Savi remembered those first months after she'd escaped her father's house, when she'd fantasized still about Damián finding her. Later, she'd had fantasies about his being a daddy to Mari, before she'd given up and shut down emotionally. Still, she'd always hoped he would try to find her. He'd broken her heart by not doing so.
Don't be ridiculous, Savi. He wouldn't have come looking for you. He'd have looked for Savannah Gentry. And she was dead.
“I haven’t ever hurt you, Savannah. Have I?”
Why did he insist on calling her that?
Choosing not to answer the question, she finished unbuttoning the jacket and peeled it off, then leaned against the back of the sofa and pulled the tail of her shirt loose from her slacks. His gaze went to her abdomen and she saw a flash of rage cross his face as his mouth tightened.
“Lie down.”
His words sounded angry and fear clawed at her throat again. She wouldn't let herself be placed in such a vulnerable position with him. “No.” She took a deep breath and stood up, wincing as the movement robbed her of breath. “I’d rather stand.”
He stood as well and leaned closer, reaching out his hand. She gasped even before he touched her. When he gingerly touched the bruised area on her left ribcage, below her breast, she held her breath and tried not to move. After a moment he pulled away.
“I need to ask Doc what to do.”
Didn't doctors here have to make reports of violent acts to the authorities? She couldn't risk that. But he didn't wait for her to express an opinion as he pulled out his phone and pressed a button. After a moment, someone answered.
“Sorry to wake you, man, but I need your help.” He paused and glanced at Savi. “A friend of mine has been in…some kind of fight and she has some bruising over her ribs.” He seemed exasperated by the other person's response. “Look, this is serious. It’s not from impact play."
How could violent impacts against someone's body be considered play?
"She’s been punched by a fist, it looks like. Under her breast. Where the ribs are. The bruises are still dark in color. Happened at least two days ago.” He looked to her for confirmation and she nodded and held up two fingers. She wondered how someone who wasn't in the medical field became such an expert on bruising.
He listened a moment, then shook his head. “Can’t do that."
Do what?
"What’s plan B? What can I do?” Once more, he listened. A garbled voice came through the phone, but Savi couldn't make out the words. After a long while, he said “Hold on” and lowered the phone to the coffee table. Damián looked at her. “Take some deep breaths. Really fill your lungs.”
Lost in his gaze, she did as he told her, then caught her breath and winced again. She'd forgotten to be careful how she breathed. He picked up the phone again and said, “Might be a problem with her breathing, Doc.”
Refusing to appear injured, Savi stood taller. "No, there isn't. I'm fine."
Damián glared at her until the voice came through the phone again.
"Shoot." He listened to his friend's instructions. “I didn’t take anatomy, Doc.”
What had he asked? Damián's gaze went to her breasts and she grew uncomfortable. Don't look at me like I'm a dirty slut. She'd endured the unwanted stares and touches of more men than she could count during the year before she'd escaped her father's house.
“Be right back.” Damián laid the phone on the coffee table again and moved closer to Savi. She fought the impulse to turn and run. “I need to check for a broken rib. Just try and relax.”
No way. This time, she did take a step back.
“Hold still, querida.” He maintained eye contact with her, but rather than calm her, she was overwhelmed with the need to escape; to go to her safe place.
Savannah ran along the beach, ignoring the broken shells that cut into the bare soles of her feet. Where were her flip-flops?
The cave. She'd left them at the cave. She needed to get back there. After climbing gingerly over the sharp rocks, she walked into the opening of the cave, then halted. Instead of her mother, she found Damián leaning against the wall of the cave. No! Where was Maman?
Then she remembered how safe she'd felt with him here once upon a time. A very long time ago. She hadn't felt that kind of safety since before he mother had run away.
“Savi? Look at me.”
She blinked and found herself transported instantly back into Damián's living room. She stared at him.
“Where’d you go?”
My cave. Wait! He couldn’t know about that. “Go? I didn’t go anywhere. Just check for the broken rib and get it over with.”
