June (Calendar Girl #6) (13 page)

Before I knew it, I was steered past the green lawn, through the charity vendors camped around the lawns and up the stone steps. Eventually, he ushered me up past the columns of the New York Library. The library was closed and dark. Several areas had blacked out corners, which was where Aaron was leading me.

Finally, my champagne-filled brain realized that we weren’t going for a little walk. He was taking me somewhere and intent on whatever plan he had. I turned my heel and yanked out of his reach. “What the hell, Aaron?” I spread my hands out and looked around. There was absolutely no one in sight. We were at least a good couple hundred feet or more away and I cursed myself for allowing him to get me this far away from the party and witnesses.

“You think you’re special, don’t you?” The words were released with barely contained venom.

I shook my head and tried to sound calm. “Not at all, actually. The opposite is probably more true,” I admitted.

He scowled and prowled forward until I was holding up my hands in front of me. He continued forward and I found myself pressed up against the concrete wall of a darkened area. A few more steps and his chest was against mine. I thought about the best way to handle this, but the champagne was fogging up my reflexes. “Aaron, you don’t want to do this.”

His nose slid along my temple and sent shivers of dread down my spine, prickling the hairs at the back of neck. “Of course I do.” I pushed against his chest to no avail. Aaron was not a small guy and his bulk definitely prevented any slack. He chuckled. “Trying to escape, little whore,” he said with a drunken slur.

“I’m not a whore, Aaron. You know that.”

He bit down on the space where my shoulder and neck met. “I know my father hired you to be his whore in front of his fucked up rich friends. I know that you work for an escort service and get paid by the month. Time to get Daddy’s money’s worth,” he said dementedly. That’s when I started to fight, but I didn’t have much leverage. I got a nice fist to his mouth, cutting open his lip before he restrained my hands with one hand, and then groped my body with the other. He crushed my body against the concrete wall, so hard that I could feel the tender skin of my back being abraded and the skin being rubbed raw as he dry humped me.

I started to scream, but he put his mouth over mine. All you could hear was a person yelling as if they were under water. Then the sickening sound of his pants being unbuckled and the noise of the zipper going down was like my own personal death knell. I screamed louder but he bit my lips and slammed my head into the concrete. Things got hazy, and I felt my dress being slid up to my waist. The cool air slithered across my bare flesh. Stars broke out across my vision from the staggering blow. Soft tissue slamming into a rock solid building did not equate to mental stability. I could feel fingers sliding down my stomach where he cupped my sex roughly. Bile rose up my throat, and I gagged.

“I’m going to fuck you so hard, take you like the whore you are. Fucking white trash.” He roared, spittle flinging against my face. He was not the man I’d originally met when I arrived. He wasn’t the same man with whom I’d enjoyed a few conversations, flirted with. No, this man was much like the one that touched me while I’d slept and had no remorse. That was my first clue that something was deeply wrong with the young Senator.

I could feel the head of his cock resting against my legs as he ground it along my thigh. I whispered, “No,” and shook my head only to receive a gut-twisting grin in reply. He put a hand over my mouth as I screamed, muffling the sound. I bit down, and he cursed then smashed my head into the wall again. This time, I slumped against the surface, my body feeling almost weightless. I was going to lose consciousness and then he’d take me. Maybe that was better. Not knowing what he was doing had to be better than being awake for every disgusting thing he would do to me. At that moment, I prayed for blackness.

Chapter 10

“You ready to get pounded?” It was the last thing I heard, and said with absolute disdain. I wouldn’t have thought it possible to come from the young Senator that the world adored. A man that was on the fast track to becoming President of the United States one day.

I waited for him to strike; instead, a burst of cool air covered my skin. My body was free from the weight that had pressed it into the wall. Scuffling, followed by grunting, and feet scraping along concrete could be vaguely heard through the pounding of my head and heart. My knees bit into the concrete sidewalk when I slumped to the ground, unable to hold myself up.

“I’ll show you what getting pounded looks like, you piece of shit!” Mason roared. I looked up, confusion swarming like angry bees around my head as I saw Mason in a full-blown cage-style fight with Aaron. At some point Aaron must have gotten his pants back up because this fight lacked bare chests, the punches thrown were instead by two stunningly attractive men in tuxedos. I blinked as I saw Rachel running through the throngs of people in the distance, her heels crunching in the gravel then clacking loudly up the stone stairs.

