Justice For Abby

by Cate Beauman

  ~~~~

  Abby snuggled her head on Jerrod’s chest as the cab drove toward the address in West Manhattan. She’d been to The Big Apple on several occasions, typically loving the edgy energy the city emanated, but not this time. Tonight the bumper-to-bumper traffic and noise was a shock after the quiet of the farm. Everything was crowded, and the buildings were so tall, closing them in, accentuating the frantic bustle everywhere they turned.

  She closed her eyes, struggling to ignore the honking horns and bright lights. The familiar flutters of unease were back, turning into waves of panic as she yearned to be anywhere but here. Burrowing herself closer to Jerrod, she concentrated on the scent of his clothes and the steady beat of his heart, willing the worst of her fear away.

  He wrapped his arms tighter around her, stroking a soothing hand down her back. “You okay?” he murmured next to her ear.

  Not even a little, but she nodded. From the moment they’d landed she’d wanted to run. Something about being here felt wrong. She’d almost grabbed hold of Jerrod a dozen times while they made their way through the airport, insisting that they leave, but he had enough to deal with without her hysterics. He was under enough pressure; he didn’t need her making things worse. The best thing she could do was keep her mouth shut and let him do his job.

  He kissed the top of her head and rested his cheek on her hair. “We’re just about there.”

  “Okay.” She breathed him in, clenching her thighs, fighting off the trembling that wanted its way.

  “This is good right here,” Jerrod said to the cabbie, freeing himself from her death grip to reach for his wallet.

  The man pulled to the curb, taking the cash Jerrod handed him.

  “Thanks.” Jerrod looked at her. “Are you ready to meet the guys?”

  Her head was light with fatigue; her body ached with pent-up tension. The last thing she wanted to do was make small talk with a bunch of strangers. “Sure.”

  He opened the door and got out, grabbing his bag and her hand, pulling her to his side as she shouldered her purse and carryon. He closed the door, and they joined the crowds as the frigid winds slapped at her face.

  “Damn it’s cold,” he said, hunching his shoulders against the next nasty gust.

  “Where are we going?” Her teeth chattered—and not just because she was freezing.

  “Two buildings up.”

  Thank goodness they were close. She needed to lock herself in the room they would borrow for the next week and shake and shiver away the worst of the dread settled in the pit of her stomach.

  Jerrod slowed as they came to the dark green awning covering the ‘Riverside’ entrance. “Here we are.” He opened the glass door, letting her into the warmth of the lobby, smiling as they stepped into the elevator seconds before it closed. Jerrod pressed the button for the twelfth floor and took her hand, clasping their fingers, holding her gaze as he leaned against the glossy metal. “This is a good place, Abby. These are great guys.”

  For the first time since he rushed out of bed this morning he seemed relaxed. Jerrod needed this time with his friends and the extra backup. If he said this was a good place, it was. “I’m looking forward to meeting everyone.” She smiled, knowing he would relax further if she did. “I hope they don’t mind that we’re coming.”

  “Adam invited us. We can have Gavin’s old room, which isn’t much bigger than your bathroom back home, but you’ll be safe here—as safe as you were at the farm.”

  Then why didn’t she feel like it? She nodded, giving him another smile anyway.

  The elevator dinged as the door slid open, and they walked down the hall, stopping at apartment 12-3. Jerrod knocked loudly, competing with the football game blaring on the other side. The door opened, and a handsome, well-built man with black hair and brown eyes appeared in the doorframe, grinning. “Well, if it isn’t trouble,” he said in a heavy New York accent, reaching out, grabbing Jerrod up in a ‘bro’ hug.

  Jerrod smiled, hugging him back. “Hey, man.”

  “Good to see you.” The guy gave Jerrod a solid smack to the back.

  “It’s been awhile.”

  “Come in. Come in.” He opened the door wider, letting them in.

  Abby stepped inside, glancing around at empty white walls, dark wood furnishings, and leather couches, admiring the excellent view of the city through tall windows.

