Betraying Innocence

by Phoenix, Airicka

  “I’ll be there,” he murmured.

  She bit her lip as she watched him turn on his heel and start down the steps. She managed to keep quiet the whole time he was walking to his car. It wasn’t until he reached the driver’s side door that she spoke again.

  “Rafe!”

  He glanced up, his expression curious. “Yeah?”

  She grinned slightly. “I really like your haircut. It makes you look…” Hot. Gorgeous. Tempting to touch. Her cheeks warmed and she lowered her gaze. “Nice.”

  His lips parted into a devastating gorgeous smile. “I’ll see you later, Rosa.”

  Her mom was waiting for her when Ana ducked into the house. She rose from the sofa, still donning her ice-blue power suit. A small tower of folders, fliers and magazine articles lay scattered across the coffee table. A fountain pen was dropped unceremoniously on top of the papers her mother had been going over as her mother crossed her arms.

  “Where have you been?”

  Ana frowned, shuffling a couple of steps into the sitting room. “The library.”

  Her mother’s fine eyebrow lifted in a sardonic arch. “And you didn’t think to call me to let me know? I’ve been worried sick wondering what the hell happened. The school nurse calls to tell me you’ve had yet another accident on school property—”

  “It was nothing.” She held up her band aged arm. “Just a sprain.”

  Her mother exhaled loudly. “What has gotten into you? Is this your way of rebelling because we forced you to move here? Are you trying to punish us—?”

  “No!” she cried, horrified. “I told you I didn’t mind moving!”

  “Then what is it?”

  “I’ve just been off my game lately,” she said. “I’m not trying to punish anyone.”

  Mom sighed again. She pressed her eyes closed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m sorry. I’m just having a really bad day. The company is going to hell in a hand basket and I need to be there…” she broke off with another sigh. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

  “Mom, if you need to go … I’ll be okay. I promise.”

  Her mom shook her head. “It’s fine. I’ll deal with it. Do you have homework?”

  The back door flew open and heavy boots pounded against hardwood. A moment later, her father stomped into the doorway, tugging mud encrusted gloves from his fingers.

  “I have most of that jungle tamed,” he said, using the back of his sleeve to wipe away the sweat from his brow. “It might still be a while before it’s an actual yard though.” His green eyes found Ana. He grinned. “Hey, Turnip. Hear you had another accident today.”

  Ana held up her arm. “Just a sprain.”

  He shook his head. “I’m beginning to think we really should wrap you in bubble wrap.”

  She knew he was only teasing, but the last of her patience had been used up and she had no energy in her to humor him.

  “I’m going upstairs to do my homework,” she muttered, stumbling past him and marching up the stairs. She heard her father ask what the matter was and her mother answer, but Ana was already at the top of the stairs and didn’t hear it.

  Mitzy raised his head and glowered at her from his perch on the window seat. She ignored him as she dumped her bag onto the bed and flopped down next to it.

  Rafe

  Rafe felt the heavy silence even before he climbed out of his car. He was pocketing his keys and jogging up the steps to the front door of his house before it even registered that he was holding his breath.

  “Mom?”

  Dan’s booming voice recoiled off the walls and rumbled down the foyer to slam into Rafe, an icy blast of fury that he recognized all too well.

  “Did I not tell you to keep your blasted toys off the table? Didn’t I?” Dan roared.

  Rafe practically ran in search of the source, afraid he might be too late as he rounded the corner and stopped on the threshold leading into the main part of the house.

  His entire family was inside. His mother, small and frail stood next to Dan, anxiously wringing her hands and murmuring Dan’s name in quiet pleading. Gabriella and Michael stood on the opposite side of what used to be the coffee table. A thick carpet of shattered glass lay scattered at their small, bare feet. Amidst them, in the center of the wrapped metal bars that had once held the single sheet of glass, lay a fire truck and Rafe knew instantly what had happened.

  “We’re sorry,” Gabriella croaked, clinging desperately to Michael, who stood stone-faced and frozen next to his sister. His tiny hands were balled into angry fists at his sides. It was only the slight tremor in them that indicated his terror.

