by S. M. Shade
“No, I didn’t!” she screams back. She probably did. Mom doesn’t drink, but pills have always been her thing.
“I had twelve, now there’s eleven!”
“I’m going to go,” I tell her. “I’ll call you tomorrow about dinner.”
“Okay, honey.” She’s barely listening, eager to get back to the bedroom and placate that idiot.
When I let myself out the front door, I feel nothing but relief. No matter how fucked up my life may have turned out, I’m not like her. No man will ever control my life.
Light snow flutters down, coating the ground as I make my way to one of the two hotels in this small town. A small curse leaves my lips when I approach the desk. Terry Briggs is the night clerk. Every town has a busybody who is up on all the gossip, and Terry holds that honor here.
“Ayda! I heard you were coming to town to see your mama.” Her eyes scan over the scars on my cheek, and the corners of her lips tuck in. “I was just remarking to Lettie the other day how you never come around. Was such a shame what happened to you. I’ve been praying for you.”
Trying not to roll my eyes, I hand her my credit card. “Thanks. If I can just get my keycard.”
“Of course! You must be tired after that drive. Heard you moved to Indianapolis.” She hands me the card and I make a quick retreat down the hall. By tomorrow I’m sure half the town will know I’m here.
At least the room is clean and comfortable. I spend half an hour lounging in the tub, wishing I had never come here. I’ll have dinner with Mom tomorrow, then head back home. My head still throbs when I crawl into bed, and my throat is starting to hurt. Great. I really don’t need to get sick right now.
My phone rings and Dare’s smirking face greets me. “Hey, darlin’. Did you make it okay?”
“Mmm Hmm. Just crawled into bed. This place is deserted,” I laugh.
“Your mom’s house?”
“No, the Comfort Inn. Guess there’s not a lot of demand on Christmas Eve.”
“Why are you in a hotel? I thought you were visiting your family?”
Turning over, I sigh. “It’s a long story. I don’t feel very well right now, Dare. I’ll call you in the morning, okay?”
“Are you sick?”
“Just a headache and a bit of a sore throat. It’s no big deal. I’ll call you when I wake up.”
He agrees, but he doesn’t sound happy about it. I don’t have time to worry about it, though, because my eyes slam shut the second my head hits the pillow.
Pounding on my door wakes me hours later. Who the hell? Someone must have the wrong room. “Ayda! Open up. It’s me. That bitch at the desk wouldn’t give me a key.”
Dare! The room spins a bit when I get to my feet too quickly. I throw open the door and there he stands, a concerned expression on his face. “What are you doing here?”
“Did you really think I was going to leave you alone, sick, on Christmas Eve?”
I throw my arms around him. “You crazy man! I’m fine, but I’m happy you’re here.”
His cheek presses to mine. “You’re not fine. You’re burning up. Let’s get you in bed.”
“That’s what I’m talking about.”
Laughing, he shakes his head and leads me back to bed. “You need to rest. I brought you some medicine.”
I mentioned a headache and sore throat and he drives three hours to bring me ibuprofen. He’s too good to be true. “The twenty-four hour pharmacy was the only place open.” He sits a bag on the bed and proceeds to unpack a few drinks, some snacks, and cold medicine. After handing me a couple of pills, he grabs a damp cloth from the bathroom and reclines beside me, placing the cool cloth on my forehead.
“You’re going to miss the dinner at Landon’s.”
His strong arm wraps around me, and I lay my cheek against his cool chest. “I’m right where I’m supposed to be.” I’m right where I want to be. “How did things go with your mom?”
“As expected.” I can’t keep the resignation out of my voice. I didn’t expect anything to have changed, so I’m not sure why I still feel disappointed. It’s not like I expected her to be thrilled to see me, but she is the one who insisted I needed to come visit for Christmas. “I don’t know why she wanted me to come,” I confess.
“She’s your mom. Whatever issues you two have, I’m sure she misses you.”
There’s no point in arguing. He doesn’t know her. Hopefully, he never will. “I’m glad you’re here.”
