by Beth Ciotta
When her cousin had finished venting her spleen, Chrissy had voiced her suggestion and, together, they’d all devised a plan. By the time they got to dessert, talk had turned back to Chrissy’s new outlook on men and her yet-to-be-named online store. She’d been energized, riding a wave of optimism all the way home. Doubts started creeping in as soon as she saw Melody who looked so much like Mason. By the time Chrissy had tucked her sweet daughter into bed for the night, her spirits took a nose dive.
She knew it was because she’d kept most of her thoughts and feelings about Mason to herself. Almost five years of stewing and festering. Talk about needing to vent one’s spleen. She needed to talk to someone. Someone she trusted. Someone who would listen and not preach. Someone out of her physical immediate circle.
She’d texted Sinjun, who’d promised to Skype Chrissy at 10pm. It was now ten-o-five.
Dressed in sweats and a tee, Chrissy fluffed the pillows between her back and her secondhand headboard. She glanced at her bedroom door—still firmly shut—then took a swig from her water bottle.
Her tablet sing-songed with an incoming call and she nearly choked, juggling the bottle while immediately connecting. The long-distance Inseparable appeared on Chrissy’s seven-inch screen. As always when they did these video chats, Sinjun was in the shadows. “Hey, Sin,” she said while tweaking the tablet’s brightness. “Thanks for doing this.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t hook up sooner. Late work day.”
“Not for anything, but you have a lot of those.”
“I don’t mind. Labor of love.”
“They need to pay you more. Labor of love, or not.”
Chrissy didn’t know who they were. Sinjun was secretive about her work. Considering she was whip smart and involved in analysis, Bella had fostered the idea that Sinjun worked as a tech geek for a government agency, gathering sensitive intel that she couldn’t discuss. Chrissy was less fanciful but sometimes her brain did go there.
“Between you and me,” Sinjun said, “I handle special needs cases on my own dime. It’s better that way. So what’s up?”
Chrissy was dying to ask Sinjun what she meant by “special needs” but she knew her friend would dodge the question so instead she selfishly focused on herself. “I recently decided to turn my life around but that involves letting go…” Chrissy breathed deep and blurted her biggest secret. “Letting go of someone I love.”
Sinjun leaned toward the camera. She tucked her long hair behind her ears and crooked a soft smile that hit Chrissy hard. “Talk to me, Christmas.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Once upon a Friday…
Instead of flying into O’Hare, Joe had opted to drive the distance. Rational thought came easier on the open road. He knew the beast would claw through the last of his shaky restraints as soon as he got a glimpse of Sasha’s battered body. Somehow, someway he needed to leash his temper, to control his impulses. He needed to think before acting. He focused on justice not vengeance.
Upon arrival, his first stop had been Val’s. Their reunion had been charged with varied emotions, but she’d provided facts and perspective—everything Joe needed to toe the line. By the end of their discussion, he’d agreed to trust Val and her team to collar Sasha’s attacker. If they traced the beating to Leo-the-Lion, Joe had vowed to keep a wide berth.
“You have to know he’s taunting you,” Val had said. “Stoop to his level and you’ll land your ass in jail. I won’t be happy if that happens and neither will your lady friend in Nowhere.”
Later that night, Joe had filled Val in on Bella. After he’d visited Sasha. After he’d dulled his misery with two shots of whiskey. In order to hold the beast at bay, he’d embraced thoughts of Princess Rainbow. Liquor and Val’s relentless nudging had loosened his tongue. He’d told her about the small town librarian who wrote big tales about flying horses and enchanted knights. He’d confessed his addiction to Bella’s sweet, fanciful nature and million-dollar hugs. He’d shared an idea that had been simmering in the back of his brain regarding Funland.
Ever since, every time Joe’s temper flared—and Val well knew the signs—she recited all he had to lose should he fly off the handle.
Like he needed a reminder.
He did, however, need an outlet.
Twice during the week, he’d ridden hard in search of Zen. Something he’d done a million times before. Unfortunately, navigating the Loop had lost its appeal. He’d fared no better on the congested expressway. Instead, he suffered culture shock. Last month, he’d wrestled with the desolation of Nowhere. Now he craved it.
