Saving Ella (33 page)

             
“I need to call Frank, he needs to know what kind of a man he has working in his precinct.” I shook my head fiercely.

             
“Jax, it will be Tom’s word against mine. He has evidence to support all the shit I did. I was a troubled teen, into drugs, alcohol, making trouble for my family, running away. Tom just looks like a cop doing his job.” Jax rubbed his jaw seeming to consider that and then eventually gave in with a short nod.

             
“I’ll keep my eye on Tom. If he so much as breathes in your direction, I won’t hesitate to rip the man’s heart out.” It was a blood thirsty declaration but it made me feel safe and cherished. “Your therapist, his name was Dr. Theo Stojanovic?” I hadn’t heard his name mentioned in four years now and my fists clenched with irritation as memories of the doctor filled my mind. He was a thoughtless drone who treated me as Marcus asked him to. He never listened to a god damn thing I said. My silence was confirmation enough for Jax. “Dillon has discovered that Dr. Theo kept two sets of files for you, one at his office and another at his place of residence.” I tilted my head, contemplating the information Jax had just given me. “Dillon’s business is security, so as you can appreciate he has a certain set of skills that come in advantageous when one needs to gain entry to a house for instance.” Jax wiggled his eyebrows and I laughed.

             
“I never got the hang of breaking and entering. Maybe Dillon can give me some pointers,” I joked. Jax shook his head and laughed before soon becoming somber again.

             
“The files that Dr. Theo keeps at home are startlingly different from the files he keeps at the office. They appear to be a little more honest and for Marcus Fairmont, a whole lot more damning.” My mouth dropped open. “Dillon can’t just take the files and present them to the police. If the police asked how he came to be in possession of them he can’t exactly say he broke into the doctor’s home, not quite legal enough for our good law enforcement officers. We can try though to convince Theo that Marcus is going down. I can only assume that’s why he kept the files, as backup, insurance if you like.” The contents of those files could perhaps mean jail for Marcus. Never before had my future felt so, possible.

             
“Dillon wants to spend another week or two in Dunston putting together a case and then he will visit us here. He needs to speak to you angel, we need to verify dates, injuries. You missed a hell of a lot of school which will work in our favor.”

             
“Marcus used my behavior as an excuse for any school I missed. I might have been at home covered in bruises, but he had me visit Dr. Theo, made it look like I was having an episode or something.” Jax nodded.

“But Theo has the second set o
f files to confirm his beliefs about the injuries. The doctor also recorded all your sessions. He has hours of recorded data at his home. Dillon hasn’t viewed it all but what he did see clearly shows your injuries.” A part of me was dancing with delight but a much larger part of me was horrified over the thought of the video evidence. Pretty much everything that came out of my mouth during those sessions was a lie. I basically said what I knew Marcus wanted me to say. I was a mindless patient nodding when it was appropriate, saying what was expected. Under duress I admitted that I was acting out because of my father’s death, that I used drugs and alcohol to escape the memory of the day he died, that I slept around in an attempt to fill a void that my father had left. God those words made me want to throw up. Sure I missed my dad, I hated the memories of the day he died, but the drugs, the alcohol, the boys were all an attempt to escape Marcus. I was mortified of what Dillon would think of the videos, even more worried about what Jax would think if he ever saw them.

“
I know what you’re thinking angel, but the videos are a good thing baby. It doesn’t matter what you said, with Dr. Theo’s written files, the real ones, the evidence of the abuse in the video’s, the dates you missed school, we will be able to tie it all together. It will be the truth and it will make a solid case against Marcus.” I nodded, my head now throbbing with the all the information I was trying to absorb and understand. Jax ran his hand nervously through his messy hair, pushing it out of his eyes.

             
“Fuck angel that was the easy part, the next bit is going to be bad and I wish I didn’t have to tell you.” He set his shoulders back and looked me square on. “You’re mom,” he rubbed a hand down his face and groaned. “Shit angel, you’re mom passed away, about twelve months ago, twelve months ago yesterday to be precise.” Jax had said the words but they took a long time to sink in. My mom was dead. My brow furrowed in confusion. “The autopsy report says she committed suicide, large traces of the sleeping pill Zolpidem was found in her system and her wrists were cut.” Images of my mother flickered through my mind like an old video projector. All of them were the same, my mother’s expressionless face, her heartless smile, her cold eyes. She didn’t care about me. She didn’t protect me or try to save me, if she was dead now then good riddance. That’s how I should have felt, instead, like all the other times I tried to hate her, I couldn’t. All I could feel was sorrow and I began to buckle under a wall of guilt. If I hadn’t of run she might not have died.

             
“Marcus?” I whispered.

             
“There is no way to be sure but I’d put money on it. It’s not hard to see that Marcus is a mental case, he was once a patient of Dr. Theo’s and he had major mommy and daddy issues. His father beat him and his mother was unloving, detached, spoiled, bringing different men home regularly when her husband worked late or went away. She died the same way, full of drugs with her wrists slit. It’s not hard to see a pattern developing here.” Bile quickly began to rise in my throat.

             
“I think I’m going to be sick.” My hand clamped over my mouth and Jax grabbed me, pulling me to a small downstairs bathroom where he held my hair back as I emptied my breakfast into the toilet. When there was nothing left to offer the porcelain throne I sat quietly still, my mind trying to comprehend exactly how I felt. Dejected, guilty, glad and indifferent, how could I possibly feel so many different confusing emotions at once? Surely I was either one or the other? Jax wet a washer and wiped my face.

             
“I’m so sorry angel,” he said as he wiped my forehead. The sensation of the cool washer on my hot skin was a balm to my senses. I leaned into the coolness wanting more before I remembered I had just thrown up and now sat on the floor of the bathroom with Jax mere inches away.

