Justice For Abby (11 page)

“No.” Her fear grew to terror as she fought him, trying to push him away as he pulled her free of her jeans. “Stop. No. Please, Renzo.”

“Oh, yeah.” He unzipped his fly, exposing himself. “Oh hell fucking yeah.”

Tears raced down her cheeks as she struggled to get away. She'd avoided this fate over the last few weeks by hiding in her tiny room and doing what she'd been asked.

He held her down with a hand to her chest and reached in a drawer, grabbing a condom from the pile. “Stop fighting me, bitch, or I’ll make this so much worse.” He tossed the package on her stomach and smiled. “Open it.”

“No,” she shuddered out.

He grabbed her throat, cutting off her air. “I said fucking open it!”

Gasping, fighting for a breath, she ripped at the package.

“Better.” He grinned as he rolled on the rubber. “Let’s show her how to be a dirty whore.”

“Renzo please,” she begged, weeping as he pulled her forward, understanding that there was no way to escape the inevitable.

Gasping, Abby’s eyes flew open as Renzo's primal grunts echoed in her head. Her heart beat wildly in her heaving chest as she blinked, focusing on the faded rose wallpaper in the dimly lit room. Rolling over, she swiped at her sweat-soaked face and rushed off the twin bed, hurrying to the door. They had her again. Renzo found her and they’d taken her again.

She yanked the door open and slammed into Jerrod.

“Whoa,” he grabbed her arms.

"Don't." She cringed, stepping back. “Don’t touch me.”

He held his hands up, studying her with his calm blue eyes. "Easy, Abby."

She wiped at another drop of sweat tickling her temples as she darted glances around the unfamiliar space. “Where am I?”

“We’re at the safe house.”

The deep rumble of a plane taking off shook the mirror on the wall, and she took another step back, clutching her arms at her chest, trying to think past the dredges of sleep and horrifying memories still crowding her brain. “Where?”

“About five minutes from LAX.”

She inched closer to the window, desperate to yank the shade up and get her bearings.

“Don’t open that.”

Swallowing, she eyed Jerrod, still trying to get a read on the man blocking her only way out. He was her friend, yet she couldn't shake her sudden distrust as Renzo's cruel laughter filled her head. “I need to see outside.”

He shook his head. “You can’t.”

She moved further away, bumping into a rough-looking rocking chair as the walls started closing in around her. "I want to go home."

"We can't, Abby."

A fresh wave of fear sent her heart into overdrive as she flashed back to her arrival at the stash house. This was the same. Everything was exactly the same. Renzo told her she couldn't go home either. He was supposed to have helped her; he was supposed to have saved her and taken her away, but he didn’t. "Get out," she whispered, gripping the arm of the ancient rocker in trembling hands.

“Abigail.” Jerrod took a step toward her.

“No,” she shuddered.

“Abigail, what the hell's going on?” He advanced again.

“Get away! Get away from me!” She shoved him and booked it from the room, rushing down the hall toward the stairs. A man she’d never seen before ran up the steps, his gun drawn, as footsteps rushed up behind her and she screamed. “No!”

Jerrod hooked his arm around her waist, lifting her off her feet. “Abigail, stop it.”

She fought him, kicking her legs, swinging her arms.

“It’s okay.” He braced his other arm around her shoulders, trapping her body against his chest. “It’s okay, Abby,” he whispered gruffly next to her ear.

His familiar scent crowded her nose, comforting her, as did his arms wrapped tightly around her. The fight left her, and she went limp in his grip, realizing Jerrod wasn’t going to hurt her. She burst into tears.

"Everything's all right," he said as he scooped her up and walked back to the bedroom, shutting the door partially. He sat them on the bed, settling her at his side as she sobbed. “Hey.” He cupped her face in his hands. “Hey,” he said again gently. “Abigail.” He slid his thumbs along her cheeks. “What’s going on here?”

“I don’t know.” She cried harder, gripping his forearms, trembling. “I don’t know. We were in the van, then we weren’t. I think I had a nightmare. I thought they had me again. I couldn’t remember if you were like Renzo. He didn’t help me,” she wept. “He didn’t help me,” she repeated as Jerrod pulled her closer.