He kisses my head as I snuggle into him, and the night time cold medicine drags my eyes shut. “Good night, Dare.”
“Good Night, Ayda.”
* * * *
Martha’s Country Cookin’ is a family owned restaurant that has been open since before I was born. Every Thanksgiving and Christmas they offer a huge buffet and it seems like half the town has decided to eat here instead of cooking.
Dare pulls my chair out, and I take a seat, gnawing on my lip. I really didn’t want him to come, but I couldn’t just leave him at the hotel after he cancelled his plans and came all this way for me. Mom is sure to do something to embarrass me, and god help us if she brings Gil. “Relax, everything will be fine. We’ll have dinner, then head back to Indy,” he assures me.
“Just eat fast,” I mumble, and he laughs. I feel much better today, the fever is gone and my throat has gone from sore to scratchy, but I’m still a bit worn down. I just want to get this over with.
Mom walks in, stopping to chat with a few people on her way to our table, and I breathe a sigh of relief that Gil isn’t with her. “I hope you weren’t waiting long,” she says, then turns to me. “Ayda, you didn’t tell me you were bringing a friend.”
“Derek,” Dare says before I can reply. He gets to his feet and extends his hand. “Ayda’s boyfriend. It’s nice to meet you.”
Hell, she could at least try not to look so shocked. I mean, I get it. Dare looks like he walked off of a fitness magazine and half my face looks like crinkled paper, but she could pretend. “Nice to meet you too.”
Not much else is said as we fill our plates and settle in to eat. The food is good at least, and I start to relax a little. Maybe we will get through dinner without any drama.
Mom dominates the conversation with gossip about my old friends and neighbors. And Gil, of course. Gil likes this. Gil doesn’t like that. Gil thinks politics is a waste of time. Blah Blah Blah.
Dare gives me a little half grin and winks. “How are you feeling, darlin’?” He turns to Mom. “She was sick last night.”
Mom looks up. “Oh? Gil was sick last week. Stomach flu.”
My shoulders lift in a shrug when Dare looks at me. It’s pointless. “I’m feeling better. I think I’m going to grab a bowl of that banana pudding.”
“Let me get it. I’ve been eyeing the chocolate cake,” he volunteers, dropping a kiss on my head before starting away. I love how he does that, kisses my head or forehead whenever he leaves.
Mom turns to me the second he walks away. “I was hoping to get a second alone with you.” She sits back in her chair and sighs. “Things have been really tough lately, and I know you got that settlement money from Talbot. Since you’ve sworn not to touch it, I could really use a few thousand to get us through the winter.”
I should have known. This is the reason she wanted me to come home. She wants money. Dare returns to the table, his forehead creasing at the thick tension now surrounding us.
“Your mortgage is paid off and I paid this year’s property taxes. What’s behind?” I ask, not hiding my exasperation.
Her glare attempts to slice me in half, but I don’t care. I’m not giving her money to fund Gil’s drinking and shopping. “I’m asking you for help and you want what? An itemized list?” she hisses.
“Preferably one that doesn’t mention Gil.”
“He has been like a father to you!”
That’s it. I’m done. “If you want to spend your life worshipping at the feet of a drunk narcissistic asshole, that’s yo
ur choice. I want no part of it, and he’s certainly not living off of my money.” I get to my feet, and Dare silently accompanies me. “When you’re ready to throw his worthless ass out, call me and I’ll help you any way you need. But you can forget about the settlement money. I gave it to charity.”
Her face burns bright red and she shouts across the crowded restaurant as we walk away. “This is why no one can love you! You aren’t just ugly on the outside, but to the bone!”
Dare stops cold and turns, his eyes blazing. Shit. I squeeze his hand and look him in the eye. “Let’s just go, please. I don’t feel well, and it’s nothing I haven’t heard before. Nothing all these people haven’t heard before,” I mumble. “Just get me out of here.”
