Audrey's Promise (15 page)

Audrey swept the broken pieces into a pile in the center of the floor. She’d already slipped on a pair of shoes and stripped the comforter and pillow from the bed, just as she’d stripped the emotion from her face. A skill she’d mastered.

“Where’s the linen closet?” Ethan hadn’t expected his voice to sound so harsh.

Audrey just pointed to a door across the room.

Ethan fished out a spare set of sheets and the biggest blanket he could find. Someone knocked on her door and Adelaide stepped in, clutching a piece of cardboard, duct tape, and a weary frown.

The sisters gave each other a silent hug. Audrey took the items and laid them on the bed. With a worried glance, Adelaide closed the door and left Ethan alone with the continued silence.

This isn’t my first broken window.
Paul’s words rang in his ears while Audrey scraped the first pile into the dustbin. The glass clanged against the metal trashcan in the corner.

What kind of fear did a teenage girl have to suffer through with a window shattered while she slept? No child deserved that kind of treatment, that kind of terror. Ethan’s hands trembled at the image and the rage flowed through him.

He’d covered these kinds of stories on violent intimidation with rape cases and victim retaliation. The photos were never pretty, and neither were the outcomes. They were the kind of stories he hated to cover. Mainly because he finished the articles more angry than when he started. It didn’t matter that journalists weren’t supposed to show emotion—only report the facts and their interpretations. Despite his reputation, he had a heart. Maybe not a conscience, but at least a heart.

To stop the trembling, he had to keep his hands busy. So he grabbed the cardboard from the bed and taped it to the window frame, careful not to catch his fingers on the remaining shards of glass. When he was finished, he lowered the blinds and drew the curtains.

The air was still cold, but at least the wind wasn’t blowing as hard.

“I’ll sleep in here tonight,” Ethan said to the window. “You can have my room.” It was the first logical thing that popped in his mind. His mother would have demanded it, and he hadn’t lost all of her lessons.

“No.” The refusal was quiet, but adamant. He turned, but Audrey continued to sweep the debris into the trash bin.

“You can’t be serious.”

Audrey moved to the bed and grabbed the pillowcase, shoving the pillow inside. It was obvious she ignored him. It pissed him off.

In one move, he reached her side and grabbed her arm, though harder than he intended. Her eyes flared, but at least now she was looking at him. So many emotions battled each other in those blue orbs: it was hard to tell which one she directed at him.

“That could have been a bullet, Audrey.”

Moisture billowed on her lower lids, but she blinked it away. “This is
my
room.
No one
is going to keep me out of it tonight. Not you, not that damn brick, and certainly not some ridiculous ten-year-old grudge.”

The first thing to grip his gut was the passion in her face. Not fear or sorrow or a guarded scowl. Only a raw determination that awed him to the bone. The second was a primal instinct that had no rational explanation.

He crushed his mouth to hers. As if connecting was the only way to verify he was still sane. A sliver of panic rang his brain at Audrey’s stiffened posture. This was serious out of bounds. She could launch more than a reasonable complaint against him for this. For a second, he expected her to pull back and slap him across the face.

Until her tongue slipped between his lips. Then her hand wrapped around the back of his head and pulled him deeper into her mouth. Their tongues collided, dancing against each other in a fervent craze more urgent than breathing. She was sweeter than the marshmallows and infinitely more addictive.

She’d dropped the pillow and now gripped his waistline, pulling his rock-hard groin against her abdomen. He didn’t need any other cues than that. He slid his hands up her back; her breasts pushed against his chest, her nipples hardened, peaking through her shirt. He growled low in his throat when her fingernails scraped against the back of his head. He was certain this wasn’t the kind of in-depth look Audrey had expected from him, and knowing her, she’d regret this in the morning. But Ethan couldn’t help himself. This was a better view of her than he could’ve hoped for. All flushed and hot, breathless and hungry. Because of
him.

The curls of her hair were soft as he swept his fingers up her neck to cradle her head, molding her face to his. Audrey was better than any aphrodisiac or sweet glass of liquor.

Either from his momentum or her urgings, they danced backwards. Her back brushed the curtains and leaned against the windowsill. His hand glided down her frame and cupped her thigh, pulling it up to his waist as he ground into her.

