RunningScaredBN (14 page)

Once again, William held on to his temper. This was yet another reason this woman had to go. She had started taking on more responsibility without his asking for it. This was his business. She was an employee, not a partner.

Yes, she would have to go. But that would have to wait until Jessica was found and Keira was ready to go to auction. Then he’d show the bitch who was boss.

Chapter Twelve

Justin stood outside Riley’s apartment door. His hand raised, poised to knock, he hesitated. He wasn’t one to second-guess his decisions, except when it came to his partner. She made him as unsure as if he were a teenager in the throes of puberty. In most everything else in his life, he went full speed ahead. Not with Riley. This slip of a woman, with her acerbic tongue, giant chip on her shoulder, and courageous spirit, made him feel like a pimple-faced kid with his first crush.

He had screwed up the other night, and he still didn’t get why. The kiss hadn’t been a mistake. Nothing so damn fine could ever be called a mistake. Okay, yes. It had been piss-poor timing. He should’ve waited, talked to her, held her. But she had responded to the kiss like a house on fire. It hadn’t been the kiss that had screwed things up.
 

The compliment was where he’d gone wrong. He’d told her she was beautiful, and that had destroyed everything. Okay, so she didn’t want anyone to think she was beautiful, even though she was. He could live with that. What he couldn’t live with was not knowing why she felt that way. Who had made her hate the very idea of physical beauty? No, being attractive wasn’t the most important attribute, but neither was it something most women would run from either. She’d taken his remark as an insult instead of a compliment.

That wasn’t all. Her nightmare had sounded as though she were in hellacious agony. Whatever she had gone through, whatever had been done to her, he wanted to help her, be there for her. She would push him away. He already knew that. But he cared too much to let her.

But still he debated whether to knock on her door. He wasn’t even sure why he was here right now. He’d been finishing up a run, one of his longer ones that he did on his days off. Normally, he’d go home, take a shower, put on some music, and wind down. That had been his intention tonight, but during his last mile, he’d gotten the extreme urge to check on Riley. He’d had the oddest sensation that she was in trouble, that she needed him.
 

“What are you doing here?”

Justin turned to see Riley walking down the hallway toward him. Not exactly a welcoming greeting, but he hadn’t expected that she would be all that happy to see him. They had left things unsettled between them. Riley knew him well enough to know he was here for answers. Answers she didn’t want to give.

Tough shit.

With anyone else, he might not have made the effort. Might’ve said to hell with it and walked away. The shadows beneath her eyes told him she hadn’t slept well last night, but it was the deep pain glimmering in their depths that told him to stand his ground.
 

“If you’re not ready to tell me everything, that’s fine. I can wait. But you need me, Riley, whether you want to admit it or not.”

“You’re right.”

He couldn’t hide his surprise at her easy agreement. A small smile played around her mouth, as if she had enjoyed shocking him. She unlocked her door, pushed it open, and went inside.

Justin walked in behind her. All the apartments in this area had been converted from warehouses. They were expensive, but with LCR’s generous salaries, operatives could afford the best.

His first thought was that for a woman in hiding, she had an amazing amount of windows. Riley’s apartment was large, airy, and filled with so much natural light he wondered if she ever had to wear sunglasses inside.

 
“You must really like natural sunlight.”

Dropping her keys on the coffee table, Riley looked around her home. Few people had been invited into her sanctuary, her place of peace. Her home was her escape, her refuge, the place she felt the safest. She had no real talent for decorating. Her apartment was an eclectic collection of all the things she remembered enjoying. Books and music brought her comfort. On her days off, she spent hours in book and music stores. She also loved antiques—things that had a history. The refurbished grand piano in the corner was one of her first buys. That she had yet to play it didn’t mean anything.
 

And yes, bright sunlight and openness were as important to her as air. They made her feel safe. An assurance that she was not and never would be a prisoner again.
 

If one paid close attention and read between the lines, they would see the real Riley Ingram here.

“It’s nothing fancy, but it’s home.”
 

She turned to him then. Justin stood before her like an immovable boulder, the expression on his face granite hard, the look in his eyes not cold but very determined. Getting her partner involved in her hideous past was something she’d resisted for as long as she’d known him. And while a part of her still resisted strongly, she knew she couldn’t do this without him. But it was more than that. She didn’t want to do this without him. No, maybe they’d never have the storybook romance she’d dreamed of as a kid. They might never go beyond what they’d already had—a passionate, unbelievable, wonderful kiss. Because she’d messed things up.

But she trusted this man more than anyone in the world. She couldn’t, wouldn’t do this without him. And since LCR would soon be involved, she had no choice. She was grateful that she would be the one to explain things. Having him learn the truth in a room filled with other operatives would be wrong. He deserved to hear this in private, from her.

She opened her mouth to begin and then froze, her throat clogging with fear. Recognizing the signs of a full-fledged panic attack, she said quickly, “Have a seat. Be back in a moment,” and dashed into the bedroom.

Shutting the door behind her, she leaned back against it, closed her eyes, and breathed through the panic. Now that the time had come to tell him the truth, her brain was stuttering, trying to find a way out of the promise she’d made.
 

If she told him everything, he would never look at her the same way. Justin saw her as a strong, capable woman—courageous. If she told him the truth, she would become a victim to him, an abused woman so beaten down by a sadistic fiend that at one time she had barely been able to mumble a word without permission. How could she explain that the woman he trusted to watch his back in the field had at one time fallen to her knees on command? Had barked like a dog, crawled on her hands and knees, following behind her master? Had worn a collar and a leash? Had performed like a trained animal to the amusement of his friends?
 