He wraps his arm around me so tight it’s hard to breathe and walks me out to his car. Silence fills the car on our drive back to the hotel. I can feel his anger. We walk to our room and I flop down onto the bed, exhausted. “I’m sorry. I tried to get you not to come with me.”
“You’re sorry!” His hands run through his hair and he sits beside me, pinching my chin between his fingers, making me look at him. “You don’t have one damn thing to be sorry about.”
Chapter Eleven
Dare
I’ve never wanted to hit a woman until Ayda’s mother screamed across that restaurant. What pissed me off even more was the expression on Ayda’s face. There was no surprise or hurt, just resignation. Like having her mother scream that she’s ugly and no one can love her is an everyday occurrence. Fuck, maybe it was.
Her eyes gaze into mine as we sit on the edge of the hotel bed. “What was that about?” I ask softly, and she sighs.
“Her husband has managed to spend all her money, so now she expects me to let him have mine.”
“No offense, Ayda, but you aren’t exactly raking in the cash. What makes her think you can afford to give her money? What was the settlement she mentioned?”
Ayda kicks off her shoes, and scoots up the bed until she’s leaning against the headboard. “First, you have to understand that it doesn’t matter to her whether I have the money, her tunnel vision is only focused on one thing. Give Gil what he wants. And the settlement money, well, I lied. I didn’t give it to charity. I dumped it into an account and left it there. It’s nothing but a payoff.”
Her brow creases. “I lost everything, my looks, a career in dancing I worked for since I was a child, everything. Two-hundred thousand dollars was what my future was worth. I didn’t want his daddy’s fucking money, I wanted him to pay for what he did to me.”
Her body stiffens before relaxing into mine when I pull her into my arms. “You didn’t lose your looks, darlin’. You’re beautiful, and you’re a beautiful dancer. I’m sorry he ruined your career. And trust me, he’s going to pay for the pain he’s put you through.”
I thread my fingers into her soft hair, gripping it and tilting her head until I’m met with those defeated eyes. “You amaze me. You are the strongest woman I’ve ever met in my life. Even after all that’s happened to you, you haven’t hardened against people, or lost your ability to empathize. The kindness you showed to Tucker when the rest of us just walked past him without a glance demonstrated that.”
“I know what it’s like to be invisible, or worse, to be gaped at like a circus animal.” She shrugs. “I keep my head down. I guess that allows me to see others on my level.”
“There are no levels, but fuck, babe, if there were you’d be miles above the rest. Miles above me,” I murmur. It’s not the first time the thought has occurred to me. She deserves better than me, better than an ex-con still involved in criminal activities. I don’t doubt what I do is necessary and for the greater good, but it could still land me back in prison.
“That’s not true,” she argues, cuddling against me.
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, and as much as I don’t want to scare you away, you should know what you’re getting into.”
The gravity of my voice makes her sit up, her gaze wary. “You aren’t married or anything are you?”
“No, darlin’. There’s no one else but you. You are the first woman I’ve dated for over four years.”
Her lips tuck in. “I heard other women in your apartment. Not that it’s any of my business, but you don’t have to lie.”
“I’m not lying. I’m about to give you more truth than you probably want, and maybe I shouldn’t considering the night you’ve had, but not telling you is starting to seem like lying, and I don’t want to lie to you.”
“Okay, I’m ready.”
I wish I was. “Yes, you heard other women, but they were just one night stands. I’ve never been the playboy type, but after three years in prison, I needed something and they filled the gap.”
Her eyes widen and she starts picking at a fingernail. “Prison?”
“Yes, I got out almost a year ago.”
“What did you do time for?” she whispers.
“I was charged with attempted murder, but they convicted me on the lesser charge of aggravated assault.”
She falls silent for a moment, processing the information. Her knees draw up and she wraps her arms around them. The distance between us suddenly feels like The Grand Canyon, and the thought she’s now afraid of me twists my stomach.
“What did you do?”
