Nocturne (Nightmusic Trilogy Book 2)

by Heather McKenzie

  I wish I could tell you all this in person. Just stay alive and come back to me when it’s safe. Don’t try to contact me or reply to this email. Don’t trust anyone.

  I love you with all my heart, forever and always—Stephan.

  Stomach churning and head spinning, I thought I could never have felt more hate for my father than I did just moments ago, but now it had escalated into dizzying heights. I fought to breathe as Whitey watched me from the bar. Tears of anger hit the keyboard. I quickly rubbed them off my cheeks before slamming the lid shut, startling the ladies at the next table. I probably looked completely insane when I pulled money out of my pocket and tossed it on the pie plate in a sudden rage. I wanted to scream, cry, yell at the top of my lungs, then smash the computer to bits and push over the table. I barely held it together as I headed for the door.

  “Leaving so soon?” Whitey asked, getting between me and the exit in the blink of an eye.

  I bared my teeth at him. The sound that came from my throat was a dog-like growl. He moved aside.

  “Ooh, feisty. I like that. See ya at the motel a little later,” he said under his breath.

  I flew out the door into the cool night, took four steps, then stopped—the latest enlightening news about my father had sent me over the edge. Tears burst from my eyes. The last shred of hope I’d been hanging onto that Henry wasn’t all bad had been completely obliterated; he was an actual monster.

  I dropped to the curb and put my head in my hands. The rain started falling, lightly dusting my shoulders at first, then becoming a downpour just to add to my misery. I became soaked head to toe, but I didn’t care. I stayed where I was, wishing the rain would melt me into a puddle that would drain into the gutter and then just disappear into the earth…

  “You left something in my truck,” said a voice from out of nowhere.

  At the edge of my vision was Ben, rain coming down even harder now and pouring off his cowboy hat in rivers. He was holding out a paper bag, which was now soaked. It was the muffin I hadn’t eaten.

  “I didn’t want it to go to waste,” he added, eyeing me with concern, then glancing at the café window where I could feel many sets of eyes on my back.

  I dropped my gaze back to the gutter. My body didn’t want to move, and I still held out hope that the rain might just wash me away. Ben said something, and then he hauled me up and turned me to face him. He lifted my chin, and I had no choice but to meet his eyes. The rain plastered my hair to my face, mixing with the tears that were spilling out of me with blinding force.

  He gave me a weak smile. “I tried to leave. Got in my truck and was ten minutes out of town, but then I realized…” He paused, fumbling for the right words. “I could really use some help at my ranch. Now, the job doesn’t pay much, but you’ll have your own room and all the food you can eat. You’ll be dry.”

  He waited patiently for an answer, but I was so grateful that all my words caught in my throat. He tossed the paper bag with the muffin into the garbage. After a quick glance at the internet café and the white-haired waiter watching from the doorway, his hand firmly latched onto mine. I had the sense I wasn’t being given a choice, I was going wherever this cowboy wanted me to.

  “I’m taking you home now,” he said over the downpour.

  Home. Home was in Luke’s arms….

  The rain was falling in sheets. Since I wasn’t about to turn into a puddle and dissolve, I let the cowboy lead the way.

  A gravel driveway flanked by a white picket fence led to a sprawling ranch house. It was after midnight, and the only lights were the ones shining above a wide porch and the sky full of twinkling stars. I couldn’t see what animals Ben had, but the smell mixed with freshly cut hay suggested there were many. He parked halfway to the house, and the fattest cat I’d ever seen came to greet us. It skulked across perfectly mowed grass to circle my legs. I shivered from the bitterly cold night and the tickle of the cat’s fur.

  “That’s Miss Halfhertail,” Ben said, coming around to the passenger side of the truck to give the cat a pat on the head. “She guards the house. If she don’t like ya, you aren’t getting anywhere near it.”

  “Hello, kitty,” I said, reaching down to stroke her, noticing that most of her tail was missing. “Ah… Miss Half Her Tail.”

