by Beth Ciotta
“Bella?”
“Ryan.” Her stomach grumbled with guilt. She’d never been a snoop. It felt wrong, but she didn’t hang up. “Am I calling at a bad time?
“Never. What’s up, honey?”
“This is awkward.”
“Spit it out.”
“I know Chrissy spoke to you about Joe Savage.”
“And I know you moved in with him today. Anything wrong?”
“No. I… News travels fast. I guess Georgie told you.”
“Lots of people told me.”
“We’re sort of… I don’t know what we are exactly. But I care about him. A lot. And I’m worried. I think something bad happened. Something job related. Something that made him resign from the force. He’s…haunted. But he won’t talk about it.”
“I’m not surprised.”
“Do you know what it is?”
“Not precisely.”
“But you have an idea.” She continued to stare out the window, guilt churning as she eyed the studio. Savage wouldn’t be happy knowing she was prying. She told herself it was for his own good. Yeah. Like he’d buy that reasoning. “Do you know more than you told Chrissy?” she pressed.
“I didn’t see any reason to share certain specifics.”
“It has something to do with children, right?”
Ryan held his tongue.
The churning in Bella’s stomach morphed from guilt to dread. “In case you’ve forgotten, I’m a librarian. If you don’t tell me, I’ll utilize my rad research skills and find out on my own. Calling you seemed the more direct approach. Since you’ve already pried—”
“I reached out.”
“Which is what I’m doing.”
Another pause. “Yeah. Okay. But keep it to yourself. If I was Savage, I wouldn’t want to talk about it either.”
Feeling wobbly now, Bella deserted her lookout post and settled on the edge of the bed.
“I’m only telling you this because I think you should know what you’re getting into. And why I think you shouldn’t dig too deeply into his past.”
“Got it. Go on.”
“I don’t know why he resigned specifically, although from what I learned I assume the man burned out. It happens. A decade working homicide. Four additional years working undercover for the Bureau of Organized Crime. His last case alone would have been enough to put me off. It’s rough, Bella. Sure you want to know?”
“I’m sure.” She chewed her thumbnail, bracing.
“A sex trafficking operation run by gang members.”
Her stomach clenched.
“Women forced into prostitution. Young women. Girls,” Ryan clarified. “Many as young as twelve.”
Twelve years old? “Oh, my God.”
“These monsters preyed on the poor, the homeless, runaways, kids addicted to drugs. They were brutal. Ruthless. Girls who stepped out of line were beaten, branded, threatened.”
Bella felt sick.
“Savage worked that case for twenty months—a special task force. It resulted in the rescue of eighty-six girls and the arrest of ten ring members.”
“Thank God.”
“Not every girl made it out alive. All of them had been exploited and abused. I’m skipping over a lot of what I learned, Bella. Savage lived and breathed that hell for almost two years. If he has a problem with children, my guess is he can’t disassociate them from the atrocities he witnessed.”
It wouldn’t change what I’ve seen…
“You okay, hon?”
“I feel queasy. And angry.” She licked her lips, swallowed bile. Her heart ached for those girls. For Joe. “No wonder he’s cynical.” What tortures you? Now she knew. Horrors beyond her willingness to imagine.
“Don’t force this conversation with Savage.”
“I won’t. Ryan?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
“For filling your head with garbage?”
“For giving me perspective.”
Bella disconnected. Her temples throbbed. Her chest hurt. Tears welled, but she forced them back. She got it now. Got it all. Why Savage had kept everyone at bay. Why he’d been a recluse. Why children made him cringe. She got it. She instantly understood his cynicism and why he’d lost faith in mankind.
Make me believe.
He’d reached out to her while holding back the severity of his emotional distress and shielding her from the twisted atrocities in the world.
Make me believe.
She massaged her heart, glanced toward her laptop.
“Who wouldn’t want super powers to vanquish evil?”
Bella couldn’t erase what Savage had witnessed, what he’d lived through and lived with, but she could provide escapism. She could inspire hope.
