Fireflies and Magnolias (14 page)

Jasinda rolled toward her, and Amelia Ann could see the swelling flesh around her eyes and cheekbones. “I want to leave,” she whispered. “With the children.
Now
.”

Amelia Ann nodded, then ran through their options. Could they rely on the possibility Damon would fall asleep? If he was drunk and high, which it sounded like he was to her, it was a toss-up. The depressant in alcohol and the stimulant in whatever drugs he’d taken would be fighting a chemical war inside him.

Was Jasinda in any condition to even check? And what about the children? What if he was angry enough to make good on his threat?

Then she remembered how Clayton had made her promise to call him if she needed help.

Well, she certainly needed him now. With no response from Felicia, what choice did she have?

But
should
she reach out to him? She thought about it for a moment. He was tough enough to help her. If the police wouldn’t come—and Amelia Ann had to take Jasinda’s word on that—she didn’t have many choices. Clayton was twenty minutes away if he was at the office, fifteen if he broke all the traffic rules, which she wouldn’t put it above him. Felicia, if and when she texted her back, was thirty minutes away.

That made the decision for her.

She texted a message to Clayton.

In big trouble. Come ASAP. Situation dangerous. 892 22nd Street Apt. 23.

His response was immediate.
I’ll be there ASAP.

The TV roared suddenly, the wild shouts from on screen mixing with the sound of the kids’ whimpers and Jasinda’s crying. After a few minutes, the kids finally crept into the bedroom and lay on the floor beside their mother, the three of them crying as a unit. Amelia Ann wanted so much to join them—to wrap them all in a hug—but she stayed where she was. Until Damon fell asleep or Clayton arrived, it was safer that way.

Clayton could handle Damon. Couldn’t he? He was the toughest man she knew. But what about Cam and his boys downstairs? Clayton might be a black panther, but they were wild hyenas that would go for the throat with little provocation.

Was she putting him at risk? Oh, God, she had to believe it would turn out all right. He would get them out of here. He had to. She started praying a litany of pleas and mantras. Her hand clutched the phone, cold sweat wetting her simple sweatshirt and off-brand jeans.

A message from Felicia flashed on her phone.

Will find a staff person to come with me. Stay hidden until we arrive.

She immediately texted her back.

Alpha friend of mine en route to help. Find us a shelter. Will text when out.

Her boss’ response was immediate.

Okay. Stay calm. You’ll get them out.

Get them out? Yes, she would get them out with Clayton’s help. She promised that to herself and them.

Time marched on as Amelia Ann watched the clock on her phone. Jasinda finally stopped crying and comforted the children. Once their sobbing had quieted too, she silently lifted herself up and tiptoed down the hall. Calvin looked under the bed for a moment, and he and Amelia Ann shared a glance. When Jasinda came back, she shut the door—taking care not to make any noise.

“Amelia Ann?” she whispered, groaning as she bent down to peer under the bed. “He’s asleep. This is our chance to get out of here, but I’m afraid Cam and his boys will try and stop us.”

“I have a friend coming. A man. A tough one. He’ll get us out.”

She checked her phone. There was a message from Clayton.

I’m here, and I’m packing. Are you okay?

He was packing? Of course he was. Cam and his buddies were probably packing too. Dear God. She didn’t even want to think about that. It wouldn’t come to a gun fight, she vowed, as she texted Clayton back.

We’re coming out. Wait in front of the door.

She slid out from under the bed and stood, every nerve in her back tense.

“My friend is here. Let’s go.”

“Damon will destroy anything I leave behind,” Jasinda whispered, the children’s arms wrapped around her waist.

Amelia Ann looked directly in her eyes and grabbed her hands and squeezed them tight. “They can be replaced. You and the kids can’t.”

The woman nodded, new tears in her eyes.

“Okay. Let’s go.”

They tiptoed into the apartment’s main room. The TV was still blaring, thank God. Damon hadn’t put all the chains back on the door, so she was able to open it without making much noise.

Clayton was standing outside the doorway, just as she’d told him to do. The first thing she noticed was that he’d left his cowboy hat at home. The second was the bugle of a weapon sticking out of his black jacket.

