Burning the Past (Southern Heat Book 3)

by Jamie Garrett

  If he was startled by the question, he didn’t show it. He offered a slight shrug. “I know you were kidnapped.”

  “And you know why?”

  He frowned, his hands fiddling with his coffee cup, turning it around and around on the table. “Amy, you don’t have to talk about this.”

  “I’m not. Not really, anyway.”

  He leaned over, his expression earnest. “It wasn’t your fault.”

  Amy grew quiet again, her hands falling back into her lap. Everyone could say it wasn’t her fault as much as they liked. She knew the truth.

  6

  Dean

  Dean walked down the street away from Promise House, a smile tugging at his lips. It had been a week since he’d last seen Amy. She’d grown quiet toward the end of their coffee date, and so he’d driven her home, not wanting to overdo it on the first try. He’d been thinking about her ever since. A lot. Of course, he wanted to see her, but he’d resisted the temptation to knock on the door at least a handful of times, not wanting to push her too fast.

  While he certainly wasn’t an expert, he’d wanted to help Amy spread her wings a little, and he’d thought of something that might help. Dean glanced down at the golden Cocker Spaniel puppy at the end of the leash. He hadn’t had a dog since his childhood. That black lab had been his friend throughout elementary school but died from old age the summer he started the eighth grade. The memory of that loss was still painful. After that, his parents had never gotten another dog and he hadn’t asked for one.

  The idea had come to him several days ago, sitting in the living room of the house he had inherited from his mother. Everything was so still, so quiet. He wasn’t used to the silence, more familiar with the constant activity of the firehouse.

  He’d been sitting in the armchair next to the living room window, idly watching squirrels foraging for food in the grass beneath the massive oak tree in the front yard. Its canopy hung over the house, Spanish moss dripping from a number of its limbs. A neighbor from up the street had walked underneath its shade with her poodle. At that moment, he had gotten the idea.

  A dog would certainly be good company for him. He had enough room. It could have the run of the entire house and would enjoy the freedom of a fenced back yard. He had a fondness for animals of all kinds. Just as quickly, he’d discarded the idea. When he had his overnight shifts at the firehouse, the puppy would be alone. Within seconds of that thought had come the other idea.

  Amy.

  Not that he was using the purchase of the puppy for ulterior motives. Well, maybe partly, but it was a good idea, or so he hoped. A companion for himself to ease the loneliness of the old house. If Amy agreed, she could come over and play with the puppy, take it for a walk, and maybe even agree to feed it on the evenings he had to stay overnight at the fire station. Even if she didn’t want to, he had no doubt that he could find a neighbor who might be willing to fill in the gap or a neighborhood kid looking to earn a bit of pocket money.

  He’d gone to the local Humane Society the following day after work. That in itself was a risky endeavor, because he’d ended up wanting to take in all the dogs, about fifteen of them in all. The cats weren’t bad, either. It was difficult, no doubt about it. Each of those animals, tails wagging, eyes begging. He was such a sucker. He should’ve known better.

  In the end, it had been the copper-toned Cocker Spaniel sitting alone in her kennel at the end of the aisle that had entranced him. While the other dogs barked, whined, and scrambled toward the kennel cage doors, there she sat, calmly watching every move he made, her eyes focused on him and him alone.

  He sat on his haunches, hands dangling over his knees, peering at the dog staring back at him. “Well, aren’t you something?” He placed the back of his fingers against the cage door. Without hesitation, she had approached, sniffed his fingers, and then sat down again. Those eyes of hers, a gold hazel, staring quietly and calmly. He couldn’t resist.

  Minutes later he was the proud owner of the spaniel, whom he promptly named Penny. Over the past few days, he had fallen into the habit of calling her Penny Girl. She was incredibly intelligent, had learned how to use the doggie door he installed within an hour, and was completely housebroken. He hadn’t had to teach her a thing.

  This afternoon, he had taken Penny to Promise House to introduce her to Amy. Meg had opened the front door, taken one look at the pup, and melted. Literally melted, sinking down onto the floor cross-legged, stroking Penny’s still-curly puppy fur as the animal had instantly clambered into her lap. Meg looked up and gave him a thumbs-up.

