Then, avoiding eye contact, she began to talk.
#
God, she was killing him. Niko had seen the crime scene photos. Read the reports she’d given the cops. Heard her briefly talk about that night. But still, listening to her explain her nightmares was one of the hardest things he’d done.
“I dream of screams. Of pain. Not my own. My family’s. Sometimes I’m in a box. It’s dark. I can’t see, but I can hear their screams. I try to escape, to help them, but only succeed in bloodying myself. Other times I’m running. Screaming their names. Trying to reach them in time. But I never do.
“Tonight was more memory than dream. I was pinned on my stomach with my head turned toward Mama. Crying and begging the men not to hurt her. Just like before, the men laughed at me and hurt Mama more.”
Jenna crossed her arms over her chest and rocked back and forth, looking so lost and forlorn it took every drop of strength Niko had not to go to her. But he sensed she wasn’t done, and he knew she had to get it all out if she was ever going to heal.
Finally, her arms uncrossed and she began to talk again.
“It’s the sounds that are the worst. Isabel’s frightened whimpers. Dad’s angry bellow. Justin’s strangled cry, as if he was trying to be brave and not make a sound. Mama’s stoic hiss. The grunts of pleasure from the men as they hurt us.”
He wondered if she had any idea how expressive her face was. How the helplessness and grief in those huge amber eyes ripped his heart out.
“If I’d been stronger, or faster, I would have escaped. I would have gotten help. And they’d be alive. By the time my chance came to run, it was too late. Mama and Isabel were already dead, their lifeless eyes staring at me through veils of blood.”
Jenna bit her lip. “I didn’t want to die like that. So I ran. Not even stopping to check the other room to see if Justin or Dad were still alive. I just ran like a coward…And I still didn’t get away.”
She didn’t say it, but he could hear the underlying belief. Living was her punishment for failing to save her family.
He shook his head and pushed to his feet. Her eyes were still glued to the floor, so she started when he pulled her into his arms. She fought him, but damn, he needed to feel her against him. Needed to feel her vitality.
She’d come so close to death. But she’d fought free. Survived. Alone. Cut off from all friends. With no one to hold her and tell her how strong she was.
“You’re so courageous,” he murmured, his throat tight and his voice hoarse with emotion. “Nothing that happened during the attack was your fault. You did everything right.” The words spilled out of him in a jumbled mix of Greek, Spanish and English. “Your family knew you loved them. They wouldn’t blame you for living. They’d be proud of you. As proud as I am that you survived.”
As Jenna listened, she gradually stopped fighting him. Her arms didn’t go around him. He understood that she wouldn’t allow herself that liberty. But at least her body relaxed against his again.
He vowed that one day she’d turn to him for comfort. Demand he give her what she needed to soothe the pain inside.
He carried her back over to the rocking chair. He didn’t blame her for trying to turn herself into a warrior. She would have needed a way to avoid feeling like a victim.
Christ. It was a fucking miracle she hadn’t turned as cold and ruthless as the assassins. Even if she was afraid to admit it, she still possessed a warm and generous heart.
As desperate as he was to protect her, to make sure she never lost that core of compassion, he understood now how fragile her control was. If joining the hunt for her brother was the path she’d chosen for healing, he couldn’t deny her that right.
God help them both.
Chapter 15
Saturday, Night
Rocky Mountains, Montana
Niko had to get out of the house. He locked his office door, grabbed his car keys, and headed toward the front door. For the past week he’d spent eight hours every day training Jenna. She’d thrown herself one hundred percent into the workouts and he could tell why she’d been in the top of her class. The flexibility and quickness she’d developed as a dancer gave a boost to her hand-to-hand work.
He’d made a point of making sure that at least once every session he pinned her beneath him, but she hadn’t had another panic attack. Of course, that could be because her subconscious now realized he wouldn’t hurt her. But he sure as hell couldn’t send her out into a group of strangers with instructions for them to pin her, just to make certain her training held under real-world conditions.