Damián placed his left hand in the middle of her back and she jumped.
“Wait! I’m not ready yet.”
“You don’t have to get ready for anything. Just look at me, querida.”
No! Not yet! She tried to convey her fear with her eyes, but he didn't seem to notice.
“Take a deep breath and let it out slowly.”
She couldn't do this. Her breathing became shallow, rapid. She tried to force herself to release the tension in her shoulders and neck. I can't do this!
“That's it.”
His words had a slight calming effect on her, until he placed his right hand against her chest again. Her breathing became shallow; her heart beating wildly. She drew another breath, sharper this time.
“Just relax. I’m going to press here, but tell me if it starts to hurt.”
He applied what felt like an incredible amount of pressure on her chest wall, and she cried out in pain. She'd always been able to block out pain. Why hadn't she been able to stay in her cave? He abruptly let go of her and gave her a look as if she'd just landed on earth from outer space. He reached for the cell phone and picked it up.
“Doc? You still there?”
His tone conveyed he wasn't pleased with her. What had she done wrong? She'd tried not to scream in pain.
Only dirty sluts scream, Savannah.
She should have been able to take the pain without screaming. She'd endured so much worse at the hands of Lyle and the men in the penthouse. She'd trained herself not to scream until the pain was too unbearable to do otherwise. But she hadn't had to practice that skill in a very long time. Damián wouldn't want to help her if...if he knew what she was. Control yourself, Savan…Savi. He doesn't know.
Damián sighed. “We have a couple problems with that. One is that we need a babysitter.”
Wait! What was he talking about? No one was separating her from Mari. Savi held up her hand. “No! I’m not going anywhere and even if I did, I’m not leaving Mari with strangers.”
He glared at her, but spoke into the phone. “Doc, do you have any friends who can provide a medical assessment without leaving a paper trail?” Doc. She realized this was the medic friend. Not a real doctor at all.
Damián paused to listen, then said, “I haven’t a fucking clue, but it’s the only way I’m going to get her to cooperate.”
I'll cooperate, as long as you don't take Mari away from me.
“No, nothing like that. Just call me back PDQ.” He snapped the phone shut and just stared at her until her skin burned under the intensity of his gaze. “He’s going to try and find someone to take a look at that rib. Do you want to lie down with Mari and rest a little?”
“No. I can't breathe when I lie down. I’m fine.”
“You’re not fucking fine, Savi.”
She cringed and backed away.
“Who are you running from? Who did this to you?”
Without going into details Damián didn't need to know, she confessed, “My father.” Bile rose in her throat at the mere mention of his name, and she held her hand over her stomach to try and keep the nausea at bay.
“What?”
Savi tried to find the words to explain the unexplainable. She'd spent the last two days trying to make sense out of what her father had wanted her and Mari for, but all she'd been able to come up with was that h
e'd wanted to hurt Mari the way he'd hurt Savannah. She wouldn't let him see her daughter, much less touch her. Ever.
They'd gotten all the way through Utah before she figured out how he'd found her. "He tried to take Mari from me. I guess he saw me on the news footage from Julio’s arrest and tracked me down, after all these years.” Damián seemed puzzled. “I can’t let him anywhere near her. That’s why I came to you." She paused, trying to gauge how much she needed to say to enlist his help. "The way I saw you taking care of Teresa in my office. The way you were ready to kill her father, if necessary. We need that kind of protection right now. Will you help us?”
Savi watched and waited. Her side throbbed ever since he'd pressed on her sternum. Had she injured a rib? Why hadn't she zoned out? But hadn't she? A brief glimpse of herself in the cave at Laguna Beach flashed through her mind. In the past, Maman had always waited for her there. This time, she hadn't found Maman at all. She'd found Damián.
To say that had been disconcerting would be an understatement. How could she run from his touch physically and wind up running to him in her mind? Her safe place no longer felt safe. But he wouldn't hurt her. Would he? She had to trust him so he would protect her and Mari. That's what had sent her halfway across the country to find him, wasn't it?
