05 Desperate Match (2 page)

“How?”
Kick
. “The fuck.”
Kick
. “Do you think I can watch the hockey game?”
Kick, kick.

Jill moaned, rolling to protect her kidneys. “Stop, Jack,” she begged.

He squatted next to her face. “Call the fucking cable company. I want it fixed.”

She remained curled in a ball trying not to move. Every breath hurt. When the front door slammed, she jumped a little, then relaxed, hearing the car back out of the driveway. He hadn’t told her where he was headed and she didn’t care. Probably to a sports bar to watch his precious hockey game. She had to give an accounting for her every moment of every day, but Jack went and did whatever he wanted. It was evil of her, but a part of her hoped he’d drink too much and get a DUI on the way home. Hitting someone would be even better for her purposes, since it could mean jail time, but she couldn’t allow herself to gain freedom at someone else’s expense.

Plus, Jack didn’t drink to excess. He handled his alcohol and didn’t tend to get drunk. She almost wished he did. Drunk would be an excuse for his abuse. Hitting her while sober meant he was a straight–up bastard.

She stayed another minute on the floor, then hoisted herself to standing using the table as leverage. Slowly, she walked to the phone in the kitchen and called the cable company, who gave her a four–hour window tomorrow afternoon. As long as it was fixed by game time, it’d be all right. Hanging up the phone, she held the receiver in her hand and stared at the keypad, specifically the numbers 911.

She’d dialed it before. When they were first married, the first time he’d hit her, she’d called the police who’d come, arrested Jack, and issued a preliminary protective order. She’d been too embarrassed to go to her parents’ house. They might’ve helped, but not without a lot of
I told you so’s.
Mom and Dad had been opposed to her marriage. They’d wanted her to go to college. At eighteen, she’d refused to admit her error in her marriage. Pride was the downfall of every teenager. Besides, she’d truly believed Jack when he’d said he was sorry and would never do it again. He’d never hit her before, so she couldn’t believe it would become a pattern. How little she knew. It was a pattern that grew too familiar. And then her dad had the stroke and they’d moved to Florida to the retirement community out of her range of travel.

Jack would come in from the bar in a few hours and apologize and beg her forgiveness, promising never to hurt her again. She always accepted his apology. What choice did she have? Her parents were too far to help, and Jack had made sure she had no friends to turn to. All her high school friends had long since moved out of their rural Virginia town. Getting the police involved didn’t guarantee her safety. Jack made it clear he’d follow her. He’d never let her go, and the police wouldn’t assign an around–the–clock guard. Nor could she afford to pay one.

If she left Jack, she couldn’t afford food and shelter, let alone security. No, when Jack Thompson had begged for her to marry him her senior year of high school, he’d done too good a job in isolating her from any lifeline. He’d convinced her to take a year off before going to college. He’d told her she didn’t need a job; she could stay home and keep house. Her eighteen– year–old self thought it had sounded unbelievably, Twilighty romantic. He was her Edward, and she was his Bella. The only thing missing was the vampire baby. Now at twenty–four, she knew better. Jack had wanted her completely and utterly dependent on him.

She didn’t have a credit card. She didn’t have a bank account, because what money did she have to put in it? She had a cell phone that was a pay–by–the–month and didn’t do anything other than make phone calls. Once she’d used it to call a high school friend now living in Richmond, but later that night, Jack had asked for a recounting of the conversation, making it clear he was tracking her calls. Hell, she didn’t even have nearby neighbors to visit with, living as they did in their rural town.

When she wanted to shop for food or clothes, she had to ask Jack for cash, like he was her dad, and he gave her just enough for the week’s groceries. He expected to see the receipt from Walmart. “For his files,” he’d said, but he didn’t keep files. He only wanted to make sure she remained his prisoner.

For six years she’d seen no way out until a few months ago. The news of The Program gave her an idea. She’d seen a way out of her nightmare. It had taken a few weeks of planning, researching bus schedules and library hours. She’d also had to go to the local clinic to get some blood work and medical forms done. Now it was a waiting game that was nearly over. Tonight was Thursday. On Saturday, she’d get to use the car, and instead of her normal Walmart trip, she’d go to the library. If she was a candidate for The Program, they’d let her know. The application had said ten to twelve days of processing, but she’d given it a bit longer just in case.

