Sheltering Annie

by Lauren Giordano

  Five minutes later, Annie was back to being worried. As they pulled into the parking lot at New Beginnings, her gaze swept the building. New Beginnings looked—ominous in the dark. Could Phil be there? Hiding in the shadows? Had he beaten them there? Was he parked on a side street? Binoculars to his eyes. Skulking around. Or had he gone home? To whatever low-rent dump he was living in now.

  "I'll help you get the boys inside, sweet." Hank's eyes gleamed in the shadowed truck. "I'm guessin' you don't want me to stick around to walk you to your car, right?"

  "Am I that predictable?" She released a steadying breath, conscious of keeping her fear at bay. She didn't want to burden Henry. Not after everything she'd dumped on him tonight. She wanted a few more days with him. She wanted Saturday. She wanted to see admiration in his eyes—instead of concern for her. She wanted to see passion. Desire, instead of anger over Phil. Another day. Soon—she would confess the rest of their story.

  "You're an independent woman. I can respect that." He glanced around the dimly lit neighborhood. "I just worry about you gettin' home safe."

  She leaned in to kiss him, taking comfort in his warmth. The broad chest that projected strength. Safety. Security. "Don't you worry about us, Mr. Hank." When he tugged her closer, she buried her nose in his open shirt collar. Dropping a kiss there, she breathed in the intoxicating scent she'd grown addicted to. "You smell so good."

  As though by magic, her panic began receding. Henry was comforting. His very presence—seemed to have a calming effect on her. Lifting her gaze, she discovered a curious expression in his eyes.

  "You need someone worrying over you." His voice low and husky, he brushed his mouth over hers. When she lifted on tiptoes to pull him closer, she heard his ragged sigh.

  "Are you gonna let us out?" Tommy paused a beat. "I really gots to pee."

  His voice startled them apart—before making them laugh. Hank quickly moved to unbuckle him while she rounded the car to rouse a sleepy Jason.

  Tommy made a beeline for the building before turning back. Henry watched him, eyes curious. "Did you forget something, TomTom?"

  When her son retraced his steps, he threw himself in Hank's arms, who sent her a questioning glance.

  "I love you, Hank." Tommy kissed his cheek. "I can't wait to see your farm."

  "Me, too, buddy." A suspiciously unsteady hand brushed Tommy's hair from his eyes. "I'll see you tomorrow, though," he promised. "We have work to do in the daycare center after supper."

  Tommy grinned. "At eighteen o'clock," he reminded as Henry set him to the ground. "You need me to help you."

  "I can't do it without you, bud."

  Annie stilled, hot emotion flooding her chest as she watched him scamper to the door, to the guard she knew awaited them. Her son—was worlds better after spending time with Hank. And she was, too. Glancing at the man who'd strolled into their life and utterly changed it for the better, she smiled. "Good night, Henry."

  "Good night, sweet." His gaze seemed to telepath a hidden message. Did he already know? That she lived there? "I'll see you tomorrow."

  SAFELY ON THE OTHER side of the locked door, Annie paused in the hallway for Tommy to run to the bathroom on the first floor, unwilling to risk delaying another five minutes until they reached their own. A sleepy Jason on her shoulder, she checked the bathroom for occupants before allowing Tommy to enter.

  Waiting in the shadowed hallway near the locked door that led to the tiny apartments upstairs, she heard steps approaching. The heels told her it was a woman. Annie waited, relieved when Katie Douglas—the night-time version of her friend Sharon, rounded the corner. "Annie-"

  One look Katie's face—her serious expression, set her pulse pounding. Phil. Annie stared at the younger woman, before nodding to Jason. "It happened?"

  Katie stared at her—through her, before her gaze drifted to her son. "Earlier this evening, we—had an incident."

  Jason's head lifted from her shoulder. "Mama, what's a' incident?"

  "It means something happened." Her gaze never leaving Katie's, Annie kept her voice level. "Someone . . . dropped a dish of cookies at dinner tonight.

  His head bobbed. "Are there any left?"

  "You already had a popsicle tonight," she reminded. Despite her jack-hammering heartbeat, she managed a smile. His head flopped back to her shoulder. "There will be more tomorrow, Jase."

  Both women glanced up when the bathroom door opened. "Maybe you could text me? I can respond in about thirty minutes. Once—the boys are in bed. Okay?"

