Betraying Innocence (26 page)

Ham-sized hands closed in his shirt and he was hefted up like a ragdoll and
shaken. Rafe tried to fight the bigger man off, but was met with a fist to the eye, momentarily blackening the world into non-existence. Stars exploded and everything dimmed before roaring back into focus with ferocious velocity.

“You think you’re something, don’t you, boy?” Hands the size of catcher mitts closed around
Rafe’s windpipe, constricting the delicate vents and denying him every breath.

“Let him go, Dan! Let him go!” his mother was screaming from somewhere abov
e him as he kicked and fought to get even an inch between the vice and his the precious wisps of air he desperately tried to drag in. But he was a puppy at the mercy of a bear.

“Get Gabby and Mike!” he
croaked to his mother who was trying to pull her husband off her son.

Dan shook him.
“You ungrateful little punk!” he spat into Rafe’s face while simultaneously planting a knee into Rafe’s ribs, knocking out what little air he had left. “No one would give two shits if I killed you right now and buried your worthless body out back. Nobody!”

“That’s enough!” The voice was foreign, loud and dominating and filled with a cold sort of fury that commanded respect.

Rafe was released as Dan’s hands vanished from his throat. He collapsed on the carpet of glass, wheezing and coughing as he fought to roll over and catch sight of his savior. And instantly wished Dan had just killed him.

Richard French stood like an impenetrable force of raw rage darkening the doorway leading into the sitting room. His wide shoulder
s were set with a tension that seemed to course down the length of his impressive height. Anger crackled around the hard fists balled at his sides. Green eyes so much like Ana’s glowed with an intensity that chilled Rafe to the bone, and it wasn’t even aimed at him. He quickly scrambled to his feet, ignoring the splinters of pain along his side.

“Get away from the boy.” Each word was cut from a slab of concrete.

“Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my house?” Dan snarled. His giant boots shook the hardwood and scattered bits of glass as he stomped in the direction of the intruder.

Mr. French
remained resolute, not so much as batting an eyelash when Dan moved into his personal space with his bulky frame. “What I am is your worst nightmare if you put your hands on that kid again.”

Dan looked momentarily taken aback as he stared at the much more masculine man looming over him.

Dan was tall and built like a truck, but over the years, most of that had turned to fat that sat collected around his middle. Despite that, he was still big and had hands that could crush a man’s skull. Rafe knew. He’d almost had it happen to him a few times. Mr. French was pure toned muscle. He was a man who spent his life doing hard manual labor and it showed. It was no competition who would win if Dan was stupid enough to start something.

“No, let me tell you what you are,” Dan said, pulling himself up to his full height and still coming two inches too short. “You’re the guy I’m about to have arrested and charged for breaking into my house.”

Mr. French’s eyes narrowed, contradicting the slow smirk that raised the corner of his mouth. “Would you like to put money on that?” He reached around behind him and removed a cell phone. “Please, let me dial the police for you.”

Rafe almost laughed and would have if his mother hadn’t taken that moment to
rush forward.

“Please, don’t—”

“Shut up, Heather! This doesn’t concern you,” Dan growled at her, shoving her back with the arm he threw out when she got closer. “Get those damn kids out of here.”

Casting Mr. French another pleading glance, she hurried over to usher a weeping
Gabriella and a stone-faced Michael out of the room. Rafe considered following them, but stayed.

“I really hate men like you,” Mr. French said quietly, every word dripping with venomous truth.
“Men who think they’re worth something because they bully those smaller than them. I honestly don’t think anyone would miss you if you disappeared.”

Dan’s face went a nasty shade of purple. “
You have no business coming into my house!”

“I came to see Rafe,” Mr. French said calmly. “The front door was open and I heard screaming
, and as a concerned neighbor I felt like it was my duty to make sure the children were safe.”

Dan
curled and uncurled his fingers. “You have no business here. This is a family matter. Get out.”

Mr. French ignored him. Piercing green eyes swept over Dan’s round shoulder and settled on Rafe. “
Come with me, Rafe.”

“Whoa there, pal.” Dan put his hands up before Rafe could even open his swollen lips. “He’s not going anywhere with you. Who the hell are you anyway?”

“Dad!” Rafe recognized that voice immediately and stiffened even before Ana barged into the room, hair a wild riot of curls around her flushed face.

Rafe cursed, wanting to die, wishing he’d left when he’d had the chance.
It was bad enough having her father standing up for him, something no one had ever done before, but he really did not want her to see him at his lowest.

She stopped just behind her father, her green eyes wide
and pleading. “Dad, please—”

“Go back home, Ana,” her father said without glancing at her.

