Justice For Abby (24 page)

He yanked at her pants and the table creaked ominously. He tugged again, grabbing her around the waist as the tabletop collapsed, crashing to the floor, the dishes shattering in a pile to their right. They both stared, gasping, and came back together desperately. “We’ll fix it later,” he murmured as she nibbled his mouth.

“Later,” she agreed, pulling at the elastic of his boxers, exposing him as he sent her jeans to her knees and she kicked off her sneaker, pulling one leg out. “I want to ride you.”

He sat on the edge of the broken table, leaning his back against the wall. She followed and immediately took him deep, moaning as she gripped his shoulders.

“God, Abigail,” he hissed through his teeth. She was so damn hot and tight.

She moved up and down, continuing the frenzied pace, and he clutched her hips, watching Abby bite her swollen lip and close her eyes as her whimpers grew longer with every rock of her body.

“Go, Abigail, go,” he encouraged, out of breath, on the brink as Abby teetered on the edge, revving him impossibly higher.

She clawed at his shirt, throwing her head back on a stunned cry, freezing, then gyrated faster, working him harder as the orgasm consumed her.

“Abby,” he gasped, “I’m close. I’m going to come.” He wrapped an arm around her waist, but she continued to move her taut, sexy body, staring in his eyes, moaning, lost in pleasure as her throbbing center begged him to follow her.

“Abigail,” his fingers bit into her hips and he exploded, filling her, shoving himself deeper in his ecstasy. He rested his head on her shoulder as she collapsed against him, still shuddering and shivering.

He brought his arms around her, stroking her back beneath her shirt as they caught their breath, closing his eyes as she pressed a tender kiss to his neck. “Abigail.” He drew her away, cupping her sweaty face. “That was a really bad idea.”

She nodded. “I know.”

He slid his thumb along damp skin, unable to stop touching her. He still filled her as she clung to him, but they weren’t close enough. “I should’ve pulled out.”

“Definitely.” She licked her dry lips, staring at him, her eyes still glazed with passion.

“This would be a really shitty time to end up pregnant.”

She nodded again. “I agree.”

“I can’t get enough of you, Abby. I absolutely can’t, but we can’t do this again.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“I’m pretty sure we both made the decision. Neither one of us stopped.”

“I like the way you feel inside of me.” She traced a finger down the buttons of his plaid worktop, glancing up from under her lashes. “I’ve never had unprotected sex before. Josh, my friend with benefits in college, we were safe every time. It was never like this.” She shrugged. “You feel good—different—perfect.”

He clenched his jaw as her confession kicked his hormones back into high gear. “I like it a hell of a lot better this way too, but—”

She pressed a finger to his lips. “I get it.”

He kissed the tip of her nose. “Condoms from now on.”

“Every time.” She hugged him and stood, pulling her pants back on.

He got to his feet, zipping himself up as the studio door opened.

Shelby walked in, stopping, her eyes going huge as she stared at the mess on the floor. “What happened in here?”

Abby cleared her throat as she tied the shoe she’d kicked off. “The table broke.”

Jerrod struggled to suppress a smile as Abby glanced at him. “You should clean up while I fix this.”

She nodded, smiling at him as she reached for her jacket with handprints on her breasts and ass, her ponytail a mess, her cheeks rosy and her lips still swollen. “I’ll make us some lunch.”

He sent her a wink. “Sounds good.”

She walked out, ignoring Shelby altogether.

Shelby slammed the door shut, her cheeks going pink with temper. “What are you doing?”

He bent down to examine the bent joint on the table leg, already knowing this wasn’t going to go well. “Fixing the table.”

“You have clay in your hair, on your face, on your button snap. And her… You were making out in your mother’s
studio
.”

“I’m not having this conversation.” He stood, figuring the table was a loss. He’d have to build mom a new one.

“You
are
sleeping with her.”

His eyes flew to hers. “That’s none of your business.”

“What happened to ‘Abby’s my friend’? How could you do this to me?” She sniffled as tears poured down her cheeks.

He rubbed at his forehead, trying to figure out how to proceed from here. He hadn’t expected Shelby to walk in seconds after he pulled himself free of Abby. “Shelby, you and I aren’t together.” He grabbed a broom and swept up Abby’s dried attempts at…whatever that had been.

“Do you love her?”

He stopped the broom, not willing to go there with his ex. He didn’t know exactly what he felt for Abby, or maybe he did, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to discuss it with Shelby. “Shelby—’’

“Jerrod, I love you.” She rushed to him and grabbed his arm. “Come back to me. Please come back to me. We’ll make it work this time. I can move to Los Angeles.”

