He’d chosen, this time, to man up. Yes, someone else was looking for her and he had a very, very bad feeling about that.
I have to find her first. Yes, he had to find her first. Failure simply wasn’t an option.
So don’t fail.
He reached for his reading glasses, the ones he only used when his eyes were strained. He was perfectly willing to physically go there and look for her—and he would.
But he might be able to track her down this way, first.
This was his one advantage, and it was a big one. He had technology on his side. He had abilities that no one, including that bastard who’d spawned him, knew he had. And he had access to programs no one knew about either—programs he’d developed himself.
Utilizing one of those now, he input his search criteria. He’d narrowed it down as tightly as possible. Then he initiated the program’s search function.
The other person looking for her was older, and as much as the son of a bitch thought he was a man of his times, he was too wedded to the past. Too enamored of political “machines” and underhanded deals negotiated in backrooms redolent of cigar smoke.
I’m tired. I only stoop to worn clichés when I’m tired.
Tired didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was that he had to succeed in his search. That was the first hurdle. But that was only the first hurdle, and likely, the easiest to accomplish. The second one would be getting her to listen to him. He needed to apologize, first. But then he was going to present her with a plan. The two of them together might be able to make that bastard pay for what he’d done to them—what he very likely had done to others.
There have to be others. The man is a serial pervert.
He turned off thoughts of that bastard for now. Thinking about him only made him angry. Anger sometimes helped, but it more often than not hindered, blinding him to the tiny details that he needed to see.
He had to be careful. He had to play a role until it was time to stop. The anger, reawakened, became rage and rage was nearly impossible to conceal.
A metallic ping yanked his attention away from his inner musings, bringing it back where it belonged. His search had given him a few more results than he’d hoped. Good, he was on the right track.
Now all he had to do was eliminate these possibilities, one by one, until he came to the one he couldn’t eliminate.
The bastard’s minion—and that was a joke because the reality was the other way around—was already on the move, but he was starting in the wrong place. Hopefully he wouldn’t even know the right questions to ask. Both the bastard and his right hand man were anachronistic, but that didn’t make them any less dangerous.
He had to work faster and smarter.
He reached for his coffee, now gone cold, and chugged it back regardless. Cold coffee tasted vile, and he shivered, but he felt just a little bit more awake. He took a minute, stretched his arms and hands and fingers. He shook his fingers until they felt looser, ready for however long it would take him at the keyboard to find the information he needed.
And then Jeremy Bishop got back to work, determined to get to his stepsister before the other guy did. He was determined to get to her in time to keep her safe.
Chapter 14
“This is really weird, guys. When are you going to take the blindfold off me?”
“Nearly there,” Cord said. “Just a little bit longer.”
“I don’t know…how will I even know where I am when I do take it off? I didn’t see how we got here. I could be anywhere!”
“Well,” Jackson said, “we picked you up at your apartment, blindfolded you, very carefully lifted you into the Ram, and drove for a total of three minutes. I think it is safe to assume that you are somewhere in Lusty, Texas.”
Ari heard the laughter in Jackson’s voice and had to fight her own grin. She’d been so damn happy to see them, she didn’t care that they wanted to “surprise” her. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that the surprise they wanted to show her was a house they’d leased. She did, however, think it was kind of cute they’d be so excited about it.
More than likely they’re excited about getting laid in a Lusty-sized bed.
She shouldn’t mentally scoff at that probability. She was looking forward to getting laid in a Lusty-sized bed, too.
It was weird being led down a walkway and up some steps and into a house without being able to see a thing. And weirder still when they stopped and took their hands off her. The two of them were obviously trying to decide on—
“Oooff! Eek!” Ari couldn’t hold back the scream as she was suddenly lifted and turned upside down, draped over someone’s shoulder as they began to mount some indoor stairs.
“Sorry, Red. We thought carrying you up the stairs would be easier than trying to make you walk up, blindfolded.”
