by Azure Boone
"They could still be here." The incredulous note in his voice said intelligent people didn't just walk into an apartment that might still hold burglars/vandals.
"No, they're gone. The whore downstairs was to let him know the message was delivered."
Troy frowned but didn't try to stop her again.
Devyn walked slowly into the apartment, taking in the destruction, one piece at a time. Contents of the fridge strewn everywhere...their few dishes reduced to shards on the floor. Karly's old mattress and springs, torn apart.
Devyn didn't notice the tears rolling down her cheeks until Troy offered her a handful of toilet paper he'd gotten from the roll on the holder still attached to a chunk of wall. She absently wiped the tears and blew her nose. Something on the plaster above where the couch should have been caught her eye, and she blinked, looking more carefully.
Words, or what passed for them, were scrawled there in some material she didn't want to look at too closely. U aint gone nowere bitch.
Devyn turned to Karly. "Grab what you have to have. We can't come back here. Bastard'll end up killing us both." When Karly nodded and headed toward the tiny bedroom, Devyn turned to Troy. "Look, you don't have to wait for us. You don't want to be here if Jake shows up. He's a mean motherfucker. And he's never alone." She crossed to the kitchenette and reached into the back of the top shelf of the single cabinet, already emptied of its contents. Damn it, she wasn't tall enough without something to stand on, and their chairs lay in pieces on the floor. She glanced around.
"I'm not leaving." Troy approached her, stepping around the mess. "Let me help."
The begging in his deep tone nearly reduced her to tears. Fuck, she didn't need to break down here—now. Especially in front of him. "Think you can reach the very back of the top shelf?"
Troy crossed to the cabinet and easily touched the back of the top shelf. After following a series of instructions to get her stash, he handed her a little rusty square candy tin. Fingers trembling, Devyn pried the squashed-in lid off, then sagged against the counter. They hadn't found her measly hundred bucks – all she and Karly had to start a new life. Devyn clutched the childhood tin to her chest. The four delicious chocolates it held for her tenth birthday and the loving father who'd given it to her were suddenly a bitter reminder of life's cruelty.
Devyn threw the tin that held all her broken dreams onto the floor with the rest of her pathetic life, shoving the money in her back pocket. "I'm going to grab a couple things before we go." She cleared the emotion from her throat, and headed to check on Karly. Her best friend had been too quiet for too long – not a good sign, considering the kind of stress the girl was under and the shit in her head.
In the little bedroom, Karly sat on the floor, legs sprawled in front of her, staring at something that lay between her knees.
Devyn moved in for a better look then froze. Fuck! She'd thought she got rid of all that shit! A worn old leather belt, a spoon with the handle bent to an odd angle, and a plastic syringe, stained dark from the residue of whatever poison it had last delivered, all lay neatly side by side in front of Karly.
She looked up at Devyn, pale blue eyes turned into bottomless pits of misery.
"I'm sorry, baby. I thought I got rid of it all while you were in Detox." The seven days Karly spent in the County Hospital's Substance Abuse unit had been rough. Devyn had torn their apartment to shreds to find every single rig, every tooter, every cigarette lighter. After trashing all that, she went through again, searching for everything that could be converted easily to drug paraphernalia. Eliminating all the risks was impossible, but God she'd damn well tried.
Karly just sat, staring at the rig, her entire body quivering as she battled the demons of her addiction.
"Troy, can you come in here, please?" She hated calling him in there, but she needed help to get Karly moving. He wanted to minister to whores, here was his big chance. The shit was going down.
He came in, and assessed the situation with one glance. Without asking questions, he went straight to Karly and scooped her up, leaving the rig on the floor. "Come on, let's get out of here."
The casual boldness of his chivalry left Devyn stunned. The men in her world simply didn't do things like that unless there was something in it for them.
Troy stood with Karly cradled in his arms, her head collapsed on his broad shoulder. The look in his eyes said hurry.