Unable to achieve serenity via his bike, Joe turned to his art. He sketched and doodled on numerous napkins, random receipts, and the notepad he kept in his hip pocket. He also filled several pages of the larger pad he’d bought at a nearby art store in addition to a tin of pastel pencils.
His first instinct had been to draw grim images that reflected his angst and disgust, but then he remembered the blissful look on Chrissy’s daughter’s face when he’d presented her with that cartoonish fairy. Melody’s smile and elation had soothed his bruised soul. He’d felt her joy. He’d experienced a similar wordless exchange when he’d presented Sasha with a sketch of an angel. Not an avenging angel, but a guardian angel—fierce yet compassionate.
Though Sasha’s face was contorted with swelling and discoloration, Joe had caught a glimmer of appreciation in her shy, troubled eyes. That small signal had inspired him to breach his comfort zone. Rather than muscling his way into the investigation regarding the girl’s assault, he’d faced his own demons head on, dividing his time between Sasha’s room and the pediatric unit.
Since then, Sasha’s attacker had been apprehended. A small dose of satisfaction tainted by the fact that the bastard’s lips were sealed regarding his motivation. Joe wasn’t the only one who suspected the assault had been engineered by Leo-the-Lion. So Joe remained, determined to ride out the investigation. He’d also set a relocation plan into motion for Sasha and her legal guardian.
Then there was Mitzi’s wedding.
His former partner’s daughter had sought him out, making him promise, yet again, he’d show on her special day. Mitzi’s hug had cinched the deal. Before Bella, he would have tensed.
His upbringing had involved hard knocks not warm embraces. Even his training as a cop had taught him to be wary of physical contact. He was not a demonstrative man. Although it would seem that had changed. He craved Bella’s affection and he hadn’t shied from Mitzi’s. Nope. He’d just sort of crumbled. Though the prospect of enduring a social event attended by past colleagues was unappealing, especially without the company of Bella, Joe had assured Mitzi he’d be there when she walked down this aisle.
“Figured I’d find you in pediatrics.”
Jerked out of his thoughts, Joe looked up from his sketchpad and saw Val peering over his shoulder.
“A winged pink cat?” she asked with a bemused smile.
“He drawed it specially for me,” said the little girl in the bed next to Savage. “I said I knowed if she could, my kitty, Bubbles, would fly here to see me. I miss her and mommy said she misses me. He drawed me this one, too!” She proudly displayed another sketch for Val’s inspection. “Cool, huh?”
“Very cool,” Val said to the girl then squeezed Joe’s shoulder. “See you a sec?”
“Hang in there, kid.” Joe winked down at Holly (“I’m-almost-five”) Longmire, marveling that someone so small and so sick, possessed such an indomitable spirit. Most all of the kids he’d spent time with were optimistic no matter the severity of their malady. It was humbling and a whopping kick in the ass.
“Not for anything,” Val said as they stepped into the bustling corridor, “but it’s a little weird watching badass you drawing rainbows, castles, and magical creatures. Weird, but nice.”
Joe didn’t comment, though “weird-but-nice” pretty much reflected his own thoughts on the subject. Maybe he couldn’t protect every child from the dep
ravity and injustice in the world, but he could promote a moment of joy and perhaps even inspire courage or hope. Even that small effort was better than bald avoidance. He suddenly got why Bella rejoiced in her story hour. He wasn’t about to don a princess gown or a comical hat, but he could damn well draw a fantastical scene. It’s not that he’d ever lacked the talent to create flying pink cats. He’d lacked inspiration. Bella had recognized and changed that.
“Earth to Joe.”
“Sorry.” Turning his attention to Val, he slung his pack of supplies over his shoulder. “What’s up?”
“Let me preface this by saying, she called me.”
“She?”
“Bella.”
He tensed. “Is she okay?”
“She’s fine and…she’s here.”
“In Chicago?”
“In Mercy.”
“What the—”
“She called me from O’Hare, introduced herself, and asked if I knew where you were.”
“Why didn’t she contact me?”
