If We Dare to Dream (3 page)

“Jamie, it was really nice to meet you, although I wish it had been under different circumstances,” he said with a self-critical grin. “Promise me you’ll drive safe… and good luck with your move.”

“Thank you for being such a gentleman,” Jamie replied with what seemed to her a pathetic response.

With one last smile, he released the door and shut it securely. Jamie watched as he walked to a new, shiny black F150. Within seconds, his headlights were on and flashing her to go ahead. For the second time, she wondered if she was being foolish by allowing him to follow her, but again she shrugged it off just as quickly. She was in control of her vehicle and could drive him anywhere, including a police station.

Confident that he was a good guy, she drove to the exit and pulled out, checking her rearview mirror multiple times on her ride home. He followed her all the way to Brown Road, flashing his headlights one last time before making a right turn out of her life. As his headlights faded off into the night, Jamie felt suddenly lonely and alone. She had never met such a polite and respectful man at a bar before, and it was a shame that he was too late. If things had been different, she would have liked the chance to get to know him better.

Her development lay ahead on the left, so she put on her blinker and slowed. This was it; her last evening in Phoenix. Starting at noon she would be on the way to her new life. As she pulled into her covered spot, she glanced at the clock in her car before shutting it down for its final night in Arizona. The clock read 2 am.

***

The night had cooled, and a breeze was blowing through the open window straight toward her bed. Kit felt the cool air on her naked shoulders and shivered. She was tired, too tired to get up and shut the window. She would just have to deal.

Where was the duvet?

Still drunk and half asleep, she reached blindly for the duvet to offer her some warmth. Suddenly it was draped over her by unseen hands, and she snuggled down deeper into sleep. Her stomach still roiled from all the alcohol she had consumed during the evening, and the taste of her vomit burned her throat. As she once again entered her stupor, she thought fleetingly of how terrible she would feel in the morning.

A warm hand encircled her waist and pulled her up against a hard chest. The body heat warmed her, and for a moment she snuggled up against the warmth.

Lips nuzzled the nape of her neck, and a hand covered her breast. After a moment of play, her tube top was gently pulled down. Once again the hand was there, moving from one breast to the next. Several moments passed before Kit realized that this was all wrong.

She lived alone. She was not dating anyone. Who the hell was in bed with her?

As though sensing her return to consciousness, Kit heard a chuckle near her ear. It was a frightening sound, cold and malicious. Then everything happened so quickly that she had no time to react. Before she could scream something was shoved into her mouth. When she attempted to remove it, hands grasped her wrists, and she was straddled by a very large, very strong body. It pushed her deeper into her mattress and pinned the duvet against her body. She could not kick out.

As both her hands were drawn over her head, she began to shake wildly. This could not be happening. Her eyes were wide, and she desperately tried to wiggle her hands free while her tongue wrestled with the gag. Then the cruel bite of a zip tie dug into her wrists. It was pulled tight, and the plastic cut painfully into her soft skin. While one hand pinned her hands above her head, the other hand reached beside her. She could feel his hand fumbling near her leg. Pinned as she was, panicked sounds escaped her throat. They were muffled by the gag in her mouth.

A rope appeared. It was wrapped around her bound wrists and then around the bedpost, securing her hands above the bed. When her attacker had secured it tightly, he sat back on her thighs and chuckled again.

“Let’s play a game.”

The voice was deep and slightly familiar. Through her alcohol drugged mind, she remembered a man she had spoken to before. Did he see her come home? Did she invite him in?

No, she never would have done that.

She vaguely remembered Vic and the bouncer getting her a cab. The cab brought her home. She was alone at the time. Going through the door was fuzzy, but she remembered being alone when she fell into bed.

Apparently, she had been followed at some point.

The heavy weight on her midsection was suddenly gone and the cool breeze again reached her clammy skin as the duvet was pulled off her and bunched up on the other side of the bed. Rough and urgent hands grasped her thighs before she could kick out, and her thong was sawed off her by a previously unseen knife. As Kit watched on, it glinted in the moonlight. She knew then that she was about to be raped.

With a new sense of urgency, Kit began to fight in earnest. However, her bucking hips and kicking feet only served to irritate him, and his hands came up around her neck.

“Stop moving.”

The threat was plain, but Kit could not stop. She was afraid, more frightened than she had ever been before in her life. She fought as hard as she could, aware of the biting sting of the zip ties as they cut her wrists, and the pressure of the hands around her neck. She wanted to scream, but the gag was in too far. She could not spit it out.

Frustrated with the continued fighting, the hands around her neck tightened even more. Her panicked moans were cut off, and she struggled for air in her deprived and burning lungs. Easing her struggles, she prayed that the pressure would ease. But it did not. Despite her submission, those hands kept squeezing in rage. Unable to take in any more air, her last struggles stopped and her grip on consciousness slipped away.

Kit’s last coherent thought was of her mother.

As her eyes fluttered closed, she glimpsed the bright green numbers on her clock. It read 2:10 am.

Chapter 1

Fall 2009

Hitting rock bottom for Jamie was almost like falling into a deep well from which there was no escape. The walls were smooth, and there were no hand holds. While she knew she could claw all she wanted to at the slick sides, there was no hope of reaching the top. Instead she had to tread the murky, icy cold water until she was rescued or exhaustion took over and made her give in to oblivion.

At the moment, Jamie Morton, formally Evans, was in the process of being rescued. It could have been a welcome rescue if not for the ‘I told you so’ looks that her rescuers threw her way. As the last of her belongings were pulled from the moving truck parked in the driveway of the large, five bedroom house belonging to her oldest brother, each and every one of them glanced at her as they passed.