Audrey gasped and winced away from him. “Damn!” She hissed, clutching her hand.

“What?” It took a second for the fog of lust to fade. But it evaporated the second he saw the blood trickling from Audrey’s palm. A glass shard dropped from her hand and landed on the windowsill, a few remnants still littered across the wood.

“Shit. Is it deep?” He clasped her hand, now covered in sweat and clammy. He felt her breathing change, rather than heard it. Now shallow and quick. Glancing up to her face, her skin had gone white and her eyes glazed over.

“Audrey? It’s just a cut. We’ll clean it up.” He pulled a chair over to the window and urged her to sit. The distant look in her eyes kept her from seeing him, despite being only three inches in front of her. He pulled several tissues from the box on the dresser and pressed them against her wound. She never flinched.

“Audrey?”

Finally she blinked and pulled her hand away, covering the wound herself. “I’m fine.” A little color returned to her face, but she still refused to look at him.

“You don’t like the sight of blood, do you?” Ethan knelt in front of her, resting his hands on her thighs. The gesture was casual and intimate simultaneously, and a position he was thoroughly unused to. “I’m that way with needles.”

“I need you to leave.” Her voice was clipped and quiet. Too quiet.

“Audrey, it’s okay. Let me help.”

“I can take care of myself,” she rasped, turning away. Her entire body closed off right in front of his eyes, the defenses re-erecting themselves ceiling-high. It ripped at his heart. “Good night, Ethan.”

As he stood and walked to the door, the room felt colder and more unforgiving. Audrey kept her face turned, the radiant hair tumbling over her shoulders. When he closed the door, he swore he heard her sniffle on the other side.

He scowled.

This is what I get for caring.

Chapter Sixteen

Pain seared through every muscle as Audrey’s freezing body shivered against the icy wind. Except for her toes and lips. She couldn’t feel them anymore. A burning flood covered her right side, emitting the only warmth in her existence.

“Hang on, Audrey,” a dark voice murmured above her. The raspy words were meant in comfort, but she felt no relief. The sky moved above her bleary vision, blackened clouds swirling in the shadows of night. When her neck fell over the arm of the voice, her vision cleared to the sight of an empty road, careening into oblivion, littered with scraps of debris.

Heap after twisted heap, milliseconds of clarity revealed remnants of a car. A metal bumper, a tire, some kind of axle, and a chair. Shivers rocketed through her limbs as the winds kicked up against what felt like her naked flesh. A larger scrap looked like the dashboard, with the steering wheel still intact.

“Audrey, can you hear me?” The dark voice spoke over her again, and the world swirled before her bleary eyes. A long moment later, her eyes focused on a lump in the distance. Something pulled at her soul, but her body wouldn’t move.

The voice carried her closer to the mound, a breath huffing over her at an even pace. The world focused and the lump was now distinctive. A boy. A boy lay on the ground with another man leaning over him.

The man pushed on the boy’s shoulder, turning him onto his back. Another freezing gust of wind raked her cheeks as the boy fell to the side, and the bloodied, lifeless face staring back at her with blank eyes was Ethan, the light in his gray irises extinguished.

Audrey screamed.

She woke to the sound of her phone buzzing at 7:15 a.m. A small twinge of light barely poked through the ripped curtains, casting a whitish purple glow on the wall across the room. The cold air infiltrated across her bed. The taped cardboard to the frame did nothing for insulation.

Cleaning the debris last night hadn’t taken long, and neither did falling for Ethan Tanner. She’d melted right into him at the first kiss, her defenses battered from the genuine tenderness and concern he showed. He was right; it could have been a bullet through that window. And instead of pity or a barrage of questions, he moved right into her vulnerability and declared residence.

She’d never been more turned on in her life. On the wake of rage and determination, her arousal by Ethan could only be described as animalistic. He tasted better than she thought he would. Then the glass cut into her hand. And brought everything tumbling back into perspective. Seeing the blood trickle down her palm, dark against her white skin, triggered that damn nightmare.

Her chest ached and her mind still whirled from it. Something stuck in her throat like a chicken bone that she couldn’t swallow. Audrey felt like she’d been sobbing, but there were no tears on her face. The pillow was dry.