  Katie nodded. "Did you remember to wash your hands, Tommy?"

  "Uh-huh." Tommy headed for the locked door. "I'm tired, Mommy."

  Pressing her lips to Jason's damp forehead, Annie briefly closed her eyes, willing back the wave of panic that wanted to crash over her. But—she'd known. She'd known Phil was there tonight. At the park. It wasn't a surprise, she reminded. Only a sad confirmation. "Let's get washed up so we can get to bed."

  Maybe this time would be different, she reasoned as she trudged up the stairs with her boys. New Beginnings had been different from the start. The therapy sessions. The safety of their tiny apartment. This time, they had Henry. At least for now. Until he realized how crazy and dangerous Phil could be. Until he decided it was too much effort. She was too much effort. She paused at the landing, willing away the sadness that wanted to take hold. Please let this time be different.

  SWITCHING ON THE LAMP at his bedside, Hank gave up on sleep. Scrubbing his fingers through his hair, he glanced at the clock. "Only midnight." With a sigh, he rose from his bed, drifting to the window. Unsettled, his gaze wandered the slumbering fields, replaying the evening with Annie. The terror he'd witnessed in Tommy's eyes. That he could possibly hurt them. The knowledge that his father had. His brain refusing to erase the image, all he could do was wonder. How long had it gone on? How old had Tommy been . . . when his father struck him? Hank thought of his own father, tracing his memory for any incident of fear. Of cowering before the man he'd loved.

  He'd never feared his father—certainly not in the way Tommy did. Sure, he and his brother, Will had gotten into a few scrapes growing up. Broken a vase or two. Hank smirked in the dark. Hell, they'd feared their mother at times like that. Of her chasing them through the house with a broom. Whacking them with it, the rare times they couldn't outrun her. Even when he'd dented the fender on his daddy's old Jeep, he hadn't been afraid of his father's wrath. Only his disappointment—that he'd been careless.

  Clenching his fist, Hank glanced down at it. Conscious, maybe for the first time—of it's power. It's strength. The damage he could inflict—with the weapons he carried with him each day. He flexed his fingers, fisting them again. "How the hell could he do it?" How could a grown man strike a toddler? A baby? Or a beautiful woman?

  "Over spilled milk." Clearing the hoarseness from his throat, he glanced back at his empty bed. Remembering Gayle. Remembering nights like this, of simmering anger. Fear. Futility—each time she drew a rasping breath. The endless days when he couldn't help her. When he couldn't lessen her suffering. He released a gusting breath, unaware he'd been holding it. "I couldn't help you, babe." He swallowed around the painful lump in his throat. "Lord knows, I wanted to." Four years earlier it had been his only wish. Trade with her. Take the pain from her. Draw it into himself—all of it. If it could've meant her experiencing even a single day without pain.

  "I couldn't help you." Strangely enervated, Hank slumped against the windowsill. Why did it still hurt? Four years after her death—he was still frustrated. Annie's story . . . Annie's life had brought back the sense of powerlessness. Staring out at the vast night, a million stars winking back at him, it was hard to feel good. A woman he cared about. A woman he quite possibly was falling in love with was suffering. Afraid.

  Crossing the room, he opened the bedroom door and crept into the hall. Bo would hear him, but wouldn't get up unless Hank called him. Over the years, his dog had become accustomed to his late night wanderi
ngs. Snapping on the living room light, he sat down with his laptop. "You haven't heard all of it," he reminded himself. Annie hadn't told him everything. Her sorrow-drenched eyes had suggested there was more to her story. But, what the hell was it? Did Phil have visitation? Hell—did they share custody? Could he still hurt them? A legal pad by his side, he began scribbling notes. "I need to know more."

  An hour later, he finally closed the laptop, a shiver tracing over his skin. After a dozen articles on domestic violence, Hank realized he'd witnessed several of the signs. Annie's distraction. Her skittishness. The wariness that preceded a smile. The rare glimpses of her true personality. Her unguarded self was kept under lock and key most of the time.

