard.

  “These haven’t been put in the clothing bins yet,” she told me as she opened them. Some she left open, some she closed. “They’re laundered but not folded,” she said, holding up a crumpled T-shirt as if to clarify her point. “He said your clothes will be here by nightfall, so take whatever you need for now, and let’s get started.”

  I didn’t have any clothes that he could be forwarding me, but I didn’t want to raise that as I pulled out a pair of black cargo pants. Holding them against me, I decided they would do. I wasn’t fussy about clothing, never had been when I was younger either. My mom used to tell me I would happily wear a sack if I needed to. She wasn’t far off. Since being on the streets, my days of caring about what label I was wearing were long gone. A simple white T-shirt with a coffee cup on it and the simple wording of Get Caffeinated made me smile, so I picked it too.

  A pair of plain white cotton briefs were put on the desk, and I looked up at Lucille. She was holding a pack, and I noticed another similar pack on the desk. “That size work for you?”

  “Yes,” I nodded.

  “You must be soaked through. Lord knows my carpet’s getting drenched. Bra size?” Lucille asked me even as she handed me a key. “For your room, the one you just came out of.”

  “Thank you.” I took the key and answered the question. I watched her carefully as she handed me a plain white bra, also out of a multipack, it looked like.

  “You have five minutes to change and then meet me back here. We’ll go down to the kitchen, and I’ll introduce you to the rest of the volunteers.”

  “Okay.” I turned and headed to the door where I hesitated. “Um, thank you.”

  Lucille snorted, and taking that for what it was, I hastily left her office. Just as I was undressing, there was a sharp knock on the door, and I warily opened it. Lucille was standing with a thick white towel. I took it wordlessly, and she walked back to her office.

  As I dried myself off and then pulled on the clean underwear and clothes, I thought about my morning. How had he found me? Had he really waited outside all night, and if he had, why did he let me get so far this morning? Who were the two blond guys who got out of the car? Were they with him or someone else? Why would there be someone else after me? Why was he making sure that I stayed here? If he thought I was a threat, surely he would have eliminated me by now. Eliminated me, I gave a huff as I thought about my crazy imagination and mentally shoved the inner voice that questioned if it really was far-fetched.