The true problem was his physical reaction to her. Her nightmares continued, and every night ended with him holding her. It was creating a strange intimacy between them.
One that was beginning to take on erotic overtones. The drowsy scent of her skin. The way her hand kneaded his chest while she slept. The way her head tucked perfectly under his chin. Having her in his arms had become as addictive as a narcotic.
And twice as dangerous.
This afternoon when he’d pinned her, he’d grown hard. And for a split second, she’d pushed back against him. His heart had nearly stopped, then her hands had broken free of his grasp, she’d yanked his hair, and the spell had broken.
But damn, he had to get away from her before he did something stupid like try to kiss her. It was bad enough that she’d wormed inside him with her frightened cries in the night. Letting her any closer would be a disaster. Because she might never be ready to have a man touch her the way he burned to touch her.
Jenna was sitting in the great room as he passed through. The dogs sat at her feet as she read another damn biography of some great secret agent.
“I’m going into town for a bit,” He called out as he passed through. “Lock the door behind me. If anything spooks you, Yousef and Danuta’s number is on the list by the phone.”
He needed a drink and a fight. A fight where he wasn’t holding back, afraid of doing serious damage to Jenna. She was so much slighter than he was. And the scab from her gunshot wound reminded him too strongly of what she’d been through.
So he was heading to The Hole, a rough-and-tumble bar where he was guaranteed liquor that burned and a fight that would leave him limping.
He had his hand on the doorknob when Jenna called, “I want to go with you.”
Niko pretended he hadn’t heard and pulled open the door.
Jenna followed him onto the porch. “Take me with you.”
He shook his head. “Hell, no. I’m in no mood to play babysitter tonight.” He lengthened his stride.
But Jenna hadn’t closed the front door behind her and the dogs came into the yard, yipping and weaving around his legs.
Jenna darted forward and grabbed for the car keys. He held on, but she snuck her fingers in between his and pushed the button that released the locks. With the dogs hampering his progress, he couldn’t catch her as she dashed for the car.
She was sitting smugly in the passenger seat, belt already fastened, when he returned from putting the dogs inside.
He considered giving up and locking himself in his office for the rest of the night, but the buzz in his veins let him know that was a bad idea. He needed a release, and if having Jenna along was the price he had to pay, so be it. He’d just walk away from her at the bar.
He slid behind the wheel, then reached over the back seat and grabbed the cowboy hat he kept there. Turning back around, he shoved the hat down on Jenna’s head. “Wear this,” he growled. “Otherwise some smartass will use your white hair as a reason to pick a fight.”
He jammed the stick shift into reverse and backed out of his driveway with a spray of gravel. Once on the road, he glanced at Jenna out of the corner of his eye. Damn, he was so screwed. She looked adorable underneath his too-large hat.
He shot her an assessing look. Her t-shirt wasn’t skin tight, but it clung to her curves in an unmistakably feminine way. At least she had on jeans, instead of a skirt, but the sneak
ers were going to make her stand out in a room full of cowboy boots.
Hell. He’d get all the trouble he craved just keeping men away from her.
Half an hour later, the Jeep’s headlights slid across the grimy, pockmarked logs of The Hole. Niko shut off the ignition and uneasy silence filled the car.
“Rules,” he finally gritted out, angry because he knew he couldn’t abandon her to this crowd. Wishing he’d forced her to stay behind, because his temper was already razor sharp and only bound to get worse. “You stay by my side. You don’t talk unless it’s a whisper only I can hear. You don’t meet anyone’s eye. Anyone. This is a violent, volatile group. Always spoiling for a fight. You’re not going to give it to them, got it?” Any night without at least three brawls at The Hole was considered a slow night.
Jenna nodded.
“Alright, then. Let’s go.” Niko stepped out of the Jeep. As he led Jenna across the parking lot, his eyes were drawn to the broken neon sign swinging like a guillotine over the door. It flashed red, throwing the door first into shadow, then devilish light. Shit. He wasn’t superstitious, but he was tempted to turn around, throw Jenna in the Jeep and hightail it home.
