by J. M. Madden
“Are you hungry? Maybe I can make you something to eat.”
Her lips moved back and forth. Maybe she was hungry and just didn’t want to say.
“If I scramble some eggs will you eat them?”
She nodded.
Chad prayed there were eggs in the fridge to cook.
As he stood from the chair he did a visual down the long hallway to the door and out the back window to the yard. Everything seemed in order. A typical cold, frosty Colorado morning.
Digging a pan from the lower cupboard, he set it on the smooth-top stove and turned for the fridge. Eggs were front and center, along with some ham and cheese. He held the items up for the girl’s inspection and she nodded, looking more excited.
Chad wondered if Lora would eat a couple of eggs. He hadn’t seen her eat anything yesterday. When he asked Mercy, she nodded her head. Cracking a couple more into the bowl to beat, he hoped she would at least eat a bit.
“So, what do you like to be called, little miss? Mercy or Mercedes?”
“Mercy.”
He nodded to the crumpled animal clutched in her arms. “And his name?”
“’Ansom.”
“Handsome. That’s right. For some reason I thought it was Bill.”
The little girl’s eyes went wide and she shook her head. Chad turned back to stir the eggs, wondering if a six year old was too young to charm. Opening cupboard doors, he drew two small plates from the shelf and piled some eggs onto one. He crossed the kitchen and placed it in front of the child. “Miss Mercy, your eggs, madam.” He bowed from the waist, and when he looked up, her little pink lips were fighting a smile.
When he set the plate in front of her, she poked at the eggs experimentally before taking a bite. Once she knew they were good she started eating. Chad set a glass of juice in front of her and was just dishing out the second plate of eggs when Lora walked into the kitchen. Her pretty green eyes flashed with anger as she took in her daughter eating and him standing at the stove, spatula in hand.
“Just make yourself at home,” she snapped. “I’ll feed my daughter, thank you very much.”
Tipping his head, Chad handed her the plate of eggs. He brushed his hands on his jeans and turned the heat off, moving the pan away from the burner. “No problem. I apologize.”
Giving Mercy a wink, he walked out of the kitchen.
Mercy blinked up at her.
“He made you breakfast and it’s good.”
Lora looked down at the plate in her hand with a sinking stomach. “He made it for me?”
She nodded her head. “And he didn’t put nonions in it.”
Lora smiled at the common complaint. “No onions, huh?”
She looked down at the plate of food and her stomach rumbled. It had been a while since she’d eaten. And he knew that. She forked a pile of eggs into her mouth. They were as good as they looked, and within just a couple of minutes, they were completely gone. Then the guilt really moved in.
It had been petty of her to yell at him; he’d only been kind to the two of them, in spite of her prickliness. Common decency forced her to leave the kitchen to find Chad and make it right.
Lora searched the front of the house but didn’t find him. She peeked out the windows out of habit as she walked deeper into the house. In Mercy’s room, she finally found him. He was pressing on the frame of the window above her bed. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, but didn’t say anything.
“I’m sorry I snapped at you. Thank you for making her breakfast. You didn’t have to do that.”
He shrugged his shoulders. “Had to do something. She was wasting away in front of me. I thought she was gonna eat that nasty dog she carries around.”
Lora snorted, amused in spite of herself. “That nasty dog is actually a nasty bear.”
He turned and gave her a weird cringe. “Really?”
She nodded.
Chad shook his head sadly.
“And thank you for my breakfast, too. It was very good.”
He widened his eyes at her. “You ate my eggs? I just wanted you to hold the plate for me.”
Lora’s mouth dropped open in disbelief, and she started to sputter out an apology, until he held up a hand, grinning. “I’m kidding. I made those eggs for you.” His eyes drifted down her body. “You need some meat on your bones.”
Lora flushed as his eyes traveled over every inch of her in a too-thorough scan, sending goose bumps racing across her shoulders and down her chest. She shuddered at the feel of her body responding with awareness.
Chad was watching her closely. “Are you okay?”