Their eyes met and clashed, and in them, she could see a million questions—and anger—the kind that burned down forests in a day.

She held her finger up to her mouth, telling him to be quiet. Then she put her arm around Jasinda and ushered her and the kids out of the apartment.

“Jasinda,” Damon called out, making everyone freeze.

Amelia Ann shook her head and pushed the woman forward. To Clayton. She swept Kylie up into her arms. Calvin lunged outside.

“Let’s go,” she hissed.

The little girl’s arms squeezed her as tight as a boa constrictor as she walked away from the door, leaving it ajar. She didn’t dare shut it, fearing the sound.

“Jasinda?” Damon’s voice asked suddenly in a slur. “Where you be, bitch?”

Every muscle in her locked in place. Dear God, he hadn’t slept long enough.

Clayton pushed Jasinda and Calvin ahead of him, then guided her in front of him with a hand on her lower back so he could take up the rear. There were people loitering in the hallway. The temperature had reached the early eighties today, and since no one had air conditioning, many doors were open. People edged out of their way as they walked quickly to the stairs.

“Jasinda?” Amelia Ann heard Damon bellow again.

Jasinda started to run down the stairs, Calvin’s hand clutched in hers. As if by invitation, Cam and his nasty friends uncurled from the Cadillac and swaggered over.

Clayton’s black SUV was parked behind two other cars by the stairs. Smart of him. Hers was parked on the street out front. Well, she would just have to leave it. He unlocked the vehicle and opened the back seat.

“Get in the car, y’all,” he said in a remarkably calm voice, not taking his eyes off Cam and his approaching gang.

“Jasinda!” Damon yelled off in the distance. “Where are you, bitch? I’m going to kill you.”

The woman whimpered as she boosted Calvin into the vehicle and scooted inside after him. Amelia Ann handed Kylie to her. She turned around and ran smack into Clayton’s hard chest.

“Get in the back. I don’t want him to see you.”

His hands pushed her into the vehicle and slammed the door behind her. As cool as a cat, he walked around to the driver’s side and nodded to Cam and his friends. Clayton didn’t flinch in times of trouble, it seemed. And the relief of having him here—of not being in this situation alone anymore—flooded her.

He opened the door and got in, locked the doors, and started the car. He had on his aviator sunglasses, she noted, and he looked dangerous. Almost like an undercover cop.

The effect was probably intentional. Clayton ran her brother’s security after all. He was no ingénue when it came to tense situations, so it made sense that he would know exactly how to present himself in this neighborhood.

“Where are we going, Amelia Ann?” he asked in that same calm voice as he backed up and pulled out of the parking lot.

She saw Damon weaving down the stairs, but Cam snagged him by the arm and shouted something to him, gesturing toward the car.

And then Clayton turned the corner, and the scene disappeared from view. She realized she was calm too, but in a way that made her feel like she wasn’t in her own body.

“We need to bring them to a women’s shelter,” she heard herself say. “My boss is finding us one.”

And she picked up her phone to call Felicia. Her boss was unemotional when she asked how everyone was. She responded
safe
, and in a voice that was unfamiliar even to her, she delivered a quick briefing on the full situation. Felicia told her to take them to A Soft Landing. Everything would be in order by the time they arrived. It was one of the shelters the clinic used in emergencies, and Amelia Ann had visited it a few times with Felicia to meet with their clients. She had also met with the head of the shelter about Rye’s concert. Before she hung up, Felicia said she would meet them there. Amelia Ann was so numb, she felt nothing as she clicked off.

After she gave Clayton the address, she suddenly realized she wasn’t wearing her seatbelt—a first for her. Then she looked around and discovered none of them were. It struck her as funny. Who cared about the possibility of getting hurt in a car accident after the horrible scene at the apartment complex? She didn’t even bother to reach for the belt.

“Damon is gonna find us,” Jasinda said in a broken voice as Clayton came to the first stoplight.

The kids started to whimper, and it helped her focus her flagging energy. They needed her. Amelia Ann reached out and took the other woman’s hand.

“I swear to you, Jasinda. He’s
never
going to touch you or the kids ever again.”