“She was worried you’d send her back on the next plane to Nowhere.”
“Damn right, I would.”
“She didn’t want to give you that option. Didn’t want to give you a head’s up, so—”
“She called you.” Joe raked his hair off of his face, tempered his tone. “You could have given me a head’s up.” Hell, McClure should’ve sent news. So much for relying on the local law.
“I promised Bella I wouldn’t.” Val tucked her dark, wiry curls behind both ears. “You’re right about her, by the way. Tougher than she looks. Looks like a freaking white-bread model for Ivory soap. Caught me by surprise when I picked her up at the airport. Sweet. Modest. So, not your type, Savage.”
“You gave her a lift?”
“Considering she’s not a seasoned traveler, figured you kill me if I let her take a cab.”
Joe’s heart pounded—partly in annoyance, partly in anticipation. “Where is she?”
“With Sasha.”
Joe bolted down the hall. Sasha was on the mend, but damn, she looked bad. Broken leg, fractured ribs, busted hand, and a busted jaw. Bruises. Cuts. Bella would be horrified.
Val kept pace. “Crank it down a notch, Savage. If anyone can brighten Sasha’s outlook, it’s your goody-two-shoes librarian. Wait’ll you see what she’s wearing.”
They both nodded at the uniformed cop standing watch at Sasha’s door—a lingering precaution—then quietly moved inside.
Bella was sitting on the edge of Sasha’s bed, reading her a story. Her back was to Joe, but he knew her voice, her animated demeanor, and he damn well knew that costume. She was wearing that glittery, puffy, yellow princess gown. The same gown she’d worn when she’d rolled across the lavender field on that red riding mower to give him hell. Joe’s heart kicked. She turned her head slightly and he noted a sparkly tiara. Princess Rainbow in full fairy tale mode. He tuned into her words, the story, and realized she was reading Cinderella.
To an abused and sexually exploited twelve-year-old with a brutal past and a questionable future.
It struck him as ridiculous and warmed every fiber of his once cold heart. Knowing Bella, her intent was clear. To dazzle Sasha, a young girl mired in horrific reality, with a sense of whimsy and hope.
“No wonder you love her,” Val whispered.
Oh, yeah. He loved Bella. With a fire that scorched rational thought. He’d do anything to protect her. Anything to shield her from the ugliness of his world and the instability of his temper. That’s why he’d distanced himself this past week. Even though it had been the loneliest week of his life.
Bella paused and looked over her shoulder, smiling at Joe. Had she known they were there all along? Had she heard Val’s whispered words? Bella had declared her love, but Joe hadn’t reciprocated. Not vocally. That she was here, now, was a brain buster. He’d deserted her when she’d begged him to stay. He’d communicated via infrequent texts, not wanting to speak at length or to bond over a phone discussion. For all intents and purpose, he’d been rude. Again. An insensitive monster.
Yet, she’d flown on her own to Chicago and made her way here. To him.
Damn.
“This is a good place to stop,” Bella said to Sasha. “What I call a cliffhanger.” She stuck a bookmark between the pages then gently placed the book in the girl’s one good hand. “This,” Bella said while leaning closer, bright smile intact, “is one of my all-time favorite books. I want you to have it. My gift to you. If you liked the story, you can continue reading anytime you want. Or I can come back and we can read some more together.”
To Joe’s surprise, Sasha hugged the book to her chest as if it were as precious to her as an electronic tablet or some other expensive device. He then watched as the girl motioned for a pad and pen. Bella handed her the writing implements Joe had left on the bedside table then read what Sasha wrote. Bella beamed ear to ear, saying, “You’re welcome.”
As if that heart melting exchange wasn’t enough, Bella turned thoughtful, taking in Sasha’s many afflictions—lingering on her busted jaw.
“It’s gotta stink, not being able to talk just now,” she said. “Communicating through writing is great, but I know another way, too. I have a little friend who’s deaf and we use sign language to share our thoughts. Would you like me to show you a couple of phrases?”
