Pieces of Me Page 11

  It is too intimate, I thought. Far too intimate, but he wouldn’t let me look away, wouldn’t let me escape that moment. “It’s us,” he said against my mouth. “You’re here with me.”

  “With you.” The words came out of me in a gasp as he surged deep, so deep, and then he withdrew and as I watched him, he did it again, and again. I could feel myself tighten around him, felt an answering pulse deep within me. Digging my nails into his shoulders, I arched up, working myself against him as the sensation spread through me.

  Sensation—that was something I could get lost in. The heat of his body against mine. The glide of sweat-slickened flesh. The way his hand slid down my hip and caught my butt, canted me higher as he sank into me, deeper this time, almost all the way in.

  And then he was all the way in. I could feel him, his cock gloved inside me, his belly to mine, his heart to mine…and maybe it could even go deeper than that.

  His hand came back to my face, cupped it. His thumb swept across my lower lip. “You with me?”

  “Yes.” I nodded as I said it, the word stuttering out of me and I knew there was absolutely no place else I wanted to be in that moment.

  He said nothing more. His body rocked against mine and I felt the rhythm, the heat and the beauty of it. Jenks seemed to notice every little thing—if my breath hitched when he stroked the underside of my breast, he’d devote insane amounts of time doing just that. When he shifted against me and I felt the pressure against my clitoris, he noticed and then a supernova exploded inside me as he angled his body so that every stroke had him riding me just there.

  And his voice… He never stopped talking. While I gasped for air, when sometimes the pleasure all but blinded me, he talked.

  “Just like that…no, don’t close your eyes, I want to see you when I make you come, Shadow…”

  “Kiss me. Open your mouth…”

  “Shadow, wrap your legs around me…”

  It was as if he wanted me to remember who was inside me.

  I wanted to think I couldn’t forget. But sometimes, the monsters will steal inside your head.

  They didn’t. Not then.

  And when I couldn’t handle any more, he caught my hand, tangled our fingers and I felt his control shatter, just as he’d shattered me so many times. That beautiful body that I’d drawn time after time now arched over me, a powerful, taut bow. He came against me, hard and deep, and once more, I climaxed. This time, I wasn’t alone.

  Chapter Eleven

  The monster found me later that day.

  Jenks insisted on coming home with me and I was so glad he did.

  If I had gone inside and found the destruction on my own, I think I might still be sitting in a curled up, terrified little ball, outside on my porch.

  Instead, I was sitting on the couch in my neighbor’s place—I’d never even met him before today. To my surprise, I was more composed than I would have thought I could be.

  Sooner or later, I would fall apart.

  As long as it didn’t happen while I was talking to the cops. As long as it waited until I was alone.

  “…glad you weren’t in there alone.”

  Startled, I looked up, met my neighbor’s eyes. Jones. His name was Jones. That was his first name. Jones Alan Brown. Odd name. Kind eyes, with a lot of laugh lines. “I’m sorry,” I said, forcing myself to smile. “My mind was wandering.”

  “Understandable.” He nodded and looked back through his door. We could see inside to where the cops were looking around. Jenks was at the door, his hands on his hips, a look on his face that would have had me backing away if I didn’t know him. “I was saying, it’s a good thing you weren’t there alone last night.”

  Little black dots started to crowd in on my vision at those words. Alone… If I’d been alone…

  Some part of me realized that Stefan wouldn’t have done anything that would have attracted attention toward him. Not after the little interlude at the restaurant. The waitress had taken too much notice of him. She hadn’t liked him. He wouldn’t do anything until that incident faded from her memory. Oh, he was behind the destruction of my home but it wouldn’t be traced back to him.

  He wouldn’t do anything directly to me, though.

  Not yet.

  “Do you have any idea who might have done it?” Jones asked, still staring at my front door.

  Automatically, I started to lie. To deny.

  That is what a victim does. We brush it aside. We explain away those little bruises, laugh off how clumsy we are.