Devyn grabbed her book bag, leftover from when her life had been headed in the right direction, and tossed in the few pieces of clothing that had escaped being ruined. Not that they had much anyway. She found a spare pair of jeans for each of them that weren't too badly damaged. A couple of shirts, spare underwear, and the little cosmetic bag full of cheap makeup finished filling the bag.
She led the way down, slowing long enough to push through the exit door, wary for anything out of the ordinary. Devyn didn't breathe again until she sank into the front passenger seat after helping Troy get Karly into the back. Relief set in when the door locks engaged and Troy put the car in gear.
"Is there anywhere in particular you want me to take you?" He pulled into the empty street.
"Just a cheap motel. I'll have to find something else tomorrow, but for now, there's not much choice." She swung around in the seat to check on Karly.
Curled into a nearly fetal position, Karly leaned sideways against the back seat. The distant look in her eyes scared the hell out of Devyn.
Lost in worry, Devyn failed to note the passage of distance or time. When they entered a residential area, she finally realized they were far from a cheap motel in the bad part of town. "Where the hell are we?" She tried to keep fear and anger out of her voice, and give Troy the benefit of the doubt.
Troy turned onto a narrow street lined with smallish houses. "We're half a block from my house."
"What? Turn the fuck around now!" Devyn's heart nearly jumped through her ribs.
"Hear me out, and then if you still want me to, I'll take you to a motel."
Devyn took a deep breath, fighting the instinct to find something and bash the Good Samaritan in his head.
"I live alone, in a house with a basement apartment, already furnished. You need to get away from your regular neighborhood, in case that guy is looking for you. And it won't hurt to save a couple of bucks, too. You can stay at my house a few days while you get your feet under you. It's the only thing that makes sense." He pulled into a driveway next to a neat little house with a pretty front porch and clean yard.
Shit. Devyn hated that she didn't have more dirty evidence on this dude. She hated not being able to put her finger on the cost that surely came with all this gallantry. And she also hated how right it all felt at the same damn time. "You realize the next few days are going to be hell for anyone near Karly?" Devyn kept her voice to a low mutter. "She's only got six months clean, and with all the stress, I'm afraid finding that old rig will put her over the edge. You don't want that kind of shit falling on you."
Troy matched her volume. "I know it won't be easy. And some people might think I'm stupid, but this is my calling. It's what God wants me to do. I won't turn my back when it isn't as pretty or sweet as a rose."
She studied the handsome features, molded in sincerity. She'd been around enough scumbags to know evil intentions slithered like a snake beneath the cleanest facades. Nodding absently, she reminded herself of her intention to keep Karly safe. From the likes of Jake and any other goddamn person who got in her way, no matter how temptingly chivalrous they were. Especially that. "Okay, then. Is this your house?"
He cracked a half smile, studying Devyn in return. She held his gaze like a prize-fighter, struggling not to wilt under his genuine-looking kindness. "Home sweet home," was all he said before shutting off the car.
Chapter Six
Karly made it into the house under her own power and before long, Devyn had her tucked into Troy's spare bed after he insisted they take the extra room on the main floor for what remained of the night. His a
rgument that the bed in the basement apartment needed making up didn't make a great deal of difference to Devyn, but Troy seemed a bit appalled by the idea of sleeping on a bed with no sheets, so she agreed.
Devyn headed in search of a drink before turning in. The meal she'd missed was negligible, nothing unusual, but the aroma of food in the air made it impossible to ignore. A glass of water would make it a little easier to sleep. Entering the neat little kitchen, she jolted to a stop, surprise leaving her speechless.
Troy leaned against the counter, while a meal the likes of which Devyn hadn't seen for a long time graced the table between them. "Figured you'd be hungry. I hope you like leftover turkey." He slid a hand over his head, eyeing the table. "I like to cook. But I normally don't cook so much. This is mostly from Thanksgiving." He chuckled. "Yeah, I believe in being nice to myself. Cooked all this for one person. Don't get much company, so…it'll be nice to share it."