Cord was the one carrying her, but then he usually was. Jackson didn’t carry her much, and she wondered if that had to do with whatever it was that had made him retire from football.
They hadn’t been together long, but already she’d had the sense that whatever had happened was something Jackson wasn’t ready to talk about, yet.
I can certainly understand that. She’d only just decided to do a little confiding, herself, that very day. Ari hoped, though, that if they were going to stay together long term that he would eventually tell her what had happened.
If we’re going to stay together long term. Ari hadn’t quite understood how serious she was about these two Benedicts until now. She hadn’t realized—oh, God, she hadn’t realized she’d fallen in love with them until just now!
“Hey, sweetheart. What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”
Good Lord, I didn’t even notice him setting me on the bed and taking the blindfold off. Cord squatted in front of her and took her hands in his. He rubbed them, a very worried look on his face.
“Tinker Bell, are you all right?”
“You didn’t hurt me.” She blinked and looked from one man to the other. She wondered what they had seen on her face to make them react this way. Then she looked over her shoulder at the bed she was sitting on. “Dayum, this bed goes on forever!”
“It’s something, all right.” Jackson sat beside her and turned her face toward him. “Do you want to talk about what just happened with you?”
She tilted her head to one side. “Later. Right now, I want to have a look in that bathroom over there.”
“Why, do you have to pee?”
Ari burst out laughing. The absurdity of Cord’s question hit some trigger deep inside her. She laughed until her sides hurt. She laughed until she had to draw in great lungs full of breath.
She laughed until her laughter turned to wrenching sobs.
Jackson scooped her onto his lap and held her. She clung to him and cried like she’d never cried before. She cried for the child she had been, for the trauma of rape. She cried for the betrayal of the woman who had carried her and borne her and turned on her, hating her instead of loving her the way a mother should. She cried for the months she’d spent on the streets of Indianapolis, and for having grown up alone.
She cried because now, when she’d finally found something wonderful and solid, something worth hanging on to, it felt as if it would all be taken away from her and she would be left all alone again.
Abject weeping tapered to intermittent sobs, and sobs to hiccups. Jackson and Cord didn’t say anything, they just held her, surrounding her with heat, with themselves, and let her have her storm.
My choice, in the end. Slowly the truth of the situation emerged from the years of held-in emotions that had just been turned to ashes.
She wasn’t alone if she didn’t want to be. This time, she wasn’t alone.
Cord got up for a few moments. When he returned, he held out a box of tissues. She didn’t think she had the strength to grab a bunch and begin cleaning herself up.
She needn’t have worried, because Jackson was the one who grabbed a handful and set to work try
ing to make her presentable. She felt like a very small child, helpless to do the simplest thing for herself. Then as the hiccups finally subsided, she began to shiver.
“Would you like to get into the hot tub with us?” Cord had resumed his place, kneeling in front of her. He held one of her hands and rubbed the back of it with his thumb.
“Y–Yes. It’s wh–what I wa–wanted to se–see.”
They were so very gentle when they undressed her. Then Jackson continued to hold her, stroking her back, as Cord stripped. He reached for her, picked her up and carried her into the bathroom.
He must have turned on the tub when he came in earlier to get the tissues. Ari felt her emotions begin to settle. He held her as he sat on the edge of the tub and swung his legs in.
She sighed when he eased himself, and her, down into the water.
It didn’t take long for Jackson to join them. Cord made no effort to ease her off his lap.
“I think I’ve cried more since we got together than I have all of my life before meeting you. I’m really not a weepy female.” Ari seemed to recall having given them that assurance just days before.
“First, baby, we know that. Second, if you think we consider the crying you’ve done with us a bad thing, think again, Tinker Bell. We both know you’ve kept everything inside for far too long. We figure that lately, you’ve been hacking through an emotional jungle with a dull machete.”
The image made her smile. “Yeah, and today, the fucking machete broke.”