  “You do know that you’re going to have to bring her over here very often. My residents are going to fall in love with her.”

  “I was thinking that,” he said.

  “But mostly Amy, right?”

  He hadn’t fooled Meg a bit. He grinned and offered a shrug as she laughed.

  “It’s a good idea, Dean. This little pooch has the instincts of a therapy dog, doesn’t she?”

  Dean hadn’t thought of her in that way, but it was true. For him as well. Over the past couple of days, he’d actually started looking forward to going home to the big, dark, quiet house. Having someone there to greet him was refreshing. She sat on his lap as he watched TV, and slept on his bed. He hadn’t been going to allow that at first, but one look at her big hazel eyes and he melted, too. Sometimes she stood next to his pillow and stared down at him until he lifted the covers and she slid under, taking up the other half of the bed.

  “She’s a snuggler, that’s for sure,” he laughed. “Is Amy around?”

  Meg stood, gave Penny one last pat on her head, and then gestured down the street. “She’s at the park. She’s been getting out a little more since last week.” She smiled. “It’s good to see.”

  He nodded. It was great to see. “Do you think it would be alright if I went over there?”

  Meg smiled. “I think that would be a fine idea.”

  Dean walked down the quiet residential street toward the park a couple of blocks away. Penny Girl led the way, as if she instinctively knew where the park was located. Of course, she couldn’t, but there was a chance that she could smell the wide-open expanse of grass in the near distance.

  As he approached the park, he began to second-guess his impulsive decision to talk to Amy there. He had been surprised when Mason told him that Amy didn’t have a cell phone, so any messages he wanted to send would have to go through Meg and Promise House. He hadn’t asked her if he could visit. Maybe she would find his unannounced presence intrusive. Would she be glad to see him or wish he would just go away?

  He thought they’d gotten on well enough when they’d had coffee last week, and while he certainly wanted to see more of her, he could be patient. If she gave him any indication that he was infringing on her privacy, he would respect that and back off.

  By the time he reached the corner of the park, Penny’s ears had perked up, her tail wagging as fast as it could go at the sight of the children playing on the merry-go-round, scrambling up the slide, and playing on swings on the near corner. The aroma of barbecued hamburgers and hot dogs wafting upward and toward them on the breeze had her nose in the air, twitching to identify them all.

  “Okay, girl, let’s go find Amy.”

  He crossed the street, his gaze searching the nearby park benches, searching for her. He didn’t see her right away and had to tug on Penny’s leash a little to get her to walk away from the children in the sand area. In a matter of seconds, though, her nose was in the air, exploring the myriad of scents floating around them.

  Maybe fifty feet away toward the north end of the park, he saw a lone female sitting on a park bench, her side to him, reading a magazine. She glanced up every few seconds, her gaze sweeping over the park’s occupants before returning her attention to the magazine.

  He slowly approached the park bench, smiling as Penny exuberantly tugged on the leash, more than ready to stop and say hello to someone. He paused about ten feet away fro
m the bench.

  “Hey, Amy.”

  She startled and nearly dropped the magazine, her eyes darting in his direction, eyes wide until she recognized him.

  Shit. Despite his efforts not to, he had startled her.

  “Oh . . . hi, Dean. What are you doing—”

  He approached as Penny strained at the leash as she wiggled her way toward Amy, who saw her and immediately relaxed. She glanced between him and the small dog now sitting practically on her feet. A tentative smile turned up the corner of her lips as she reached down to pet the pup. She glanced up at him.

  “I didn’t know you had a dog. She’s adorable! What’s her name?”

  “I just got her a few days ago. Her name is Penny.”

  If Dean had known that adorable puppies could be such a wonderful icebreaker, he would’ve gotten one a long time ago. Then again, he hadn’t been much interested in dating the past six months or so, busy with work, taking care of his mom . . . and grieving her loss.