She nodded her head automatically and backed out of the room. “Thank you for the breakfast. I’m going to…go straighten the…the mess in my room.”
Trying not to run, she escaped, retreating to her bedroom. She circled to the opposite side of the rumpled bed and sank down onto the mattress, breathing heavily. She looked down at the front of her t-shirt and the unmistakable evidence that her body had recognized his interest. Her nipples pressed against the soft fabric.
It scared her to death.
Why had she reacted like that? It had been years since she’d wanted any kind of physical relationship with anybody. Derek had ruined that for her.
At first, their relationship had been sublime. They’d met at a party almost seven years ago. She’d been going to college for an English degree, working her way through school on her own dime. It had been an unexpected free weekend not waiting tables when she’d accepted the invitation to a party.
As soon as she’d walked into the crowded room, Derek’s gaze had connected with hers. Within just a few minutes he’d approached her, charming her with sweet compliments. Lora had relished the attention from such a handsome guy. Derek had been a total gentleman, getting her drinks and dancing with her. Against her better judgment, she’d let him drive her back to the dorm that night, but he’d left her at the front door with a chaste kiss on the cheek.
The next morning he’d call to invite her on a date and she’d accepted. The attention he’d lavished on her had been like rain falling in Death Valley. Lora’s mother had died the year before and the loneliness and depression had almost swallowed her under.
Hindsight was twenty-twenty though. With her emotions out of balance she’d been easy pickings for his manipulative nature. He’d walked in and made her life better, made her swallow the dream.
Derek’s mother had been just as devious and it was obvious where he’d learned the skill. She’d been the motherly figure Lora had craved. When the subject of marriage had been brought up, she fallen for it completely, and them. She and Derek had married in a quiet ceremony on the family’s estate in New York.
It wasn’t until she discovered she was pregnant two weeks after they married that things started to turn sour.
Lora returned home early from the doctor’s office, ecstatic about her news, and headed upstairs. She wanted to be ready when Derek came home. But Derek was already home. She found him in a clinch with one of the house maids. In their bed, no less. The young girl had run from the room crying. Lora had laid into Derek, calling him names. When she told him only small men cheated, he went off on her. He dazed her with a punch to the jaw and immediately slammed her to the bed facedown. He’d bound her hands with his silk tie and looped it around the bedpost. That had been the first time he’d raped her.
When she’d reported the incident to the police, she’d been given the brush off. Only years later did she realize how deep the corruption went around her. The Malone family owned their quiet New York town, and they used the influence any way they wanted.
Lora looked down at her lap, her surroundings fading away. The past rushed up to snatch her into its depths.
Her heart was trying to race out of her chest. The throbbing in her head twisted her stomach with nausea. Holy hell, what happened last night? She raised her hand to her face, and the swelling under her fingers told her exactly what had happened. He’d laid
into her again.
She sighed into the darkness, then caught her breath, rolling her head to the right. Good, he was gone. She didn’t have to worry about waking him when she moaned as she rolled out of bed.
As her feet dropped to the cold marble floor of their bedroom, she paused, caught by how many times she’d done this before. When had it become an accepted routine that he would beat the shit out of her, fuck her till he fell asleep, then go drink himself into oblivion, leaving her to clean up?
She couldn’t even remember. Too long.
She looked down at the t-shirt she’d worn to bed. Blood from her bloody nose had dripped down onto her breast, then dried brown. Gross. There were other things on her she didn’t even want to look at. She thought one of the guards had been in the room as well. Had he taken part in decorating her? She couldn’t remember. If he had it had been when she’d been unconscious.
She eased forward onto her feet, moaning as her internals settled low. Fluid flowed down her thighs. Somebody had penetrated her.
Disgust coated her tongue as she caught sight of herself in the mirrored closet doors.
Lora realized she was standing at the used dresser in her new house, looking into the glass, fists clenched at her sides. She exhaled the stale air in her lungs and wondered how long she’d been out of it. She hated the dream but didn’t know how to change it. The same scene had played over and over again in real life until it was ingrained in her gut.