  “Adam, this is Abby. Abby, Adam.”

  Adam’s hand swallowed hers as they shook. “Welcome to our castle. Make yourself comfortable.”

  She smiled, staring at the white Immigration and Customs Enforcement insignia on the black t-shirt he wore, wishing she felt as relaxed as she did when Jerrod introduced her to Tim. “Thank you.”

  “You guys want a beer or something?”

  “Nah, I think we’ll pass.” Jerrod looked at Abby for confirmation as they took off their caps and jackets.

  She shook her head.

  Jerrod laid their stuff on the nearest chair and shoved his hands in his pockets, peering down the hall. “Where’s Shane?”

  “Florida. Or he’s on his way. His team got a hot lead on some asshole who likes to traffic narcotics.” He looked at Abby. “You want something to eat? There’s not much in the fridge, but we can order in anything you want.”

  “We grabbed something at the airport.” Jerrod held her gaze, studying. “Abby might want to hit the hay. It’s been a long one.”

  “I am pretty tired.” She gripped the strap of her purse, desperately craving quiet.

  “Like I said, mi casa es su casa.” Adam took a seat on the huge leather couch, grabbing his already opened beer. “Go catch some Zs, Abby. We’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Gavin’s old room?” Jerrod confirmed.

  “You know where it is.” Adam crossed his ankles on the coffee table.

  “Come on.” Jerrod gestured with his head. “I’ll show you.”

  “Thank you for your hospitality,” Abby said, following.

  “Brothers take care of brothers. Isn’t that right, Quinn?”

  “You’ve got it.” Jerrod started down a short hall, turning into a closet-sized room with just enough square-footage for a queen-sized bed and a dresser, which was jammed into the corner.

  She stopped before she entered, staring at the single window in the small space—her saving grace.

  “It’s pretty tight in here.” He set his bag on the floor. “Is this going to be okay?”

  “Yeah. It’s fine.” She set down her carryon by the dresser and wedged her way around to the window, looking out at the buildings across the street, trying her best to ignore their drab, cramped quarters that reminded her too much of her room at the stash house.

  “Abby.”

  She turned, meeting his eyes.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing.” She crossed her arms at her chest. “We’ve had a long day. I’m ready to rest.”

  “Does Adam bother you?”

  She shook her head, still trying to figure out what it was exactly that made her uncomfortable with this entire situation. “He seems very nice.” And he did. She just needed to adjust to their new space and the idea of being surrounded by men she didn’t know.

  “He’s a loud son of a bitch, but he’s one of my best friends.”

  The affection in his voice was unmistakable. She tried hard to relax her shoulders, hoping to convince him as much as herself that this was okay. “Really, Jerrod, I’m fine, just tired. I look forward to getting to know him better after I’ve caught up on my sleep.”

  He glanced toward the hall as Adam shouted at the television. “Let me talk to Adam for a couple of minutes, then I’ll come in.”

  She wanted to be alone. “Go ahead and catch up.” She schooled her voice to keep the desperation at bay. “There’s no point in you coming back to watch me sleep.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.” She tried her best to smile as she squeezed her hands against her arms, ready for h
im to leave her be. “Go see your friend.”

  “Call me if you need anything.”

  “I will.”

  “Light on or off?”

  “Off.” She waited for him to flip the switch and shut the door most of the way then whipped up the window, breathing in the frigid air, gasping, closing her eyes against the refreshing whips of wind. Traffic rushed by far below as pedestrians hurried to their destinations. Buildings towered in every direction, and she wanted to be gone, terrified that a night of decent shut-eye wouldn’t solve her need to flee. Eight hours of sleep couldn’t erase her craving for the familiar surroundings of their condo or the quiet of the farm.

  Another gust rushed along her face and arms, chilling her already cool skin. Shivering, taking as much as she could, she shut herself back in the cramped space and crawled to the center of the bed. Wrapping her arms tight around her legs, she rested her forehead against her knees, shutting her eyes, letting the terror wash through her. She was sick of fighting the dread that had consumed her since Jerrod told her they had to leave Nebraska early this morning. Dr. Tate said it was often better to experience the panic, live through it, and move on. She was ready to move on.