  Amy put the magazine down on the bench beside her and continued to stroke Penny. The pup nuzzled Amy’s hand and then began to lick it. Amy laughed as she stroked the puppy’s head with one hand and scratched her chest with the other.

  Dean stood watching, amused. “Well, she certainly likes you, doesn’t she?”

  Amy looked up. She had such a beautiful smile. While she had offered polite ones to him while having dinner at Sloane’s apartment and then at the coffee house, this one was different. This smile displayed true pleasure and warmth; an instinctive reaction to something that lightened her spirit.

  “You’re not allergic or anything, are you?”

  She shook her head, gazing down into Penny’s luminous brown eyes.

  “If I ease up on her leash a bit, she’ll jump up onto the bench and sit next to you. Do you mind?”

  “Not at all,” Amy said, leaning back. She picked up the magazine to place on the edge of the bench.

  Dean gave the leash some slack. Sure enough, Penny immediately jumped up next to Amy on the bench and abruptly rolled onto her back to display her belly. Amy obliged.

  “I’m such a sucker,” he said. “I fall for that every time. She’s a quick study. I’m afraid I’ve encouraged a habit that will be hard to break.”

  Amy laughed softly. “No need. Nothing wrong with a dog wanting her belly scratched. She idly scratched Penny’s soft puppy fuzz and pink belly and then glanced up at Dean. “You can sit down if you want to.”

  He did, leaving Penny between them. “I stopped by Promise House. Meg told me you were here. I thought you might get a kick out of meeting Penny. You don’t mind, do you?”

  She shook her head. Her fingers continued to gently scratch Penny’s chest, but the wariness was still there in her eyes as she looked away from the puppy, glanced around the park, and then back at Dean. She seemed aware of his gaze.

  She offered a slight shrug. “I can’t help it.”

  He didn’t say anything. Sometimes, silence invited speech. He was no therapist but knew that she was seeing one. He didn’t want to appear nosy, though he was curious. What the hell had happened to her?

  “Amy, I’m just going to lay my cards on the table, alright?”

  She glanced at him, her expression wary. “Alright.”

  “I’d like to get to know you,” he said bluntly. “But I want you to know that I’m not going to rush it. And if you don’t want to get to know me, just say so. I won’t get angry.” He meant every word. “I’ll be disappointed, sure, but I won’t be angry. I just want you to know that.”

  She said nothing. Her fingers paused, but Penny nuzzled her with her nose and she idly continued with the belly scratch. “I appreciate your honesty, Dean, so I’ll be honest with you. I’m not sure I’m ready . . .” once again she glanced up and around the park. “As you can probably tell, I seem to have developed some trust issues.”

  “You can trust me,” he said. “I’m not just saying that. Those aren’t empty words on my part. I know you’ve had a horrible experience. I know how challenging those two words can be. Trust me. I can tell you’re afraid of something, but I’m not sure what it is. I’ll respect your space. If you tell me to get lost, I will, and with no hard feelings.”

  She said nothing for several moments. With one more glance around the park, she looked down at Penny. Her contemplative frown told him that she was thinking about something, but he wasn’t sure what. Was she going to tell him to get lost? To quit bothering her?

  He hoped not. But if she did, he would accept it, just as he had promised.

  7

  Amy

  Amy idly stroked Penny’s belly as she contemplated Dean’s words. She glanced at him, then away, once again searching the park. She couldn’t help feeling suspicious of her surroundings. God, when would she stop doing that? Hyperalert to any movement, watching people if they even got within twenty feet of her. She looked at Dean again. He still sat next to her, hadn’t touched her, and yet his presence calmed her.

  “That’s what I do,” she said softly. “Anytime I leave Promise House. I can’t help it. My therapist calls it hypervigilance caused by post-traumatic stress.” She offered a small laugh. “I call it paranoia.”

  He said nothing, merely smiled as he watched Penny’s eyes slowly close under her soothing caresses. She knew what he was doing. If she wanted to talk, he would let her do so at her own pace. He seemed resolved not to ask any questions despite his curiosity. She had no doubt he was curious. Who wouldn’t be?