Derek had kept her under his thumb for three years. That first rape had caused her to miscarry the baby she’d been so excited to tell him about. He’d blamed her, of course, because she hadn’t told him about it right away. Depression had been her constant companion then, eating at her will to live.
Six months later she’d gotten pregnant again, in spite of the furtive precautions she’d taken. One of the hardest decisions of her life was to decide whether or not to tell him about the pregnancy. Eventually she did and, to her complete shock, the abuse stopped completely. Rosalind treated her with a tiny bit of respect and things felt like they were looking up.
Derek wanted to name the baby Mercedes after his favorite brand of car. When she’d looked at him as if he were out of his mind, the flash of rage in his eyes made her fear for her safety. And that of the child’s. So she’d bitten her tongue and gone along with what he wanted. Again.
When the baby was born, they’d gone through an almost honeymoon-like phase. They nurtured the child and spent some good, quality time together. But it hadn’t lasted. Within a few months, they’d gone back to the way things were before.
Lora shook off the melancholy. She had things to do and wallowing in the past wasn’t getting her anywhere.
* * *
Six hours after he left Denver, Duncan walked into Truman Medical Center. Dr. Hartfield had left permission for him to see Willingham, though he wasn’t technically family. The volunteer gave him directions and pointed out the elevator.
As Duncan limped off onto the seventh floor, it was hard not to be sucked under by his own memories as the smell seeped into his lungs. After so many years, he thought it would be easier, but no. Every time one of his guys got hurt, or somebody needed something for a vet, he was there to lend a hand or a shoulder.
Blue signs counted down the room numbers, odd numbers on one side, even on the other. Seven twenty-eight was directly across from the nurse’s station and had a glass window. Had Willingham really been causing them so many problems they needed to watch him twenty-four seven?
Apparently. Duncan cringed when he realized the man’s arms and feet were buckled to the bed with leather straps. “Fuck.”
Aiden appeared to be deeply asleep. It gave Duncan a chance to look him over and he was dismayed at the change in the man. He’d lost a lot of weight, and even beneath the beard his skin looked sallow, as if his body were fighting off a deadly disease.
A nurse stepped into the room. “Are you Mr. Wilde? The doctor told me to page her when you got in.”
“I am.”
She tossed him a smile and left to page the doctor.
Duncan circled the bed and reached out to rest his hand on Aiden’s bony shoulder. “Hey, buddy. Looks like you’ve had a heck of a time recently. We’ll get you fixed up.”
There was no reaction physically, but Duncan thought perhaps he breathed a little bit easier. He sat in the plastic chair beside the bed to wait for the doctor.
Duncan had answered all the emails and messages he could on his phone and was debating going to find coffee when a woman entered the room. Tall and lean, her dark auburn hair was pulled back into a low ponytail. Heavy, black-framed glasses covered her eyes and she seemed very young. But she approached him like she owned the place. “Mr. Wilde? Dr. Alex Hartfield. Nice to meet you.”
She shook his hand and turned to the figure on the bed. “I assume this is your Mr. Willingham?”
Duncan nodded. “It is. Definitely leaner and a little more cleaned up. He was homeless when I met him.”
The doctor cringed. “Well, that would explain his leanness. I have a feeling this guy’s been in a lot of other crap, though, because he has serious scars all over his body. Knife wounds, bullet wounds. It looks like his ankle has been rebuilt at some point. Knee’s been ripped up. He has surgery scars on his right shoulder. Marks on his wrists as if he were bound for a long time.”
Duncan cringed, wishing he knew the man’s history. If he had to guess, it sounded like Aiden had been Navy SEAL. Or black ops. He’d have to call in some serious favors to find out. Palmer wasn’t going to find anything.
A nurse brought in a syringe and handed it to the doctor. Two burly orderlies stood at the door. Duncan eyed them. “Are those necessary?”