“Did something happen today, Ari?”
“I learned something that, if I had heard the same thing a year ago, would have sent me running away.”
“You’re still here,” Cord said.
“Yes, I am.” Everything they’d said and done since she’d let down her guard with them had been just exactly right for her. She was about to go out on the thinnest limb ever. If it broke under her—hell, if it broke she’d punch them both in the mouth. She inhaled deeply. “I am still here. The only way you’re going to get rid of me is to tell me to leave. And even then I don’t think I’ll go peaceably.”
“Thank God.”
“Hallelujah.”
Jackson and Cord had spoken at the same time.
“The only way you’re going to get rid of us is if you tell us to go, Red.”
“And we can’t even promise that will work.” Jackson tipped her face up to his. “I love you.” He gave her the sweetest kiss, a kiss that seemed to have magic properties because it immediately began to heal her soul.
Cord gently turned her face up to his. “I love you, Ari.” He, too, gave her a sweet kiss.
“I love you both, too.” Healing underway, her conscience kicked in. “That’s not my real name.”
“We figured,” Jackson said.
“Wow.” She’d been afraid that knowing she’d lied would have pushed them away.
“If you’ve murdered someone, then you need to tell us where the body is buried. We’ll inquire discreetly to ensure it hasn’t been found—and then we’ll find a better hiding spot.”
“No. No buried bodies. Just a rather large skeleton that isn’t even mine.” Such relief flooded her, she felt boneless. Taking advantage of her current position, she leaned her head even more solidly against Cord’s chest.
“Seems to me that this is a great place for secrets to be told,” Cord said.
“It is. But the telling may take a while and if we stay in here the whole time, we’ll all be prunes.”
“So let’s soak and then get out and have some wine and cheese and conversation.”
“That sounds like a plan, slick.”
* * * *
Back when they were kids, whenever there’d been something serious to discuss, the family had gathered around the kitchen table.
There was something very basic and yet loving about the kitchen table. It said, “This space is for family.” That tradition had fallen by the wayside as they’d grown, but it was a cherished memory for him.
They weren’t officially family yet, but Jackson knew with a sure and perfect knowledge that this woman was going to be the mother of their children. And there was no better time than the present to establish the ritual of the kitchen table.
He set a snifter of brandy in front of Ari, and then sat down in their new-to-them kitchen. He pulled his chair close, and nodded his approval when Cord did the same thing on the other side of her.
Ari took a small sip from the glass. They’d convinced her that the strong liquor, under these circumstances, was medicinal. She looked so small huddled in his bathrobe, it nearly broke his heart.
She set the glass down, and looked to be girding her loins.
“Before you start, we want to tell you something.” He took her right hand and brought it to his lips. “We’ve had a few clues as to the nature of what you’re about to tell us. I need to warn you that we’re likely gonna get pissed. I don’t think we’re good enough actors, either one of us, to hide that. But we are not pissed with you. We’re gonna be pissed on your behalf. Okay?”
“Dragon slayers, huh?” She attempted a small smile that didn’t quite make it.
“Hell, yes. That’s what men do. They find out about how someone hurt their woman, and they want to utterly destroy the bastard.”
“Even if what happened, happened more than a decade ago?”
“Even so.”
“We don’t want you to think for one minute, that we’re upset with you.” Cord picked up her other hand and kissed it. “Sweetheart, we’re yours. Period.”
Jackson understood that their words would never be enough. How could she know what their words truly meant, when she’d spent her lifetime the way she had?
So he raised her chin, turned her to face him, and sweetly kissed her lips. Then he gave her what he hoped looked like an encouraging smile.
He watched her draw into herself and he ached for her. Then she inhaled deeply, and started to speak.
“I had just turned thirteen the first time my stepfather raped me.”
Jackson closed his eyes, the pain sharp and piercing. Her first words confirmed what he and his brother had discussed, between them. He opened his eyes and saw that her head was down, her gaze downcast. He squeezed her hand.
