by M. S. Parker
This was one of those times.
I'd never known what it was like to have a mother to ask for advice or comfort me, but I'd always imagined that it would've been something like how Lily had been. She'd hold me until I stopped shaking, then let me talk, never judging, never offering advice. And when I did finally ask her if I'd done the right thing, she would've told me that I had. That while taking care of myself was important, protecting others was even more important.
That was what Rylan couldn't understand. Not because he was so worried about himself. No, he understood protecting others at the expense of himself. He was just focused on protecting me. I appreciated it, but he wasn't looking at the big picture. He could sympathize, but he couldn't truly understand, not the way I did. He hated what had been done to me, and I knew that was one of the reasons he wanted to protect me. But I also knew that letting the FBI make a deal could prevent other kids from torture and rape, could save the ones who'd already been hurt and make the people who'd done it pay. Rylan wanted to help people, but to him, these were nameless, faceless victims. I was the one he saw and cared about. To me, these girls were her, the girl I had been before I'd become Jenna Lang. The girl who'd been broken and ruined. If this was the price I had to pay to save them, I’d do so without complaint.
The shaking stopped and I climbed out of bed. It was only a couple hours before my alarm was set to go off. No point in subjecting myself to more nightmares. I thought about showering and heading into the office early, but I knew Rylan would see me when I came in, and would want to know why I was there so early. We'd both been busy over the past week, getting caught up on everything that had gotten backed up over the holidays the times we'd talked, we'd avoided the Christophe situation. I didn't want to lie to him, but I knew that if I told him I was having nightmares, he'd want me to change my mind. It was better if we avoided the subject all the way around.
I couldn't hang around here though. It was hard enough being here when all I would do was eat dinner, shower and go to bed. I didn't think I could handle sitting out in the living room or even at the kitchen table, and relax, work or be even be normal.
I went to my dresser and quickly changed clothes, pulling on a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. It was still dark out, but Fort Collins lit their sidewalks well, especially around the college. I wasn't going to go for a full workout or anything like that, but a run might do me some good, help me clear my head. If nothing else, it'd distract me for a bit.
I finished getting ready, stretched out so I wouldn't cramp up and then headed down, taking the stairs at a jog to warm up my muscles. The cold hair hit me as soon as I stepped outside and I gasped, making my lungs burn. I shivered, but kept jogging in place. A light snow was falling, but the sidewalks were still clear. That was good. The last thing I needed was to slip and hurt myself. I hated being sick or injured. It always made me feel helpless, vulnerable.
I shook my head and set off towards the campus. They usually had clear paths so the students could get to their classes more easily. I'd also run it enough that I knew the terrain. I settled into a steady rhythm and let muscle memory do the rest. I concentrated on my breathing, monitoring my pulse. The sound of my heartbeat in my ears. Most of the students wouldn't be coming back from break until the weekend, so the city was quieter than usual. Then there was the smell of the snow, crisp and clean. It didn't matter how dirty and slushy it got once it hit the ground. While it was coming down or even on its way, it smelled clean.
Maybe that was one of the reasons I'd always loved it. It covered everything. Even the muddiest and nastiest places could look pristine and beautiful after a good snowfall. It hadn't been like that back in Florida. There were plenty of parts of the state that were beautiful, but all I'd ever seen had been the run-down and the dirty. There hadn't been any snow there to cover it up. Only rain, and it had never washed anything clean, just made it worse.
I turned my thoughts away from the past and focused on the here and now. One foot in front of the other. No place to be. No rushing. It was all about the journey and I let that thought hold my mind as I ran across the campus, passing by Moby Arena. Over the small bridge and around the library. My feet moved over familiar paths as they took me back home again.
I'd timed things well. I had just enough time to shower, grab something semi-substantial to eat and reach the office as most people were arriving. We greeted each other with the usual morning nods. Now that the shock of my hair color change had worn off, people pretty much left me alone. Rumors were still going around about Christophe, but so far, the cops had managed to keep mine and Rylan’s names out of the media. There was talk, of course, but nothing substantial.
I had to admit, that was something positive about the FBI taking over. If they made a deal, the chances of anyone finding out details about what happened would be slim. That definitely had appeal. I didn't miss my co-workers giving me sideways looks.
Rylan was waiting for me in my office and my heart immediately skipped a beat. I wondered if I'd always feel like that when I saw him. The thought that I would scared me, but thinking that someday I wouldn't scared me even more.
“Morning.” He glanced out the doorway, then gave me a quick kiss.
I smiled. “Good morning.” I moved behind my desk, needing the space between us. It had been almost a full week since we'd had physical contact beyond a couple small touches and a kiss, and being near him tested my self-control.
“So.” He scratched his head, looking nervous. “I was wondering if you wanted to go out tomorrow.”
“Out?”
“Like on a date. A real date.” He grinned at me. “The kind of date where we actually put on clothes and go out in public.”
“Public?” I sighed melodramatically. “I don't know. I kind of like our no clothes dates.”
Arousal flared in Rylan's eyes. “I told you once that I didn't want this to be all about sex, but you're seriously making me regret that.” His voice was low, so full of desire that it made things low in my stomach clench.
