After the Storm (19 page)

“God,” Donovan breathed. “I’m so sorry, honey. You know it wasn’t your fault, right?”

She hesitated just long enough for Donovan to realize that no matter what she said, she
did
blame herself. It enraged him. He sucked in steadying breaths because he wanted to explode and that was the last thing she needed.

“I know whose fault it was,” she said in an unconvincing tone. “It wasn’t mine and it damn sure wasn’t my mother’s. I think he thought I’d let it go. That he’d bullied her—and me—into accepting it all. But it only made me that much more determined. I was furious. I’ve never been so filled with rage in my life. I honest to God could have killed him in that moment. If I’d had any sort of a weapon, I would have killed him on the spot and gladly gone to prison if it meant my mother and Travis and Cammie would finally be safe and free of him.”

Donovan had a very good idea of where this was leading. “You went back to the police, didn’t you?”

She nodded numbly, her eyes glazing over, her gaze going vacant and distant. So much pain crowded into those beautiful amber eyes. And guilt. That was what tore Donovan to pieces. The guilt and sorrow in her expression.

“I went straight to the police. I told them everything that had happened. How he controlled everyone around him. The lengths he’d gone to subjugate everyone under his authority. I told them he admitted to my
face
that he’d beaten her. That he’d said it was my fault. I begged them to go immediately. To look at my mother’s bruises and to do something about it. I told them there was no way to know if he abused Travis and Cammie, that they were all so frightened of him that they wouldn’t dare go against his dictates.”

“Did they believe you? Did they investigate?” Donovan queried.

“I don’t know if they believed me. I think they thought I was a hysterical female. But yes, they took me with them and went to Walt’s house. What happened next . . .” She shook her head, disbelief still evident in her features. “I had
no idea
just how prepared he was for something like that. When I think of all the foreplanning he had to do to mastermind it, I’m just blown away. I mean, I knew he was a controlling asshole. I knew he had money and power. But I never imagined just how far he’d go to discredit me. How long he had to have planned to set into motion what he did. It sounds so farfetched, and yet he made it happen.”

“What did he do? Donovan asked, dread centering in his chest.

She sent him a look filled with bewilderment. “When the police showed up, Walt actually looked pained. All of a sudden he adopted the look of a concerned ‘parent.’ He looked grief-stricken, as laughable as it sounds. He told the officers I had a history of mental illness and paranoid delusions. That he hadn’t wanted to hospitalize me because he hoped I could lead a normal life. He told them he’d always considered me his daughter even though I wasn’t his blood. That he was paying for me to go to school. Paying my expenses. Bought me an apartment. Which all sounds fishy as hell and like crap, right? Only, he produced medical records documenting a long history of mental illnesses, a list of medications that I’d refused to take. And this was from a reputable hospital that specialized in mental health. He had a
letter
from a well-known psychiatrist! I was so dumbfounded that I didn’t even know what to say. Walt poured on the charm. Said his wife was accident prone, and with a toddler, who could blame her? That Cammie was an active three-year-old who kept my mother busy and that the bruises were from a fall down the stairs trying to prevent Cammie from taking a tumble. He had the police eating out of his hand, and he made me look like some deranged lunatic off her meds. There was honest-to-God sympathy and
admiration
for Walt in the policemen’s eyes. Like he was such a good person for taking in a daughter from his wife’s previous marriage and getting me the help I needed. I wanted to vomit because he’d covered himself so well that I would have believed him. There was an entire fake medical file on me dating back to when I was just a child. It appeared as though I’d been in and out of this facility for years. So of course the police took him at his word and then were all stern with me about filing false police reports and wasting department resources when their police had far more important,
real
matters to attend to.”

“Son of a bitch,” Donovan bit out.

Yeah, the bastard certainly had covered every one of his steps. He’d planned for everything, including discrediting Eve in everyone else’s minds. Her stepfather was a formidable opponent, but Donovan swore then and there that the asshole was going down and Donovan was going to enjoy every minute. He wanted Walt to suffer every bit as much as he’d made Eve suffer.