  "At the restaurant-" Her need to watch the door—to make sure Phil didn't walk through it. Had he done it before? Followed them? Her resistance to going out. Annie didn't like leaving the shelter. Did she work herself to death—before scuttling home under cover of darkness? He remembered her words. He hasn't found me yet. The protectiveness her little family displayed. A six-year-old—defending his younger brother. Maybe because he'd had to before. Nausea roiled his stomach. "Sweet Jesus-"

  Annie's sense that she'd failed—instead of her being the victim of a monster. A bully. He massaged his jaw where he'd been clenching it for the last hour. Annie was in a constant state of readiness. Of being under siege. Of waiting—to go into battle. At the park—she'd frozen. Staring across the field . . . maybe too afraid to tell him what she'd seen. "They're being hunted."

  Finally—something he could relate to. For an army lifer, battle plans were something he'd become expert at. He made a few more notes on his pad, determined to talk with Big Pete in the morning. In this situation—two combat veterans would be better than one. A plan beginning to formulate, Hank knew he'd finally be able to sleep.

  Rubbing his eyes, he snapped off the light. Before he retraced his steps to the bedroom, he moved through the kitchen, to the small, mostly unused den. He had a desk in there—to pay bills. But, it could be so much more. Studying the far wall, he tried to rein in the surge of eagerness. To fill the room with light. Beyond that wall- "You could plant flowers in the side yard."

  Never one for wishing things away—what was the point in that? Hank caught himself hoping the next few days passed quickly. Until it could be Saturday. He tried (and failed) to shake off the image of Annie. Smiling. At him. Of holding her through the night. More than sex, which he was seriously eager for, he wanted to hold her. Feel the weight of her next to him. A beautiful, healthy woman. Sturdy. Strong. He wanted to fill his mind with her. To breathe in her scent. To feel joy again.

  Crossing the room, his eyes adjusted to the gloom. He walked off the measurement. "Bookcases along that wall. You could put the window seat right here." And she would read. Legs tucked underneath her, eyes dreamy as she watched her boys playing in the yard. Her beautiful, sharp mind . . . wandering. Restful. At ease—for maybe the first time in years.

  "You're losin' it, Freeman." He shook his head. "It's too soon," he muttered. To fall for her. Yet, he already had. As he'd wandered his too quiet house, all he could think about was Saturday. When two eager, rambunctious boys would invade the space—and fill it. With laughter and enthusiasm. With an endless stream of curiosity. "You want them."

  "Tomorrow," he vowed. It would start. Tomorrow would be the beginning of Annie's new life. One without fear. Without her needing to look over her shoulder. If he were extraordinarily lucky, her shiny, new life might include him.

  WITH THE MORNING CAME a series of questions. After a sleepless night spent tossing and turning, Annie splashed water in her eyes in the communal bathroom. The boys would still sleep for another thirty minutes. "What happens now?"

  She faced a vast array of unknowns. Phil had breached New Beginnings. According to Katie, he'd nearly grabbed Marisol. She shuddered at the thought. Thankfully—he'd been thwarted by Big Pete. Would New Beginnings want to move them? It would be logical on their part—to avoid exposing others to the danger she'd brought them. Was there anywhere else to go? New Beginnings was the biggest shelter in the DC area. Where could they go—and still be safe? A shiver of fear slithered down her back. What if—they wanted to separate them? She'd be forced to leave. Go out on her own. Drive as far as her aging car would allow. A new town. No support network.

  "You don't have enough money." Avoiding the mirror, Annie blinked back tears. She thought of her meager bank account. She could scrape up enough to cover a month in an apartment . . . but not enough to pay a security deposit, too. Which meant no one would be willing to lease to her. The only option remaining—a cheap hotel. Seriously cheap. With expensive weekly rates. She shuddered at the thought of where they'd be living. One room. Noisy. Crowded. A homeless hotel. Where she'd blow the remainder of her precious savings on an inadequate shelter that would last a month at best. And then what?

  "Tommy-" Another move. Another school. Annie bit down on her lip, praying the sharp pain would rein in her wildly fluctuating emotions. She needed to be strong. She needed to stay focused. Hearing footsteps in the hall, she splashed cold water in her face. Hopefully, it would be enough to hide the redness until she could get the boys on the school bus. She would need to gather herself. "Talk to Sharon." Eyes closed, she dried her face on the towel. "Apologize to Marisol." Another woman had nearly been harmed—because of her.