"Why didn't you call the police?"
"He's friends with the police chief." Her father always made it a point to have something to hold over key people in power, including judges, several state legislators, and even a congressman. Her body had been offered to service many of them in the past. Apparently, he'd been exerting his control over her for weeks, beginning at her workplace.
Fired.
Until yesterday, she hadn't even put two and two together to figure out her father had had a hand in her being fired. Her foremost thought had been to escape from Lyle. All her years of study and training, of giving her all for the children in her care to become the clinic's top victim specialist in a short time were down the drain. Once again, her father had shifted her world on its axis.
She squeezed her eyes shut and lowered her head, worrying about the upheaval her sudden disappearance must have caused her young, vulnerable clients. Just thinking about the feelings of abandonment they must be experiencing…
"You're still in pain."
She opened her eyes and stared at him, realizing her face must have projected her pain. Yes, but not the physical kind.
"I'm fine."
A flash of anger in his eyes told her he wasn't buying her verbal assurances. Had she done the right thing coming here? Damián wouldn't be as easy to manipulate as the other men she'd had to deal with, well, except for Father Martine, the only man she'd ever trusted.
So how, in just a few minutes, had Damián gotten her to reveal more than she'd intended to tell him—ever?
So dangerous. But where else could she turn? Savi would do whatever it took to protect her daughter from her father and Lyle's sadistic ways. The other night, however, as she lay on the floor at Lyle's feet, she'd realized how difficult it would be to protect her little girl. Admitting failure or weakness, much less need, to someone else—especially a man—was incredibly difficult. She'd sworn she'd never be vulnerable to a man again. Yet, this time she couldn't risk going it alone. The stakes were too high and her father much too powerful.
Damián's cell phone rang. "Yeah, Doc?" Pause. "You're sure?" Pause. "Appreciate it. Meet you there."
Savi tried to square her shoulders and stand straighter, but again, her breath was cut off. Do not let him detect any weakness. "I said I'm not going anywhere without Mari."
"Not a problem. My friend is meeting us at the clinic. We'll bring Marisol with us."
"She needs her sleep."
"She can sleep in the car. You need medical attention. Now. I'll drive your car and when we get to the clinic, I'll watch Marisol while the doctor checks you out."
No! She was losing control. Panic clawed at her chest and sweat broke out on her upper lip. She cleared her throat. "Look, I said I'm fine. Just some bruises. I'll be even better after some sleep."
"You said you couldn't lie down. How do you plan to rest?"
Oh, God. What had ever possessed her to come here? She needed to leave, but she couldn't carry Mari down those stairs. Her gaze strayed to the open bedroom doorway where she saw her daughter curled on her side, sleeping peacefully. How could their lives have become so screwed up in such a short time? Everything had been going perfectly until…
Damián. He'd come back into Savi's life because of his niece's rape. Then the hostage situation at her house when Teresa's father had returned, drunk and up to no good. If only Teresa hadn't called Savi to her house that afternoon to help…and the news crews hadn't happened by and broadcast the incident.
No, it wasn't the girl's fault. She was another victim of a father's sick and twisted abuse. Who better to help Damián's niece deal with her father's assault than Savi, who knew all too well a father's ruthlessness?
"Let's get your coat buttoned up…" When Damián's hands reached for her, she stepped back, her legs pressing against the sofa, nearly toppling her backward.
"No! I can do it myself." She scrambled with shaking fingers to close her coat and pulled the belt tight, wincing as she cut off her breath, but hoping he wouldn't touch her again.
No escape. Trapped.
Damián frowned at her. "I'll get Marisol."
Savi followed him back into the bedroom, afraid to let him out of her sight, especially anywhere near Mari.