“So, maybe a public date with clothes, then a private one without?” My smile was genuine. I might not have wanted to tell Rylan about the nightmares, but that didn't mean I wanted to avoid him.
He grinned. “I love the way you think.”
“Is that all you love?” I teased. The knots I'd had in my stomach all night, the tension in my muscles, they all began to ease.
Rylan stared at me for a moment, then walked over to the door and closed it. I watched him walk back over, admiring the way his muscles flexed and moved beneath his golden skin, under his fitted clothes.
I stayed in my chair, heart thumping as he put his hands on the arms of my chair and leaned over me. My breath was coming faster as he closed in, but for once it wasn't a panic attack. I wanted him closer.
I tilted my head back as his came down, our mouths coming together in a scorching kiss. I felt his desire, his longing, and poured my own back. He tugged on my bottom lip with his teeth and I moaned. His fingers wrapped around my wrists, keeping my arms pinned to the arms of the chair. A spike of desire went through me, far greater than the little spark of panic caused by the restraint. His tongue possessed my mouth. There was no doubt about who was in charge and my fingers flexed on the arms of the chair.
When he finally broke the kiss, we were both gasping for air. He tightened his grip for a moment, then straightened, releasing me.
“Fuck.” He ran his hands through his hair and took a step back. “You have no idea how badly I want you.”
My eyes flicked down to the front of his pants where I could see his cock, hard and ready. My pussy throbbed in response and I tried to remember if I had an extra pair of panties because mine were soaked. “I think I have an idea.”
“I'm thinking maybe we should rethink our plans,” Rylan said. “No clothes date tonight. We can put clothes on tomorrow.”
I chuckled. “I like that idea.”
Before he could respond, my phone rang. I held up a finger
and answered, “Jenna Lang, how can I help you?”
“Miss Lang, this is Agent Matthews.”
I stiffened. Rylan immediately came closer, all joking and flirting aside.
“Agent Matthews, what can I do for you?” I asked.
“Mr. Constantine is reluctant to cooperate with us,” he said. “So we're going to try to prompt him a bit.”
“Prompt?” I repeated.
“Tell your boss you need Monday off,” he said. “You're testifying in front of a grand jury.”
Chapter 22
I hadn't even considered turning down Rylan's offer of spending the weekend with him after that call. I would've thought about it anyway because I'd missed him, but knowing what was coming had made the choice even easier.
My conversation with Agent Matthews had been brief. Aside from the logistics of where to go and when, there had been only one little matter I'd needed to discuss. If their ruse didn't work and things went to trial, they might need collaboration to support my testimony. Or a defense attorney might decide to dig into my past. That meant I might need to explain why there were certain things they most likely wouldn't be able to find. That explanation, however, could possibly end up with me in jail.
Agent Matthews had listened as I'd 'hypothetically' explained the situation and had then agreed to have an immunity agreement drawn up so I wouldn't have to worry about getting into trouble for my little computer virus and the less-than-legal hacking I'd done. With that taken care of, all I'd had left to worry about was getting through the next couple days.
Fortunately, Rylan helped with that. Not caring what anyone at the office thought, he'd taken me up to his office and we'd spent the entire day working on coding for a game Rylan had been creating in his spare time. Others might've thought it was weird, spending time working on a game with something so important looming in the distance, but it had done exactly what I'd needed it to do. It had gotten my mind off of things.
After work, we'd eaten pizza and watched a movie, then made love before falling asleep in each other’s arms. That night, I'd actually slept. No nightmares, and I'd woken to breakfast in bed. We'd spent the rest of the weekend at the house, talking about mundane things, things that didn't really matter. We'd watched movies and cooked, snuggled on the couch, regular couple stuff. It had almost made me feel like we were normal.
Monday morning, Rylan went with me to the courthouse. He knew he wasn't allowed in the hearing until it was his turn to testify – Agent Matthews had said he was hoping if Christophe heard I was testifying, he'd give in before anyone else had to – but Rylan promised to stay until I was done. I told him that I appreciated the offer, but I didn't want to give the rumor mill at work more fodder. There was a good chance they would figure out that I'd been the one Christophe had come after, but they didn't need to know Rylan had been there too. It would raise a lot of questions. I had a feeling the rumors were starting because of our having taken the same days off. The last thing they needed was more fuel on the fire.
“I'm staying,” Rylan said firmly. “I'm not leaving you until I know you're okay.”
I knew there was no point in arguing so I didn't even bother to try. Instead, I leaned over, kissed his cheek and said, “Thank you.”
The two of us went into the courthouse together, our hands brushing, but not connecting. I wanted to hold his hand, draw strength and comfort from his touch, but I knew I couldn't. I had to be strong when I went in there, and to do that, I needed to put back up the walls Rylan had brought down. It was the only way I'd be able to handle what I had to do.
Agent Matthews was waiting for me at the courtroom. He glanced at Rylan, then at me, but didn't comment. “This way.” He opened the door. “You know how this works?”
I nodded. “Not my first time.”
“Miss Lang.” A tall brunette with a square jaw and long nose strode towards me, hand outstretched. “I'm US Attorney Michelle Strong.”