  An hour later, eyes gritty, but thankfully dry, her boys safely on the bus, Annie trudged back to the kitchen, heart still beating too fast. Expecting the worst, she'd worried Phil might make a move on the boys as they were escorted to the bus. To attack . . . out of nowhere. Maybe grab her. The fact was—he could still do that. It just hadn't happened this morning. A wave of nausea caught her off-guard. A few steps from the kitchen, she paused to rest against the concrete block wall. Lightheaded with relief, she was tempted to drop her head between her knees. In the list of nerve-wracking tasks to complete that day, she'd survived only the first.

  Next up—Sharon and Marisol. Making sure Mari hadn't been injured. Hearing from her exactly what had occurred. Offering to assist them in making plans to prevent Phil from getting by the guards again. To give them an idea of what he was truly capable of. And to learn her own fate. Pushing off the wall, Annie said a little prayer. Don't make us leave. Please. Don't make us leave.

  Chapter 10

  "Sugar—are you out of your mind?" Fifteen minutes later, the springs squeaked on Sharon's chair as she leaned back, her expression stunned.

  Seated across from the director's desk, sweat pooled at the base of Annie's spine. She gripped the armrests. "I just . . . assumed-"

  "You're not goin' anywhere. You an' your boys are stayin' right here, do you understand?"

  Blinking back tears, she stared at the woman who'd become like a mother. "But—he'll come back. Phil- He'll try again." Sharon's bracelets jangled, soothing Annie's taut nerves. Her fear still with her, she wanted to relax, but somehow . . . couldn't.

  "Annie—we deal with these men all the time." Her glance shifted to the persistent ringing phone, checking the number before ignoring it. "Phil might be determined—but he ain't met Mama Sharon."

  Relief cascading over her, Annie felt nearly drunk with it. "Thank you." Closing her eyes, she released a shuddering breath. "Thank you. I'll go set up for . . . b-breakfast."

  Sharon gave her the side-eye. "You need to go lie down for an hour. You look like you're about to keel over. When was the last time you ate anything?"

  She clutched her jumping stomach. "I . . . can't."

  "Go on now," she shooed. "Grab yourself a muffin and get yourself back upstairs. I don't wanna see you down here until at least nine."

  She swallowed, her throat working, fighting taut muscles that didn't want to loosen. The reprieve from their looming fate making her queasy. On the edge of a cliff—Sharon had pulled her back from the precipice. How would she ever thank them? "But, we're so busy-"

  Sharon stood, her tall, bulky frame
comforting instead of intimidating. "I mean it. You go on upstairs." She stared down at her. "Me an' Mari got a meeting with Stud Muffin in fifteen minutes that I need to prep for." She rolled her eyes. "Despite all y'all thinkin' I can't make decisions fast enough. But—I'm comin' to check on you in an hour," she warned. "And you'd better be lyin' down."

  When Annie stood, she wasn't surprised when Sharon pulled her in for a hug. This woman, this saint—took care of them all. As though they were her children. "How'd your date with that sexy Cajun go?" She pulled back to examine her. "Katie told me you got back after dark."

  Annie smothered her laughter. Let the interrogation begin. "It was . . . wonderful. He's the kindest man I've ever met."

  Sharon crossed her arms over her ample chest. "And?" Eyes wide, she tried for innocence, but only looked like the instigator they all knew her to be.

  Annie's cheeks heated. "And we're . . . spending the day at his farm on Saturday." She paused for Sharon's yelp of joy. "If it's allowed-" She swallowed her embarrassment. Hell, the woman already knew everything about her, anyway. "Hank asked if we want to . . . spend the night, too."

  Sharon did a little dance—right there in her office. Arms flapping, she captured her squeal in her hands. "I knew it! I knew it. I knew he was the man for you-"

  "Sharon-" Annie couldn't help her smile. "It's early—this is just a day at the farm. The boys are going to-"

  "Love it there," she crowed. "Love him." She closed her eyes in bliss. "Sugar—this is it."

  "So, I can leave? For a night?" She held her breath. "And not—lose my spot?"

  Sharon paused her happy dance, her gaze suddenly solemn. "You can have up to four nights a month to be gone. Girls need to go home—if they have one. Sometimes, there are family issues to tend to. Sometimes they use it as an opportunity to scope out a new location-" Warm eyes studied her. "But this—is the best reason I know. He's a good man, Annie. Of course you can go." She released a happy sigh. "I'm gonna pray for you two."