  My mouth had gone dry.

  Jenks slid his gaze my way.

  I felt the burning intensity of it and the truth came tearing out of me. “My ex-husband.”

  Those words hung there, ugly and raw, like acid on a wound and the pain of it spread.

  Slowly, Jones turned his head and looked at me.

  “Your ex.”

  I nodded. Prepared myself to see him back away. Nobody wanted to get involved in ugly little things like that. Not many people had seen Stefan’s true face, but there had been a few. A very, very few. And almost every single one had distanced themselves from it.

  Jones reached over and covered my hands with his.

  “How bad was it?”

  A shaky sigh escaped me. “Bad. Very bad.”

  His eyes studied me. Then he nodded. “I’m sorry.”

  “Me, too.” With a watery laugh, I pulled my hands away and rose from the couch, pacing the room, unable to stay still. It was hard to be still, hard to sit there and watch as the cops continue to go through my house. I could see them pass back and forth in front of the door occasionally. All of this brought those hidden wounds out of me and I felt exposed all over again.

  Unable to stay still a moment longer, I practically tore out of there and went to stand just inside my doorway. Tremors shook me as Jenks’ gaze cut my way.

  He came to stand in front of me. One hand, big and rough, came up, cradling my cheek. Fury tightened his features, but his voice was level as he asked, “You okay?”

  I was surprised at my answer. “Oh, I’m just peachy. Thought maybe I’d go for a Sunday stroll.”

  A slow smile curled his lips and he moved in, hooking an arm around my neck. “I can think of a good destination,” he murmured, his lips against my ear. “I want to find that chickenshit ex of yours and beat him bloody.”

  Any response I might have had would have to wait.

  “Ms. Harper?”

  The sound of my name had me pulling back from Jenks and turning. It was Detective Barry.

  When I’d moved here, after days of hiding out, I’d finally convinced myself I needed to tell a cop about my ex. I needed to tell a cop about the fact that I had men watching me.

  I’d eventually gone to Detective Barry.

  I’d heard about her from a local women’s shelter. I’d donated money and some clothes there, and sometimes, I’d go in and talk to the woman in charge. She was the one who’d recommended Barry.

  I was glad I’d found her.

  Occassionally, she’d send me an email.

  Sometimes, she would just stop by.

  But that wasn’t the case today. She had been keeping an eye on me, just as she’d promised.

  Detective Barry had been the one who step in when Stefan had tried to mess things up for Seth and she’d been the one who handled the calls about the men who watched me. I wasn’t surprised to see her now.

  She looked to be in her thirties, but her black hair was already going silver at her temples and her eyes were wise beyond her years. Her skin was a deep, smooth brown and when she smiled—which wasn’t often—it changed her entire face.

  Right now, she wasn’t smiling.

  She looked at my open door, at me, at Jenks.

  “Detective.”

  Without waiting for an invitation, she came inside. “I heard you had some trouble.”

  “Yes.” Jenks’ fingers tightened around my hand and I glanced down. When had I taken his hand? Had
he taken mine? I didn’t know. But it felt good to have somebody there with me. To have him there with me. Looking back at the detective, I forced a smile. It didn’t last long, but I didn’t have to waste time on pleasantries or niceties, not with her. It was why I had liked her. “I was going to call you. I kept thinking about it and then I’d start to and another thought would enter my mind…” I stopped, heaving out a sigh. “I can’t concentrate today.”

  Understanding shone in her eyes. “I’d say you’ve got enough in your head.” Then she shrugged and turned to stare into my apartment. “You know I have your name flagged. I heard about this. That’s why I’m here.”

  Numb, I nodded.

  She put a hand on my shoulder, squeezed. “You’re holding up pretty well.”

  Was I? I felt like I was going to fall apart, right at the seams.

  She studied my face for another moment and then shifted her attention to Jenks. He met her gaze straight on. I wondered how she saw him, how he saw her. I remembered how I first saw him—so sexy, larger than life and nothing I could ever reach out and touch.