Bottom line, she couldn’t. She just could not do it. But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t tell him the truth. He just didn’t have to know all the gory details.

Turning the doorknob, Riley opened the bedroom door and returned to the living room. Justin was standing at the bookshelf against the wall. Her book collection was as broadly eclectic as everything else in her apartment. Poetry, world history, and biographies blended with suspense, romance, and children’s books.
 

She had read each book with a deep appreciation for not only the beauty of the worlds the authors created but for the sheer loveliness of the words. Early in her captivity, Dimitri had banned both books and music. He had known they provided an escape from her misery, and if there had been one thing Dimitri didn’t want, it was her escape, either physically or mentally. Everything she loved, he’d wanted to destroy. On occasion, he had demanded she perform, either by singing or playing the piano.
 

Being forced to do something you previously loved was a special kind of hell all on its own.

“You have quite the collection,” Justin said.

“This is just a small amount. I have more in storage. I hope to have a house one day with a library big enough to hold them all.”

“Are you looking?”

“Looking?”

“For a house? Are you in the market for one yet?”

She was about to say no and then stopped herself as a disturbing thought came to her. She had wanted to buy a house for years, even while she still lived in Paris, but she had put it off. It wasn’t because she couldn’t afford one. Had she put off purchasing a house because she was afraid it might be too permanent, too settled? If she grew complacent, happy, it might mean she’d let her guard down, and then he would come for her. Destroy everything again.

At that moment, she made her up mind to start looking for a home to buy. Dimitri had no control over her. She refused to allow him to influence her choices ever again.

“I’m going to start looking soon.”

“What kind of house would you like? Traditional, contemporary? You want to build or buy an older home?”

Those were things she didn’t even have to think about.

“An older home. At least twenty-five years or more. With a yard. Some acreage, so I can have a garden. Not so far from the city that I’d have a long commute, but far enough into the country for scenery and landscapes.”

“And lots of windows?”

She gave a small, solemn nod. The windows were the most important. They represented more than just light. They let her see what was coming. “Yes, lots of windows.”

“Sounds like you’ve put some thought into it already.”

That had been part of her therapy. Dream of beauty, grace, elegance. Imagine all the things you want to have, to surround yourself with. Replace the ugliness of your former life, a nightmare, with the beauty, the dream, of what you wanted your life to be.
 

She wanted the house she bought to have been a home, a place where people had loved each other, had been happy. She didn’t know very much about love, but she knew it was powerful enough that it could linger, that it could stamp itself on a heart, a life. Why not a home?
 

She knew all about evil. That it lingered and tainted, even grew. Why couldn’t its opposite do the same? Why couldn’t love destroy evil, replace it?

Aware that she’d gone down a rabbit hole that often led to darkness, she shook herself a little and nodded toward the kitchen. “You want some coffee, something to drink?”

“Water.”

Grateful for the short reprieve, she went to the kitchen and poured two glasses of ice water from the pitcher in her fridge. She swallowed half of one, relishing the bracing burn of the icy cold liquid as it slid down her parched throat.

Returning to the living room, she handed him the full glass and then sat on the edge of the chair across from him. She took another sip of water.

For the first time, she noticed he was wearing gray running shorts and T-shirt that were slightly damp. “You’ve been running?”

“Yeah. Should’ve gone home and showered before I came over.” His gaze bore into hers. “I didn’t want to wait.”

“I see.”

Justin forced himself to sit, even though he’d do much better pacing. But he had a feeling that would make her nervous. She was finally ready to tell him what she was dealing with. No way did he want to make her uneasy.

She didn’t say anything for the longest time, just stared above his head as if lost in the past. Justin forced patience.

“For almost eight years, I have been hiding from a man.”

She stopped so abruptly, Justin cocked his head slightly, almost sure he’d missed something. But no, she’d clamped her mouth shut as if she had said what she intended to say and nothing more.

“And?”

“I’ve decided to stop running.”

At this rate, it would be another eight years before she finished explaining. Her face had gotten paler in the last few minutes, and his gut clenched. Riley was no coward. Whatever this man had done to her was bad. And it was clear she was hesitant to tell Justin the truth. Every fiber within him wanted to go to her, hold and comfort her. The look on her face said she was closing herself off. He figured she might need to do so to get through this conversation.

He held himself back and said the one thing that might give her the spark she needed. “Spill it, Ingram.”

The snapping of Justin’s voice did exactly what he had hoped. Color bloomed in her cheeks, and she glared at him. “I grew up in what I thought was a normal household. My parents weren’t affectionate people, but I hadn’t known anything different. I thought everyone was like us. I was homeschooled. Had no friends. Wasn’t allowed to watch television. My parents were my world. I never questioned that life should be any different.”

Her throat worked as she swallowed hard. “Remember I told you that my parents were killed when I was a teenager? It’s not true. They’re still alive. They gave me to a man, a stranger, on my eighteenth birthday. I never saw them again.”

Every bit of breath left his body. Oh holy hell. He wanted to say that was ridiculous, that no parent would do anything so cruel or unfeeling, but he couldn’t because he knew she was telling the truth. Riley’s parents had given her to a stranger, apparently a sadistic stranger, and then just left her with him?

“I escaped from him when I was twenty-one. He’s been looking for me ever since.”

Three years she was with the creep. What had he done to her? What had she endured? And how the hell had she survived?