  “Sorry?” Dan snarled, his square face a slab of purple and red, like raw meat. “You stupid little shits don’t listen! That’s the problem here. No one listens. You’re all fucking worthless.”

  “Hey!” Rafe stomped into the room, deliberately pulling Dan’s attention away from his siblings.

  “Ray!” His mother lost what little color she still possessed. Her eyes went wide against her small face. She hurried away from Dan’s side and made a beeline for him. “Go. It’s fine. I have this under control.”

  Rafe ignored her. He kept his eyes fixed on Dan as he took her elbow and gently nudged her aside.

  “Oh ho, his royal highness has arrived!” Dan crowed. “Welcome home, your majesty. Have fun with your little whore?”

  Rafe ignored the hot spike of fury that lanced through him, willing himself to remain in control long enough to get his family out of harm’s way.

  “It was an accident,” he said, moving deeper into the room, edging his way to where his siblings stood huddled together. “They’re just kids.”

  “Rafael, please,” his mother begged in barely a whisper.

  “Just kids?” Dan mimicked, blinking his eyes in feigned surprise. “They’re old enough to understand English, aren’t they? They certainly talk enough. Yet they’re too stupid to listen when you tell them not to do something. They got your mother’s brains that’s for sure.”

  Rafe gritted his teeth. His knuckles popped as his fingers curled into ten points of pure rage.

  “Gabby. Mike. Come here,” he told his siblings quietly, never looking away from the man standing on the other side of the room.

  “Oh they’re not going anywhere!” Dan said, moving to position himself between Rafe and the two children.

  “Rafe…” Gabriella squeaked, her terror palatable.

  “Let them go,” Rafe said, the warning crackling in each word.

  Dan barked a laugh. “Or what? You think you’re a man? You think you can take me? I shit little pricks like you.”

  Usually, Rafe would let Dan beat on him until he ran out of steam and stalked off. Had it been him facing the beast alone, Rafe would have done just that. His own safety meant nothing to him. Even if he had to kill the bastard and go to jail, he wasn’t about to let anything happen to Michael or Gabriella.

  “If being a man like you means yelling and scaring little kids, then I’d rather not be,” Rafe said simply, needing to get him away from the twins.

  Dan’s eyes bulged. His complexion took on a veiny purple tone. Spit flew when he bellowed, “I am their father! I can yell at them if I want. I can beat the fuck out of them and no one can say shit because it’s my right. This is my house, boy.”

  “It’s my mother’s house,” Rafe corrected smartly. “You’re just garbage she picked up on her way home one day.”

  He never saw the backhand coming until the impact sent him sprawling across the ground. His mother’s scream muffled the loud shrill in his ears as he fought not to throw up. He rolled onto his back and found Dan looming over him, hands massive fists at his sides. He was saying something, but it was drowned out by the wails of his mother and the sobs of his sister. His stomach heaved as the coppery tang of blood filled his mouth. Better him than Michael or Gabby, he thought, not bothering to rise. So long as Dan’s focus was fixed on him, his family was safe.

  Ham-sized han
ds closed in his shirt and he was hefted up like a ragdoll and shaken. Rafe tried to fight the bigger man off, but was met with a fist to the eye, momentarily blackening the world into non-existence. Stars exploded and everything dimmed before roaring back into focus with ferocious velocity.

  “You think you’re something, don’t you, boy?” Hands the size of catcher mitts closed around Rafe’s windpipe, constricting the delicate vents and denying him every breath.

  “Let him go, Dan! Let him go!” his mother was screaming from somewhere above him as he kicked and fought to get even an inch between the vice and his the precious wisps of air he desperately tried to drag in. But he was a puppy at the mercy of a bear.

  “Get Gabby and Mike!” he croaked to his mother who was trying to pull her husband off her son.

  Dan shook him. “You ungrateful little punk!” he spat into Rafe’s face while simultaneously planting a knee into Rafe’s ribs, knocking out what little air he had left. “No one would give two shits if I killed you right now and buried your worthless body out back. Nobody!”

  “That’s enough!” The voice was foreign, loud and dominating and filled with a cold sort of fury that commanded respect.