  The cat purred, and the comforting sound made me suddenly acutely aware of how weary I was. I straightened up to take in my surroundings. “How much land do you—?” Suddenly, a wave of dizziness hit me like a hammer to the head, and I stumbled backward. Two nights of no sleep, not much food, and hours of crying had caught up with me.

  “Whoa there, uh, girl,” Ben said, lunging for me with outstretched hands.

  “I’m fine.” I backed away from him to lean against the truck. I didn’t want him to touch me. If I was going to pass out, I’d rather hit the dirt all on my own.

  Zander impatiently stomped his feet in the trailer. “Right,” Ben said, rubbing his forehead. “Well, you wait here just one moment. I gotta get the horse into his pen and then we’ll figure you out.”

  He spun around and marched off.

  I contemplated running. I knew nothing about this man, yet here I was, at his house. Was there a town I could make a run for? Maybe I could steal the truck and…

  The cat purring at my feet brought me back to reality; I couldn’t drive, and running… seriously? It was all I could do to stand. I wasn’t going anywhere.

  So I watched Ben expertly tend to the massive horse, talking to him lovingly as he led him out of the trailer. With a light slap to the butt, he sent Zander through a gate and closed it behind him. When the sound of hooves trotting off faded away, he returned to me. I hadn’t moved an inch. I didn’t know if I could.

  “I’ll show you to your room, all right?” he said.

  My throat went dry. “I could sleep in the barn, or in the back of the truck, or…”

  “It’s just up there,” he said, pointing to the top left corner of the house.

  The cat rubbing against my legs didn’t calm my pounding heart. Ben was patiently waiting for me to move, but I just felt all the blood drain from my cheeks. I realized there was no way I could defend myself against him if I had to, and once inside, I would be trapped.

  “Tell me your name,” Ben said, the starlight giving his eyes an unnerving shimmer. I was at his mercy, and he knew it. He moved closer. “I need a name,” he demanded.

  “It’s Kate Adams,” I lied.

  He shook his head with an amused huff. “No, it’s not. But it’s better than calling you girl. Anyway, it’s late. I’m tired. Let’s go.”

  He grabbed my hand, his grip far tighter and more insistent than it had been at the gas station. I wasn’t being given a choice, yet my feet didn’t budge willingly. I stumbled away from the truck, resisting as best I could.

  Ben released his grip and sighed. Sensing my fear, he took off his hat and put it to his chest. His eyes settled on mine, and I hadn’t the strength to look away. “On my honor, Kate Adams, no harm will come to you here. I promise.”

  A wave of relief washed over me. I could clearly detect the honestly in his voice. I was so tired, so mentally exhausted and overwhelmed, that when he pulled, I followed. With the cat leading the way, we passed an old dog that woke only to give the air a sniff. Soon, we were on the porch of his house. Again, I hesitated. Ben put a key in the door. This time, he didn’t bother trying to comfort me when I held back. Instead, he threw open the door. With his hand still firmly around mine, he pulled me into a dimly lit foyer. He didn’t even take off his boots before ascending a flight of stairs that felt like climbing a mountain. Finally, at the end of what seemed like the longest hallway in the world, a door was opened, and he let go of my hand. With a nod, he gestured me in.

  “It’s good and clean. There’s a bathroom across the hall. Sleep. And when you wake, come downstairs for toast and coffee.”

  He flicked on the light. The entire room was done in flowers. Every square inch of it. I bli
nked a few times to see if I was still awake. The walls were covered in pink wallpaper bursting with red roses, hideous yellow curtains speckled in pink roses flanked the window, rose motif rugs, and even hand-painted rose-embellished dressers and chairs made the room a hideous bouquet.

  “Yeah, Evelyn, my old cook, really liked the Victorian theme. She was always one to take things too far, though. Personally, I hate it. Just haven’t had the time to give it a good paint job. It’s not the Taj Mahal, but—”

  “It’s perfect,” I said, eyeing the inviting bed.