Jenna’s head swiveled from side to side, taking in the assortment of Harleys, muscle cars and monster trucks. Acting like a fucking tourist.
Christ, this was a mistake.
His fingers tightened on Jenna’s arm. She glanced up at him, her eyes bright with excitement, and tugged him forward.
Mentally crossing his fingers, Niko ducked under the sign and stepped into the bar. The roar of noise hit him like a freight train. He looked over and saw Jenna grimace.
Decades ago the bar had been a family restaurant called The Watering Hole. These days the former dining room was a game room. Pool tables and dart boards bumped shoulders around the perimeter, but the main attraction was in the center of the room.
A small enclosure raised slightly off the floor like a boxing ring, and surrounded by chicken wire instead of ropes, was barely visible between gaps in the crowd. The feathers in the air announced that a cock fight was in progress.
Cocks, dogs, rats or people. If an animal could fight, this was the place to bring it. Over the years there had been several attempts to shut the illegal operation down. All of them had failed.
The crowd roared. Bookies exchanged money. Niko steered Jenna into the less crowded bar area. Travis Tritt’s “Ten Feet Tall And Bulletproof” blared from the jukebox. Cowboys at a corner table were shouting along, smacking their beer glasses on the tabletop in time with the music.
There were a few empty stools at the far end of the bar. Niko got them settled and signaled the bartender for a couple of beers. He leaned forward and said against Jenna’s ear, “Take only small sips of beer. You need to stay alert in this crowd.”
Jenna nodded.
“And stop looking around like a bug-eyed tourist. You’re going to draw attention to us. Use the mirror over the bar to see what’s going on behind you, but don’t act interested. Pretend you’ve seen this all before and you’re bored.”
She gave a slight nod and closed her eyes a little, so that it looked like she was falling asleep. It was better than her huge oh-golly-gee eyes, but he still felt attention on them. Of course, Jenna was one of only a handful of women in the bar, and two of those were working girls, so she was bound to get attention even though her outfit was simple and no-nonsense.
Niko completed his own scan of the mirror and caught several of the regulars checking out the new blood. He stared them down.
Jesus, it was going to be a long night.
#
Fascinated, Jenna watched the patrons interact with one another. She didn’t see what Niko was so worried about. The crowd was boisterous, but not angry.
Then the crowd in the other room broke up and a surge of people pushed against the bar.
A bull of a man squeezed between her and the cowboy on her right, his bulk nearly pushing her off her barstool. When the man turned back toward the middle of the room, drink in hand, a little devil whispered in Jenna’s ear. She kicked out and drove the man staggering against the cowboy.
The man she’d kicked came up swinging, but she was already off her stool and dancing back. He roared as his fist missed her, but hit a woman trying to reach the bar. Her companion snarled and his arm shot out. He missed his target but hit Jenna on the side of her head.
She went down as chaos erupted.
Someone’s foot landed on Jenna’s shin. She yanked her leg free and climbed quickly to her feet.
An elbow flew out of the mass of moving bodies and connected with her jaw. Jenna staggered back a step. Silver lights danced across her vision. She punched out blindly and was rewarded by a bellow and a toppling body that opened up a bit of space.
Her vision cleared in time for her to duck another punch. Her eyes met the blood-crazed gaze of a man with a wildly curling beard. And that’s when it happened.
What started out as mischief combined with a need to show Niko that she wasn’t helpless, turned darker. Angry. Just like in the restroom in Moscow.
Men had hurt her family. Had hurt her. Now it was her turn to give out pain.
She’d never again be a victim. She was strong. She had the power to make that man with the gaudy red vest get out of her way. So she did, using her heel to smash into his kneecap when he grabbed for her.
He went down. Jenna moved through the crowd lashing out ferociously. Lost in the thrill of the fight.
#
Niko was going to kill Jenna. He shoved his fist into a soft gut. Swung his other elbow out and up and felt it connect with cartilage.