He could smell Abigail on his skin and taste her on his tongue. She was the only woman he wanted. He peeled Shelby’s hand from him. “Shelby, you need to move on. You can’t keep doing this.”

“Bastard!” She shoved him, her green eyes flashing. “You’re going to pay for this, and so is she.” She whirled.

He grabbed her, turning her back. He’d had more than enough of her threats. “Leave Abby alone.”

“Jerrod.” She collapsed against him. “I love you,” she sobbed.

He moved away, attempting to find a stirring of compassion as he looked into her genuinely hurt eyes. “Shelby.” He took both of her arms gently. “We didn’t work. You know that.”

“No.” She shook her head vehemently.

“Shelby, come on. Come on,” he said again, staring at the woman he’d traded peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with in grade school and lost his virginity to in the back of dad’s old Chevy his sophomore year. He couldn’t help but hug the pretty journalist he’d tried to build a life with. “You’re holding on to the past. You deserve so much more than what we had. We both do.”

“I’ve never wanted anyone else.”

He closed his eyes. “I can’t be with you anymore.”

“You’re in love with her.”

He sighed.

She yanked away from him. “I
hate
you. God, do I
hate
you.” She ran to the door, slamming it behind her, and hurried away.

He clenched his jaw, watching through the window, making certain she didn’t detour to the house to mess with Abby. He unclenched his jaw and shook his head, wishing somehow he and Shelby could’ve ended as friends. They had a long history, and not all of it was bad, but somewhere along the way she’d grown vengeful and bitter.

He steamed out a breath, rubbing at his jaw. There was little doubt Shelby would be hot for revenge. Tim was going to have to help him put out this fire. Tim had a way with her; he always had.