“Shh.” He slid his hand down her hair. “It’s over now. It’s over, Abigail.”

She rested her head on his shoulder, holding on tight as his hand continued its soothing path through her hair. “Why is this happening?" Her breath shuddered in and out as she tried to get herself under control. "Why do I keep doing this?”

“Because you’re healing. You can't move forward until you deal with the past.”

“I don’t want to do this.” She eased back, looking into his eyes. “I don’t want to be like this.”

“You’re doing fine, Abby, just fine.”

“No. I think..." She looked down at his strong thighs in dark denim, stopping short of confessing her biggest fear."

He slid a finger under her chin, easing her face up until their gazes met. "What?"

"I think—I think I might be mentally ill, like my mother was.”

He shook his head. “I’m promising you you’re not. You had a scare. I shouldn’t have left you in here by yourself.”

She took another deep, calming breath as his reassurances bolstered her. “You didn’t know.”

“I should have.” He pressed his forehead to hers. “I sure as hell should have.”

“It’s okay.” She rested her hands on his cheeks, holding him against her, giving him a small smile of reassurance. "No permanent damage done."

"Exactly. No permanent damage done. Remember that."

She nodded.

He untangled himself from their embrace and stood. “Let me get you some water.”

“I could use a drink.” She needed time to steady all the way out. Jerrod was here. She was safe with him.

He left the room and came back a couple minutes later with a bottled water and a small box in his hand. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.” She took the bottle, twisted the cap, and swallowed several refreshing gulps. “Better.”

“Good.” He smiled.

She frowned, noticing the blood on his bottom lip. "Come here." She patted the spot next to her and pulled a tissue from the box by the bed, folding it in half several times.

He sat down.

“I think I gave you a fat lip.”

He licked his lip. “Guess so.” He smiled again. “Way to go, champ.”

She dampened the tissue and blotted his mouth. “I wish I could say thanks.”

“Abby.” He grabbed her wrist, halting her movements. “I would never hurt you. Ever.”

Guilt consumed her as she stared at the kind man before her. “Oh, Jerrod, I know that. I do.”

“I needed to say it anyway.”

She dabbed at his lip again, absorbing the small dot of blood.

He pulled his head away from her probing fingers. “I think I'll be okay.”

“It’ll be a little puffy for a couple days.” She wrinkled her nose. “Sorry.”

“I’ll live.”

Another jet soared over the house, the low rumble echoing in her feet. “So, why are we here exactly? What’s going on?”

"Somehow Toni Torrell found out you're Lily's new designer."

"
What
? How?"

He shrugged. "I don't know, but you've made the front page of
The Times
. It looks like Toni snapped a few pictures of you yesterday after all."

She shook her head in disbelief. "What does the article say? Can I see it?"

"She did some digging, Abby. The article doesn't just talk about Lily and Fashion Week."

She pressed her lips firm as she absorbed the violation to her privacy. "Sex slaves and abductions sell more papers."

"Abby." He sighed. "I'm sorry."

"It was going to come out eventually, but I wanted to be the one to share my story."

"Understandably."

She steamed out a breath, knowing there was nothing she could do to change what was. "So, now what?"

 “We're going to Nebraska.”

She raised her brow. “Nebraska?”

“My family has a farm. We’ll stay there until Ethan sends a team to meet us in Baltimore for the trial.”

“What about Lex?”

“They’re going to stay with Ethan and Sarah until things settle down.”

“I have to talk to her. I need to make sure she’s all right.”

“You can’t.”

“I have to.”

“You can’t talk to anyone. Not to Alexa, Lily, no one.”

“For how long?”

“Indefinitely.”

Indefinitely was a long damn time. She stood, needing to pace away the latest wave of unease. “But what about Margret? How will I know what’s going on with her case if I can’t talk to Agent Terron?”

“I’ll find a way to get you updates.”

"And my job? What about that?" She turned, facing him as she walked his way again.