You’re not going to give it to them, he’d ordered. He was the one who’d needed to throw a few punches, but he’d resigned himself to just watching. Knowing that even with Jenna’s training, taking on a bunch of drunk, belligerent assholes was stupid. Surviving a bar fight depended as much on luck as on skill.
So what did Jenna do? She started a fucking fight.
Knuckles connected with his ear and Niko staggered into the bar. He shook his head and waited for the ringing in his ears to settle.
He’d gotten the fight he wanted, and he’d damn sure be enjoying himself if he wasn’t so worried about Jenna.
The crowd started to thin, the energy winding down. It was time to get out, find Jenna, and drag her home before the cops arrived. He threaded his way through the fight, ducking and weaving, pushing people out of his way as he headed for the back of the room.
Finally he stepped away from the crowd into open space. He scanned the few patrons who weren’t brawling, looking for Jenna.
She wasn’t there.
Shit.
He was about to wade back into the fight when a body was ejected from between two burly cowboys. The fighter crashed onto a table and came up swinging.
The men at the table held their beers in one hand and grabbed the fighter’s arms with their free hands, trying to keep the fighter down.
And as Niko drew closer, he understood why.
Jesus H. Christ. He was going to puke. The fighter was Jenna and her face was coated in blood. Exactly how she’d looked in the photos taken after the attack. How each member of her family had looked.
But what stopped him cold was the way she was snarling and struggling against the men’s grips, trying to get back into the fight.
What the fuck was wrong with her?
“Jenna?” It took three tries before she caught onto the fact that he was calling her name.
She blinked and her eyes lost some of their wildness.
“You can let her go,” Niko told the men. “I’ve got it.”
The men shared a glance, then shrugged and released Jenna.
She slid off the table. Her arms moved and Niko stepped forward, afraid she was going to take a swing at the men. But she just shot them a glare over her shoulder and shook out her arms.
Niko herded her into a quiet corner. Blood trickled from cuts an
d scrapes on her face, including a new slice running from her forehead into her hairline. Fuck. Someone had pulled a knife on her. Niko clenched his jaw as he fought back the fierce urge to kill the person who’d hurt her. But she needed his help, so he forced himself to stay calm. Her white hair was dark with blood, meaning there had to be another wound on her scalp.
“Does your head hurt?” he demanded, taking her skull in his hands and running his fingers lightly through her hair, searching for the wound. “Do you feel dizzy?”
“No.” Jenna sounded sulky and slightly breathless.
His fingers found the source of all the blood. Shit. Her gunshot wound had reopened.
His wave of relief barely had time to register before it got slammed out of the way by anger. “Do you have any fucking idea how stupid that was, starting a bar fight? Not to mention you’re recovering from two freaking gunshot wounds and a concussion!”
Jenna bared her teeth and shot him a glare full of attitude. “Get over it. I needed to test myself.” She raised her chin defiantly. “You’ve been babying me.”
“Babying you? Babying you!” He swabbed a finger through the blood on her scalp and shoved it in front of her eyes. “You really think I’m the kind of monster who can draw blood from a woman who’s no threat to me? You think—”
The jukebox blasted into a rocking rendition of “Boot Scootin’ Boogie,” reminding him of where they were.
O-kay. He needed to calm down. She was hurt. No matter that she looked mean as a bobcat, ready to snap his fingers off if he got too close. She needed gentle treatment, not yelling. And they were in public. He needed to get his temper back under control.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When the urge to shake some sense into Jenna passed, he tilted her head up so he could check her pupils.
Equal in size. Not over dilated.
A couple loads of tension slid off his shoulders.
“Come on, let’s get you home.” Before he did something stupid like wade back into the mob and beat the shit out of every person who’d touched her.
He grabbed Jenna’s hand—fuck, even her hands were a bloody mess—and dragged her out of the bar. Once he was behind the wheel of his Jeep, he let his temper loose on the road, taking the winding mountain road at suicide speed.
Vengeance (SSU Trilogy Book 1) Page 15