He shifted his hips, settling deeper into the couch. He turned sideways to face her, softening his tone, but kept it matter-of-fact as he reached out and toyed with her hair, wrapping a curl around his index finger. “Your idea of suicide counseling resources, and our hacking through medical records, led us to answers of what went wrong. But really, we didn’t have to look too hard. Lamonte found the counselor that the hospital referred Pic to after they treated him for slashing his wrists, which occurred three weeks before his mother was murdered. We have ways of getting people to talk to us, and Lamonte was prepared to use every coercive technique in her considerable arsenal. Instead, Doctor Jonas Trimble greeted her with profound relief. He spilled his guts. He’s looked for Pic, but done a damn amateurish job of finding him.
“To sum it up. Fourteen-year-old Pic had three sessions with Doctor Trimble over ten days, from his admission into the hospital for slashing his wrists until the November 7 murder of his mother. In his third session, on November 5, Pic spilled his guts. Told Trimble that he’d been repeatedly sexually assaulted, spanning a two-year time span.”
Andi drew a deep breath. Gulped down some air as her insides clenched with sorrow for Pic. “Oh, Gabe—”
“I know.”
Seeing worry for her appear in Gabe’s eyes, she shook her head. “Go on.”
“Pic wouldn’t give Trimble a name. Trimble was instituting procedures to have child protective services investigate further, and possibly remove Pic from the custody of his mother, when news broke of his mother’s murder. Blunt force trauma to the head. A weapon was never recovered. Evidently, as authorities arrived, one of the officers stated that they saw a young man matching Pic’s description running from the scene.” Gabe shrugged. “I’m guessing he kept running. Straight to New Orleans, I think, given how long you’ve known him.”
Gabe lifted her hand out of her lap, holding it in his. “Which doesn’t surprise me in the least, given what else Lamonte’s pieced together based on information from Trimble and others, mostly neighbors in the trailer park where Pic and Aubrey Rose lived.”
“What?”
“We strongly suspect the pedophile boyfriend was the long-time chief of police of that town. Clarence Walker. Neighbors place him as a repeat late-night visitor at Pic’s home. And an after school visitor. Neighbors can even place him there, at Aubrey Rose’s trailer, on the day of the murder. The body was discovered around four in the afternoon. Marge Smith, the closest neighbor, heard yelling, then it got quiet. She saw Clarence show up, yelling started again, and then there was quiet. She saw Pic run away, then Clarence left, and a patrol car came in.”
Rage took hold of her gut. “That explains why Pic was so scared to tell his side of the story. Or talk to anyone.”
“Yeah. And why he ran, and kept running, when he heard sirens that day. Walker ruled that town for ten years. He was asked to step down three months ago, which is one reason people—including Marge Smith—are talking freely now.”
“Why did he step down?”
“Two other young men have accused Walker of repeated charges of rape. And there’s noise that others are coming forward. Criminal charges are pending. Lamonte’s going to visit Walker tonight. She’ll continue her investigative work, because we’ve still got that murder warrant to contend with.” Gabe paused, his jaw set, his eyes glinting with rage. “But I have a strong feeling everything will work itself out.”
“How?”
“I own this problem. I’ll take care of it as the situation deserves. And in that regard, Andi—” His gaze held a hardness that she hadn’t imagined could be possible. “—I will not give you details.”
Chapter Forty
Andi
Saturday, February 20, 2 a.m.
Flames tore at Andi’s back.
Scorching, agonizing heat pressed into the thin, sensitive, skin.
Wrists bound to her ankles, the bindings forced her into a fetal position, bending her naked, exposed back. Powerless to move. Suffocating from having her mouth on his cock.
Pain was unending and excruciating. Within the swirling sea of pain and screams, the ominous click of the lighter became a cannon blast that quieted her as she braced for more. The flare of flame caught her attention, then he waved the freshly lit cigarette before her tear-drenched eyes.
Heart pounding loudly enough to block out other sounds, she braced for the sharp bite of pain as he pressed the red tip inches from where he’d last marked her.
Hold it.