The
just in case
didn’t bear thinking about. If The Program said she wasn’t a candidate, she didn’t have a back–up plan. It was all or nothing. All she had to do now was get through tonight and tomorrow and then she’d be free.

Slowly, Jill climbed the stairs to the bedroom and started to run a bath. Her back ached, and she cried out when she bent to turn the hot water faucet. As the water ran, she opened the medicine cabinet above the sink to pop three Advil. It would dull the worst of the aches. She knew from experience. As would a long soak in the tub. This was her solace, her sanctum in a hateful house. She was blessed to have this.

She was luckier than a lot of women. Jack’s violent episodes were few and far between. It was what made them all the scarier. There was no predicting when they’d happen. She had a comfortable house to live in, inherited from Jack’s grandparents. He’d had to sell off the surrounding farmland their first year of marriage, but they kept the house, which had been paid off in full. They only had to pay yearly taxes on it. She also had food. Jack liked to eat and she was a good cook. Though lately, she’d lost her appetite.

All in all, she could count her blessings. A lot of women had the abusive husband plus no food or shelter. She reminded herself of this as she sank naked into the healing hot bath water and looked over to double–check the bathroom door was closed. She never bothered locking it. A lock didn’t stop him from entering a room, and he’d get mad if he thought she was locking him out. She needed a two–minute warning if he returned from the bar before she was out of the bath, so she could throw on her modest pajamas.

Another thought occurred to her as she sank back in the tub with her long brown hair floating around her face. She wouldn’t be here for sex night Saturday. That’s what Jack called it. He was often too tired from work during the week to touch her, but he demanded marital rights every Saturday night without fail. She wouldn’t be here. She wouldn’t have to close her eyes and spread her legs.

She wouldn’t have to squeeze a dollop of K–Y inside after dinner to prevent Jack from hurting her as he invaded her body.

He’d been getting annoyed at her lack of moisture during sex, and she feared he’d get violent about it, so she’d stolen a tube of K–Y Jelly during her weekly shop. She couldn’t risk the purchase showing up on the receipt. The guilt ate at her every Saturday night as she removed the stolen tube from its hiding spot. She told herself Walmart would understand.

Suddenly she sat up in the bath. The water streamed down her back and over her breasts. If she got a positive email from The Program inviting her into the next round of testing, she’d have to have sex with her match. It was part of the contract. She drew her knees to her chest and hugged them, trying to stay warm in the cooling water.

Tears mixed with bath water on her cheeks and fell below with tiny splashes. Why hadn’t she thought this through? She couldn’t imagine having sex with a stranger. She would if it meant escaping Jack. Now the tears fell even harder. What if her match was like Jack? What if he hit her? She’d be dead.

As a plumber, Jack was pretty strong. He had to lift and lay good–size pipes, but not even he could compete with a genetically enhanced soldier. If one of them hit her, she’d be seriously injured and not just with some minor bruising. Maybe it’d be better to stay here with the evil she knew.

But then the sound of the front door opening reached her faintly through the bathroom door. “Jilly?” Jack called from the bottom of the stairs.

Jill splashed the lukewarm bath water on her face and leapt out of the tub, scrambling into her flannel pajamas with only a quick swipe of the towel to dry off. “In here,” she called back. “Getting ready for bed.” She ignored the aching pain from her lower back where Jack had kicked her.

By the time Jack made it up the stairs, Jill was in bed with the comforter up to her chin. All the lights were off, but Jack would throw them on again not caring if he woke her. The bedroom door burst open and the lights flashed on.

“Jilly?” Jack blinked in the brightness. “Where are you, baby?”

“Here,” she said from the bed with the comforter up to her nostrils. “I was cold from my bath.”

Jack came to her side of the bed and sat. He tried to gather her in his arms, but the comforter served as a barrier. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry. I’ll never hurt you again.”

She stayed silent, sitting stiffly in his embrace. He didn’t notice as he buried his face in her neck and squeezed her waist making her wince. She was going to throw up. She couldn’t do this anymore. Sex with a stranger was starting to look better. It had to be better than sex with a man she hated.