"Ethan will get Lily the stuff you've been working on so someone can get it finished up."

"But
Escape
. How can I launch a new line if I'm hiding on a farm in Nebraska?"

He shook his head as he shrugged. "I don't know what you want me to say. We're about to vanish. No one knows where we're going other than Ethan and Jackson. There will be no further contact with anyone on either side. We can't risk it."

She turned away, staring at the wall, realizing that the life she'd worked so hard to rebuild was crumbling down around her for the second time.

“I have a new credit card for you—not that you’ll really need it—and clothes.”

She glanced over her shoulder. “What kind of clothes?”

He grinned. “I don’t know. Clothes. Someone from the evacuation team put a few things together for you from the stash they keep down at their office. There’s enough to get you started. We can get more stuff once we’re home, but I doubt we’ll be leaving the farm very often. The idea is to stay low."

"Do I have to stay in the house?"

"No, but we'll stay on the grounds. You’ll have a somewhat new identity. You’ll still be Abigail, but we’ll keep your last name out of things. You work with me at Ethan Cooke Security as an office manager. You’ve never been out of California and you love animals, so I offered to bring you home with me for a visit.”

Her brow shot in the air as she sat next to him. “Who’s going to buy that?”

“Everyone, because it’s not all that far from the truth.”

“Why would you bring me home if we aren't involved?”

He shrugged. “People will probably assume there’s something going on between us. We’ll let them think whatever they want.”

She immediately thought of their kiss and winced. “Jerrod, I’m sorry about earlier. I shouldn’t have kissed you. The photo shoot…” She closed her eyes and shook her head with the rush of humiliation. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He took her hand, squeezing gently. “But it can’t happen again.”

She nodded, absorbing yet another wave of embarrassment.

“You’re a beautiful woman, Abigail, but I’m your bodyguard. A romance with the person I’m protecting absolutely cannot happen. My attention has to stay focused on your safety and
only
your safety.”

He was letting her down easy with the whole ‘it’s not you, it’s my job’ thing. It should’ve lessened the sting some, but it didn’t.

“I understand.” She wanted to, but deep down she didn’t, because she
wanted
him. She told Alexa she wasn’t sure if her feelings were true emotion or lust. As she looked in his calm, steady eyes, she was absolutely certain lust played a very minor role in what she felt for Jerrod.

“So, we're good here?”

"Yes."

"Good, because I have something for you." He handed her the jeweler's box he'd been holding.

"What is this?"

"Open it up and take a look."

"Okay." She smiled and pulled off the lid, staring at a beautiful gold and silver watch. "Jerrod." She glanced from him back to the jewelry. "This is gorgeous."

"I picked it out for you while you were with Jackson and Alexa on New Year's Eve."

A stirring of hope swelled in her heart, despite the conversation they just had. "You did?"

"Yeah." He took the box from her hand and pulled the timepiece free. "I had Malcom swing by the office and pick it up when he dropped off your new clothes. Ethan had it fitted with a transmitter."

Any hints of romance vanished with the practical gesture. "Oh."

"Here, let's put it on and make sure it fits." He fastened the watch in place. "It looks nice."

She examined the dainty twists of gold and silver. "It really is beautiful."

"I thought this would work. It kind of reminded me of you—delicate and pretty, but it has sparkle."

He was killing her with his sweet words. If she were a fool, she might let herself believe there was more here, but she wasn't. Jerrod wasn't interested. "Thank you."

"I can find you anywhere with this. It's peace of mind for both of us."

"Yeah. Definitely." She hugged him. "Thanks again."

"You're welcome. I'm going to check in with Ethan one last time. We’ll head out in about half an hour.”

“Okay.”

He stood and walked off.

She stared after him, then looked at the watch, wishing the token meant more than another safety precaution.

Jerrod exited Interstate 80 and took a left toward
town. He stopped at the first of three traffic lights along Commerce Way—the only three lights in the entire ‘city’ of fifteen thousand. He sat idle, shaking his head at the stoplight, waiting for the change to green despite the empty streets around him. Cabs didn’t swerve around him in search of their next fare, nor did pedestrians pass in front of the car as they would have in LA. It was two thirty-three in the morning. Parker, Nebraska had tucked itself in hours ago.

