Mercy's Angels Box Set (29 page)

“What about an accent?” I shook my head. “Did he seem nervous or angry?” I thought carefully, and although he barely spoke, he definitely radiated clear anger and confidence.

“He seemed to know what he was doing and he didn’t seem worried about getting caught. He was confident.” I remembered those narrowed eyes of fury peering down on me. “And angry.” 

Frank stood patiently, not pressing me continue, but I knew he wanted me to.  “He tried to pull my pants down.” Fuck, I was breaking again, the wound still so fresh on my soul was tearing open once more. “He touched me there, too,” I sobbed. “He was trying to rape me so I stuck my fingers in his eyes and kneed the fucker in the balls.” Charlie kissed my temple.

“Good girl,” he whispered.

“I got out of the bedroom and made it to the front door. He slammed me into it so hard, I think that’s when my ribs got bruised.” No fractures, thank God. To be honest, the bruising was painful enough, I didn’t think I could cope with broken. “Don from next door was yelling from the other side of the door and I guess it freaked him out.”

“It was Don Brugner who called 911. Your attacker left through the back door. There was a garbage can against the fence that he most likely used to stand on.” I nodded woodenly. Reliving the experience, on top of recently having lived it, had drained me. I had nothing left.

“Okay, honey, one more thing and then I’ll get out of your hair. Have you had any weird phone calls? Perhaps noticed someone who seemed a bit out of place hanging around the street, maybe even hanging around Bouquets?” My sister’s phone calls could easily be considered weird, but completely unrelated to this. I shook my head a little despondent. I really didn’t feel like I was giving Frank much to go on.

“Frank, Rebecca needs to get some sleep. Maybe you could call us if you need anything else,” Mercy suggested. Thankful for bringing things to an end, I gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

Frank flicked his notebook closed. “Okay, if you can think of anything else, you call me right away.” Frank gave me a stern look. I felt about twelve again, standing before the principal, awaiting punishment for turning on the fire alarm at school. I nodded obediently.

“What about Luke?” Charlie said through gritted teeth.

“We’ll check him out, see if he has an alibi. Right now we don’t really have anything but a bad date. That’s not much of a motive and it’s certainly nothing to base a case on.”

“He said we’d finish it later,” I whispered, my mind skipping back to those final moments. Frank, Mercy and Charlie’s heads all swung my way. “He said, ‘we’ll finish this later, sweetheart’ before he left the house.”

Frank and Charlie looked at each other, while Mercy rubbed a soothing hand over my back.

“Perhaps it would be best if you stayed with someone until we wrap this up. It was probably just an idle threat. It’s not common for a random criminal to come back for a second attempt, but it’s better to be safe than sorry,” Frank confessed.

“What if it wasn’t a random attack?” asked Charlie, his eyes blazing with anger. As far as I was concerned it had to be; there wasn’t a single person I knew that had it in them to do this—not even Luke Hollywell.

“We’ll figure it out, Charlie, sexual assault investigations take a little time though. The case rarely solves itself then falls into our lap all gift wrapped and nicely presented. Just call me if you think of anything else.”  Frank gave me another of his pointed looks over his silver rimmed glasses.

“And you’ll call if you find anything?” Charlie countered. Frank nodded and left the room. Charlie rubbed the back of his neck; he looked tired and worried. I knew just how he felt, probably more so. “I’m going to go sort out the paper work, I’ll be right back, okay?” I nodded. It was all I could manage. Talking was too hard, my throat was too sore. I had nothing left inside me to offer so non-committal head movements would have to do.

“Rebecca, I’m going to have to call Lola and Annie. You need someone to take care of the store for a few days. What do you want me to tell them?” Mercy asked. Shit, I hadn’t even thought about Bouquets, which was in fact now called Mercy’s Angels and Bouquets, but Ella and I still referred to it as Bouquets. Old habits die hard.

“Ummm...maybe just tell them that I’m sick?” I shrugged.