I shook her hand.
“I'm sorry we haven't had any prep time.” Judging by the glare she shot at Agent Matthews, she wasn't too happy with the situation.
“It's okay,” I assured her. “I've done this before.”
No surprise showed on her face, telling me that she'd at least read my statement.
“So you're okay with me calling you right away?”
I nodded. I was actually glad I didn't have to do the prep part. I was confident I could handle whatever questions would come my way, but I didn't want to have to talk about it any more than I had to. At least in a grand jury, there wasn't any cross examination.
“Oh, and here's your immunity agreement.” Michelle handed me a piece of paper and a pen. “Agent Matthews didn't say why you needed it.”
I signed the paper and handed her the pen. “I hacked into a few systems, including a couple government ones, to erase my previous identity as well as doing some damage to the online videos I'd been forced to make.”
To her credit, Michelle's eyes widened slightly, but that was the extent of the change in her expression. “All right then.”
Less than an hour later, I was sitting on the stand, recounting what had happened the night I'd woken up to find Christophe Constantine in my living room. I could tell Michelle had been nervous at first, wondering how well I'd do. She'd hidden it well, but I'd watched the lines around her eyes relax as I answered her questions exactly as she asked them, not giving more or less. I kept my voice even, but with enough emotion to not sound like a robot. The small break in my voice when I mentioned Rylan's part helped.
“Miss Lang, you worked with Mr. Constantine at Archer Enterprises, is that right?”
“Yes.”
“Is that where he came to know you?”
I shook my head, pressing my hands together. “No. He knew who I was from movies and online videos.”
“The movies he forced you to watch the night he broke in.”
“Yes.”
She paused for a moment and then asked, “Miss Lang, I know this isn't going to be easy for you, but could you please tell us about those movies?”
I took a slow breath. “When I was a child, my mother forced me into prostitution. She sold me to whoever could pay. At one point, she discovered that she could make even more money filming me.” I saw more than one member of the jury flinch. “She made a series where she called me Snow White. I don't know exactly how many movies were sold before I was rescued, but I heard the estimate was in the tens of thousands for each title. In thirteen years, there were a lot of titles made.” I paused, steeling myself for what I had to say next. “That night, Christophe told me that he'd seen those videos and that he...” The words caught in my throat, sickening me. “He said he wanted to be my prince.”
“So what happened with Mr. Constantine was not simply a misunderstanding between co-workers? Crossed signals?”
I gave what I knew was a bitter smile. I was expecting a question like this since it was what a defense attorney would ask, though probably less nicely. It pissed me off that it was even an issue, but I knew it had to be asked, and I appreciated the way the prosecutor worded it.
I answered in a clear voice. “No, it was not. He didn't ask me out and I didn't invite him into my apartment. Christophe Constantine recognized me from the child pornography my mother forced me to do. He was obsessed with me, broke into my house and assaulted me.”
“Thank you, Miss Lang,” Michelle said after a moment, letting my words sink into the jury. “You may step down.”
I nodded and left the stand. I didn't doubt they'd get their indictment. I just hoped it would be enough to convince Christophe to flip. I'd been willing to testify, and I still would be if he didn't deal, but I didn't want to do it.
I had a lot of reasons why I didn't like to talk about my past. One of them was because I worked so hard pushing everything down that when I had to bring it up, suppression became harder. My therapist had told me that talking about it was healthier than trying to keep it in, but all I'd ev
er had happen from talking about it was a loop of memories I couldn't get out of my head. Keeping them locked away only gave me nightmares. Those I could handle.
Well, there were the panic attacks too, but they didn't happen very often, and they were still better than the constant thoughts. There were definite downsides to having my kind of brain. Laser focus, perfectionism and obsession was good for my kind of work. Not so much when it came to this kind of thing.
I'd only gone a few feet outside the courtroom when I heard my name.
“Jenna, love.”
Arms wrapped around me, but I knew them and didn't panic. Instead, I leaned into the broad, familiar chest. A shiver ran through me and, for once, it wasn't prompted by desire.
“I've got you,” Rylan whispered, tightening his embrace.
I heard people around us, but kept my eyes closed. I'd been strong in there and I'd be strong again in a minute, but right now, I didn't have to be. I knew I didn't have to say a word, he'd just hold me as long as I needed him to.
Finally, I felt composed enough to pull away. He released me from his arms, but caught my hand before I could get too far. He threaded his fingers between mine.
“Where are we going?” he asked, his voice matter-of-fact.
“Excuse me?” I look at him, confused.
“Where do you want to go?” he asked me. “Lunch? Work?” His expression was serious as he reached up to touch my cheek. “Tell me what you need.”
I sighed, my shoulders slumping. I was suddenly exhausted. “I want to go home.”
“All right,” he said. “I'll take you.”
“You don't have to,” I protested.
“What?” he asked as he led me out of the courthouse. “You're going to walk? Jenna, I'm not blind. You look like you're about ready to pass out.”
“I'm not weak, Rylan,” I snapped, trying to yank my hand out of his.
“I know you're not.” His grip tightened as he refused to let me go. “But you are human.” His tone was gentle. “And sometimes you have to let people take care of you.”