The woman looked over her shoulder, as if expecting to see Damon racing after the SUV. It was probably something she’d done most of her life.

“You just did the bravest thing I’ve ever seen, Jasinda,” she told her. “What comes next is the easy part.”

It wasn’t though. Jasinda had a long road ahead of her. She would have to adjust to the shelter—its own way of life—find work, make a new home, and become part of the legal system. But that wasn’t what she needed to hear right now. And in an important way it was true—despite the challenges she would have to face, Jasinda wasn’t going to be beaten every day just because some man needed to hurt her to make himself feel superior.

As tears flowed down Jasinda’s swollen face, the separation Amelia Ann had felt from her body ended, and the pain of it was like coming off anesthesia after surgery. It hurt. Unbearably so.

“Okay,” Jasinda repeated, rocking back and forth, her kids clutching her. “It’ll be okay.”

When Amelia Ann lifted her head, she met Clayton’s gaze in the mirror. While she couldn’t see his eyes, his mouth was grim. Hard.

“Thank you for coming,” she told him in a voice that sounded calmer than she felt.

“I’ll always come when you need me,” he responded as he drove through the intersection.

Amelia Ann knew his answer should soothe her, but it didn’t make a dent in the hurt she felt.

She didn’t take a full breath until they left the other side of hell.

Clayton prided himself on being a man who was no longer shocked by life. He’d seen women toss their panties at Rye as his boss and best friend performed on stage. He’d seen famous men drink too much and lose everything.

But he’d never seen anything like Amelia Ann.

He glanced back at her in his rearview mirror. Usually Amelia Ann was decked out in the finest fashion. Dolled up with carefully applied makeup, not a hair out of place. Today, she had on jeans that clearly weren’t designer and a sweatshirt from the local football team, not to mention a battered ball cap of dubious origin. She was still the type of woman who stopped traffic.

What in the hell had she been thinking? Pure fear had streaked through his system as he read her text. He’d thought there might be a scuffle at the legal clinic, but he’d never imagined her venturing into someone’s home. A home where a violent man lived.

After pulling up the address she’d given him…well, he’d cursed a blue streak. He should have checked out that legal clinic better before agreeing to let her continue working there. He was going to rip its director a new hole that was for damn sure.

Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t have ventured into that hellhole of a motel with a sawed-off shotgun and a bullet-proof vest.

Thank God she had kept her promise to call if she got into trouble. He didn’t want to think about what could have happened if she hadn’t…or if he hadn’t arrived in time.

But he could think of little else as he listened to Jasinda and her kids cry. As he forced himself not to cringe every time he saw the raw skin swelling on her face.

The women’s shelter looked like a house from Never Never Land that had landed in the middle of a war zone. It was painted a bright purple and had yellow shutters and a yellow door circa 1950s. The safety fence encircling it, thirteen feet high by his measure, was armed. When he reached the security panel, he took note of the camera positioned on the other side of the fence.

A voice sounded from the box: “Can I help you?”

“Hey, Barrett, it’s Amelia Ann,” she said, leaning over the front seat to project her voice. “I have that new family Felicia called y’all about a little bit ago.”

“We’re ready for you, AA. I see you have a new ride and a new man too.”

Her laughter was forced. He’d heard her infectious gurgle often enough around her family to know the difference. And he dreamed about her husky, full-on-woman laughter. The kind he imagined hearing while he was making love to her.

Something he thought about way too often.

“I had to get here somehow,” she said lightly.

“Felicia is mighty relieved to hear y’all are okay. Is your man a cop?”

“No,” he answered before Amelia Ann could respond.

“Well, I’ll be. I’ve usually got good cop radar.”

That had been the idea.

The gate creaked open, and Clayton could see the rust coating parts of the metal fence. The parking lot was dotted with used cars. A few bumpers were hanging on by a thread. He’d bet money that nine out of ten of them wouldn’t pass an emissions test.

He pulled into a parking space and cut the engine, and Amelia Ann opened the door and slid out before he could open it for her. She reached for the little girl, but the poor thing clung to her mama like a monkey. Neither of the kids had visible bruises, so he let himself hope they hadn’t been hit.