“Perhaps I can tell Annie what happened. She would understand and you’ve known her for quite some time now. You aren’t going to be able to explain the bruises easily; she’ll find out soon enough. We’ll just tell Lola you’re sick and she can take care of Bouquets for a few days, okay?” It all made sense and I knew Lola and Annie would take care of the store for me. I also knew Annie would understand what I had been through. She had faced her own demon, in the form of her ex-husband, who physically and mentally abused her. She had fled to Mercy’s Shelter eighteen months ago. Annie had trusted me with her past, with her nightmares, the least I could do was be honest with her about my own.

“That sounds fine. Lola needs to get the order for Mr. Benoir out by this afternoon. Tell her the order is in the book.”

“How about you get a ride back to my place with Charlie and I’ll stop by the store and talk to the girls. Charlie can help get you set up in the spare room at my place; he has a key.” I nodded. Whatever...I no longer really cared what happened or how it happened. I was so tired I thought I might fall asleep standing.

Charlie sorted out the discharge instructions, he collected the prescriptions for pain medication and, much to my horror, sleeping pills. Seriously, sleeping pills? I slept like the dead as it was. If I had any trouble, my good ol’ friend Hangar One Vodka would help me pass out—it was just as effective. Charlie and Mercy walked, one on each side of me, as a nurse pushed me along in a completely unnecessary wheel chair, navigating the hospital corridors with ease. I closed my eyes and ignored the sights and sounds that frightened me so much.  Once Charlie helped me climb up into the ridiculously high cabin of his Ford truck, my head leaned against the cool glass of the window and my mind drifted. I couldn’t believe how different I felt compared to yesterday, when my dramas included a nagging sister, bills, and my need to get laid. Now part of me was dying to hear my sister’s voice, the bills could take a flying leap, and the thought of getting laid made me ill. Oh God, the last person I had sex with was sitting right beside me, and it seemed as though he would be the last person who ever touched me in that way. A tear rolled down my cheek. The thought of anyone touching me intimately made me shiver. He had touched me, he had taken away my choice and turned something that was supposed to be beautiful and exciting into something ugly and scary. 

“Rebecca?” Charlie’s voice broke me from my sorrow.

The car had stopped moving and I hadn’t even noticed. I turned to face him, not bothering to wipe my tears. It hurt too much anyway. My face was aching, throbbing in fact. It made me think about Ella and the abuse she endured at the hands of her stepfather. My heart broke a little more for her. 

“Baby,” Charlie whispered, cupping my cheek, “you’re going to be okay. You’re going to get through this and that beautiful face of yours will have a smile on it again, if it’s the last thing I do.”

My nod was involuntary, because the reality was, I didn’t believe him. I couldn’t imagine ever smiling again. But Charlie’s conviction required a response and I found myself not wanting to let him down.

“I’m going to run in and get your prescriptions filled, it should only take a minute or two. Will you be okay by yourself?”

I looked around. We were in a busy parking lot, surrounded by shoppers, people going about their everyday, mundane lives with a blissful ease I now envied. Would I be alright? His words echoed through my mind.

“I’ll be fine, Charlie, just hurry up, please. I’m really tired.” My head found its way back to the cool glass and I heard Charlie sigh and slip out of the truck.

The windows were dark, thank God. Otherwise, my horrid face would probably scare the shit out of the people walking by. I couldn’t recall the moment I began to fade away, the moment my eyes became heavy and on a burdensome flutter, closed. Sleep pulled me away from my pain, away from my sorrow and blissfully far away from my fears.