  Ben brushed past me into the room, appearing even more masculine than he already was among the visual onslaught of florals. His hat was gone from his head and the wooden heels of his boots clicked on the patches of bare hardwood. Pulling back the covers, he patted the pillow, then turned to look at me frozen in the doorway. I was upright, but dead on my feet. Even with his promise not to hurt me, I was still scared silly. He was about to say something, but instead crossed the room and picked me up like I was a sick calf. I was carried to the bed, the flip-flops falling off my feet, and then plunked down—not all that gently—and covered up. With a weary smile, Ben tugged the sheets under my chin.

  “You need to get some sleep there, Kate. I don’t need you passing out and smacking yer head or somethin’.”

  My eyes were closing even though I pleaded with them not to, the pillow under my head a heavenly cloud cushioning my cried-out skull. I wanted nothing more than to just give way to sleep, but my mind was racing.

  The light had gone out, but Ben was still in the room, shuffling around. I held my breath, wondering what he was doing. There was the sound of a drawer being opened, and then a clinking of glass. I gasped when his hand found its way under my head.

  “Scotch. Evelyn always had a stash,” he said, lifting my head off the pillow. “She never bought the cheap stuff, either. I watered it down a bit since you don’t seem like much of a drinker. Drink up so you can sleep.”

  I wanted to protest, but he’d put the glass to my mouth and the scotch was soon making its way down my throat. Five large gulps of liquid fire hit the empty pit in my belly. The smell of it reminded me of Stephan and the way his hands petted my hair soothingly after a goodnight kiss on the cheek… the safety of his arms… the comfort of his soft beard on my forehead…

  “You’ll be all right,” Ben said on his way out.

  My dreams were disturbing. Vivid. Visions of Luke with the most horrific look of hurt on his face, yelling questions at me before doing an about-face and happily running off into the sunset with another woman. I was crying, calling his name, begging for forgiveness. So he came back, standing before me, fields of mustard flowers rippling in waves behind him. There was the wide man behind him, changing the direction of his gun from me to him. I was screaming before the wide man even sent a bullet through Luke’s chest… screaming while Luke died and bled out in my arms, his blue eyes filling with tears as the light left them. And then there was Oliver. He was saying something I didn’t understand. He was fading away, becoming nothing but a blur when he couldn’t pull me away from Luke’s dead body…

  A sharp clanging sound jolted me upright out of the puddle of sweat and tears. Gasping for breath in a flood of sunlight, it took a moment to shake off the dream and then to recall exactly where I was—in a strange bed covered in rose motifs, without Luke. If I’d been questioning my sanity for leaving the love of my life, the dream only confirmed I was doing what was best for him. I’d long ago given up trying to do what was right.

  My body ached from my hair to my toes. As I swung my legs over the side of the bed, I thought of my life back at the estate. Breakfast would have been on a tray on my lap, and I wouldn’t have had to leave the bed for hours if I didn’t want to. At the slightest wince from any sort of ache, Stephan or Oliver would have rubbed my muscles until they loosened up. Now I was on my own. I had no one to lean on, no one to pamper or protect me. It was scary, but somehow thrilling.

  The décor of the room wasn’t all that hideous in the soft light of the morning, but it was a bit much. A huge wardrobe lined the far end of the wall. Two very tall bookcases stuffed full of romance novels and cooking magazines were next to it. A dressing table held bottles of perfumes and potions, and a television from the seventies sat perched on a tiny table.

  I climbed out of bed and tiptoed across the creaky floor to stand before a long mirror—I looked like hell. My hair was wild, and my eyes were puffy. The bruises on my arm were still prominent, and the one on my thigh from being slammed around in the falls remained an angry splotch reaching to my knee. My feet were a mess, too. The one I’d cut in the race and kicked the door in with was swollen, the toes purple. Even my lip was split, fingernails ragged from chewing them. I looked like I’d been beaten up and tossed in a ditch. And I felt about the same.

  Turning away from my horrid reflection, I peered out the window; at least the view from the rose room was amazing. A massive expanse of land stretched out as far as the eye could see. Cattle, clusters of trees, green pasture with horses grazing, and small muddy patches circled a barn. There were sheds, shacks, squared-off sections of fenced land, and an overgrown garden.