The light changed and he accelerated, passing the supermarket his mother had shopped at for as long as he could remember; Parker High, his alma matter; and the police station he’d pulled duty at for the longest damn year of his life, then took another left, rolling over several sets of railroad tracks on his way to the farm.

He turned to glance at Abby, asleep in the passenger’s seat. She’d tossed and turned for most of the three and a half hour drive from Denver—the closest airport to his hometown tucked among endless miles of cornfields—and slept on his shoulder during the flight from LA, her defense against her paralyzing claustrophobia. He’d held her hand the entire way, worrying some that she would wake from another nightmare and panic, as she had at the safe house.

Her screams echoed in his head, and he tightened his grip on the steering wheel, clenching his jaw, admonishing himself again for leaving her the way he did. She’d been terrified, nearly hysterical when she opened the bedroom door and slammed into him in her rush to escape. He should have anticipated flashbacks and nightmares after her reaction to their unexpected exit in the back of the van. He knew better; he knew
her
, but he hadn’t been thinking of Abby’s triggers when he went across the hall to make his phone calls. His top priority had been finding a way to get her out of Los Angeles after he saw the sad state of the tired safe house they were supposed to have hunkered down in until they left for the trial.

There was no way in hell Abby could have handled being stuck behind the drawn shades and dim rooms of the depressing old house. She needed to be someplace open, somewhere that allowed her plenty of freedom and peace to continue her healing. She’d worked so hard and come too far to go backwards; he’d be damned if her obligations to Prosecutor Bitner and the state of Maryland would set her back. So here they were, in Parker, Nebraska, the one place he’d fought to escape most of his life.

He let loose a humorless chuckle and sighed as the barns and silos of the Quinn Family Farm came into view a mile off the highway. Home sweet home—sort of. He slowed as he approached the old mailbox and turned down the dirt road, bumping along the path, finally stopping in front of the large two-story farmhouse with its pretty wraparound porch so much like the prop used for the
Trendy
photo shoot.

He killed the engine, taking it all in—the denuded sugar maples planted when his great grandfather had been a boy; the huge red barns full of animals and feed for the long winter months; mom’s greenhouses where fresh fruits and vegetables grew year round; massive silver silos accentuated in the moonlight; Uncle Jimmy’s small house tucked half a mile back; and the porch light glowing bright, welcoming him.

He’d been gone nine months—almost as long as he’d stayed after dad’s unexpected death. He’d tried to make a life here; he’d tried to be what his father had wanted, but in the end he’d had to go. Shelby’s unrelenting demands and the tedium of small town living had suffocated him, so he left, accepting the job Ethan offered, never looking back…until now. Somehow irony’s cruel hand brought him back to the one place he’d never wanted with the one person he desperately did. How the hell was he supposed to handle that?

Unfastening his seatbelt, he turned, looking at Abby, blowing out a breath in defense against the punch of longing. She was so damn beautiful. Her flawless skin and shiny black hair glowed in the beams of moonlight, reminding him of the enchanted princesses she often read about with Olivia.

“Abby.” He reached out, hesitating, then slid his knuckles along her jaw, promising himself this would be the last time he touched her this way. She was off limits; he’d made her so when he told her there would never be anything between them. He couldn’t remember regretting anything more, but reestablishing their boundaries was the right thing to do. It was the
only
thing to do. Her safety came first. “Abigail,” he said again gently, eager to be out of the car and away from her until he found some semblance of balance in their once easy relationship.

She opened her eyes, and he dropped his hand.

“We’re here.”

“We are?” She sat up and gasped, her eyes drinking everything in. “Oh, Jerrod, l
ook
at this place.” She beamed at him. “Your home is beautiful.”

He stared at the huge white house with black shutters, the big picture windows and roof he’d shingled with his father and brother one hot summer, trying to see what Abby did. All he saw was a place he’d been bound to for too long. “It’s been the Quinns’ for five generations.”