He swept up the mess and grabbed his phone from his hip, dialing, glancing at the house through the window again, eager to put Shelby behind him. He wanted Abby and their quiet lunch. More, he wanted the trial over with so they could get back to their own home. He’d been exactly right when he said he and Shelby both deserved better, and he finally had it.

~~~~

Shelby typed the last word, added a period, and sat back, smiling. Her self-satisfied grin quickly dissolved into hopeless tears. “Damn it.” She stared at the bright screen in her dark living room, her breath rushing in and out in her misery as she thought of the way Jerrod and Abigail smiled at each other in Mary’s studio. Never once had he looked at her the way he did Abigail. Never ever did he want her so ferociously that they broke tables and crockery in their haste to be together, nor had he been playful the way he was with
her
.

Jerrod and Abigail were different;
he
was different. He’d never been unkind during the months they lived together, but he wasn’t attentive and sweet the way he was with her. She closed her eyes, dropping her face in her hands, giving into another bought of tears as she finally understood Jerrod wasn’t coming back. He was in love with his fashion-designing supermodel.

She’d been right all along. Something about Jerrod’s ‘friends visiting the farm’ story had been off from the beginning. The advanced copy of
Trendy
confirmed her suspicions. She’d read the March issue cover-to-cover after she raced home from the Quinn’s, surprised by the tidbits Abigail shared of her harrowing story and her dedication to the
Escape
line’s mission, with the enthusiastic backing of Lily Brand Designs. She’d searched the internet for hours, finding plenty of information on Abigail’s show-stopping designs at numerous college fashion fairs, her abduction and rescue, and rumors that she was the prosecution’s star witness against the Mid-Atlantic Sex Ring. Then there was nothing. Abigail Harris ceased to exist until Toni Torrell’s article outed her as Lily’s hot new designer three weeks ago—the day before Jerrod and Abigail made their surprise appearance in Parker.

Google Images had several photos of Abby pre-graduation, walking the runway in Washington D.C., London, Paris, and Milan, wearing fellow designers’ clothes. She posed with some of fashion’s biggest names, flashing her stellar grin, but the picture Shelby came back to time and again was dated two days after her rescue. Abigail wore dark shades and a black cap hiding her hair while she looked down, gripping her arm around Jerrod’s waist, clinging as he hugged her close on their walk through the airport. He wore his own shades and black cap tugged low, holding up his hand to block any further pictures from the crowd of photographers.

Abigail and Jerrod had been together since July—
months
. He’d moved on quickly enough after he dumped her and headed back to Los Angeles as if what they’d had was nothing. Shelby looked at the picture of Abby smiling with her famous fashion friends, then back at her and Jerrod snuggled up on their jaunt through Reagan International, detesting the bitch for her beauty, talent, and success, but mostly for stealing Jerrod Quinn.

She exed out of the pictures and pulled her laptop closer, ready for payback. Abby had the spotlight for now, but Shelby Haggerty was about to try it out for a while. Toni Torrell had promised her a feature page in
The Times
along with a position if the article was everything she’d promised. Her feature story was going to kick
ass
. Parker Nebraska would be a thing of the past once her exposé broke in the morning. Abigail and Jerrod were in for a surprise.

Shelby reread the piece she’d painstakingly written and attached Abby’s spring sketches she’d downloaded from her phone. LA’s Fashion Princess was going to have to start her
Escape
line from scratch. The poor thing wouldn’t want to launch her new product with ideas the world had already seen. She pressed ‘send’ with a flourish and closed her laptop, eagerly anticipating her big break and the opportunity to knock Jerrod and his hussy down a few pegs.

“Jerrod,” mom whispered.

“Hmm?” He wrapped his arms tighter around Abby’s warm, naked body, pulling her closer, nuzzling her neck, content to lay just like this and surrender to another hour or two of sleep.

“Jerrod,” she hissed louder, and his eyes flew open in the dark.

“Mom?” He blinked away his sleep-induced confusion and shoved himself up to sitting, already tense. “What’s wrong?” Mom rarely came upstairs, and she sure as hell wouldn’t have walked into his room once she figured out he was in bed with Abby.

“I think you might want to see this.” She held up the
Parker Gazette
.

He took the paper, holding it close to his face, reading the headline: LA’s FASHION PRINCESS GONE COUNTRY. There was an old picture of Abby filling the front page.

“Son of a
bitch
.” He glanced at the byline and rubbed at his eyes as he started reading.

From skyscrapers to corn fields, LA’s Fashion Princess and former sex trafficking survivor Abigail Harris
…

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” He flipped to the next page, noting that the extensive article continued, showcasing several of Abby’s latest designs among the print. “Goddammit.”

Abby rolled over. “Jerrod?”

“Mom, call Timmy and tell him to get here.”

She nodded and hurried from the room as he got out of bed, searching for the pants and shirt Abby had peeled off him hours before.

Abby sat up, covering her breasts with the sheet. “What’s going on?”

“Get dressed.” He found his jeans, yanking them on, then the long sleeve t-shirt. “Pack your bag. We have to go.”

Her face paled in the dim light. “They’re here.”

“Not yet.” But they would be.

She crawled across the bed, gloriously naked, her hand shaking as she reached for her robe. “What are we going to do? Where are we going to go?” She stood, her jaw tense, fighting her chattering teeth as she wrapped herself tight in the white cotton.

His mind raced with the steps he needed to take, but he couldn’t stand seeing Abby trembling in terror. “Hey,” he said, speaking with a calm he didn’t feel as he framed her face, stroking his thumb along her cheek as her whole body shook. “It’s okay. We’re going to be okay.” He kissed her forehead. “Stay away from the windows. Grab what will fit in the suitcase we came with. Don’t forget your cap and jacket.”

“All right.” She nodded and hurried from the room.

He dialed Ethan, waiting impatiently through two rings.

“Cooke,” he said groggily.

“It’s Quinn. We’re evacuating.”

“What? Why? Where?”

“Abby’s been discovered. She’s in the local paper. We’re heading to Cheyenne. We’ll take off from there. I don’t think it’s a good idea to go back to Denver.” He grabbed jeans from his drawers and a few simple, nondescript tops, shoving them in a small carryon, then took his black cap and the jacket he arrived in from the closet. “I can have us there in a little over three hours. Book us anything leaving around the ten-thirty/eleven o’ clock range.”

“I’ll call you back in less than twenty. Be careful.”

“Thanks.” He hung up, glancing at his watch. They’d only been up for ten minutes, but it felt like hours. “Abby, come on.” They needed to get the hell out of here.

Abby rushed in with her bag and purse, dressed in jeans and a gray hoodie, her eyes clouded with worry for the first time in weeks. “I’m ready.”