The doctor turned and blinked at him. “They are if he freaks out when I give him this shot and he doesn’t recognize you. I’m hoping for hunky-dory, but expecting a fight.”
Duncan sighed and stepped to the opposite side of the bed, leaving his cane hanging on the bedrail. He rested his hand on Aiden’s shoulder as the doctor injected the IV with part of the shot. “We’ll start with a small dose and see if he rouses.”
A subtle quivering started in his arms.
“You need to step back, doctor.”
The words had no sooner left his mouth than Aiden Willingham was wide awake and fighting the restraints. Duncan pressed against his shoulder but even malnourished the other man had a lot of fight in him. “Willingham! Aiden! Stop. You need to settle down.”
The orderlies started to move in but Duncan waved a hand for them to stay where they were. “Aiden. Look at me.” He pitched his voice low and calm, in spite of the situation. “Aiden, you need to calm down before they knock you out again.”
The leather restraints creaked and snapped as the younger man fought, but something must have filtered in, because his eyes snapped to Duncan’s.
He grinned at him. “You need to settle down, soldier. You’re makin’ these civvies a little jumpy.”
Aiden blinked heavily, then looked at the people grouped around the bed. His head swung back to Duncan. “You need to let me go,” he rasped. His whole body quivered with tension, though he’d stopped thrashing. Muscles bulged in his arms as he pulled against the restraints. “I can’t be tied down. I can’t be tied down.”
Duncan couldn’t help but feel for the guy, and wondered if they weren’t doing him more emotional harm by keeping him restrained. “You need to be calm then. They need to know you’re not going to hurt them or yourself if they let you go.”
Desperation lit Aiden’s brown eyes. “I won’t hurt these people. I swear.”
Duncan believed him, in spite of the evidence to the contrary.
The doctor didn’t look as convinced. “I don’t know. He already hurt one nurse.”
Aiden jerked his gaze to her. “What?”
The doctor nodded. “One of the nurses was knocked down when you were first brought in. She’s fine. Just bruised.”
Closing h
is eyes for a moment, he grimaced. “I’m sorry I knocked her down. I can’t be restrained. It will truly drive me insane.”
Duncan didn’t envy her position. If she let him go and he did hurt somebody, it was her responsibility. She pursed her lips for several long seconds before finally nodding. “You better be a man of your word, Mr. Willingham, because if you hurt one of my people I’ll make sure you’re locked up for a very long time.”
Aiden nodded and some of the tension eased from his body as they leaned in to unfasten him. Everyone in the room held their collective breath when he was finally free, waiting to see what would happen. Grimacing, Aiden sat up in the bed, rubbing his wrists, but he didn’t make any other moves to cause alarm.
The doctor pulled the stethoscope from around her neck and held it up. “Mind if I examine you?”
Aiden stared at her for a long moment before shaking his head.
The examination was quick and perfunctory, but Aiden’s body quaked with tension by the time she was finished and moved away. Duncan eased away just a bit to reach his cane to lean on, his hips aching from holding Aiden to the bed.
Aiden looked up as Duncan moved away and fear flashed through his eyes.
“I’m not going anywhere. Just adjusting.”
“Where am I?”
“Kansas City, Missouri.”
If he hadn’t been watching, he’d have missed the tightening around the other man’s eyes.
“You apparently climbed in the back of a tractor-trailer to get here.”
Aiden blinked at him but didn’t say anything. He looked over Duncan’s shoulder to the window outside, as if the bleary sky would be able to tell him where he was. “How long have I been here?”
Duncan shrugged. “You’ve been gone from Colorado for several weeks.”
Aiden dropped back against the bed. Though there was no other outward reaction, Duncan thought he was shocked at the amount of time that had passed. “You don’t remember?”
He shook his head.
Duncan could ask him what happened in the alley later, when the people were gone.
The doctor shooed everybody out. “I’m sorry we had to take the steps we did, Mr. Willingham, but I wasn’t going to let anyone else get hurt.”