“He then made good on every single threat he’d issued,” Eve said quietly. “He withdrew all financial support. Evicted me from my apartment. All I had were the clothes on my back and enough cash to eat for a few days. I quickly discovered just how far his reach extended when I tried to apply for jobs. I would have taken anything. I wasn’t picky. My next plan was to hire an investigator to build a case against Walt, and I needed money for that. But no one would hire me. It was like there was this giant red flag that hovered over my name. Only when I left the immediate area to seek out a job elsewhere did I finally manage to score a waitressing job. The pay was shit. The tips were miserable. But it was enough to rent a one-room efficiency apartment in a shitty part of town.

“Walt cut me out entirely. Refused to allow me to see Mom, Travis or Cammie. He said he didn’t want them influenced by my continuous bad decisions. That if in the future I proved I’d learned my lesson he would reconsider, but there would have to be a hell of a lot of changes, meaning I would have to submit to being under his thumb. A robot to act as programmed.”

“Asshole,” Donovan growled. “Did he hurt you, Eve? Did he ever hurt Travis and Cammie?”

“I’ll get to that,” she said quietly.

Donovan swore viciously under his breath.

“He kept me away from them, completely isolated for months. No calls. If I called, I wasn’t allowed to speak to any of them. They weren’t allowed to call me. I worked, saving every penny I could. I barely ate. Each dollar was precious and I knew I’d need money to build a case against Walt and expose the bastard for what he was. But I also knew that I was up against a powerful, wealthy man who had endless connections and that it wasn’t going to be easy. But I was driven. I refused to just give up and allow my mother and my siblings to suffer any longer.”

“You’re a very courageous, loyal person,” Donovan said, reaching to touch her cheek with the back of his knuckles.

She shook her head. “No,” she whispered. “I’m not. If I were, I would have never let it go that long. I wouldn’t have given up. My mother would still be alive.”

Tears had thickened her voice and shone on her pale cheeks. Before he could correct her belief, she plunged forward, seemingly needing to get it done and said, like ripping off a bandage instead of peeling it slowly.

“And then she died,” she said, a sob welling from her throat. “And I knew. I knew he’d killed her. It wasn’t me being paranoid or delusional. I know that son of a bitch had killed her. Who knew why? Maybe she’d finally mustered her courage and had threatened to walk away. Maybe she tried to walk away. She would have never left Travis and Cammie there under his care. She would have taken them. Likely come to me for help. She knew I would. God knows I’d offered it to her enough times.”

“Jesus,” Donovan muttered. And yet there was more. So much more.

“I was shocked that he allowed me at her funeral. He acted . . . conciliatory. He asked me to come over after the visitation. The first time I’d been allowed in his home since that awful day I’d come with the police. He said Travis and Cammie needed me. That
he
needed me. I didn’t care what he wanted or needed. I was only concerned about Travis and Cammie, and I wanted to see them with my own eyes. I wanted to see if he’d hurt them—if he’d
ever
hurt them. I had to know. I had to see them so I could promise them I’d get them out of there as soon as I could.

“Travis and Cammie were understandably quiet. In shock. Cammie was white faced and strangely tearless the entire time. It was as if she had no clue what was going on. Maybe she hadn’t accepted that our mother was gone. I just remember how quiet and still the house was. How ominous it was. I was scared to even be there because it was a house filled with . . . evil. His presence was everywhere. His stamp was on every piece of furniture, artwork. Nothing of my mother. None of her personal touches. The entire house screamed Walt and his influence. And then . . .”

She shuddered and went silent, remaining so as she visibly grappled with her anger—and grief. When she kept silent, her forehead furrowed, her lips drawn into thin, white lines, he leaned forward, sensing that she needed more than the brief touches he’d offered.

Carefully, gauging her reaction for any signs of protest, he pulled her into his arms. After only a moment’s hesitation, she went readily, burying her face in his chest. He anchored her against him, holding her tightly, his arms wrapped completely around her. He laid his cheek against her silky hair and breathed in her scent.

She felt so soft and warm in his arms and infinitely fragile. But so very precious. He’d give anything in the world to slay her dragons and the demons that haunted her dreams—and her reality.

“Then what, Eve?” he murmured against her hair. He needed to know the rest. And she needed to rid herself of the poison that had festered for so long.