She smoothed her hand over the beautiful quilt handcrafted by her mom. Bella didn’t have a gift for sewing, but she had a way with words. Armed with purpose and compassion, motivated by disgust and outrage, she shifted to the desk and fired up her laptop. Opening the file for Pendragonites, she scrolled to the introduction of Sir Driscoll, imagined Savage, and took up his quest to vanquish evil.
Chapter Twenty-One
With the music cranked and the door shut, Joe managed to lose himself in three separate art projects. One involved a morbid sketch of the grim reaper. That had come easy. Too easy. The second required more time and thought—a sketch involving special forces, a sniper rifle, and the American flag. Then he futzed around with an idea for Zeke and his storm chasers. A logo involving a tornado. Clichéd, but Zeke had been adamant about including a cyclone in the Z-Crew logo. The man was obsessed with twisters.
As he drew, Joe flashed on Bella’s friend, Emma, a woman who rode shotgun with Zeke in order to photograph dangerous storms. “She’s addicted to the thrill,” Bella had said. Joe was grateful that he’d fallen for an Inseparable who got her kicks via books. He liked Bella’s profession—librarian. He liked her hobby—writing. He liked that she’d grown up in a relatively crime free town and that she was probably typing away right now in his house. A house surrounded by locked gates. Safe. Everything about her life was safe. And he meant to keep it that way. Which was part of the reason he’d come to the decision to raze Funland as quickly as possible.
Archie and Zeke were right. The decrepit park was a safety hazard. He kept imagining Bella enlisting her friends and family in an effort to fix it up. She was so damned positive that the rides and concessions were salvageable. Her gung ho attitude would inspire her to take action, to prove to Joe that he could cut renovation costs by utilizing the time and skills of friends and neighbors. Oh, yeah. He could see it. And it worried him.
Then there was the story Zeke had shared. How long before more kids snuck onto the ground for a thrill or on a dare? It wasn’t safe for anyone and yet Joe had allowed Funland to stand in honor of Mike and in memory of the one good summer of his own childhood.
Time to let go and move on.
Joe glanced at his watch, surprised by the time. He’d been immersed in work for five hours and Bella hadn’t interrupted him once. Was she lost in her own world? Watching a movie? Gabbing with her friends? Working on one of her stories? Although, hell, it was past midnight. She was probably fast asleep. It stung that she hadn’t peeked in or texted him goodnight. It’s not something he’d expected from past girlfriends, but it was something he expected of polite-to-her-toes Bella. Was she angry with him? Wary of him? Had she tripped on the stairs, bashed her head and blacked out?
“Crank it back a notch,” he could hear Val say.
Joe wrapped up his work, killed the music and lights and headed for the house. Killer had spent most of the night curled in his homemade bed, but now he trotted alongside Joe as if walking him to the door. Half way across the yard, thunder rumbled and a fat raindrop smacked Joe’s cheek. Two seconds later, the night sky ripped and rain poured. A wicked wind set the porch swing in motion. Hell was breaking loose.
Joe was half soaked by the time he op
ened his front door. So was the cat. As always Killer tried to race inside and this time Joe let him. He could feel his self-imposed walls crumbling by the minute.
Killer looked up at Joe then settled on the braided doormat, licking himself dry and making himself at home.
“This is a one-time thing,” Joe said, even though he knew it was the start of a new routine. He’d maintained a sanctuary for weeks and then Bella had climbed over his fence. Soon after his barriers had been breached by Archie, Sheriff McClure, and the Inseparables. Tomorrow Zeke and his friend Jimbo were delivering a hunk-of-junk ride for Bella. And now Joe was contemplating hiring a crew to speed renovate the exterior of this house and to take a wrecking ball to Funland.
Given the major onslaught of visitors, Killer’s home invasion ranked as a minor infraction.
Joe moved into the kitchen, filled a small bowl with water in case his guest got thirsty in the night then hoped to hell the cat had a strong bladder. “Pee in this house,” Joe warned the damp tom as he cut toward the stairs, “and it will be the last time you see the inside of it.”