He turned toward her, not seeming at all surprised she was on his heels. "I'll just wrap her up in this blanket." He turned the Mexican blanket down first, then the sheet, uncovering Mari. Her little girl stirred, scrunching her nose and brows at the intrusion into her snug cocoon.
"It's okay, querida. We're going to take a little ride."
Mari opened her big brown eyes, so much like her father's, and looked up at him. "I remember you."
"You do?" Damián grinned, seeming pleased to know he had a lasting effect on her daughter. Did he know? "I remember you, too, mi muñequita."
Mari smiled and nodded at being called his little doll, and then promptly fell back to sleep, not a worry in the world. Savi wished she could be that trusting. That innocent.
Never again—if she had ever been.
Damián picked Mari up and laid her down in the middle of the blanket, and then wrapped it snugly around her. He lifted her into his arms with such gentleness, he made Savi's chest ache with a new and unfamiliar pressure. Letting Mari's little head rest on his shoulder, he started for the doorway. Savi blinked rapidly, then led the way. The sooner she could appease Damián and get her ribs checked out, the sooner she could…could what? She had nowhere else to go.
At the front door to his apartment, she looked out the peep hole, but didn't see anyone near the door. After releasing the deadbolt, she held the door open for him, then reached into her pocket for her car keys.
She turned back toward Damián. "Wait! I need to find my keys."
"They're in my pocket."
"Oh." Crap. He hadn't given them back to her from when he went down earlier to get Mari, who was now in his arms. How was she supposed to…?
"Just close the door 'til it clicks. It will lock automatically." Damián walked through the doorway and she did as he'd instructed, then followed, watching him limp slightly toward the stairs.
What was wrong with his leg? Concerned he might not be able to support Mari's weight, she hurried to catch up. "Are you sure you can carry her down the stairs?"
He scowled at her. "What makes you think I can't?"
"You're limping." His fierce glare told her to back off, but she decided to get in front of them, just in case he lost his balance. She could break their fall. Thankfully, they made it down the stairs and to the car without incident, where Savi had to face facts. She needed to retrieve the keys. From his pocket. Oh dear lord.
"Left-hand pocket."
Like hell.
"Let me take Mari so you can open the car."
He ground out the words, "Reach in my pocket and get out the keys, Savan…Savi."
Still, Savi hesitated a moment longer, until he glared at her again. Did he have any other expression? Yes. He smiled and grinned when he looked at Mari. The glares he saved for Savi.
She looked down at the pocket. Leather pants. She supposed he'd worn leather because of his Harley, but wished he'd changed into jeans or something else when he'd gotten home. Not that she'd given him time to change before she'd shown up on his doorstep.
"Get. The keys. Out of. My pants. Now."
How was she ever supposed to get them out without touching him more intimately than she'd touched any man, well, since Damián, all those years ago? Savi's hands shook as she placed one at the opening of the pocket of his lethal-looking, hip-hugging pants and pried it open. She could barely wedge the fingers of her other hand inside. The warm leather felt good against her cold fingers. Heat spread up her arms and into her face. Okay, the heat in her face was from a separate, mysterious source. She did not blush and did not let a man affect her this way. Ever.
What was happening to her?
Not wanting to prolong the contact any longer, she dug into his pocket almost ferociously and found the key fob. Thank God. She yanked on it until the key got hung up. Shit.
"Use both hands." Damián just grinned. Damn him. The bastard was enjoying her obvious discomfort. Heat spread to the pit of her stomach. She decided she preferred his glare to his grin.
Using her other hand, she opened the pocket wider and then, with a slight tug, the keys popped out at last. She retreated several steps and took a few rapid, shallow breaths, trying to regain her equilibrium. Realizing she was just working herself up more, she remembered the Lamaze breathing techniques Anita had coached her on before Mari's birth, and tried to control her response with slow, even breaths.
Better.
She clicked the remote to unlock the car doors and opened the back door, watching Damián sit Mari in the back seat. He looked back at Savi. "I need you to buckle her in while I hold her up."
Nobody's Perfect Page 3