  Rafe was released as Dan’s hands vanished from his throat. He collapsed on the carpet of glass, wheezing and coughing as he fought to roll over and catch sight of his savior. And instantly wished Dan had just killed him.

  Richard French stood like an impenetrable force of raw rage darkening the doorway leading into the sitting room. His wide shoulders were set with a tension that seemed to course down the length of his impressive height. Anger crackled around the hard fists balled at his sides. Green eyes so much like Ana’s glowed with an intensity that chilled Rafe to the bone, and it wasn’t even aimed at him. He quickly scrambled to his feet, ignoring the splinters of pain along his side.

  “Get away from the boy.” Each word was cut from a slab of concrete.

  “Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my house?” Dan snarled. His giant boots shook the hardwood and scattered bits of glass as he stomped in the direction of the intruder.

  Mr. French remained resolute, not so much as batting an eyelash when Dan moved into his personal space with his bulky frame. “What I am is your worst nightmare if you put your hands on that kid again.”

  Dan looked momentarily taken aback as he stared at the much more masculine man looming over him.

  Dan was tall and built like a truck, but over the years, most of that had turned to fat that sat collected around his middle. Despite that, he was still big and had hands that could crush a man’s skull. Rafe knew. He’d almost had it happen to him a few times. Mr. French was pure toned muscle. He was a man who spent his life doing hard manual labor and it showed. It was no competition who would win if Dan was stupid enough to start something.

  “No, let me tell you what you are,” Dan said, pulling himself up to his full height and still coming two inches too short. “You’re the guy I’m about to have arrested and charged for breaking into my house.”

  Mr. French’s eyes narrowed, contradicting the slow smirk that raised the corner of his mouth. “Would you like to put money on that?” He reached around behind him and removed a cell phone. “Please, let me dial the police for you.”

  Rafe almost laughed and would have if his mother hadn’t taken that moment to rush forward.

  “Please, don’t—”

  “Shut up, Heather! This doesn’t concern you,” Dan growled at her, shoving her back with the arm he threw out when she got closer. “Get those damn kids out of here.”

  Casting Mr. French another pleading glance, she hurried over to usher a weeping Gabriella and a stone-faced Michael out of the room. Rafe considered following them, but stayed.

  “I really hate men like you,” Mr. French said quietly, every word dripping with venomous truth. “Men who think they’re worth something because they bully those smaller than them. I honestly don’t think anyone would miss you if you disappeared.”

  Dan’s face went a nasty shade of purple. “You have no business coming into my house!”

  “I came to see Rafe,” Mr. French said calmly. “The front door was open and I heard screaming, and as a concerned neighbor I felt like it was my duty to make sure the children were safe.”

  Dan curled and uncurled his fingers. “You have no business here. This is a family matter. Get out.”

  Mr. French ignored him. Piercing green eyes swept over Dan’s round shoulder and settled on Rafe. “Come with me, Rafe.”

  “Whoa there, pal.” Dan put his hands up before Rafe could even open his swollen lips. “He’s not going anywhere with you. Who the hell are you anyway?”

  “Dad!” Rafe recognized that voice immediately and stiffened even before Ana barged into the room, hair a wild riot of curls around her flushed face.

  Rafe cursed, wanting to die, wishing he’d left when he’d had the chance. It was bad enough having her father standing up for him, something no one had ever done before, but he really did not want her to see him at his lowest.

  She stopped just behind her father, her green eyes wide and pleading. “Dad, please—”

  “Go back home, Ana,” her father said without glancing at her.

  “Don’t do this,” she hissed in a low whisper. “Please, I—” Her gaze swung over the room, jumping over Dan and locking on to his. Her mouth parted in a silent gasp as her eyes went even rounder. “Rafe!”

  “Ana—!”

  She ignored her father and was in front of Rafe before anyone could stop her. “Oh my God! What happened?”

  “Go home, Ana,” he told her, catching her arm in a gentle grip when she reached for him. He knew he’d do something stupid if she touched him, like pull her into his arms and bury his hurting face into all that hair.