Audrey reached over and shut off her phone alarm. Nightmares were constant, now. One in particular. But she had to keep living her life, no matter what therapists claimed. Recurring memories were normal in tragedies, even if victims didn’t consciously remember them. That was one thing the therapist drilled into her immediately after…

The cold wood floor seeped into her socks as she tiptoed to the dresser and grabbed her hairclip. Toiletry kit in hand, she opened the door to the much warmer hallway and into the bathroom. One glance in the mirror and she winced. The dark circles under her eyes would need extra concealer, and her pale lips needed a bolder color today. Her hand still throbbed, but the cut wasn’t as deep as she thought. At least not physically. Another quick cleaning and a fresh bandage, she was as good as new.

A few minutes later, she was at least presentable to venture downstairs for coffee. Ethan was an early riser, or at least a morning person, and in case he beat her to the coffee pot, she didn’t want to resemble a zombie.

Just as expected, Ethan was already in the kitchen, fully dressed in a long-sleeve burgundy rugby shirt and those hideous cargo pants, chatting with her mother, each holding their own steaming mug.

“Mornin’, Starshine,” Ethan smiled. The rest of his face was unreadable, except his eyes. The dark glittery stare proved he still craved something from her. But her body or the story, she couldn’t tell which.

“Mornin’. How’d you sleep?”

“Better than you, by the looks of it.”

Ouch. This guy doesn’t do subtle.

“There’s a full pot of chicory ready. Would you like a blueberry muffin?” Her mother’s voice hadn’t lost an ounce of soothing gentility. Audrey missed waking up to that every morning.

“I’ll get it, thanks.”

“Your father left for the rig early this morning. Wanted to stop by the store to pick up materials to repair the window. He’ll be back around dinner. Can you and Ethan stay that long?”

“Sure,” Ethan answered before she opened her mouth. “I’d like to peruse around a bit today, after a stop at the library, of course. Need to check my email.”

“Well, if you don’t mind a small drive, can you bring your father his lunch on the way out there? He left it in the fridge.”

“Sure,” Audrey replied noncommittally as she poured herself some coffee. Chicory wasn’t her favorite, but it would help to dissipate the images of the nightmare. And her peace of mind from a lousy brick and the world-spinning kiss.

Sugar and creamer later, she turned and leaned against the counter, waiting for her mother to spill something. The anxious look on her fresh face only meant one thing.

Doubt.

However long her mother had been conversing with Ethan alone this morning, Audrey had no doubts that Myrna had tried to convince him of Audrey’s proud nature and honest intentions. How the misinterpretations of a few people regarding an unspoken tragic event in her past shouldn’t deter anyone from believing in her. It was the same attempt she’d given to several reporters after that day.

But she was the mother of a suspect, no matter how innocent in reality. So taking Myrna Biddinger on her word—which used to be sufficient in a small town—no longer sustained.

Uneasiness grew more awkward when Adelaide strolled into the room, sleepy-eyed and still wearing flannel pajama pants and spaghetti strap shirt, and refused to look Ethan or her mother in the eye.

As she walked to the fridge, her cheeks pinked, probably all the way to her toes, and pulled out the milk.

“Sleep well?” Ethan asked politely, a knowing smile spreading his lips.

Don’t rub it in, jerk!

Adelaide stopped and looked at him, eyes widening for the deer-in-headlights fear.

“Fine, thanks.”

“What do you have going on today?” Her mother asked, oblivious to the visual war as she sipped more coffee.

“Oh, not much. There’s a bunch of friends going to a skating party at the roller rink this afternoon.”

Ethan gave Audrey a doubtful stare over the rim of his mug.
A skating party? Brace hardly seemed the skating type. Did Mom really have no idea?

“I’ll drop you off, if you’d like,” Audrey chimed in. “Just let me know what time, and I’ll be back to pick you up.”

“That’s okay,” she pleaded Audrey with her eyes. “I’ll drive myself.”

“No, really. I’ll drive you.” Audrey enunciated every word, making her refusal perfectly clear.

“Maybe we could crash the party,” Ethan smiled playfully at the sisters. “I haven’t been skating in decades.”

“Shocking,” Audrey mocked. “I’d expect someone as dedicated as you to have mastered the sport.”