“It’s perfect.”

“You wanna go in?”

“Yes.” She unfastened her belt and opened her door, stepping out into the frigid night. “Holy
crap
. It’s cold.”

He grinned, white puffs pluming from his mouth with every breath as he absorbed the icy temperatures. “Welcome to Nebraska in January.” He grabbed the carryon full of clothes and toiletries for Abby from the back. “Let’s go.”

She took several steps and stopped. “Look at all of these stars. You can’t see them like this in Los Angeles.” She grabbed his hand in her excitement. “I
love
it here.”

“You’ve been here for five minutes.”

She smiled. “So? It’s love at first sight.”

“They say it exists.”

She laughed. “I think I just proved it.” She squeezed his fingers. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For bringing me. For sharing your home.”

“I’m happy to.”

The front door opened, and Jerrod smiled as his mother stepped forward. She was wrapped in her thick, plaid bathrobe, and her blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail. “Mom.”

“Jerrod. You’re home.”

He took the stairs in twos, rushing up, grabbing her in a hug. The tall, strong woman in his arms had always been the backbone of the Quinn men, and she was the person who knew and understood him best.

“I’ve missed you, honey.”

“I’ve missed you too.” He hugged her tight once more, breathing in whatever shampoo she’d found on sale, and kissed her cheek, then stepped back. He glanced at Abby standing in the shadows, huddled in her thin jacket, struggling to keep her teeth from chattering. “Mom, this popsicle over here is Abby.”

“Gracious sakes, where are my manners? Come in, come in.” She ushered Abby inside. “And you call me Mary.”

He closed the door behind them, locking up, absorbing the warmth and lemony scent in the familiar surroundings.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mary.” Abby stepped forward, giving her a hug.

“Oh.” Mom’s eyes grew wide as she returned the embrace.

Jerrod grinned. The Quinn’s weren’t big huggers. Everyone was in for a surprise now that Abby was here.

“Thank you so much for having me.” Abby drew away.

“We’re always happy to welcome friends.” Mom looked Abby up and down, taking in her skinny jeans and jacket they’d pulled from the closet in their hurry to leave the condo. Despite her simple outfit, Abby screamed ‘city chick.’ “Good heavens, you’re tiny, honey. One good gust of Nebraska wind will blow you away. How about a plate?”

Abby smiled. “No thank you.”

“Mom’s used to burly men.”

“Garbage disposals are what you are. How about you, son? Can I offer you a plate?”

He shook his head. “Just a bed.”

“You know where they are. Go ahead and settle in. Abby, make yourself at home. I’m sure Jerrod will be happy to show you to your room. I’ll see you in a couple hours.” She hugged him again. “Good night.”

“Good night,” Jerrod and Abby said at the same time.

“You ready to go up?” He yawned, exhausted now that he could finally relax.

“Mmm.”

“Let’s go.” He signaled with his head, climbing the stairs with her at his side, stopping at the third door on the left down the long hall. He flipped on the light, and Abby gasped.

“Oh, Jerrod.” She walked around the roomy space, touching the dark polished wood of the ornate antique footboard and the matching dressers.

“Does this work for you?”

“It’s perfect. I love it. I have my own fireplace.”

“All the rooms do. We have central heating now, but they still work if you want to use it.”

“I feel like we’ve stepped back in time. All of these antiques.” She smiled, brushing her fingers over his great grandmother’s cranberry glass vase on the side table. “Everything’s so pretty.”

Her delight for the simple things always fascinated him. Her excitement was infectious. “Do you think you’ll be okay in here?”

“Definitely.” She took off her jacket, pulled back the covers, and hopped on the bed.

Her screams echoed in his head, and he tensed despite her apparent ease. “I’ll be right across the hall if you need me.”

“Okay.” She kicked off one sneaker, then the next.

“I’ll leave my door open.”

“You don’t have to. It’s so peaceful.” She lay back against the pillow and sighed. “I’m already as comfortable here as I am in our own home.”