Devyn cleared her throat, trying to swallow the lump that suddenly seemed determined to choke her. Thanksgiving. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had such a thing. And nobody other than Karly wondered if she might be hungry, let alone prepared a meal for her. Noting the table was set for three, Devyn flicked her thumb behind her. "Karly's asleep."
"Ah, good. I mean, I'm glad she's able to." He nodded a few times. "We can…fix her a plate and save it for her."
Devyn nodded. "Thank you." She bit her tongue on that's sweet and walked on into the room. "You shouldn't have gone to so much trouble, though."
Before she could, Troy pulled a chair back for her and waited for her to sit. Fuck. People only did that on TV. Feeling clumsy, she sat and let him help her adjust the chair. Hopefully she wouldn't embarrass herself too badly.
Troy sat across from her, and she waited for him to start, preferring to follow his lead. When he sat silent and unmoving with his head lowered, she wondered what she'd done wrong. "Dear Lord, we thank you for the nourishment you have provided us. We ask that you keep us safe, and especially look over Karly as she struggles against the demons that plague her. Please ease the pain that goes with the battle, and see her safely through. In Jesus name we pray. Amen."
Unsure what to do or say, Devyn murmured, "Amen."
Troy started passing her an endless array of food. Turkey, mashed potatoes, gravy, green beans, dressing, fresh rolls. Afraid of insulting his hospitality, Devyn took a small amount of everything, all the while wondering how on earth she would be able to eat more than one bite of each dish.
Troy, on the other hand, piled his plate full with the confidence of someone who knows where the next meal will come from.
The first bit of succulent turkey drew an involuntary moan of appreciation from Devyn. She forgot to be self-conscious, eating everything on her plate with enthusiasm. When she finished and pushed her plate back, she looked up for the first time to find Troy watching her, his own plate nearly untouched.
A hint of something she'd glimpsed before showed in his eyes. For a celibate man, he had plenty of lust in him. Whether he knew it or not was something else. Looking away, as if aware she'd discovered his secret, Troy rose and started to clear the table.
Finally, something she could do. Devyn gathered dishes and took them to the sink while Troy put the leftovers away.
Troy crowded her away from the sink. "I'll finish up here. You can go ahead and turn in. The next few days won't be easy."
Devyn refused to budge. "It's the least I can do, after all you've done for us. Now sit." She gave him a light shove toward a chair. She made quick work of the dishes, uncomfortable with Troy watching her. At least she knew what to do with the heat that showed in his eyes every time she glanced at him. The preacher wasn't quite as unaffected as he thought.
Finished with the clean-up, she turned and leaned against the counter, deciding on the best way to approach Troy and show her gratitude. She automatically slipped the band off her wrist and pulled her hair into its customary ponytail. Somehow, in all the excitement of the past few hours, she hadn't put it up.
Troy straightened and looked at her more closely. "Um, can I ask where you got that?"
"Got what?" Her heartbeat quickened a little. No stranger to being accused of theft, she hated people assuming she would steal and couldn't help her defensive tone.
"Your necklace. I recently lost one like it."
"Necklace?" Her fingers flew to her throat, encountering the broad links of the mystery chain from before. The sudden need to justify its presence made her swallow hard. "I don't know where it came from, and I know it sounds ridiculous, but I just found it when I got home. After you kicked that creep's ass, I found it on my neck." Even to her own ears, Devyn sounded nuts. Worse, she felt like a bald-faced liar.
Troy worried at his lip with his teeth a moment before speaking. "Does it happen to have something engraved on the back of the crucifix?"
Devyn's self-preservation dictated a lie, but she resisted the impulse. "Like…what exactly?"
"My grandfather gave me the one I had, and his father gave it to him. It had old-fashioned script engraving that said, 'My son – serving our Lord with love and honor.' I lost it that night in the alley, and figured the clasp must have broken." His hand slid over the back of his neck, as if habitually seeking a heavy chain.
What could he be playing at? Devyn just couldn't see what Troy might have to gain from putting his crucifix on her. It made no sense at all. "You're sure you didn't put it on me while I was out of it?" She reached up to unclasp the chain.