When he hit the second floor he was surprised to find light spilling from beneath Bella’s closed door. He knocked lightly.
No answer.
Peeking in, he saw her slumped over her desk. His heart stopped, his battered mind imagining the worst. But then he noted the rise and fall of her shoulders. She’d fallen asleep. Her laptop was powered up although the screen had gone black. Had she been writing? Researching real estate? Theme parks? It wasn’t his business. He looked away from the screen and squeezed her shoulder. “Bella.”
“Hmm?”
“Wake up, sweetheart.”
She slowly lifted her head and looked at him bleary-eyed. Her hair was tousled and her cheek was creased from where she’d rested her face on her arm and a book. “Are you okay?” she asked in a groggy voice.
The woman was still half asleep. Joe smiled. “Sure. You?”
“Tired.” And still she sat—eyes glazed, hair messed, and looking adorable in striped boxer shorts and a pink tank.
“You work tomorrow, right?” he asked while gently tugging her from the chair. “You should go to bed.” What he really wanted was to take her to bed, but that would be selfish and pushing things.
“Okay,” she said, leaning into him for a hug. “Dad called,” she added in a scratchy voice. “He wanted me to know he wouldn’t be hitting a bar tonight. Said he’s contemplating opening a landscaping business. I don’t know that there’s a lot of call for that type of thing in these parts. Most people do their own yard work. But he’s excited and that makes me happy.”
“I’m glad. For both of you.”
“Thank you for setting him on a new path.”
“You had a big hand in that.”
“Just say, you’re welcome.”
His lip twitched. “You’re welcome.”
She released a contented sigh and gave him one last squeeze. “Goodnight, Joe.”
Smiling, he hooked his finger beneath her chin, stealing a kiss as his way of returning the sentiment. She tasted like chocolate and he had the sudden vision of her nibbling on candy while writing about castles and unicorns, and damn if that didn’t melt more of his iron heart.
“You could stay.”
Tempting, but she still seemed out of it and Joe was preoccupied with thoughts of the future. His. Hers. Thiers. “But then I’d be tempted to keep you awake. See you in the morning, Princess.” He nipped her bottom lip then left before giving into second thoughts.
Joe slipped into his room. He shed his damp clothes and toweled off in the connecting washroom. All the while, thinking, planning. Naked, he crawled into his bed with his phone, searching construction companies as a storm raged outside. One lightning strike could set that whole damned park ablaze. He thought about Bella sleeping in the next room. He had to keep her safe.
Thunder rattled the windowpanes. Rain pelted. Lightning flashed. It sounded like a damned nor’easter. He checked the weather for a tornado warning. Nothing yet, but the night was young. Zeke Mooney had to be loving this.
Unlike Killer who jumped up and burrowed under the extra blanket at the foot of Joe’s bed.
Five minutes later, Bella appeared on the threshold.
“I don’t want you to be alone,” she said in a soft voice, which he assumed was code for: I’m scared.
Joe set aside his phone and pulled back the sheets, inviting her to join him. In the process, she jostled Killer who gave an annoyed yowl.
Bella screwed up her sleepy face. “I thought he wasn’t allowed inside.”
“He got passed me,” Joe lied as he switched off the lamp.
“Or maybe you took pity on him because of the thunderbuster outside?”
“Definitely not.”
She smiled against his chest while settling in and snuggling against him. “You’re a good man, Joe Savage.”
He swallowed hard, thinking back on a few days before when she’d pegged him a monster. She’d been closer to the truth then. What would she say if she knew he’d pounded a man within an inch of his life? If not for Val, he would have killed the bastard without an ounce of regret.
Joe’s mind rehashed the past as the storm raged and Bella clung.