“Don’t do this,” she hissed in a low whisper. “Please, I—” Her gaze swung over the room, jumping over Dan and locking on to his. Her mouth parted in a silent gasp as her eyes went even rounder. “Rafe!”

“Ana—!”

She ignored her father and was in front of Rafe before anyone could stop her. “Oh my God! What happened?”

“Go home,
Ana,” he told her, catching her arm in a gentle grip when she reached for him. He knew he’d do something stupid if she touched him, like pull her into his arms and bury his hurting face into all that hair.

“What? No, I—”

Rafe’s gaze shot over her head to where Dan stood watching her, his hazel brown eyes lit with a sick sort of interest. The glint in them made Rafe’s stomach churn and his blood spike several hundred degrees in rage. His fingers tightened on Ana’s elbow.

“Please!” he hissed, moving her himself, dragging her back to the door and past, keeping his body between her and Dan in passing. “Go!”

He didn’t release her until her father had her, pulling her back and away to safety. Not that the foyer was very safe. She wouldn’t be safe until she was out of that house.

“Come with us, Rafe,” her father said ag
ain, keeping a firm grip on Ana.

Rafe searched her pale face, her soft mossy eyes and wanted nothing more than to say yes. He took a step back. “My
family needs me here,” he murmured.

Mr. French looked like he was ready to argue
, but he must have seen he wouldn’t win. He gave an accepting nod and turned his cutting attention on Dan.

“
This isn’t over. If I see you touch a single hair on his head again, I’ll break your arms.”

Dan curled back his lips and sneered, but was wise enough to keep his mouth shut.
His complexion of bruised tomatoes had washed out to a pasty white that made him appear ill.

With a last look at Rafe, Mr. French
nudged Ana down the foyer and out the door. He shut it behind them and Rafe was alone with his own personal demon.

Nothing was said for se
veral long moments, but Rafe could feel the twist in the air. There was a weight there he didn’t like. His theory was proven correct when Dan turned slowly towards him, his thin lips mutated into a vicious leer. His eyes bore into Rafe, pits of triumphant glee.

“So, that’s the little whore you’ve been cuddling up to.”
He slid a pink tongue over his bottom lip. “Can’t say I blame you. I wouldn’t mind sinking between her—”

Rafe had no
recollection of snapping the steel rod off the destroyed coffee table frame, but it was in his hands as though it had materialized there. It struck the side of Dan’s skull with a sickening crack that sent the bigger man sailing sideways into the wall. The impact sang up Rafe’s arms with a satisfying pang. His blood roared through his veins. His heart thumped with a single chant,
kill him! Kill him!
He wanted to. He wanted to bathe the carpet in Dan’s blood. He wanted to wash the walls with it. He suddenly understood why his father had done it, why he had killed without a single shred of remorse. He started to raise the rod again, but only just caught himself.

He twisted it around length wise and rammed it up under Dan’s chin, cramming it into his windpipe and holding it there as
Dan squeaked and flailed like a chicken on its way to the chopper’s block.

“You touch her,” Rafe growled into
Dan’s slack-jawed expression. “You so much as look at her and I’ll fucking kill you in your sleep.”

Ana

Eleven-thirty wouldn’t come fast enough. Ana had never watched her clock so closely, any closer and she was afraid it would file for harassment charges against her. But she couldn’t get Rafe’s battered face out of her mind. She couldn’t stop seeing the blood dripping down his chin and the dark circle forming around his eye. Her father hadn’t said a word to her about what had happened before her arrival, but she wasn’t stupid. That ugly beast of a man must have been Dan. She only knew him by voice from her night in Rafe’s room, but it was in his face, the meanness. She had no doubt it was him and he was the one who had put his hands on Rafe.

Anger flooded through her, hot and thick. She wanted to hit something, but knew it wouldn’t do any good. She was no match for Dan and he was the one she wanted to beat her fists into.

A discarded shoe took the blunt of her frustration. It sailed across the room and struck the wall. Mitzy grumbled at her haughtily while continuing the delicate grooming of his paws.

Ana ignored him as she continued
her pacing.

By eleven, she couldn’t help wonder if maybe he wouldn’t come.
What if he’d changed his mind? What if he was too hurt? There were too many possibilities, too many reasons why he would change his mind and wash his hands of her, one of them being her father.

She hadn’t expected he would stomp over there, hell bent on having a
chat
with the boy getting a little too close to his daughter. But she’d run after him when she’d seen him trudging across the jungle of weeds, over the broken fence to the yard on the other side. She had tried to explain that Rafe made her feel safe, which of course was ludicrous when she had to agree with her parents that he was pure danger in the flesh. But it was better than telling them he was trying to protect her from a demon. They’d lock her away for sure.