             
“I need to brush my teeth, I need a shower.”

Jax scoop
ed me up into his arms with ease and climbed the stairs to the large upstairs bathroom. He placed me on the counter while he started the shower then turned to help me undress. Once I was under the steaming hot water I closed my eyes, shutting out the world as I let my body deal with the stress. I felt Jax behind me as he carefully washed my hair, massaging my scalp for the longest time before washing the soap free. Then he proceeded to methodically clean my body. It was intimate even though it wasn’t sexual. After he was done, he wrapped me in a clean towel and dried off my hair, then tucked me into his bed, wrapping his body around me like a protective cocoon. No words were spoken, Jax patiently let me absorb the news, process it and deal with it the only way I knew how, without tears, numb from the inside out. After what felt like hours I finally found my voice, though it was low and strained.

             
“She died because of me, because I left, that’s why he hurt her.” Jax tensed beside me and although we were skin to skin, every inch of our bodies touching he somehow managed to pull me closer.

             
“No baby you can’t think that way. That’s how Marcus would want you to think. Your mom knew what he was like, she made that bed she needed to damn well lie in it. Anyway, if you had of stayed who’s to say he wouldn’t have killed you then moved on to your mother anyway?” I didn’t want to think anymore, I didn’t want to feel and somehow I forced my body to shut down as I sank into a blissful abyss of darkness.

             
I wanted Ella to cry, to scream, to rage. She was more than entitled. Marcus Fairmont had yet again marked her world with violence and hate, and he did it on a day that was sacred to her. But not a single tear fell.
My tears are for kindness, not pain, not hate, not fear,
her words echoed through my mind. As I held her in my arms, her body still radiating warmth from the hot shower, her hair still damp, she was utterly still and excruciatingly silent. Eventually her breathing evened out and I knew she had fallen asleep. The fact that she had felt guilt for what happened to her mother crushed me. I refused to allow her to feel the guilt that rightly lay at the feet of Marcus and somewhat her mother too. She had to have known the abuse that Ella endured and yet she did nothing, as long as she was happy in her own little bubble that was all that mattered. I hated her for that but I certainly didn’t wish her abuse and death for it, much like I’m sure Ella would be feeling. Ella’s heart beat was a steady rhythm against my chest and I watched the gentle rise and fall of her chest, listening to the soft whisper of air that escaped her slightly parted lips, and eventually I fell asleep too. I woke much later to the feel of a gentle hand tracing a small scar on my shoulder.

             
“Shrapnel,” I murmured my voice husky from sleep. Ella pushed up onto one arm and began a careful inspection of my body, finding my scars, not that there were that many. “Nail gun,” I said as she traced the small round scar on the back of my hand. “Motor bike,” I groaned as my body began to respond to her delicate touch, her fingers lingered over a large scar on my knee. Ella nudged my side and I rolled over as she began to inspect my back. “Bullet ricochet,” I murmured as she took in the large round scar that marked my right shoulder blade. It was hard to make out as it was partially covered by my tattoo. Her sharp intake of breath was the only acknowledgement as her fingers continued to caress my body. She would find no more. That was the history of Jax Carter’s physical pain. Other than a couple of broken bones, my body had not been through the same violence that hers had, which seemed completely unfair since my body was so much larger, so much stronger. If I could have endured her beatings and taken that agony for her I would have.

             
“What is your favorite color?” Her sudden and unexpected question caught me by surprise, my mind was hazy with lust and it took me a moment to answer.

             
“White, like the snow,” I murmured, enjoying her fingers as they traced my tattoo.

             
“Your favorite movie?”

             
“Clerks. Charlie and I can still quote just about the entire movie, it’s scary.”

             
“If you could be a superhero which one would you be?” I couldn’t stop the laughter that racked my body. This line of questioning was pretty damn cute. I rolled over and grabbed her waist to hold her above me, straddling me completely naked. Damn she was a sight to behold.

             
“Batman, he’s just your everyday Joe with a cool suit and wicked toys.” I said a little breathlessly and Ella smiled.

             
“I would like to see you dressed in a Batman costume.” She blushed.

             
“Be careful what you wish for, that could be arranged.” I folded my hands behind my head, allowing her to continue touching me, exploring my body which was responding appropriately.

             
“Favorite song?” She continued with the questions.

             
“Dust in the wind, by Kansas.” She was biting her bottom lip, no doubt trying to think of her next question and she looked so darn sexy I could no longer keep my hands to myself. I grabbed her thighs and rubbed my hands slowly up them.

“Since we are playing twenty questions it must be my turn. You’re favorite color?”

             
“Blue, like the ocean.” Her voice was a breath of longing and I knew my touch was affecting her in the same way her touch had affected me.

             
“If you could go anywhere else in the world, where would it be?”

“
Hawaii, to see the ocean,” she smiled.

             
“Hmmmm, I’m beginning to see a pattern here.” My hands had reached her waist and I wrapped them around her, marveling that I could just about encompass her body with my hands.

             
“And what does Ella Munroe see for her future?” I bravely asked, knowing her future was not usually something she thought about. Her eyes that had been watching my hands snapped up to meet mine. It was a long time before she answered.

             
“A gallery, filled with art, some mine, some others, perhaps a coffee shop attached to it, because I love coffee.” Her face was filled with longing. “And I see my blonde haired, much too tall warrior wooing me with flowers, picnics under the stars, serenading me with music because he plays the guitar when he isn’t smashing it to pieces.” I knew my grin was one of those shit eating, smug, arrogant ones, but I couldn’t help the satisfaction that floored my heart at her words. My hands slipped up the smooth skin of her stomach and cupped her breasts. They fit perfectly right into my hands, they were flawless, she was flawless. Ella moaned before slowly moving out of my reach.