“Go on.” Cord’s voice, gentle, seemed to soothe her.
“He was drunk. I was in my bed, sound asleep. I didn’t even know what was happening at first. He was suddenly just there, pinning me down, his hand over my mouth. Then he removed his hand and mashed his lips over mine as he…as he did it. To this day, I can’t stand the smell of a man drunk on whiskey.
“He told me if I told my mother, she would hate me. That threat paralyzed me. For a couple of weeks, I didn’t know what to do. But finally, I told her.”
“Good for you.”
“Not really. She called me a liar and a whore and slapped me, really hard, across the face.”
“Jesus Christ.” Jackson couldn’t have prevented the outburst. “Sorry.” The one-word apology was directed to his woman, and the Lord.
“The next night, after I told her? He came to me again. Drunk, again. He told me he’d kill me if I told anyone else. And he raped me, again. It happened six more times over the next year. The last time, he did more than what he’d already done. The last time, he raped me anally. That was when I knew I had to leave. And I did. I was fourteen when I left home. And I lived on the streets for nearly three years.”
“I need to hold you.” Jackson waited until she nodded. He scooped her onto his lap and cuddled her close. Cord had the tissues and he caught her tears. She sat there for a long moment. Cord moved in closer, and they kept her between them, warming her, petting her, lavishing as much tender loving care on her as they knew how.
“Sweetheart, we can’t imagine what it must have been like for you.”
“I did things I’m not proud of to survive.”
“Hey.” Jackson gave her a light squeeze. “You were a child fighting to survive. Non
e of what you did—of the hard choices you had to make—none of that is on you.”
“God, I hope one day I can believe that.”
“We’ll work on it, Ari, because Jackson is right. None of that is on you.”
“By the time I was nearly seventeen, I knew I had to get out of the city, out of the state. I wanted to start over. Because my stepfather had been looking for me. He was pretty well heeled and influential even then. I couldn’t go back. I knew I would rather die than go back.”
Jackson closed his eyes and prayed as he never had prayed before. Such rage burned in him for what his woman had been forced to endure. But right now he had to put his rage away. He thought he’d been prepared, but he’d been wrong. So he prayed, and breathed deeply.
“I am very glad it didn’t come to that,” Cord said. “So how did you get yourself out of that place—mentally and physically?”
“I don’t know how the mentally happened. I just knew that if I wanted a better life, then I had to make myself a better life. As for how I managed to get out, physically? I knew this guy. His name on the street was Dirty Harry. I didn’t understand until much later it was because of the gun he carried. Anyway, he’d kind of taken me under his wing. He never touched me—even though he let the others think I was ‘his’. But he told me, when it was just the two of us, that I didn’t have to worry about that, about anyone touching me. He said he missed his baby sister. I became his new baby sister.”
“I’m glad you found a friend—a protector. If your stepdad was a big shot of some kind, I can understand your unwillingness to go to the authorities.” Jackson was getting a pretty good idea that her stepdad may even have had some cops in his pocket. It happened.
“Yeah. Looking back, I guess there might have been other choices open to me. But I couldn’t trust any so-called respectable adults for that reason.”
“We don’t blame you for that,” Cord said.
“The two who were supposed to take care of you had betrayed you. Same circumstances? I wouldn’t have trusted anyone, either.”
“Anyway, Harry had a friend who’d gone missing. Word was that a rival gang leader had killed his friend and dumped the body. I knew his friend, Tommy John. Not a bad kid, but he was a bit older than me, and not too bright. But he’d been loyal to Harry. So Harry wanted proof that his rival—a badass everyone called Sinbad—had killed Tommy. He also wanted something he could use to drop a dime on the creep. Harry told me if I could get him those two things, he would give me a new ID so foolproof I’d be able to get a social security number and everything.”
Love Under Two Quarterbacks [The Lusty, Texas Collection] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 15