Long after she’d fallen asleep, he finally drifted off. With an angel in his arms and the devil in his soul.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Once upon a Monday…
Bella woke at dawn still wrapped in Savage’s arms. She lay there several minutes, unmoving as she struggled to clear her sluggish mind. Remnants of broken dreams lingered. Dreams of noble knights and good deeds. And nightmares. Those were fuzzy and Bella was glad. They were no doubt rooted in Ryan’s revelation. She had no desire to relive the visions he’d inspired.
She tempered her breathing, her eyes focused on a wall of muscle. On Joe. She was safe. He was safe.
Dude in distress.
Safe.
Not wanting to break contact and still mired in an early morning haze, Bella reasoned her way through her scrambled notions.
Yesterday had been a long and eventful day. The day before much the same. And, yeah, the day before that had been mentally and emotionally exhausting as well. No wonder she was discombobulated. She smiled. She loved that word. The sound of that word. Sort of like derring-do.
Which circled her thoughts back to Savage.
Her senses reeled with his scent, his heat. Her mind glitched as she pushed through the morning fog into full awareness. She was pressed against his hard body. Hard in places she shouldn’t notice, but did, because, hello, he was naked.
Bella cursed a surge of randy thoughts. She was here, in his bed, as a result of noble intentions. Her noble intentions. She’d hugged him through the night, offering all the empathy and comfort and love she could conjure. He’d assumed she was frightened of the storm and she’d allowed him to believe that rather than give up her true motivation.
Part of her wished she’d never pushed Ryan for details regarding Savage’s past. In her wildest dreams she’d never imagined his demons were tied to a sex ring that preyed on children. At least she’d resisted the urge to scour the internet for more specifics regarding that task force. She trusted Ryan had glossed over the more graphic details for good reason. He’d known her for a long time. He knew when she read the daily news she avoided shocking reports in favor of feel good features. He knew she preferred fairy tales over horror fiction. Rom-coms over slasher films.
Even though she’d only been acquainted with Savage for a short time, he knew she interacted with children on a daily basis at the library. He’d seen her in action at story hour. He’d skimmed her fanciful moral tales. He probably assumed she’d be traumatized were she privy to what he’d seen, what he knew. So like a soldier returning from the battlefield, he locked away the horrors of war rather than subject family and friends to his private hell. She appreciated his sensitivity. She respected his privacy. But how did someone funct
ion with all that ugliness festering inside? Would it fade or intensify? Would he cope or would he snap?
She’d spent the last several months hoping, waiting, praying for her dad to open up and to share his sadness regarding the loss of her mom. That day had yet to come and she wondered if it ever would. At least he was on the mend. Which meant she could safely turn her energies to restoring Savage’s faith in mankind. She’d started last night. She’d written her heart out, gifting Sir Driscoll with super powers and his very own winged horse. She’d given him a noble agenda and she’d helped him to see the good in the world.
Spinning that fantasy into reality for Savage might take some time, but she had faith. He wanted to believe and that was a monumental step in the right direction.
For Bella the challenge entailed suppressing everything she’d learned from Ryan. She couldn’t hug Savage—making everything all better in her mind—24/7. Life had to be lived. She was expected at the library this morning and he had an appointment with Tank. More immediately, someone needed to let Killer outside before he had an accident.
Note to self: Buy a kitty box and litter.
Not wanting to disturb the soundly sleeping man, Bella gently extricated herself from their tangled limbs. She swallowed her disappointment, because what sane woman wouldn’t want to indulge in some morning delight with a gorgeous, extremely naked hunk?
Just as she thought she’d made her escape, he nabbed her wrist. “Where are you going?”
“To let Killer outside.”
“I’ll do it. You wait here.”
“I have to shower for work.”
“Use the stall in the main bath. I’ll let Killer out then I’ll join you.”
The ornery spark in his eye triggered an erotic vision. Soaping up with Savage certainly counted as morning delight. Her skin tingled and her cheeks flushed. “Angel’s picking me up at eight. I don’t have a lot of time to fool around.”
“I don’t need a lot of time to make you come.” He tugged her down for a teasing kiss.