Their
home. Somehow over the last few months the condo had become theirs. They’d lived as any other couple did, sharing meals, cleaning duties, bills. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”

“Okay. Good night.”

He turned, drowning in fatigue.

“Jerrod.”

He stopped, turning back to face her. “Yeah?”

She stood, taking a hesitant step toward him, and stopped. “I’m not really sure about our boundaries, because this has never come up before, so I don’t know…” She nibbled her lip and looked down. “I know we’re just friends and you’re my bodyguard…” She shook her head and huffed out a breath as she met his gaze again. “I got your message loud and clear, but I was wondering if it would be okay…”

This was the first time he’d ever seen her so uncomfortable around him. He didn’t want things to be this way between them. “Do you want a hug, Abigail?”

She smiled her relief. “You’re a mind reader, Mr. Quinn.”

“Maybe.” He opened his arms, full well knowing he shouldn’t. “Well, come on already.”

She grinned and stepped into his embrace, wrapping herself tightly around him, resting her head on his chest.

He closed his eyes, holding her close, sliding his hand down her soft black hair. “Night, Abby.”

“Good night, Jerrod.” She stared into his gaze. “I’m glad things aren’t weird between us.”

Things weren’t weird per se, but they were definitely different. The photo shoot had changed their status quo. “Me too,” he said and eased back, walking into the hall.

She closed her door three quarters of the way and shut off her light, sending the upstairs into darkness.

~~~~

Abby opened her eyes, well rested and warm, snuggled beneath layers of soft blankets. She stretched her arms, locking them under her head as she smiled, staring up at the beautifully coffered ceiling. She’d slept like a rock cloaked in the deep country silence and homey comfort of the old farmhouse. Not even twenty-four hours ago she and Jerrod had been through hell, and now she was on a farm in the middle of nowhere. She strained her ears, listening closely, amazed by the lack of muffled horns blaring or emergency vehicles rushing by. She’d never been this far removed from civilization. Even Hagerstown had its fair share of creature comforts and amenities a short drive away.

Smiling again, she let loose a contented sigh despite her disastrous life. Dimitri and Victor wanted her dead, her career and dreams were officially in limbo, and contact with Lex was out of the question, yet she couldn’t help but relax, sensing the freedoms that came with this latest round of precautions. For once her world had opened up instead of gotten smaller. No one would look for her here. For the first time in months she was truly safe, and she planned to take full advantage.

The deep low of a cow somewhere in the distance penetrated her thoughts, and she shoved herself up to sitting, scrambling from the covers in her flossy white bra and panties, looking out the window to the left of the bed. She stared out at snow-covered fields as far as the eye could see, leaning closer to the glass, when she spotted a gray-bearded man bundled in a thick orange jacket and black Elmer Fudd hat walking toward the huge red barn. Hurrying off the mattress, she tossed her bedding back in place, anxious to get dressed and explore. She wanted in that barn. She’d seen a farm animal or two growing up in Maryland but had never actually touched one. Now was her chance. Jerrod told her his family raised chickens and pigs and tons and tons of cows on their small organic farm. Maybe he would teach her how to milk them. She wanted to gather eggs and sheer stuff and do whatever else it was they did around here. Eager to begin, she hurried over to the small suitcase Jerrod left by the dresser and unzipped the bag, pulling free a pair of pink polyester pants. Her smile faded as she held them up. “What on earth is this?” She reached in again, grabbing a pair of underwear big enough for three.

“Abby?” Jerrod tapped on the door and stepped in dressed in jeans and a Huskers sweatshirt. “Oh, shit, sorry.” He walked out.

“No. Come back here.”

“You’re not dressed.”

“Come in here, Jerrod. Please.”

He came back, muttering something under his breath, averting his gaze. “God. Put something
on
.”

“I can’t.”

His eyes met hers. “What do you mean you can’t?”

She held up the beige granny panties. “What
is
this?” She held up the pants next. “And this. My
Gran
wore stuff like this.”

“Huh.” He scratched his chin.

“Huh? That’s all you have to say? How am I supposed to milk cows and fetch eggs in these?”