  She sighed. He might as well know. She looked out to the park, not wanting eye contact while she talked. “Long story short, I trusted a guy, back in Arizona, where I went to college. I was working, was just about to finish college. I met him at a coffee shop. I’d been having problems with my parents and was working hard to save up enough money to get my own apartment.” Amy risked a glance over at him. Dean was still there, motionless, and calm. Her eyes swept the park again before she continued. “He was a bit on the rough side, not my usual type, but I was feeling rebellious, annoyed, and thought, not just subconsciously, that going out with a guy like that would not only provide me with a little bit of excitement in my life, but annoy the hell out of my parents.”

  Dean smiled and nodded vaguely. He understood, she hoped. “I knew better. I wasn’t a teenager. I should have . . .”

  “We all make mistakes.”

  She nodded. “That’s true, but this one nearly cost me my life.”

  She said nothing for several moments as she smiled down at the puppy, dozing now in the warm sunshine. It was amazing how a little bundle of fur could prompt her to divulge her deepest, darkest fears.

  “We went out to a club one night.” She grimaced. “I’m not into that, but I went anyway. That was it. Next thing I remembered, I was waking up in a dark, cold place.”

  “You were drugged?”

  She nodded. “I remember asking my . . . my boyfriend, Nick, to get me a margarita.” She looked up and into the distance, watching the children play at the far side of the park. “I do remember feeling nauseated. Woozy. At the time, I didn’t know what was happening. I didn’t leave the table or my drink unattended. I knew enough not to do that . . .”

  Dean remained silent, watching her without staring. Why was she was so willing to talk to him about this? Her therapist had to pull it out of her with a lot of patience, and over several visits. Maybe he was right. Maybe talking about it would make it easier to overcome.

  “When I woke up in that dark place, I knew something was wrong. Terribly wrong. I had no idea where I was. I was tied up and blindfolded. I think for a while I was in a basement or something. It smelled of dirt and oil. It seemed like I was there for a long time . . . I’m not sure how long it really was. I was still fuzzy.” She shrugged and glanced at him before looking away. “The next thing I remembered was being in a shipping container. On the highway. And that’s when I realized.” She closed her eyes, trying to tamp down the surge of panic that rose insid
e her just at the mere memory.

  Silence. Finally, she couldn’t stand it any longer and turned to face him, opening her eyes. Was he disgusted? Think she was a complete idiot to get stuck in that situation? His expression didn’t display any emotion. It was blank, noncommittal. He leaned forward slightly and stroked his new puppy and then looked up at her, catching her gaze.

  “I can’t imagine how utterly terrifying that must have been.”

  “I knew at that moment that I’d been kidnapped.” She looked him square in the face. “This wasn’t just about some guy looking for a sure thing. It was more than that. I found out later that I was an unwilling participant of a sex-trafficking ring.”

  Once again, she paused, keeping a careful watch on Dean’s face. Would he say something? Perhaps some paltry comment like she was lucky to be alive? Would he ask if she had been raped, ask her for the gritty, disgusting details?

  “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

  The comment was said softly and with sincerity. She believed him. Warm tears filled her eyes, but she stubbornly blinked them back. “Me, too.” She lifted her hand to brush away the hair from the base of her neck. She turned her head up and sideways, slightly away from him. No way could he miss it.

  It was a stylized capital letter J with an angled line through it from the lower left side to the upper right side, encapsulated in a circle. The keloid scar tissue was about the size of a silver dollar.

  “Oh, my God. They branded you.”

  “It stands for Jurić, or at least that’s what I was told. Apparently, the ring was a family affair and spread further than just the USA.”

  She allowed her hair to fall back in place and with yet another sweep of her gaze through the park, she turned to him. “They told me I would be transported overseas.” That wasn’t even the worst of it, but she wasn’t ready to tell him everything. Not yet. Amy wasn’t sure if she would ever be. “At that moment, I figured I was done for. No one knew where I was. Not my parents, not Nick, not the police.”