* * * * *

Rowan glanced down at the incoming call on his cell phone. It was an internal number. Someone on campus was calling him. “Hello?”

“Mr. Blacker. We need to see you in the main office immediately.”

“Who is this?”

“It’s Doctor Wise.”

“Oh, hey, Doc.” He settled back against the pillows on his bed. “I’m watching a movie, but I’ll swing by as soon as the credits roll.”

“Mr. Blacker, what part of
immediately
did you misunderstand?”

“Whoa, okay, Doc. Keep your panties on. I’m coming.” He’d planned on following orders anyway, but something about Doctor Wise had him always poking at her to see if he could find cracks in her armor. So far nothing. She was born without the sense of humor gene as far as he could tell. He’d considered asking her if she’d ever tried to isolate the humor gene so she could inject it into herself, seeing that she was a geneticist and all. But given that he’d been in a paper robe and she had an arsenal of needles at the time, he’d wisely kept silent.

Slowly he reached for the remote and shut off the TV. He shoved his feet into warm boots. Winter was happening outside. He thought about putting a coat over his fleece but decided against it. It was only a two–minute walk to the main office. Not enough time to freeze. When he arrived in the main office both Doctor Wise and Shep were waiting for him.

Doctor Wise looked excited. Shep looked…bemused. “What’s up?” he asked, looking from one to the other.

“Rowan…” He didn’t get to finish his statement.

“Rowan,” William Blacker called and came bursting into the hallway where they stood in a small cluster.

“Dad. What’s wrong? Did you run here?” For a fifty–five–year–old man, his Dad was in amazing shape, but it had him worried that his dad had sprinted across campus. Something was up. “Is Adam all right? Loren?” Now he was getting worried about his brother and future sister–in–law.

“Everyone’s fine, son,” William said.

“Your match is here,” Shep said with no preamble or warning.

“What?” He stared at the commander. He barely noticed his father’s strong hand on his shoulder.

“She just arrived,” Doctor Wise said with more excitement than he’d ever heard from the woman.

“What are you talking about? We did the blood work less than a month ago. How can you have found my match already, and how is she already
on campus?
I thought I’d see her picture or read her resume first.” Despite his desire and claims to want to find his match, this was too soon. Reality didn’t start to hit him, because the whole thing was unreal. Surreal.

“Since we went public, thousands of women have applied to be matches for The Program,” Doctor Wise said. “This woman is the first woman to be a match for any of our soldiers who’ve applied.”

“How many of us have applied?” Rowan asked.

“One,” Shep said. “You.”

“No shit. I was the only one?” He shook off his father’s hand and leaned back against the hallway wall. “You found my match? She’s really here?”

Everyone nodded. He eyed them. “Now what?”

“Now you go meet her,” his dad said. “We’ll be out here crossing our fingers it’s a good match.”

“That’s it? Why didn’t anyone tell me she was coming to campus today? This is how things roll around here?”

“The whole thing’s suspicious. She wasn’t scheduled to arrive today,” Shep said. “It’s completely against protocol, but Emmett was on gate duty and said she came walking up, shivering from the cold, and had all the right information to get in.”

“She walked here?” The story was getting crazier. “Has she passed through security? She doesn’t have a bomb strapped to her waist, does she?” he said, only half–joking. The Program had a lot of enemies. It wasn’t unlikely that one of the enemies would send in a seemingly weak female to take them down.

“She went through security. She has no weapons on her, only a backpack full of clothes, and she looks as if a strong wind would blow her over. It almost looks…”

“Looks like what, Shep?” Rowan asked.

“Like she’s hungry.”

Rowan didn’t like the sound of that. If this woman was his match, she deserved his care.

“Get going, Rowan,” Shep said. “But be careful. She’s passed the DNA scan, but we haven’t done the comprehensive background check yet. We weren’t expecting her to show up until we’d run the check and scheduled a meeting day.”

“So you’re saying you’re sending me into a potentially dangerous situation.”

Shep gave him a look. “Do you really think we’d let her step one foot onto our campus if we thought she was a threat?”