  His thumb rubbed across the sensitive skin of my wrist and I thought about that morning. Last night. The night on the beach.

  I’d done so much more than reach out and touch.

  Most of the reaching out had been on his part, but I hadn’t taken off running, either. That had to count for something.

  And no matter what had happened to my home, I felt like I’d taken another little piece of myself back. One of those pieces that had been ripped out and left to wither and die inside that tight, dark, dank little basement.

  “Detective Louise Barry.”

  Pulled out of my reverie, I watched as Jenks nodded at the cop. He didn’t offer to shake her hand, didn’t offer his name until she asked.

  “Got anything other than Jenks?” she asked, lifting a brow at him.

  “I do.” Then he shrugged and glanced over at the apartment. “I already gave all my info to the officers. I was kind of thinking about taking Shadow to the coffee shop, trying to get her to get something to eat. Neither of us have had anything since breakfast and I know she won’t eat unless food is actually put in front of her. It will be a while before she can get into the kitchen, I figure.”

  Eat?

  I didn’t want to eat.

  Except I knew how bad it was to go without food and thinking about it made that desperate, terrible feeling return. It was an echo of the way I’d felt in those final days before I’d escaped hell. When I realized that maybe, just maybe, Stefan was done tormenting me. That he’d let me starve down there. Trapped, helpless, alone.

  No, I wasn’t hungry. But I’d make myself eat.

  “The police will need to talk to you.” Barry eyed us narrowly.

  “I know that,” I said sourly, cutting Jenks off before he could say anything. But they weren’t even close to done. I could see that. “The coffee shop is fifteen minutes away and it will take maybe fifteen minutes to get a sandwich this time of day. We’ll be back in under an hour. Maybe then they’ll be done and my head will clear enough that I can actually think when I talk to them.”

  She opened her mouth to say something else, an objection, an argument. I could see it in her eyes. Just as I could see whatever agreement or conciliation that Jenks was going to offer. He was playing my protector. He did it a lot and a huge part of me was grateful. I didn’t mind at all and there were no alarm bells about how he did it. I’d heard alarm bells before, and I’d silenced them.

  This was just him, trying to shield me.

  But while I didn’t hear alarm bells, I was tired of being shielded, tired of being afraid. Tired of just about everything.

  Lifting a hand, I pushed between them and started to walk to the door. “Detective, if I don’t get out of here for a few minutes, I’m not going to be any good to them. To you. To myself. I need to breathe and I need to think.”

  And while I had no desire to eat, I’d damn well make myself do it.

  The trip to the coffee shop hadn’t taken long enough. We were already back at my house, sitting on the front step. With a sandwich on my lap, I tried to summon up the interest in eating it, but I just couldn’t.

  I looked down at Jenks. He had his hips against the porch’s wrought iron railing, his gaze roaming all around, seeming to rest on nothing, but I knew he was taking in everything.

  Including my lack of appetite. I held up a bit of bacon. “I am eating. A little.” Popping the rest of it in my mouth, I shrugged. “Just not very hungry.”

  “Because you’re worried about your ex.” His gaze focused on me.

  My fingers tightened on the sandwich and the bread, still soft from the oven, crumpled. Carefully, I put it down and reached for the napkin I’d laid across my lap. “Jenks—” I paused and then said, “Dillian, you can’t understand what it’s like. If I wasn’t eating because I was worried, then I’d just never eat.” Sliding a look across the street, I saw the curtains drop as the skinny, dark-haired man lost himself to the darkness of his room. One of my shadows—the one Jenks had scared within an inch of his life. The one who watched me most days. He was the one who disappeared four hours a week and allowed me the freedom to go to the beach. But he no longer followed me when I left the house.

  That was something.

  Rubbing my mouth with my fingertips, I watched those dingy, faded curtains and decided it was time to stop ignoring it. I could have that man’s name. I could know who he was and what had made it so easy for Stefan to make him agree to this.