I was only in the drug store for twenty-five minutes. I stood sweating and shuffling from one foot to the other nervously, feeling a little like a teenager about to get busted for buying condoms. I didn’t want to leave Rebecca alone for long though, not after the night she had endured. I should have given the damn prescriptions to Mercy, but I had been so eager to get her away from the hospital, I had forgotten. When I made it back to the truck, I found her fast asleep. She looked so small and fragile with her head rested against the window. I managed to shove my jacket between her and the glass without waking her up, then navigated the busy morning streets to Mercy’s house on the outskirts of town. It was on the same road that led to Jax’s place, but not quite as far away from civilization. Mercy’s house was a big, two story colonial with a wide sweeping front porch. I loved it here and I visited often. I even lived here for a couple of years after Jax left for the army. He didn’t want to leave Mercy all alone and I needed to escape my parents before I did something truly damaging and irreversible. The preaching and fanatic religion that I grew up with fuelled hate and anger forced me to distance myself from my family. I haven’t seen my parents in three years, and at the risk of sounding like a hypocrite, halle-a-fucking-lujah for that. The degree to which they demonstrated their so called faith was excessive to say the least. They had strict rules: no music, other than church hymns, no brand named clothing, because apparently the devil owned Prada, no alcohol, no fast food, no books other than the bible, no computers or electronic devices, outside of the microwave, fridge and dishwasher, hell, we never even owned a TV. It was all a little too cult-like and antiquated for a kid born at the end of the twentieth century. Mercy’s was the kind of home I dreamed of growing up in. She was the perfect mom who baked on Sundays, laughed often and filled her home with music and noise. She let me ride a motorcycle, she didn’t bitch when I got my first tattoo, and she never cursed my existence as being attributed to Satan himself. I hadn’t been by in almost a month and just pulling into the driveway helped relax me. It was like coming home, to a real home, with a real family.

I somehow managed to open the passenger door without Rebecca falling out. She didn’t stir as I lifted her carefully from the car and carried her up the steps. I’ve never carried a woman like this before, and I found her slight weight in my arms strangely comforting. It felt good to be taking care of someone like this, or perhaps it was simply the fact that I was taking care of Rebecca like this. I wanted to keep her buried against my chest for eternity, where no one could ever hurt her again. After an awkward shuffle and a few frustrating minutes, I managed to get the key in the lock. As I kicked the door shut behind us, a possessive need descended over me—the need to keep Rebecca here with me, the need to keep her safe. Rebecca was a free spirit though, not a girl to be locked away from the world. Once she healed, I had no doubt she would make her way home the first chance she could. The only reason she had turned to me for comfort was because she had been through a traumatic experience, and she felt safe with me. I wasn’t stupid enough to think that Rebecca Donovan wanted anything more than to simply feel safe right now. If safe is what she wanted, then safe was what I would give her.  I adored this girl; I’ve adored her for a long time now, but I let her get away. Seeing her beaten and bloodied face in her bathroom had broken my heart in two. Her tears had undone me, her fear, her need, it was all so unlike Rebecca. But she had every right to those feelings and I would be whatever she needed me to be. If she needed to feel safe, then she would feel fucking safe. If she needed someone to take care of her, I would fucking take care of her. When it came time to let her go, I wasn’t sure how I would do it, but I would.

I laid her down on the bed in the spare room on the ground floor. Mercy and Dave’s bedroom was upstairs, as well as the study and a large bathroom. The downstairs bedroom was smaller, but no less comfortable, and there was a bathroom was right across the hall, next to the living room. I’d be close to her on the big couch in the living room. I grabbed a blanket from the closet and spread it carefully over her tiny body, tucking it carefully under her chin. Her hair was still matted with dried blood. She needed a shower, but I couldn’t bring myself to wake her. She was exhausted, both emotionally and physically. She could shower when she woke. I stood and stared at her for the longest time. I didn’t want to leave her alone, but I needed to make a call to Lee’s to let them know I wouldn’t be available to spar with Brent tonight. I needed a shower, I needed to go home and grab some clothes, and then I needed to sleep for about twelve hours straight. I would have to wait until Mercy got home before I left though, there wasn’t a chance in hell I was leaving Rebecca alone. I had a pair of jeans and a shirt in the closet that I left here the last time I visited, so I grabbed them and made my way to the bathroom.  I had some of Rebecca’s blood on my shirt, but that wasn’t what bothered me. It was the scent of Gym Girl that was lingering on my skin. The fact that I had gone straight from her bed to Rebecca made me feel ill. I wanted to wash every woman I had ever touched, except Rebecca, from my body, from my mind. I wanted to be clean for Rebecca, I wanted to be untainted. I wanted to turn back the clock and be buried deep in Rebecca’s willing body, in her bed, in her home. I wanted to take her out to dinner, wine and dine her, spoil her. I wanted to take away her pain and give her back the beautiful, worry-free life she’d been living.