He laughed when she screamed, so she tried not to. Until the pungent, sweet stink of her own burning flesh filled her red world.
One—two—three—four—five—
Find me. Find me. Find me.
Goddammit, is anybody looking for me?
She screamed until she passed out to the sound of his sick laughter.
“Andi! It’s Gabe. I’m here.”
Smelling salts lurched her back to consciousness.
Lighter.
Click.
Flame touching the fresh cigarette.
Burning tip, to her skin.
Hold it. Hold it. Hold it.
Smoke.
One—two—thr—
“Andi, I’m here. With you. Hold on to me.”
Lifting her chin to Gabe’s voice, she was able to breathe before she felt another cigarette burning the flesh along her spine. Howling, because she couldn’t stop slipping away to a world where the devil tortured her.
“Wake up. Shake it off. Come on, my strong girl. It’s Gabe. I’m with you.”
End this.
Kill me.
Please kill me. It hurts. It hurts so bad.
“Fight, Andi. Fight. You can do this, Andi.” Gabe’s voice was getting closer. “You’re in your studio. I’ve got you. You’re safe. Fight it, dammit. Fight it.”
I’m trying. But he’s been at this for…f-f-f-forever…and it hurts so bad I want to…die. Dear God, please take me. He’s too sadistic to kill me. But I want you to take me.
Dear God. Please.
“That’s my girl. Hold on. To me. Like you’re doing.”
Let me die. This time, end it. A fresh scorching circle of torture went deep into her back. Ow. Please.
“Baby. Hold on. I’m not going to leave you. Not going to leave you. Not ever. You understand me?”
Ah. I can feel Gabe’s hands. If I hold on, he’ll pull me out. Pull. P-P-Please. Gabe. Please. Please. Pull me out of this burning hell.
“That’s it, Andi. Breathe. Look at me.”
I’m trying.
My eyes are open. Why can’t I see you?
Lighter. Click. Flame—
Oh. No. Gabe. Please.
“Come on, Andi. Goddammit. Open your eyes!”
Like a mirror shattering, fear and pain crashed around her, leaving her out of breath and numb. Darkness swirled as the night terror receded, threatening to take her with it, but she held onto Gabe, who was on his knees in front of her. Her hands grasped his wrists and he pulled her forward, away from the red-laced darkness, to him.
Wrong Gabe. Worried-to-death Gabe. Worried sick for me.
Shutting her eyes, she drifted into the safety of his arms as he closed them around her. With her consciousness foggy, she felt Gabe lift her. Heard him talking to someone, as he cradled her like a baby on his lap, hugged her close, and whispered, “It’s over. You’re fine. It’s over Andi. You’re fine.”
After a while, she was able to open her eyes. Shaking herself, she remembered the day. Remembered that Pic had disappeared. Remembered everything that had happened up until she decided to lie on the couch in her studio and rest for a few minutes. But after that, she didn’t recall what had transpired that had Gabe whispering to her, as he tried to keep her centered.
She didn’t need to recall it. The severity of her most recent night terror was written all over his face. As he lifted a hand to stroke her chin, she saw fingernail gouges at his wrists. Her nails.
Decisio
n made.
Pushing his hands away from her face, she said, “I will not do this to you.”
“Don’t—”
Pulling away from him, she stood, locking her knees and pressing her palms against his chest to remain upright. “If you stick around, I’ll drain the life out of you. Every ounce of joy, every positive thought. I will suck out all your happiness. You don’t know what I’m fighting.” She fought to find the right words, because her thoughts remained disassembled from the nightmare. With fatigue bearing down on her, standing took effort that made clear speaking difficult. “You. Don’t. Know. Promise me. Pic returns. You leave. Promise me.”
“Because you had night terrors at the end of a colossally bad day? Because you scratched my wrists?” He held up his wrists, showed them to her. Three-inch long gouge marks, trails of her terror, oozed fresh blood. “This is nothing. Nothing. You understand that? I’m signing on, Andi. Wherever this road might take us. Your past was part of you from the minute I started falling for you and I will not let it defeat us. Do you understand that?”