  “What? No, I—”

  Rafe’s gaze shot over her head to where Dan stood watching her, his hazel brown eyes lit with a sick sort of interest. The glint in them made Rafe’s stomach churn and his blood spike several hundred degrees in rage. His fingers tightened on Ana’s elbow.

  “Please!” he hissed, moving her himself, dragging her back to the door and past, keeping his body between her and Dan in passing. “Go!”

  He didn’t release her until her father had her, pulling her back and away to safety. Not that the foyer was very safe. She wouldn’t be safe until she was out of that house.

  “Come with us, Rafe,” her father said again, keeping a firm grip on Ana.

  Rafe searched her pale face, her soft mossy eyes and wanted nothing more than to say yes. He took a step back. “My family needs me here,” he murmured.

  Mr. French looked like he was ready to argue, but he must have seen he wouldn’t win. He gave an accepting nod and turned his cutting attention on Dan.

  “This isn’t over. If I see you touch a single hair on his head again, I’ll break your arms.”

  Dan curled back his lips and sneered, but was wise enough to keep his mouth shut. His complexion of bruised tomatoes had washed out to a pasty white that made him appear ill.

  With a last look at Rafe, Mr. French nudged Ana down the foyer and out the door. He shut it behind them and Rafe was alone with his own personal demon.

  Nothing was said for several long moments, but Rafe could feel the twist in the air. There was a weight there he didn’t like. His theory was proven correct when Dan turned slowly towards him, his thin lips mutated into a vicious leer. His eyes bore into Rafe, pits of triumphant glee.

  “So, that’s the little whore you’ve been cuddling up to.” He slid a pink tongue over his bottom lip. “Can’t say I blame you. I wouldn’t mind sinking between her—”

  Rafe had no recollection of snapping the steel rod off the destroyed coffee table frame, but it was in his hands as though it had materialized there. It struck the side of Dan’s skull with a sickening crack that sent the bigger man sailing sideways into the wall. The impact sang up Rafe’s arms with a satisfying pang. His blood roared
through his veins. His heart thumped with a single chant, kill him! Kill him! He wanted to. He wanted to bathe the carpet in Dan’s blood. He wanted to wash the walls with it. He suddenly understood why his father had done it, why he had killed without a single shred of remorse. He started to raise the rod again, but only just caught himself.

  He twisted it around length wise and rammed it up under Dan’s chin, cramming it into his windpipe and holding it there as Dan squeaked and flailed like a chicken on its way to the chopper’s block.

  “You touch her,” Rafe growled into Dan’s slack-jawed expression. “You so much as look at her and I’ll fucking kill you in your sleep.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Ana

  Eleven-thirty wouldn’t come fast enough. Ana had never watched her clock so closely, any closer and she was afraid it would file for harassment charges against her. But she couldn’t get Rafe’s battered face out of her mind. She couldn’t stop seeing the blood dripping down his chin and the dark circle forming around his eye. Her father hadn’t said a word to her about what had happened before her arrival, but she wasn’t stupid. That ugly beast of a man must have been Dan. She only knew him by voice from her night in Rafe’s room, but it was in his face, the meanness. She had no doubt it was him and he was the one who had put his hands on Rafe.

  Anger flooded through her, hot and thick. She wanted to hit something, but knew it wouldn’t do any good. She was no match for Dan and he was the one she wanted to beat her fists into.

  A discarded shoe took the blunt of her frustration. It sailed across the room and struck the wall. Mitzy grumbled at her haughtily while continuing the delicate grooming of his paws.

  Ana ignored him as she continued her pacing.

  By eleven, she couldn’t help wonder if maybe he wouldn’t come. What if he’d changed his mind? What if he was too hurt? There were too many possibilities, too many reasons why he would change his mind and wash his hands of her, one of them being her father.

  She hadn’t expected he would stomp over there, hell bent on having a chat with the boy getting a little too close to his daughter. But she’d run after him when she’d seen him trudging across the jungle of weeds, over the broken fence to the yard on the other side. She had tried to explain that Rafe made her feel safe, which of course was ludicrous when she had to agree with her parents that he was pure danger in the flesh. But it was better than telling them he was trying to protect her from a demon. They’d lock her away for sure.