She shuddered again in his arms and tensed, as if trying to hold back the mounting sobs. Had she ever cried? Even once? Or had she been too determined to put up a brave front for Travis and Cammie?

“He called me into his study. It was a room strictly off limits to everyone. My mother. Travis. Cammie. No one but him was ever allowed inside. Except business associates or friends he invited, but my mother had never stepped inside and neither had my brother and sister.

“I remember being so ill at ease. I was devastated by the loss of my mother. I was bitter and angry and convinced I was facing her killer. I worried what would happen to Travis and Cammie. If I would ever be allowed to see them again now that my mother—my only link to them—was gone.

“I hated the feeling that I was at his mercy. I hated . . .
him
. I’ve never hated anyone. I’ve never felt violence toward another human being, and yet if I’d had a gun in my hand in that moment I would have killed him.”

“Why did he call you into his study?” Donovan prompted softly.

She shuddered in his arms and then went completely still. Dread filled Donovan at her hesitation. He made himself loosen his grip around her because his emotions were in turmoil and his anger and frustration was mounting. The last thing he wanted was to hurt her inadvertently. To mark her beautiful skin. It made him physically ill to even think that his hand had caused a woman pain.

“He wanted . . . He wanted me to . . . Oh God, Donovan, it’s
sick
.”

Tears soaked into his shirt, the material clinging damply to his skin. He stroked a hand over her hair, murmuring words of comfort close to her ear.

“He wanted me to, for all practical purposes, replace my mother.”

Her voice was so filled with horror that each word was choked out as if it disgusted her to even say them out loud.

Donovan stilled as her statement played over and over in his mind. That could mean a lot of things, but he knew her stepfather’s intent was sick and twisted.

“He t-touched me. In a way he’d never touched me before. In fact, he had always been careful to maintain his distance. I wasn’t treated as family. As one of his children like Travis and Cammie. He was always so impersonal with me. And yet at times I could feel him staring at me and it made me so uncomfortable. I hated when he looked at me because I felt . . .
unclean
.”

He pressed a kiss to the side of her head, over the soft strands of her hair, clenching his jaw in frustration that he had to sit here helpless, powerless to do anything but listen as she spilled the horror she’d endured for so many months.

Eve had said she wanted to kill her stepfather, but Donovan wanted the same. He’d suffer no remorse whatsoever, and he
still
didn’t have the entire story. One that was going to get a lot worse.

“He told me that if I wanted to maintain contact with Travis and Cammie, I would do exactly as he wanted. That I’d move into the house, and into his bed. That I would act as his mistress because he’d never marry me. Never give me that
honor
, as if I would consider it such! And if I complied with all his wishes, he’d forgive my past sins and he’d allow me to act as mother and sister to Travis and Cammie. But if I resisted, if I denied him anything he wanted, he’d make certain that I would never see my brother and sister again and that furthermore he’d make it so I had nothing. And then . . .”

Her voice trailed off and sobs shook her shoulders. He held her tighter, kissing her hair, stroking her back and rubbing in a circular motion, trying to offer comfort she badly needed.

“He told me to get on my knees and please him. That if he was satisfied by my effort, he would allow me into his house. But he wanted me to remember that if I disobeyed even once, he’d punish me and make me sorry I was ever born.”

“Son of a bitch,” Donovan swore. “Tell me you didn’t do it.”

Eve yanked away from him, her eyes stricken and wounded. “Of course I didn’t. How could I? He killed my mother! He disgusted me. I’d rather have
nothing
than to accept what he was offering.”

Donovan cupped her cheek. “Shh, darling Eve. I wasn’t disgusted with you. Never with you. I’m furious at how he tried to manipulate you.”

“He was f-f-furious when I told him to go to hell,” she choked out. “He hit me. It was a cold, calculated strike, one I knew he’d meted out many times before. On my mother. He split my lip and then threw a tissue at me and told me I’d better not get any blood on his rug. Then he told me to get out and never to come back. That I’d never see Travis and Cammie again and that he would ruin me. What was there to ruin? I had nothing. He’d seen to that. All I had left was my pride. My sense of self. And I wouldn’t allow him to take that too.”