“Oh my God! Mason, where’s Mia?” she screamed and I tried to respond, but my voice wouldn’t work. One too many blows to the head had temporarily robbed me of speech.

Mason threw a punch that landed solidly on Aaron’s face. Blood sprayed out of his mouth and across the gray concrete, painting it red. My eyes rolled in my head and I knew I was going to be sick. I gagged and heard Mason say something, but I couldn’t distinguish it. I lay down on the damp, cool stone, pressing the side of my face and temple into it, needing relief from the pain taking over every speck of my form. Swirling volcanic acid in my gut squeezed my insides violently as vomit made its way up my throat. I wretched, barely able to move or lift my head.

“Mia, oh no. Jesus, honey.” Rachel’s voice penetrated the web of disorientation, and I felt her lifting my upper body onto her lap where she knelt. “Babe, she’s naked from the waist down and hurt.” She pushed my dress down, covering the bare lower half. Her fingers prodded lightly at the wounds on my back and the sticky substance on my head. Seems the library wall took more than a chunk out of my back. “She needs a hospital,” Rachel cried out, her voice shaking. A mighty growl and fierce blows of flesh meeting bone could be heard in the distance. Fat wet drops of something hit my cheeks, one of them trailing down and touching my lip. I licked the salty flavor realizing it was Rachel’s tears. Rachel leaned close and kissed my forehead. “It’s going to be okay. We’ll take care of you.”

At some point, the blackness finally took me.

***

The acrid smell of hospital anesthetic weaved its way into my senses. I licked dry lips and tasted nothing but a rough cotton sensation. Before my eyes even opened, a straw tapped against my lips, and I sucked the water greedily. The cut in my swollen lip—where Aaron had bit into the flesh—smarted. I opened my eyes to find Rachel tending to me. My hand felt warm and a weight pressed into my side. I looked down at the blankets and found coppery hair, and a large hand encasing mine. The knuckles were ripped with jagged edges and rimmed with blood. I moved my hand and dove my fingers into the silky goodness that was Mason’s hair.

He lifted his head slowly and his green eyes were dark and sad. I cracked as much of a smile as my swollen lip would allow. He held my hand and kissed my palm. “How you feeling, sweetness?”

I blinked a few times and took a mental assessment of my body. Knees felt bruised, back hurt like the fiery flaming pits of hell, but the bass drum in my head was the worst. “Did he...?” I stopped, unable to say the words.

Rachel petted the top of my hair, repeatedly whisking back the layer of swooping bangs, tears running down her face. Mason clenched his jaw and shook his head. “No, he didn’t. Thank God. Had he….” His face hardened into an evil look, one I’d not ever seen on Mason before. It was a cross between malice and pure hate. “I’d have killed him with my bare hands. As it is, he’s in pretty bad shape. Cops arrested him for assault. He can kiss his fucking career bye-bye.”

I closed my eyes and let the tears fall. “God, I wish I would have done something more when I woke up to him fondling me in my sleep…”

“WHAT!” Mason’s yell was so loud that the drummer in my head decided it was crescendo time and pounded so hard, I had to press my hands against my temples. Both palms felt sore and achy.

“Mace…” Rachel clasped Mason’s arm and shushed him. “Her head, baby,” she reminded him. “A concussion doesn’t feel good and she’s in pain; I can see it on her face.”

Mason leaned forward and kissed my entire forehead. I had to admit, it felt really nice after the shitty evening I’d had. The tears though couldn’t be stopped. They ran in rivulets down my cheeks. The skin of my face itched against the deluge of tears. He spoke words of comfort along my skin, whispering that he was going to take care of me. That family takes care of one another.

While Mason comforted me, I heard Rachel speaking. “Yes, she’s okay. Had a rough night. Who is this? Oh yeah, she was with you in Hawaii. Yeah, some Senator roughed her up, but she’s okay now. Excuse me? You’re going to what? Hello?”

“Oh no. Who was that on the phone?” I called out to Rachel.

She held the phone and looked at the screen. “It says Sexy Samoan.”

I closed my eyes and groaned. “Did you just tell Tai that I was in the hospital because a Senator hurt me?” I asked, my voice tight as a pair of size six jeans on my more than size eight booty.