Plagued by the possibility that Rafe might
have come to his senses and realized how ridiculous the whole situation was and bolted, Ana bit her lip and wandered over to the window seat. She lowered herself onto the cushion and peered at the reflection peering sadly back at her. It seemed extra dark out there with her bedroom lights on, but she wasn’t brave enough to turn them off. In the distance, she could just make out the solitary glow from the house across the yard and wondered who was up and if that was the reason Rafe hadn’t shown up yet.

Down the hall, the news was abruptly silenced in mid broadcast
as the TV in her parent’s room was shut off, signaling her mother’s turn in. She felt an instant sense of abandonment as the house fell into a chilling silence. Both her parents were just down the hall, yet they felt about a million miles away. She was alone, at night, with whatever was haunting her.

“Hurry, Rafe,” she moaned, pressing her forehead into the glass.
She closed her eyes and prayed that he hadn’t forgotten, or given up on her. She prayed he would hurry.

Clack.

Ana jumped. Her head came off the cool pane and whipped around at the inexplicable noise behind her. The room was empty, except for Mitzy, who was sprawled shamelessly on top of her bed, belly up. Whatever had made the sound, it hadn’t been him nor had he been disturbed by it.

Ana shuddered. She drew her knees tighter to her chest and turned back to the window. Only she wasn’t the only reflection in the glass this time.

With a
choked scream, she lunged off the bench and whirled around to confront the pale silhouette hovering next to her bed. But there was nothing there except Mitzy who had one eye open and was peering accusingly at her upside down. One white and orange striped paw twitched, but he remained immobile while Ana’s heart rampaged wildly in her chest. She faced the window again, searching for some small measure of sanity, something that could be blamed for her hallucination. But she knew there would be nothing there.

“What do you want from me?” she whispered to her terrified reflection.

Crack!
The pebble hit the glass and ricocheted back, disappearing into the folds of darkness. Nerves a mess, Ana threw her hands up to her face, mashing sweaty palms over her mouth to stifle the strangled sound housed in her throat. She was shaking all over as she inched closer and peered down.

Rafe waved at her from beneath her window and her heart all but ceased
beating in her chest. Relief was a physical fist in the gut as she whirled on her heels and hurried to the door. She paused only briefly to snatch up the small bag she’d packed before slipping from the room and quietly shutting the door behind her.

She was drenched in cold sweat by the time she bolted down her courage and tore down the hall, past the basement and into the dark kitchen.
The lock slipped beneath her clammy fingers as she fumbled for it. It gave way with a soft click and she swung the back door open.

He stood like a
lost angel on the porch, his hands buried in the pockets of his jeans. Caramel brown eyes rose up and met hers from beneath the fringes draped over his brow.

“Rafe
.” Her bag slipped from her fingers. She was in his arms before it hit the floor.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured into the side of her head. His arms tightened around her middle. One hand went up to grasp the back of her skull, holding her face to his shoulder.
“What happened?”

Ana closed her eyes, breathing in the
crisp scent of autumn laced with his leather and spices scent. “I thought I saw something upstairs.”

“Do you want me to go check?”

She shook her head. “There’s nothing there now.” Carefully, she dislodged herself from him and glanced back through the kitchen into the hallway. She couldn’t see the basement door, but she knew it was there and shuddered.

“Come on.” Rafe took her hand. He scooped her bag up with the other one as she shut the door quietly behind them.

They crept across the yard, stepping carefully on the slabs of stone curving towards the pond. They veered off, going straight. Ana paused only once to glance back at the house. A shiver coursed through her at the sinister sight it made, huddled beneath a darkened sky, draped in velvet blackness. Only the porch light glowed, spilling pale fingers across rickety steps and a firmly closed door. She turned quickly back around.

“I didn’t think you were coming,”
she whispered as they climbed the steps onto his porch.

“Why not?”

She didn’t answer until they were safely in his room with the door closed and the lights on and even then, she was momentarily redirected by the drastic change.

“You cleaned your room!”

There was a bed, fully made and a desk with a laptop on top. Papers, pens and books were neatly stacked in piles off to one side and a lamp sat on the other. The shelves on the walls were neatly organized with crime books and action figures Ana didn’t recognize. The floors were vacuumed and void of laundry and dishes. And the whole place smelled like wood polish and a wild meadow.

“You don’t have to sound so amazed,” he said, moving around her to drop down on the bed. He set her bag down next to him.

“I’m sorry, but this is…” She shook her head, awed. “Like night and day.”

“Well.” He flopped back on the bed, folding his arms beneath his head. “Now I won’t have to worry about losing you in here.”

Laughing, she crossed to the desk and perched on the chair. She surveyed the room, a smile still large on her face.

“You’re beautiful when you do that.”

She dropped her gaze to his. “What’s that?”