  Her breath shuddered in and out as her arms shook and her legs trembled. Tears coursed down her cheeks as she purged herself of the fear. She was safe here with Jerrod’s friends. His former co-workers were no different than the guys he worked with at Ethan Cooke Security, except they were Federal Agents instead of Bodyguards. Adam and Shane weren’t the problem; the real issue stemmed from her phobias and inability to trust. She no longer knew if she disliked most men because there was an actual reason or if she just assumed there was.

  Lifting her head, she listened to the strange voice down the hall mixing with Jerrod’s as they laughed, clearly comfortable in each other’s presence. She gripped herself tighter, looking out the window, imagining snow-covered fields and the comforting low of cows, stiffening when footsteps started down the hall. Her heart flew to her throat as a shadow blocked the hall light shinning into the room. The door opened slowly with an ominous creak, and she whirled off the bed, rushing to the corner, fighting to bring air in and out of her lungs as Jerrod stepped in.

  “Abigail?”

  She collapsed against the wall as her knees buckled, her relief huge.

  He flipped on the light. “Abby, what are you doing?”

  She fought to stand upright on jellied legs as fresh tears streamed down her cheeks. What was she doing? Why was she behaving this way? How could she tell him that she hated being in this place, in this city? How could she tell him that she wanted to run away? “I don’t—I don’t know.”

  He closed himself in the room and skirted around the bed. “It’s okay.” He wrapped her up in a hug. “It’s okay,” he murmured against her hair.

  She hugged him back, even though it wasn’t okay. Being in New York and in this apartment was definitely not all right.

  “Come lay down with me.”

  “I’ll be fine in a minute.” She sniffled, easing out of his embrace. “Really. I’m just having a hard time settling in.”

  “Come lay down with me,” he said again as he pulled back the covers and sat on the edge of the bed. “Let’s get comfortable.” He tugged at her snap and unzipped her jeans, easing snug denim down her legs. “Snuggle up with me.”

  “Okay.” She toed off her sneakers and slid her pants off the rest of the way, then crawled in next to him, hating that she relied on Jerrod to help her feel better.

  He wrapped his arms around her and tossed his leg over her hips, cocooning her from the world. “Abigail,” he murmured against her neck. “Do you want to go?”

  She shook her head, sliding her hands along his back, more relaxed as they held each other close. “We don’t need to do that. I need to be able to function in new places with new people. This is an opportunity to show myself that I can.”

  He adjusted his head on the pillow, staring into her eyes, sliding the hair back from her forehead. “You did fine in Nebraska.”

  The farm had been as much home as Los Angeles. She shrugged. “I guess this is just different.”

  “If you change your mind all you have to do is say the word and we’ll figure something else out.”

  She wouldn’t have that option if they moved to a safe house. She needed to take this change in their plans as an opportunity to grow. “I don’t need to.”

  He leaned in, pressing his lips to hers.

  She clung, absorbing the tenderness he offered, and smiled, kissing his chin, then his cheek. “You can visit with Adam. I’m okay now. Promise.” And if that wasn’t quite true, it damn well would be.

  “In a few minutes.” He pulled her closer. “I’m not ready to let you go.”

  “I can handle that.” She closed her eyes, warm, content, safe, and drifted off to sleep in his arms.

  Chapter Twenty

  Shelby glanced over her shoulder as she unlocked her front door and stepped inside. Finally she was home. She set her purse and cell phone on the arm of the couch and flipped on the living room light, letting loose a huge sigh of relief. She’d spent two days trying to slip away from Timmy’s cool, watchful eye, biding her time, waiting for him to step into the restroom and Mary to head to bed. As soon as Timmy shut the bathroom door and Mary wandered to the small guest bedroom, she tiptoed out the back door and booked it to her car.