  I opened the wardrobe, hoping to find clothes that would fit. Unfolding a very faded pair of jeans, I discovered Evelyn must be a rather large woman—I could have fit five of me into them. The T-shirts were no better either and way bigger than Luke’s. They kept falling off my shoulders and down past my knees. I found a drawer of undergarments—all massive—and stared in awe for a moment at a bra with cups as big as my head. My chest was ample, but not that big. What I wouldn’t give for a bra that fit and some sweatpants…

  There had to be something here I could wear. I hated digging through this woman’s things—where was she, anyway? —but I was desperate to get out of my dirty clothes. A pajama top? Stretchy dress? Everything was size quadruple x and I was an extra small. Beautiful scarves in silk, some sequined, some covered in flowers—of course—and some heavy wool ones for winter caught my eye. I unfolded a cream-colored one made of light organza and speckled with little blue daisies. It was long and wide and could work as a shirt. I took off the kid’s T-shirt Ben had bought me and put the scarf around my neck, crisscrossing it across my chest and circling it at my waist. It made a pretty top. But I was still out of luck in the bottoms department, so the jean shorts would have to do for now. I wrestled a hairbrush through my curls and twisted my hair into a long side braid, then patted the necklaces that were still safely against my chest for good luck; I was as ready as I’d ever be to face whatever was outside this room.

  The smell of butter and coffee and something with cinnamon hit hard when I opened the door. My stomach growled in hunger. Following my nose down the stairs, past the front door and large foyer with more coats and pairs of boots than I could count, I began to hear voices from around a corner. I hadn’t even considered there would be other people besides Ben, and I felt my pulse quicken. They were hushed, talking quietly, and I snuck toward them across a shiny hardwood floor in a hall lined with framed photos. Light poured out from the room ahead, along with mouthwatering aromas. I detected barbecue. That sweet sauce Luke liked on his chicken. How odd for breakfast. I moved quietly, getting closer to the voices, straining my ears and worried that my grumbling stomach might give me away.

  “So, you just decided to bring her here?” someone asked.

  “Yep. Awful things have happened to this girl. I’d never seen anyone cry like that in my life. And she’s been beat up pretty bad. Covered in bruises. I had to do something. I couldn’t just leave her.” It was Ben answering, his voice low and somewhat defensive.

  “Well, sure ya could have left her,” a male who sounded quite young said. “You’re not even supposed to be around women right now. Evvy said you are—”

  “That’s enough talk outta you, Hank,” Ben hissed. “I don’t want to hear one word about what Evvy said.”

  Another male voice spoke up. T
his one was deep, drawing out the vowels and oozing with confidence. “I’m surprised, Ben. I didn’t think anyone would be able to tug at your rusty heartstrings. I assumed they’d broken off long ago.”

  Ben cleared his throat. “You would have done the same thing, Thomas. This girl was running for her life. Scared to death.”

  “As most whores are when running from their pimps,” Thomas said coldly.

  “She certainly ain’t no whore.”

  “Oh, yeah? How do you know that?”

  There was a pause. “When you meet her, you’ll just know, too,” Ben said.

  There was silence for a moment. I stayed flattened against the wall, trying to decide if toast and coffee were worth going in there for, or if I should tiptoe back to the rose room and hide under the blankets forever.

  “So what are you going to do with her? What if she’s wanted by the cops or something? The last thing you need is more trouble,” Thomas said.

  Ben spoke quieter, and his tone suggested he was losing his patience. “The last thing I need is a young punk telling me what I need. And, if she is wanted by the cops, they can sort out their own business. I ain’t givin’ the girl up. I made a promise I’d keep her safe, and I’m going to keep it.”

  Someone I hadn’t heard piped up. “You’re doing the right thing. You can’t go back on a promise.”

  “Damn straight, Mick,” Ben said. “Anyway, I decided to put the girl to work at the ranch. Give her a chance to get on her own feet. No one touches her though, all right? Not one finger. I swear I’ll beat y’all senseless if ya do.”

  “Whoa,” Thomas said. “None of us want anything to do with some beat-up gutter baby you rescued from the dog pound. You can keep your little whore to yourself.”