“My kid sister came to me when she was in her senior year of high school and told me what had been happening to her. Our uncle had been molesting her, raping her, for years.” I stumble over the words and have to cough to clear my throat. “Since she was a little girl.”
A soft hand climbs into mine as I continue. I’m not really seeing the off white walls around me anymore, my mind is focused on that spring day that changed everything. “I’ve never been so pissed, before or since, and there was nothing anyone could’ve done to stop me from giving that sick bastard what he had coming. I beat him until the cops showed up and pulled me off.”
There are things I can’t tell her, things that are mine to keep. The way the grass turned crimson with the man’s blood, how it sprayed into my face and splashed my clothes, the sound of crunching, breaking bone beneath my fists. But most of all, she can never know the only part I do feel shame about. How much I enjoyed it, his screams and pleading cries.
How many times had my sister begged him to stop, only to be ignored and tortured? Her tear streaked face was all I could see, and every punch and resulting shriek felt like a victory for her. I hate it that I have that kind of violence in me, and that I’m capable of enjoying it, but I don’t regret what I did. Even if he’d died, I would still know I did what I could for her, even if it was too little, too late.
“You didn’t kill him,” she says, and I’m not sure if it’s a question or a reassurance.
“No, but not for lack of trying. I paralyzed him.”
Her soft legs are warm against mine as she straddles my lap and lays her hands on my shoulders. “You were protecting your family. You shouldn’t have gone to prison for that.”
“You can’t take the law into your own hands and not face the consequences. I knew what would happen to me, but I didn’t care.”
“Because you were doing the right thing,” she says, before dropping a soft kiss on my lips.
I hope she really believes that. “There’s more. I need you to understand I’m not just putting myself at risk by telling you this. Even if you never want to see me again, I need you to swear you’ll keep this secret.”
“You can trust me.”
I run my hand through her hair, watching it slip through my fingers, hoping she doesn’t do the same. “I know. I wouldn’t be telling you otherwise. I told you I worked in internet security.”
“Yeah.”
“It wasn’t a lie, but it’s not the complete truth either. I use my computer skills to keep kids safe. I work with a group who specialize in hunting down and tracking online predators and pedophiles.”
“And bring them to justice?” I know what she’s a
sking.
“Most of the time, yes, we hand the information over to the police, anonymously, but not always. So many of them beat the system, they just keep letting them out again and again, as if putting them on a list will keep them from victimizing a child.” My eyes meet hers. “It doesn’t.”
Picking her nail again, she asks, “But you do?”
“My group does. If they keep targeting kids and get away with it, we make them disappear.”
“You kill them,” she says, clarifying.
“Yes. My part is typically limited to tracking and gathering information, but if we’re ever caught, I’ll be just as culpable.”
Silence has never felt so heavy. I want to know what’s going through her head right now, but I know she needs a second to process everything. There’s only one thing I need her to know. “I’d never hurt you, Ayda. I’d never hurt a woman. I’ve never hurt anyone who wasn’t a predator.”
Her features soften as she gazes at me. “I know that.”
“You can ask me whatever you want. Say whatever you want. I won’t get upset.”
I try to prepare myself for anything. For her to start getting dressed to leave, or ask me to go, but what I get is more than I dared to hope for. “I don’t want you to go back to prison.”
A chuckle of relief escapes, and I lay back, pulling her onto my chest. “Neither do I.”
“But you could. You could get caught. If someone finds a body…”
“The bodies are…they don’t exist anymore. They can’t be found. We’re careful, extremely careful. Outside the group, Zoe is the only one who knows the truth about ISH.”
“ISH?”
“In Safe Hands. It’s what we call ourselves.”
“I like it,” she says, as if she’s judging wallpaper or something.
“It’s okay to be freaked out.”
She rolls onto her side and props her head on her hand. “I guess I should be, huh?”
“But you’re not?”
“The world is a fucked up place and life isn’t fair. I know that from experience. You’re trying to make it better, safer, at a humongous risk to yourself. I’d say it’s noble, if I didn’t think it’d make your head even bigger.”