Far away from Vegas, her brother Ford had built his home up in the Red Mountain area of Mesa, and now all of her belongings were neatly stacked in one of the oversized garages on his property. She was suddenly a renter in his guest quarters until she re-established herself. That could not happen fast enough, she thought sullenly.

In all fairness, it really could be worse. The guest house at Ford’s had a separate entrance and was more like a studio apartment than a spare bedroom. She had her own small kitchen and bath in addition to a spacious closet and dresser for her clothes. While she knew she should be thankful, instead she felt like a failure running home to the closest thing she still had to a parent. So much for independence.

“This is it,” Ian announced, brushing his hands off on his jeans.

Four pairs of eyes stared at her expectantly. Again she almost wished she was succumbing to the exhaustion. All four of her brothers were present, from Ford down to Ian. And all four had immediately stepped in to take control of her suddenly spiraling life, taking matters into their own hands while she cried herself to sleep every night.

Overprotective was an understatement.

Looking at them now, they were all so similar and yet so different. All of the Evans kids had their father’s mahogany colored hair and brown eyes. They were all tall and slender, including Jamie, with long limbs, graceful postures and expressive demeanors, and with a single glance she could determine what each was thinking.

The eldest, Ford, was the only one to show the signs of approaching middle age with a slight hunch to his broad shoulders and a small spare tire around his waist. It suited his somber and formidable personality well. At that moment Ford appeared exasperated, as though he was ready to lecture her again on the foolishness of running off and getting married so quickly only to run back home as soon as things took a turn for the worse.

Grady, the generous and practical one, argued both sides of each story. In one breath he would tell Jamie that Ford was right, but in the next he would agree that she had done what she thought was best at the time.

The third and happy-go-lucky son, Hayden, cheerfully offered to put a hit out on Clay for disgracing his little sister so shamefully while his fists clenched by his side. As he did so, the youngest and most intense brother, Ian, glared at Hayden and threatened to arrest him if he did. Then he turned to Jamie and said that he would pull Clay over and give him the biggest ticket of his life if he ever saw him on the road during his shift again.

They were her brothers, and she loved them more than ever today.

Yet the truth was that she was raw and hurting and hated being at their mercy. What they viewed as taking care of their baby sister, she saw as a constant reminder of her mistakes. She had valued her independence, and now she was back where she started from - under their thumbs and feeling like a total failure.

“Thanks guys,” she said softly.

Seeing the emotion rising on her face, Hayden placed his hands on his hips and grinned. “Work’s done; let’s eat!”

Ian nodded enthusiastically. “Good idea.” He patted his very flat and toned stomach. “This big boy needs some steak. Hey Ford, whatcha grilling?”

Ford shrugged. “If you can find it, you can cook it. I’m going to take a minute to straighten out a path to my workbench.”

Jamie held back while her three other brothers disappeared inside to see what they could find. All three lanky figures marched with their inherited purposeful stride to the front door, eager to empty Ford’s pantry. A line of hungry soldiers, their only differences from behind were their various hair styles and range of physique, with Ian being the burliest and Grady being the thinnest. When they disappeared from sight, she turned her attention to Ford. Her oldest brother had gone back into the garage that now contained her life, and after drumming up the confidence to follow she headed across the paved driveway to thank him in private.

He was shifting a box away from his meticulously ordered and pristine work area when she stepped inside the garage. It had been custom fit with a workbench and tables, and tools of varying shapes, sizes and uses hung from clips neatly arranged upon the walls now hidden by her belongings.

“I’m sorry about all this,” she said.

Glancing up, Ford stared at her for a few seconds and then straightened slowly. “Don’t worry about it. Hayden just never listens to me when I tell him where to put things.”

Jamie felt a smile. Hayden never listened to anyone. He was the free-spirit of the family. “That wasn’t what I meant.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for. You belong with us. We’re family.”

“You have your own family. How will they feel when they get back and your little sister is freeloading off of you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Isabel was going to fly back here to be with you. You would offend us more if you refused to stay here, Jamie.”

The stern look he sent her way was a bitter reminder of how long it had taken her to confess to her brothers the state of her marriage. High profile clients, a fast lifestyle and too much pressure had turned Clay from the attentive man she had met shortly after college into an out of control fool. In customary Jamie style, she had stayed too long in the hopes of mothering him back to her, ignoring her inner voice that warned her to leave after a year of marriage. A divorcee, rapidly approaching thirty and starting a new job in a slow and bungling economy, Jamie was everything she had hoped she would
not
be at her age. It was her worst nightmare, and she felt shame down to her inner being.

“Well, when you speak to Isabel next, please tell her I send my love and thanks, and tell her I promise not to stay too long. Just long enough for me to find my feet again.”

Ford’s hand came down on her shoulder, and he squeezed it gently. “You stay as long as you need to. I mean that.”

Feeling emotional again, Jamie forced a laugh. Her vision blurred as the tears filled her eyes. “I guess this is when I say that I’m going to arrange my room for a little bit and make my graceful departure. Is that okay, or do you need any help out here?”

Ford shook his head. “Take all the time you need.”

With trembling lips, Jamie spun on her heel and walked from the garage to the paved and floral landscaped path down to her new home. The door was still cracked open, and she could hear the air conditioning running. Oh Hayden, she thought, closing the heavy territorial-style door behind her. Though the desert heat had eased quite a bit, it was still warm during the day and running the air with the door open was a total waste. She shook her head. Some things never changed.