“Good.” He slid his holster over his shirt, checked his weapon, and shoved the Glock in its place against his ribs. He pulled the pistol out just as quickly when a truck came barreling down the lane. “Stay here. Mom,” he shouted as he took the stairs in twos.

“I’m here, son.” She carried Grandpa Quinn’s old shotgun—the first gun he’d ever fired.

“Go upstairs.”

“It’s just Timmy.”

“Go on until I make sure. Keep Abby close.” Mom could handle a weapon as well as the rest of them.

The porch light shined on Timmy as he booked it up the steps and came inside.

Jerrod put his gun away, not bothering to greet his sleepy-eyed brother. “Mom and Uncle Jimmy can’t stay here.”

“I know.” Timmy scrubbed at his face.

“Wait a minute, boys,” Mom said with a hand on her hip. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Jerrod glanced at his mother, then his watch again. Fifteen minutes had ticked by. “Mom, I don’t have time for this. I have to go. You’re going to do whatever Timmy tells you until this blows over.”

“What about the farm?” She asked with her brows raised.

“Screw the farm. This is your life. These people will kill you just because they can.”

“Jerrod—”

“I’m sorry,” Abby’s voice trembled as she walked down the stairs carrying their two small bags. “I’m sorry, Mary. You’ve been so kind to welcome me, and I’ve put you in danger.”

“This isn’t your fault,” Jerrod said as he looked into her eyes brimming with tears, trying to ignore the urge to wrap her up in a hug. He needed to keep her safe, not soothe her. He’d given her all the gentleness he could upstairs; now it was time to work.

“Now honey, you listen to Jerrod. This isn’t your fault.” Mom pulled Abby into a hug. “You two need to be on your way.”

“Please do what Jerrod and Tim ask.” Abby eased back, looking Mom in the eyes. “
Please
. They’re monsters,” she said, gripping mom’s hand.

“Okay, honey. I’ll pack a few things and leave with Timmy.” She gave Abby’s cheek a gentle pat and broke their connection, moving in to give Jerrod a hug. “You be careful. Watch your back and keep Abby safe.”

He hugged her hard, always hating when he had to say goodbye to his mother. She was the one person he regretted leaving behind. “I will. You need to be careful for a while too.” He kissed her cheek and let her go.

“I will, but Shelby didn’t mention you or any of us by name in the article.”

“At least that’s something.” His blood boiled as he thought of the unnecessary danger Shelby had caused everyone in this room. “I still don’t want you out here by yourself for a while. You or Uncle Jimmy. Make sure you have a couple of Timmy’s men with you until you get the all-clear.”

“All right, son.”

“We need to go. Timmy, I’m going dark. Contact Ethan at the number I gave you. He’ll keep you filled in.” He gave his brother a quick hug.

“Got it.” Timmy gave his back a solid smack. “Be careful.”

“You too.”

A car sped down the drive, stopping with a screech of brakes. Jerrod went instantly on alert, blocking Abby behind him, pushing her toward the stairs as he and Timmy pulled their weapons. Someone’s footsteps crunched toward the front steps. Jerrod clenched his jaw as he caught sight of long red hair in the front window. Shelby. He had absolutely nothing to say to her. “Come on, Abigail.”

She nodded, stopping in front of Timmy. “Goodbye, Tim. Thank you for all the fun.” She kissed his cheek. “Tell Uncle Jimmy thank you and goodbye for me.”

He nodded. “I will. Listen to Jerrod and come back and see us when things are better.”

She gave him a small smile. “I would like to.”

Jerrod took her hand and opened the door as Shelby raised a hand to knock in yoga pants and a sweatshirt. “You’ve got some fucking nerve coming out here.”

“I got a strange phone call—two of them. It creeped me out.”

He pulled Abby with him to the rental car. “I’d plan on several more, or worse.” He didn’t care that her eyes bloomed with fear. She’d made this mess. “You have no idea what you’ve done, Shelby. No fucking idea. I hope it was worth it.” He got in as Abby took her seat, reversed, and drove off, not bothering to look back in his rearview mirror. If he ever saw Shelby again, it would be too soon.

Abby stared out the window, gripping her hands tight in her lap as they drove down Commerce Way toward the onramp. “Where are we going?” she asked quietly.

“To Cheyene.” He merged on Eighty West, checking for a nonexistent tail, and kicked his speed up to eighty-five—ten over the speed limit, eager to put distance between Abby and Parker, Nebraska. “Ethan’s booking us a flight.”

“Then what?”

“I’m not sure until he calls me back.” His cell rang as if on cue, and he checked the readout. “This is him right now.” He pressed ‘talk.’ “Quinn.”

“First available flight out is 10:35. United flight 2233 to Indianapolis. Tickets are waiting at the counter.”

“Thanks, man.”

“Abby made
The Times
again. Toni Torrell and Shelby Haggerty are sharing the byline.”

He huffed out a breath, absorbing the latest wave of anger. “Yeah.”

“I’m taking it you know Shelby.”

“Yeah,” he said again. “My ex decided to pay me back. She likes to make it count.” He grit his teeth in frustration, glancing at Abby as she turned her head his way.

“She doesn’t mess around.”

“No.” He shook his head, still trying to believe she’d actually done this. Shelby was capable of a lot, but this was a new low.

“Give me a call when you land, and we’ll figure out the next step.”

“Will do.”

“Later.”

“Later.” He hung up and gripped the wheel tight. Abby’s face was in the news again, and not just here in Parker. Shelby had already received ‘creepy’ phone calls, which meant the bastards were on to them. They were more than likely already on their way to Nebraska. He needed to talk to Adam and figure out what the taskforce had on Dimitri. Hesitating, he dialed, understanding the risks he took by calling anyone other than Ethan.

“Hello?”

“It’s Quinn. What’s the word on Dimitri?”

“We’ve got him narrowed down to two locations. Surveillance is running now.”

“Good.” His shoulders relaxed a fraction, knowing the men he used to work with and trusted had a bead on one of their problems. He wanted to ask where they thought Dimitri was, but Adam wouldn’t and couldn’t tell him over the phone. “Good,” he said again.

“Are you in trouble, man?”

“Nope. Everything’s fine. Just checking in.”

There was a long pause. Adam knew as well as he did that everything was
not
fucking fine. “Okay.”

“I’ll talk to you later.” He hung up, rolled down his window, and tossed the phone out, watching it crack into pieces on the pavement in his rearview mirror.

Abby stared at him. “Why did you do that?”

“New place, new phone. No risks.”

“Why did you tell that person everything’s fine?”

“Because you never know who’s listening.”

She let loose a trembling sigh. “I hate this.”

He took her hand, running his thumb along her knuckles. “We’ll be okay.” He wanted them settled somewhere hundreds of miles from here. “We’re going to make this work, just like we’ve done all along.”

She nodded, pressing a kiss to his knuckles, and set their joined hands in her lap as they passed a mileage sign. Cheyenne Wyoming was 200 miles away. He glanced at the odometer, tempted to punch the gas, eager to hurry them along, but he kept his speed at eighty-five, more than ready to leave Nebraska behind.