Downright drifty and woozy from the nightmare, she shook her head. “Eyes can only see so much, Gabe. Even yours. You’ll never know what really happened.” A little clearer, she added, “There are things that torment me even more than how Victor burned me. I…don’t think I could tell you those things. Even if I wanted to. Which I don’t, because you’ll look at me like I’m pathet—”
He held his index finger to her lips, gently interrupting her rant. Eyes glinting with a look she couldn’t decipher, he said, “I’ve got to tell you something.”
Fresh fear jarred her. “What?”
He drew a deep breath. Looked away, then back at her, his cheeks flushed red.
“Dammit, Gabe. What?”
“I know all those things. I read your journals.”
Drawing in a deep breath, she couldn’t comprehend his words. And then suddenly, she did. She opened her mouth to say something, but no words came.
“Yeah. I’m not proud of it.”
“But, how? When?”
“I knew there was a false wall in your studio. My rationale was that I had asked you for all the keys, and you didn’t provide all of them to me. Given the enormity of the breach of trust, my excuse seems lame, now, but I was supposed to have access to the entire premises—”
“That doesn’t mean you could read something so private—”
“I know. It’s inexcusable. I saw a boundary and I damn well leapt right over it. And since I’m giving you one hundred percent honesty, I’m now convinced I did the right thing, because you’d never tell me those things. You’d always use your secrets to drive barriers between us. Like you just tried to do.”
No words. She had no words for the enormity of what he was saying.
“I want all of you Andi. Not just the fragmented parts you allow the world to see. Yeah, I was a dick to read something that personal, that intimate. I’m sorry for invading your privacy, but I’m not sorry that I got to see you raw and real.”
“But,” she protested, shaking her head, thinking that she must be dreaming. Again. “This doesn’t make sense. You wouldn’t—”
“Sure I would. Let me remind you what Ragno told you the other night. Don’t let my smile fool you. If I’m an angel, I’m a dark one. I don’t just protect people, I damn well fight battles for them. And to do that, I leap over any barrier put in my way. I picked the lock last Sunday. The second day I was here. Sat in that room—” He gestured with his head to her private alcove. “—and read your secrets for hours.” His gaze held hers. “I know everything, Andi. From the sexual assault that you never told anyone about, to how you were trying to kill yourself when you met Pic. Everything. And that’s part of why I’ve fallen in love with you. You understand me? Because I understand how goddamn brave you are. On top of being captivated by everything about you at first sight, your paintings, your eyes, and even your feet.” He paused, then his eyes became serious. “I understand the depth of your struggle. I’d be honored to help you fight it. Let me. Please forgive me so we can move past this.”
As waves of understanding lapped at her, she realized that she was living a dream that would have no ending. Because it wasn’t a dream. In the moments where she stood silent, however, the weight of untold horrors started lifting from her chest. Someone knows. And that someone is him. “I know you think you can handle this, but—”
“There’s no ‘but’ in this discussion, Andi. You can ask me to leave for the rest of your life. The only way I’ll goddamn listen to you is if you tell me in your heart of hearts that you want me to leave, because you don’t think there’s ever a possibility for you to love me. If it’s because you’re worried of what being around you does to me, you can keep those thoughts to yourself. Now,” he said, giving her a small smile, his voice soothing, “it’s two forty-five in the morning. I’ve got absolutely nothing new to report to you, except Brandon is on the first floor, being resident agent in charge of your job and Operation Pic while I get a few hours of sleep. Both of us desperately need some rest, so we can get through tomorrow. What do you say we stop talking and do that together?”
Give in. For the moment, just goddamn give in.
Together, they went down the stairs. By the time he stepped out of the bathroom, she’d stripped off her clothes and was drifting off to sleep. Fatigue after her night terrors was always real. Palpable. They were mind-numbing, draining events that left her sapped of energy.
Yet as he slipped under the covers with her, she curled into his chest. Pressed together, his warm closeness felt…right. As though he understood her need, on this night, as on so many nights, not to be alone. To have someone else breathing in the dark, right night next to her. To have her body enmeshed with the man who could find and conquer even her demons.