  It settled something inside me. There was a time to hide. Deep inside, I knew that. To survive, sometimes you had to hide. To survive, you had to tuck your head, protect it as blows rained down around you. To survive, you had to lie there and try hard not to cry as a hand squeezed your throat while the man who’d promised to love you tore your body and crushed your soul. To survive, you had to sit in the corner and smell your own filth and conserve water and wait and hope.

  Sooner or later, though, if you stayed in hiding, you started to die inside.

  I had hidden long enough and those pieces of me that I had tried so hard to take back were shriveling away.

  Looking down at the crushed remains of my sandwich, I peeled the bread away and found the other piece of bacon. I wasn’t hungry, but I made myself eat. “You can’t know what it’s like,” I said again, staring at the pavement. “The fear is always a part of me. It’s in my blood, in my skin, in my bones. He put it there when he broke me, when he beat me, when he broke those bones, when he bruised my skin, when he made me bleed.”

  I lapsed into silence and forced myself to eat more, picking through the sandwich. The more I ate, the hungrier I realized I was and finally, I’d managed to eat the ham, most of the turkey I hadn’t shredded, and every one of the tomatoes and all of the cheese.

  “What are you going to do?” Jenks asked when I finally forced myself to look up.

  “Do?”

  His only response was a short, terse nod.

  I shrugged. “I’m not sure yet what I can do. He’s not so stupid that he would leave anything that would connect him to this. I’ll file the report. Give them his name, but…”

  “Are you leaving?” He cut me off, coming to kneel in front of me, his hands cupping up to bracket my skull, forcing me to look at him.

  The question caught me off guard.

  “Leaving?” I stared at him, confused. Why would I leave? This was home. The only home I’d known since my parents had died. It had been more than a decade since I’d felt like I even had a home.

  “Yeah. Are you going to take off now that he’s shown up here?”

  Slowly, I reached up, curling my hands around his wrists. I needed that connection. It seemed that I needed every connection I could get with Jenks. Every one I could get, and it still wasn’t enough. Stroking my thumbs along his skin, I leaned in and pressed my brow to his.

  “He’s known where I was since I got here. Why would I leave
a place where I have friends? A place where I’m happy?”

  He rubbed his nose against mine, then kissed me—a gentle kiss, his mouth just barely grazing mine. “Are you happy? You don’t seem to be happy…always looking over your shoulder, checking your locks. A few hours spent at the beach a few times a week and you spend that time huddled over your sketchbooks. That’s not really being happy, Shadow.”

  “It is for me.” I let go of his wrist, reached up and touched his jaw, felt the scrape of stubble against my palm. “You should have seen me the first few months, even the first year when I got away. I couldn’t stand to leave for anything except college and I was like a church mouse, jumping at every little sound. It’s probably a borderline miracle I’m able to leave home at all.”

  Turning his face into my palm, he kissed it, his tongue slipping out to tease my skin.

  It was amazing what such a simple little touch could do.

  “It’s not that much of a miracle. You stopped letting him control you when you left the basement. And you started fighting when you tried to leave.” He pulled back, watching me.

  And I saw secrets glinting in his eyes.

  “You were done letting him control you. The miracle is that you survived it.”

  Then his mouth caught mine and this kiss was such a wondering, gentle thing. It was like a hello, like a discovery, like a taste and a tease and so many other things I can’t describe. His tongue twined with mine as his hands held me steady and it didn’t matter that we were on the front step in broad daylight. It didn’t matter that there were people around us and I was vaguely aware of a catcall coming from somewhere.

  None of it mattered.

  Nothing mattered except the way his fingers pushed into my hair to cradle the back of my head, the way the fingers of the other hand sought out the faded scars near my hairline to brush along those lines before stroking down my neck, my shoulder, my arm. He caught my hand in his and then finally lifted his head.