“Smile.” He swung his legs over the mattress and sat up before she could respond. “
So why didn’t you think I would come?”

Taken by surprise
at his abrupt change of topic, Ana couldn’t speak for a moment. She pursed her lips and studied the worn patterns on the comforter. She wondered how much she should tell him. Then decided there was really nothing she felt the need to hide.

“I thought maybe you decided to wash your hands of me,” she murmured honestly. “I doubt any other girl comes with nearly as much baggage as I apparently do.
”

“
True,” he said with a sigh. “But that’s all the fun.” He gave her a grin when she swung her gaze to his. “What else?”

She had no idea how he knew there was anything else, but she swallowed hard before telling him. “
I thought you might be in too much pain to come get me.” She bit her lip when the amusement faded from his eyes and he turned his face away from her. “Rafe—”

“Don’t, Ana.”

She rose from her seat and went to sit next to him. “Talk to me, please?” She touched the hand balled tight on his thigh. “You’re always here for me. I want to be there for you.”

If possible, the hand beneath hers bunched even tighter.
“There’s nothing you can do.”

She wiggled closer, letting her hip, thigh and shoulder rest against his. “I can listen.”

Carefully, she unfurled his fingers and slipped hers through them. She rested her injured hand on his.

“Jesus,
I wish you hadn’t seen that.” He rubbed a hand over his bruised face and back into his hair to scratch brutally at the back of his neck. “I would have given anything…”

She tightened her fingers around his. “
That was Dan, wasn’t it?”

He squeezed his eyes closed tight, hesitation tense along his shoulders.
“Yeah,” he finally muttered, opening his eyes once more. “That was Dan. He’s my mom’s husband.”

“But not your dad?”

He shook his head. “My dad’s in prison. He was no better than Dan from what I hear.”

“Why is he in prison?”

“Murder.” He looked at her, searching her face for some possible reaction. “He killed my grandfather. My mom’s dad.”

Ana gasped. “That’s horrible!”

He shook his head. “Not really. He was hurting my mom. Dad was protecting her. I can’t hate him for that and I don’t. The sheriff back then didn’t care why he’d done it. It was a father’s right to beat the devil out of his children. But I would have done the same. I hate him for everything else he’d done.”

“Like what?”

He shrugged. “Like stealing cars for a living and selling drugs. He wasn’t the best role model.”

Carefully, she squeezed his fingers.
“What happened today?”

He inhaled deeply and shrugged. “I came home and Dan was screaming at
Mike and Gabby for breaking the coffee table. Mickey’s pretty tough, but only because Gabby isn’t and he tries to be strong for her. That bastard has her so scared she jumps at her own shadow. It doesn’t matter that I would never let anyone hurt her, or Mickey. I know she knows it, but the minute Dan walks into the room you can just see her shut down and it kills me. I just want to pound my fists into his face for what he’s done to her.” He broke off to mash the heel of his hand into his eyelids. “But it would make things worse if I tried to fight back. Dan always said I better kill him because the second he gets up, I’m dead, which I don’t care if it means they’re safe, but he’d go after them when I wasn’t around to protect them. So long as I’m around, Dan has an outlet for his rage and his fists and I’m okay with that.”

“I’m not!” She touched a hand to the side of his face, turning it so she could peer into his eyes.
“I’m not okay with that at all. God, Rafe! Why won’t you say something? Tell the police.”

He laughed, jerking his face
from her. “You’ve lived here long enough to know what people think of me. I doubt anyone would take me seriously. It’s my word against his and Dan’s a decorated Marine. He just has to tell them I came at him and I’m done.”

Ana frowned. “But your mother—”

“Will never speak against him and I can’t ask her to.”

“That’s ridiculous!” She leapt off the bed and began pacing. “She’s your mother and it’s her job to protect you. To protect Gabby and Michael. Once he’s in jail—”

“He won’t stay in jail.” He rose and took her gently by the shoulders. “They’ll give him bail and he’ll be out in an hour. Then he’ll be back.”

“Then you call the police and send him back!”

He brushed a curl off her cheek, the gesture as tender as the warmth in his eyes as he peered down into her enraged expression.

“
Mi Rosa
.” He smiled slightly. “You’re beautiful when you’re worked up.”

Despite the anger still choking her, Ana grinned. “I thought I was beautiful when I smiled.”

“You are. You’re also beautiful when you blush and when you laugh and when you look ready to beat me with a stick.” His eyes darkened. His fingertips glided along her cheek to her chin where he tilted her face to his with a gentle nudge. “
Te quiero, Rosa
.”

Lost in the bottomless depths of his gaze, she had no sense to spot the clever change of topic.

“What?”

“I—”

A soft knock interrupted whatever he was about to tell her. They pulled apart, both turning to the door.