~~~~

The plane touched down with a bump and rush of breaks, slowing as the jet approached United’s terminal. Jerrod leaned closer to Abby’s side, glancing at the snowy mix falling outside the window, then at his watch. They’d lost an hour with the time change—not that it mattered much. He and Abby still had problems, whether it was three-thirty in the afternoon or midnight.

He reached for his cell, muttering a swear as he remembered that his phone lay in pieces somewhere on Interstate 80. Now that they were on the ground he needed to talk to Ethan and find a place for them to lay low until more secure arrangements could be made. Their unexpected departure from Nebraska meant a safe house scenario was more than likely in the cards. As much as he hated the idea of locking Abby behind shaded windows and closed doors, her days of wandering free were over. They should’ve had another week and a half on the farm, but this morning’s articles changed that.

He looked at Abby’s pale cheeks and tensed shoulders, struggling to ignore another rush of anger, understanding that the useless emotions did him little good. Shelby made her choice; now he and Abby were dealing with the consequences. He sent her another glance, brushing his fingers along her hand, winking as the plane rolled to a stop and the flight attendant’s voice filled the cabin.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

She gave him a small smile as she grabbed her carryon and purse from below the seat in front of her. “Yeah.” She’d said little during the four and a half hour flight, spending most of her time staring out the window. She was trying to stay strong, but he knew she was struggling to hold on.

He took both their bags and stood, wedging his body into the aisle, making certain he and Abby weren’t the first or the last passengers to deplane. “Come on.” He snagged her hand, pulling her in front of him. “Right by my side. Just like always,” he murmured close to her ear.

She nodded, moving forward, following the line out as they walked the jetway.

He stepped to her right side, slipping an arm around her waist as they moved closer to the gates, his eyes scanning the groupings of passengers waiting to board and the hoards of people lounging around or walking by on their way to catch another flight. “You okay?”

“Yes.”

“We’ll grab a phone and a bite to eat. I’ll call Ethan and figure out what’s next.”

“I’m not hungry.”

She’d nibbled two or three bites of a banana nut muffin in Cheyenne and handed off her peanuts and pretzels to him mid-flight.

“Abby, you need to eat something.”

She pressed a hand to her stomach. “I don’t feel very well.”

Without fail, her appetite had vanished. “We’ll get you some crackers and a ginger ale.”

“Ginger ale actually sounds really good.”

“One ginger ale, coming up.” He smiled and kissed the top of her head as he continued his scrutiny of Indianapolis International’s other patrons, pausing when he spotted the small shop selling novelties, snacks, and magazines. “This looks like a good spot.”

“Sure. When we’re finished here I want to hit the bathrooms.”