“Fuck,” I groaned as my dick began to harden at my thoughts. I turned the hot water off and almost yelled like a pussy under the painful ice cold water. It turned my libido and wanting off as quickly as thoughts of Rebecca had turned it on. I dried and pulled on the clean jeans and shirt. I checked on Rebecca one last time before I took to the couch. I was sleeping like the dead before my head hit the pillow.

* * *

A blood curdling scream had me rolling off the couch and hitting the floor in a painful heap. I had been in a deep, dreamless sleep and was now wide awake. I scrambled from the floor and, for a split second, had forgotten where I was, but seeing Mercy rush down the stairs, her face full of angst as she moved with determination, reminded me quickly. I got to Rebecca’s doorway at the same time Mercy did and we both stopped for a second to see Rebecca thrashing around in the bed, trapped in a violent nightmare. Mercy ran to her side and tried to hold her down and wake her, but Rebecca was fighting hard. I slipped into the room and helped Mercy gently hold her arms down.

“Rebecca, your safe, wake up,” Mercy whispered gently. She was still fighting and screaming and it was breaking my heart.

“Betty Boop, open your eyes!” I demanded with a little more force. Thankfully her pretty blue eyes flew open. For a heartbeat I expected her to come at me with a feisty little right hook, instead she surprised me by launching herself right past Mercy and into my arms. Her entire body shivered and I held her close, trying to infuse some warmth into her. I peered at Mercy over Rebecca’s shaking shoulders. Mercy knew what Rebecca was going through; Mercy’s ex-husband had spent years beating the ever loving shit out of her. That was before my time, but I’ve witnessed the nightmares that still plagued her.

Mercy reached out and placed a sturdy hand over mine that was holding Rebecca’s head against my chest. “I’ll go make some coffee,” she whispered. It was still dark out, but I could see the faint distant glow from the rising sun through the window signaling the rapid approach of another day. We had slept right through the day and most of the night. To be honest, Rebecca had done better than I thought she would. She had to have slept no less than fourteen hours straight. When I felt her body begin to relax, I pulled back a little to check her over. One eye was still swollen shut and the other was red from crying. She tried to pull away and I knew she was embarrassed about the way she looked. I didn’t want her to feel that way around me so I gently leaned in and I pressed my lips to her forehead.

“They’re just bruises, Betty Boop, the swelling will go down in a day or two. You are just as beautiful as ever, there is no need to hide.” She didn’t respond for the longest time and I thought maybe she drifted back to sleep until she eventually pulled away from my arms. My fingers twitched with the need to fold her into my chest again.

“I’ve never been inside Mercy’s house,” Rebecca murmured, her voice still husky and strained.

“It’s warm and cozy. You’ll like it here, hell, I love it here.” She looked around the dimly lit room. “How are you feeling?” I chanced asking her the one question I was pretty sure I knew the answer to.

“Sore.” She shrugged, raising her hand lightly to cup her bruised cheek.

“How about I run you a bath? It might help for you to soak a while.” Her nod was despondent and it pained me to see her this way. Mercy brought in a hot cup of coffee which I left beside the tub as it filled. Rebecca quietly closed the door to the bathroom, separating me from her. Not being able to be with her, to tend to her, pissed me off. I don’t know why I felt such entitlement where Rebecca was concerned; it’s not like we were together or anything. I went to the kitchen and sat at the table.