Sasha’s interest and joy were evident. Apparently she wasn’t too old or too jaded to fall under the spell of an enchanting princess. Suddenly Joe felt like a voyeur, horning in on a special moment between two new friends. He caught Bella’s eye and nodded, backing out of the room with Val in tow.
“Damn,” Val said when the door clicked shut behind them. “Is Goldilocks for real?”
“Yeah,” Joe said, wondering how he’d survived this week without a full dose of Bella Mooney. “She is.”
* * *
Bella was a jumble of emotions as she left Sasha’s room. Nervous about Savage’s reaction to her arrival. Furious and horrified regarding the extent of Sasha’s injuries. Inspired by the kid’s courage and tender heart. Her attacker had battered her body, but not her spirit. Not wholly.
Bella had no doubt Savage had spent the week consoling the young girl and boosting her confidence. She’d seen the sketches taped within Sasha’s viewing distance—definitely Joe’s work—and Bella had brimmed with pride. He’d probably promised to keep Sasha safe—somehow, some way—and to make things right. Bella couldn’t blame him if he’d gone into Avenging Angel mode. Not after seeing Sasha for herself. Bella had been shocked and sickened, marveling at the inhumanity of the beating. But she’d held it together. She’d summoned all of her goodwill and optimism, wanting to make an impression on that tormented girl, to provide her with even a spark of hope and joy. She was pretty sure she’d succeeded, but by the time she stepped into the hall, her cheery façade was crumbling.
Someone gently nabbed her wrist, preventing her from walking into a supply cart. She’d been so distracted. Her heart pounded as she looked up into Savage’s dark eyes.
“Why are you here, Bella?”
“I came for the hot dogs. Chicago-style. You promised to buy me one, remember? And I came…I came for you. I was worried and I…I thought you might need a friend. Might need me,” she blurted as tears burned her eyes. Her composure collapsed as she choked on a sob.
“I hope the man, the low-life that did…did that,” she said with a glance to Sasha’s door, “rots in jail!”
The first tear fell just as Savage pulled her into his arms. She grabbed two fistfuls of his shirt and held tight as she wept against his chest. She hiccupped twice, trying to silence the sobs scraping her throat. She felt stupid and weak, but the tears wouldn’t stop. She probably looked like a loon, dressed in her sparkly gown and tiara with a tattered backpack slung over her shoulders. She didn’t care. And Savage made no effort to shush or hide her. He simply held her and hugged her tightly—his strong hand stroking her spine. He felt good and r
ight and her aching heart swelled with affection.
In a massive effort, Bella sucked it up and sniffed back tears. She pushed back and swiped her forearm across her wet cheeks. “I’m okay. I’m… I’m good. Great. Sorry. I think… I was anxious about traveling alone and worried you might send me away. And then Sasha… I wasn’t prepared… She’s so skinny, so young…she caught me off guard. I cracked, but I’m good now.” She looked up at her dark prince, her dream partner, with her heart in her eyes. “Please don’t send me away.”
He smiled then, a gentle smile that cocooned her in empathy. “Thank you for coming.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Savage did not send Bella away. He did, however, insist they leave the hospital. Fresh air would do her good.
Wiped out from her meltdown, she didn’t argue.
She slipped into a bathroom, changed out of her gown and tiara and into a tunic and jeans. After stuffing the princess gear into her backpack, she exited the stall, relieved to see she was still the lone occupant of the public bathroom. More time to compose herself.
Chest tight, Bella moved to the sink, splashed cool water on her face then pulled her hair into a ponytail. She couldn’t remedy her puffy eyes, so she slapped on a second coat of raspberry lip gloss.
There. That was better.
Sort of.
When she moved back into the hall, Savage was speaking with Val who glanced over and winked at Bella. Valerie Petrie, Bella had learned on the ride from O’Hare to Mercy, exuded calm and confidence and possessed wicked sharp wit. She was tough but kind. She was also loyal. She’d talked about a lot of things on the nerve-racking drive—Was there always so much crazy traffic?—but she hadn’t uttered a word about the incident that had involved her tasing Savage.
“Joe was inquiring about your luggage,” the plain-clothed detective said as Bella joined them. “I told him, one bag and it’s still in my car.”