Troy stepped in close and caught her hands before she managed to work the unwieldy watch band style clasp. "No. I think maybe you're supposed to have it."
His scent, a heady combination of soap, citrusy aftershave, and clean male, invaded her senses in an entirely new experience for her. She tried to never smell the men who came near her. No matter what aroma accompanied the stench of stale smoke, old booze, and puke that saturated every man in The Castle, it always turned her stomach.
To her surprise, instead of threatening her dinner, Troy's scent made her want to inhale more deeply. Repaying him for his generosity might actually be a little pleasant.
Devyn let her hands drift up and around his shoulders, drawing him close. The split second Troy remained pressed against her was enough to confirm her impression of heat within him. The thick ridge of his hard-on pressed against her belly for a brief instant, before he jerked away as if burned.
Pursuing, Devyn trailed one hand down over his muscular chest.
Troy drew a sharp breath, then took firm hold of her hands, clasping them in his much larger ones, and stepped back again. "No, Devyn."
The oddest thing happened. Her cheeks heated with something alarmingly like shame. She couldn't remember the last time that had happened. She stepped back. "Shit. I'm sorry, Troy. I wanted to… thank you." Obviously, she'd misjudged him. He was a better boy than she'd given him credit for, leaving her to feel like a complete idiot.
She turned and blindly rushed toward the bathroom, intent on washing her face and going to bed before she could embarrass herself further. Behind her, Troy spoke, but she didn't wait to hear what he had to say.
In Troy's spotless, masculine bathroom, Devyn found a shelf of neatly folded washcloths and towels. Running hot water in the sink, she stripped out of her bra and T-shirt, and turned to find soap, only to freeze with her hand on the earth-tone shower curtain.
The scrap of red silk over the shower rail made her stomach lurch. Especially at seeing the stylized D embroidered just under the top edge of the front. What the fuck was he doing with her panties? And how did he get them?
Well, well, well, Devyn finally uncovered that filth she knew lay at the core of every man. She snatched the thong and stormed out of the bathroom, leaving the hot water still running. Devious little preacher bastard!
It wasn't until she stalked into the kitchen and Troy looked up from a book he was reading at the table that she remembered she hadn't dressed. From the look o
n Troy's face, he really wasn't accustomed to topless females stomping around his house.
Chapter Seven
Jesus Christ! It took Troy several seconds to unglue his eyes from Devyn's perfect naked breasts and clench them shut while flying out of his chair and knocking crap everywhere.
"Well?" Devyn demanded. "How the hell did you get my panties?"
"Your panties? Th-those are yours?" His vocal cords screeched. He spun around, not trusting himself while wondering how in God's name those panties were still there?
"Oh don't tell me you didn't know preacher boy."
God, she'd come closer. From the sound, she was only a few feet behind him. "Please…please cover yourself."
"Why? How about you drop the virgin act and tell me how the fuck you got my panties?"
Troy reached blindly around him for something to hold on to, feeling a tad dizzy. He opened his eyes and forgot about the mirror on the small dining wall. "My God, my God, my God."
"Oh God nothing, stop playing the saint, Troy. How and why do you have my panties?"
He laughed once. "The same way you have my crucifix?" He held his breath in the silence that followed, willing oxygen to all parts of his brain.
"I'm supposed to believe you just woke up with my panties? And why the hell would I believe such a thing?"
He choked on an incredulous laugh. "Damn good question," he confessed. "But, I promise you, I had no idea they were yours, nor do I have a clue as to how they found their way into my back pocket, the same night you got my crucifix, it seems. Honestly I thought you may have put them there."
Devyn gasped a laugh. "Put them there?" She huffed. "Don't you dare move, stay right there, I'm not done with you."
Sounded like she walked off but Troy couldn't move if he wanted to. He was still immobile with trauma from seeing her. No, from having tangible proof that she was exactly as he'd seen her in his dreams—delicate perfection. He fought off the image of her hard nipples with every ounce of his strength.