  Now that she was here she could take a bath and change her clothes. She’d been in her pajamas since she rushed out to the Quinn farm early yesterday morning. Timmy’s insistence that she stay with him and his one-hundred-and-one precautions were ridiculous. She was not about to spend another night on his lumpy couch while he slept on the recliner next to her. Jerrod had infected everyone with his paranoia, totally screwing everything up—not that anything had gone as planned. They’d waited for something bad to happen since sunrise yesterday, which it didn’t. Of course it didn’t. This was Parker freaking Nebraska. Nothing happened here.

  She rolled her eyes, slipping off her sweatshirt on the way to the bedroom. That’s why she was leaving. Toni Torrell and The Times had come through with their job offer, but the excitement of finally getting out of this tiny town was strangely absent. And the dredges of guilt that stirred in her conscience for writing the article in the first place took her completely by surprise. She’d done her job. The residents of Parker had a right to know that Abigail Harris, Lily Brand’s next big thing, had walked among the community.

  She turned into her room, switching on the lamp as she kicked off her sneakers and pulled off her pants, pausing as she stared at herself in the mirror. Maybe the murmurs she’d heard about poor, sweet Abby had twisted her stomach some. Perhaps the fact that Mary was pissed and Jerrod drove off in a huff didn’t exactly sit well. And no matter how she’d tried to charm her way out of trouble with Timmy, he hadn’t taken the bait. She frowned. Why did Timmy’s curt words and disappointing stares bug her the most? Why the hell did she care what Jerrod’s baby brother thought one way or the other? She didn’t, absolutely didn’t.

  Shaking off her sudden attack of guilt, she moved toward the master bath, reaching for the light when her cell phone rang in the living room. She ignored it, hoping Timmy would get the hint. She stepped in the pretty space, catching a movement out of the corner of her eye as a huge, rough hand covered her mouth, slamming her back against a solid chest. Her eyes went huge as she gasped, trying to scream.

  “Stay quiet,” a deep voice hissed in a thick Russian accent next to her ear.

  Her breath heaved in and out with the surge of adrenaline flooding her body. She automatically kicked her leg back and tried to bite at his palm.

  “Stop!” The stranger whirled her around, shoving her toward the bed, the power of his push knocking her to the floor.

  “Help!” She scrambled up in her bra and panties, trying to find a way around the muscled hulk advancing her way. “Help me!”

  “I said shut up!”r />
  She opened her mouth to scream again despite his demands and took a fist to the cheek. She groaned, seeing stars as the painful blow knocked her back to the bed.

  “Perhaps now you will listen.” He crawled on top of her, leaning close, breathing stale, smoky breath in her face. “When I say shut up, you will shut up.”

  She pressed her hand to the terrible, radiating ache, trembling, staring at the jagged scar along his right cheekbone, trying to think over the fear.

  “Where is she?” He glared at her through mean brown eyes.

  “Who?”

  “Don’t be stupid.” He cracked her across her injured cheek and squeezed her jaw. “Abigail. Where is Abigail Harris?”

  She whimpered, afraid he would break her bones as Jerrod’s angry voice echoed through her head. You have no idea what you’ve done, Shelby. No fucking idea. She understood now, perfectly, as the man gripped her harder. “She left. She left town yesterday morning.”

  “Where did she go?”

  “I don’t know.”

  He slapped her again, yanking at her hair, bringing her face close to his. “Don’t play these games with me.”

  “I don’t know,” she sobbed. “They left in a hurry.”

  “They?” He loosened his grip. “Who’s they?”

  “Abigail and some guy.”

  He narrowed his evil eyes. “What’s his name?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  He shook his head and took her hand, wrenching her fingers back until bones popped.

  She screamed in agony, afraid she might pass out.

  “Who is the man?”

  “Jerrod,” she whispered, cradling broken, dislocated fingers on her chest.

  “Jerrod who?”

  “I don’t know his last name.”

  He muttered something in Russian, landing a blow to her temple, then her eye. “You are making this painful for yourself, stupid cunt. Tell me what you know, or the punishment will get worse.”