“I fucking hate this,” I murmured, watching the gentle fall of snow in the backyard. The heaviest falls of winter had passed, but a soft coat of snow and ice still greeted us most mornings. In another month, it would be gone. Mercy had already started cooking a feast: bacon, sausage, eggs, biscuits and gravy, and hash browns. It was overkill but the thing about Mercy was she liked to coddle and she liked to cook. I watched her flip the bacon in the pan, my mouth watering and stomach growling. It would be almost as good as Benny’s all day breakfast at The Pit Stop, almost.

“She is going to have nightmares for a while, and she will most likely suffer from panic attacks. She might even have PTSD. She’ll also cry a lot more tears. It will be good for her to talk to Dave when he gets home.” If anyone knew about the stresses of living a life of pain, it was Dave. Although he hadn’t lived through anything as such himself, he was a psychiatrist who worked at Mercy’s Shelter. He spent every day talking to the women who crossed their threshold. He didn’t work in a fancy office with his degrees plastered on the wall, instead he worked in the shelter, making beds, cleaning bathrooms, fixing shit and being the ear many of the women needed, and more often than not, the voice of reason. Even Jax and I have spent time sitting with Dave, getting our heads on straight and dealing with our own shit. Rebecca could definitely benefit from talking to him.

Breakfast was cooked, sitting, and waiting, but Rebecca was still in the bathroom. I began to worry and stared at the closed door. Feeling like a complete and utter perv, I left Mercy loading our plates up with too much food while I pressed my ear to the bathroom door. The gentle sobbing from the other side literally hurt my chest. Unable to stop myself, I knocked.

“Betty Boop, I’m coming in.” I gave her a moment to protest. When she didn’t, I opened the door. She was sitting in the tub, her knees drawn to her chest, her face resting on them, her blonde hair still matted with dried blood. I sank down beside the tub and brushed her hair back.

“I’m sorry,” she quietly sobbed.

“There is nothing you need to be apologizing for, baby.”

She shook her head stubbornly. “I haven’t cried this much in a long time. I feel like a helpless, weepy female,” she confessed with a sniffle.

I smiled as I got up and grabbed some shampoo from the shower, then went back to kneel down beside her. “In case you haven’t noticed, you are, in fact, female and the events of the last twenty-four hours warrant weeping. Helpless?” I paused. “Not a fucking chance, Betty Boop. You fought that fucker off. Things could have been a whole lot worse, but you fought back. You’re a fighter, it’s who you are. So, no, you’re not helpless.” I encouraged her to tip her head backwards and gently wet her hair before squeezing in some shampoo and lathering it in. I’ve never washed a girl’s hair before. Was it weird that it was kinda turning me on?

“I don’t suppose that shampoo is for color treated hair, or that it has vanilla bean extracts in it?”

I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped my lips. “I wouldn’t have a clue. Considering I’m the only one who has used this bathroom in the last year, I would say not.”

She sighed. “That’s okay, but I’ll need to get my own shampoo from home. My hair will turn into a bird’s nest if I don’t use it.”

It has been a long time since I lived with a woman and that had been Mercy. I hadn’t taken much notice of what a woman required to survive on a day-to-day basis, other than food and water, so it was safe to say women’s grooming was a little foreign to me. As a man who liked women, I certainly appreciated such things though. If Rebecca needed special shampoo, I would damn well provide it for her. After rinsing the soap from Rebecca’s hair, I grabbed a clean towel from under the sink.

“You need me to stay?” I asked, not sure if I should go. Her answer was to simply stand, water running rivulets down her beautiful body. I might have become instantly hard if the bruises against her pale skin didn’t draw my attention.

“It’s nothing you haven’t seen before,” she admitted without emotion.

As soon as she stepped from the tub, I wrapped the towel around her and grabbed another for her hair. Once she was rubbed dry and glowing a pretty shade of pink, I left her to dress while I joined Mercy in the kitchen. When Rebecca finally meandered out of the bathroom, she looked nervous. I raised my brow wondering what the hell had her so uncomfortable all of a sudden. She glanced down at her clothes.