As she breathed in his scent, and felt his warmth, she wanted more. Drowsy, she lifted her face and pressed her lips to his.
His kiss was tender. Gentle. Drowsiness receded as his tongue slid along her lips, then met hers. She took his hand, pulled it to her breast, and he answered with a slight groan.
“Sleep,” he whispered. “Right?”
“After,” she said. “Make love to me. Please?”
“Do you forgive me?”
“I don’t know,” she said, as honestly as she could, then reached for him.
“Let me love you, Andi. We’ll work out the rest.”
“For now, make me feel something other than miserable as I fall asleep.”
“Give me a minute.” His mumble was gruff. He walked out of her room, then returned in a few seconds. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he slipped on a condom, then turned to her.
With his fingers, his mouth, his tongue, his body, he answered her body’s cues. When the steady warmth and pulsing of his flesh filled her, his soothing heat and strength radiated throughout her body. If she’d ever shared a more intimate moment with anyone, she couldn’t remember it. What they were doing wasn’t about sex. The act meant togetherness, first and foremost.
Afterwards, he kissed her, while his eyes conveyed a silent promise of love, and all that the word meant. She returned his look with open honesty. “I’ll only accept your love if I can return it with equal force,” she whispered, as his arms tightened around her. “Only if I can give you equal, in return. And I’m scared I’ll never be there. I’m worried my past will always be in the way.”
Chapter Forty One
Andi
Saturday, February 18, 8:30 a.m.
Andi awakened with a start to an empty bed. She spotted a handwritten note on the end table, tucked under her cell phone.
No new developments overnight. I’m out. Brandon’s downstairs. He’ll alert you if anything changes. Turn on your phone when you awaken. Try to eat something. G.
She turned on her cell phone, and saw a text Gabe had sent at seven-thirty a.m. ‘How r u?’
She replied, ‘Fine. Thx for your note. Don’t worry about me. Ca
ll if there’s news.’
She held the phone long enough to see if the ellipses signifying an answering text appeared. They didn’t. Clasping the phone for a second longer, she prayed. Please. God. Let Gabe find Pic.
As she pulled on a pair of jeans after her shower, she heard a knock on her bedroom door. A deep male voice, one she recognized, asked, “Andi. You up?”
“Brandon?”
“Yes,” he said, through the door. “Juliette’s here.”
Juliette?
“Oh hell. It’s Saturday, isn’t it?” Which meant at nine a.m. it was time for her weekly allotment of pampering, courtesy of Juliette Bandeau. Last week, she’d had a massage and facial, which meant this week, she could expect a manicure and pedicure.
Through the door, Brandon answered. “Sure is.”
Dressed, Andi opened the door. “I forgot.”
“Don’t blame you.” Wearing a black turtleneck sweater and black slacks, Brandon had the same business-like look that Gabe had worn since Pic had disappeared. If he carried a weapon regularly, the lawyer typically had it concealed when he was around Andi. Now, though, the gun holstered at his hip conveyed the impression that he was operating on par with the agents, capable of dealing with danger and ready to use a weapon if needed.
“I thought you might be sleeping. I almost sent her away, but I know that my wife moves heaven and earth for appointments with her royal highness, so I called Taylor for a read on what to do.” He shrugged, giving her a slightly sheepish smile as his tone turned sarcastic. “Some things are better answered by a girlfriend. Taylor told me you’d want to talk to Juliette yourself, especially since she managed to get into the Quarter this morning, with all the streets closed to traffic.”
Juliette made it crystal clear to all clients of her in-home spa services that she had more than enough work to keep her busy. And she was very selective, regarding her client base. Taylor had found her based on a friend’s referral, and Andi had been wait-listed for a few months before becoming a regular. Andi accepted the Juliette-style attitude—she firmly let her clients know she was doing them a favor, at $150 per hour, because she was punctual, reliable, and provided exceptional services. Most importantly, Juliette didn’t gossip about her other clients. Andi took her discretion as a sign that she wasn’t gossiping with others about her.
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