“Was that a bad thing?” she smiled in that kind way that was purely Rachel. She had no idea the shit storm she’d just unleashed. I held out my hand for the phone. Once she placed it into my palm, contemplating how to call off my big Samoan bad ass when the buzzing increased, making me feel dizzy and on the edge of vomiting. Figuring I could call Tai later, I turned it off.

“No more answering my phone. No good will come of it.”

Her eyebrows narrowed. “Why?”

“Doesn’t matter, I’ll take care of it.” I closed my eyes, not able to keep them open any longer.

I was forced awake four more times through the night to keep watch on the concussion I’d suffered. I finally awoke on my own to a much larger hand holding mine. One was wrapped around my neck, the thumb firmly planted on my pulse point, and the other engulfed my smaller one. I smelled him before I saw him. The intermingling of fire, wood, and the ocean gave me an incredible sense of peace. I didn’t even have to open my eyes because I knew what I’d see.

“I can feel you, girlie.” His thumb moved along the pulse point on my neck. “Open those pretty eyes for me,” Tai’s rumbling voice soothed every racked nerve I had. Tears accompanied my first look in three weeks at my sexy Samoan. His black eyes were fierce and blazing with barely controlled rage. “No one would tell me his name. Who put his hands on you uninvited?” He spoke in a sadistically quiet voice. It wasn’t something I wasn’t used to with Tai Niko. When he spoke, everyone heard him. He was a big guy and that timbre carried.

I inhaled slowly and winced as the pain rippled along my back and head. If possible, his gaze turned even blacker. Squeezing his hand, I tried to express what I couldn’t through words. He closed his eyes leaned forward and kissed me softly. “No one hurts my
‘aiga
. My family.” He hit his chest like a mighty ape. There was that word again. “Family.”

“Tai, what time is it? Did you get on a plane right after our call?”

He nodded curtly and I tilted my head down in shame. All these wonderful men, caring for me taking care of me. It was a lot to take in. On top of the hell I’d experienced last night.

“I want you to come to Hawaii with me. Amy and I will take care of you.
Tina
will be thrilled to mother you.”
Tina
was the Samoan word for mother.

“You know I can’t do that, Tai. I have to work.” I held my temples and squeezed. “This is going to be a shitstorm for the press. Fuck, what am I going to do? The Shipleys are huge, and Warren…oh, my god, his son.” Tears poured down my face, and I covered my eyes.

“Warren is going to make sure his son is properly punished for his actions,” came the booming voice of Warren Shipley himself. “Sweet girl…” he said, his voice filled with emotion as he walked to the side of my bed, Kathleen hot on his heels, though her hand covered her own mouth as she cried silently. “I’m sorry for what Aaron did. We’d have been here sooner but were detained by the police and the media frenzy. It’s all my fault.”

I attempted to clear my voice of the emotions clogging them but it didn’t work. “No, Warren, that was all him.”

“I knew he was unstable when he drank. That’s why he rarely did. In the past, he had a drinking problem and became violent when he was under the influence, but I thought that was behind him. Until, of course, the moment after I told him that Kathleen and I were an item. Then it was like something snapped in him.”

“Something’s definitely about to snap in him,” Tai growled from his spot next to me.

Warren’s eyes flicked to Tai and then roamed his form up and up as he stood. An astonished expression stole across Warren’s face. That happened a lot around Tai. He was as unusually large and imposing, as he was fine as fuck. “Friend of yours, I gather?”

Tai tapped his chest in a highly alpha move. “Family.”

I smiled and patted Tai’s hand, tugging his forearm, forcing him to sit once more. He sat quietly, focused solely on me as if the other people in the room were insignificant gnats, annoying by their mere existence. God, I loved Tai.

“Well, as apologetic as I am, we’re prepared to pay for all your medical bills, provide you with the best possible aftercare and any dollar amount you deem appropriate for your time and suffering. As much as I hate that this happened, and I do, Mia, more than you could ever know,” he croaked, frowning deeply, the wrinkles in his face never having been more prevalent than they were now. “I have to think of the lives of all the people that I’m working to save. If this gets out about what happened, not only is it political suicide for my son, my project, but also the lives we planned to save…” He shook his head and lowered it in shame, unable to continue.