Triple Beat-nook (2 page)

At first, she’d put him off. Not because she didn’t want to see them, but because her work schedule was insane.

Two things had changed her mind about the reunion in New Orleans.

First, Closing Time, the band she’d formed with Aiden and Bryson, had signed a recording contract with a major label, and there was no way she was going to be able to continue hiding in plain sight. New name or not, her face was the same.

Aiden and Bryson had been dreaming about a deal like this, but Dani wasn’t quite as overjoyed. So far, a lot of their performing had taken place in Nashville or smaller cities along the East Coast. She’d managed to keep them out of New Orleans. Hell, they’d avoided the entire state of Louisiana. And she’d taken special pains to make sure she was always in the shadows whenever it came to the media, letting Aiden and Bryson take the lead in interviews for local channels or magazine articles.

The guys had chalked up her reticence to shyness, though she’d seen them struggle with that explanation because she had no problem performing on stage or holding her own in social settings without cameras. She sure as hell couldn’t tell them she was lying low, hiding from an abusive father they thought was long dead, so she’d let them find their own explanations for her strange behavior.

Of course, that was a moot point now. And was actually her second reason for returning to New Orleans. Her father had found her.

It had started a month or so earlier, when she’d opened her mailbox to find a letter addressed to Dani Patton. She’d never experienced such bone-shaking terror as when she opened it to find a single piece of paper written in her dad’s scrawl.

All it said was “Gotcha.”

Dani had stared at the message until the word blurred, then she’d picked up the phone to call Jett. He’d told her to lock the door and check the windows. He’d even suggested she call the police, but Dani hadn’t gone quite that far. The letter had a Louisiana postmark, which had eased her mind a little bit. Plus she’d come home to pack. Mercifully, she, Aiden and Bryson had been headed to Branson, Missouri, for a three-night gig. Jett only calmed down once she told him her bandmates would be there soon and the three of them would be heading out of town.

However, she’d returned home to two more letters. Each letter was ominously threatening and sparse. One had said, “Come home” and the other, “You can’t run forever.”

She had always known deep inside that her father would never stop looking for her, and for that reason, she’d spent twelve years looking over her shoulder, searching the shadows for the evil man.

Dani recalled the last time she’d seen him. While she’d been able to block out so many bad memories, this was the one that never left her, that caused her to wake up in a cold sweat night after night.

The image of her father’s face, the sound of his hateful voice, were emblazoned on her brain and stuck on auto-repeat.

***

Russell Patton looked over his shoulder at the social worker and police officer who stood at the end of the room. They were far enough away that they couldn’t hear, but close enough to get to Dani should she call out for them. Despite the thick glass between her and her dad, Dani didn’t feel safe. He’d clearly put on quite a repentant show to set up this meeting. After his sentencing, she had taken the first real breath she’d had in nearly three years—since before her mother’s death.

Dani sat on the edge of the hard metal chair, wishing she were anywhere but here. She clasped her hands together in her lap tightly, surprised by how cold they were. It wasn’t particularly cool in the prison visiting room. In fact, it was muggy, humid. None of that heat penetrated the chill that had taken up residence in her bones, ever since she’d heard her father had requested to see her.

The social worker and Mrs. Lewis had assured her the decision was hers, but Dani knew better. Knew there would be hell to pay if she ignored this summons, even if it was wrapped up in a pretty bow of lies. The social worker had bought into her dad’s concerned-father act, falling hook, line and sinker for his it-was-the-alcohol and I-love-my-daughter bullshit.

She watched the small bead of sweat that trickled from Dad’s receding hairline and along his stubbled jaw.

“You know I got four years.” His voice was low, almost a whisper.

She nodded, forcing herself to hold his gaze. She had learned that it was never wise to look afraid in front of her father. He preyed on fear, took pleasure in provoking terror in weaker souls.

“But I’m going to be out in two.”

Dani knew that as well. The lawyer had tried to explain something about time served and the judge suspending part of the sentence. None of it made sense. When she’d heard the four-year sentencing, her only thought had been
that’s not long enough
. Then she found out it would be two years and she’d had to excuse herself to go to the bathroom to throw up.

“You’re going to pay for that, Dani.”

She glanced over her shoulder, hoping the others had heard, but they’d begun their own conversation, giving Dani only a cursory glance from time to time.

She started to rise. “I have to go.”

“Sit down.”

Dani froze, unable to move. Finally her legs made the decision for her as they gave way and she fell back to the chair heavily.

“I’m going to play the game in here, do what I have to do. And when time is up, I’m getting out, and you and I are going to finish what we started. You won’t get away from me again. Understand?”

She didn’t reply, nor did she try to leave. Fear permeated every crevice, every pore in her body, until she felt as if she were drowning in it, the emotion holding her in place.

“Answer me, girl.”

“I understand.” Her voice sounded wooden, well-rehearsed. She knew how to respond in such a way that would provoke no further anger. It was a skill she’d had to learn to survive, especially in the last five or six years as her father’s alcoholism had destroyed every bit of humanity he possessed.

Once upon a time, when she’d been a foolish little girl, there had been several brief moments of hope when her dad would do something that made her think things would get better, that they could be a normal family. He’d taken her to McDonald’s for her seventh birthday and gotten her a Happy Meal and a hot fudge sundae. Once, when she had the flu back in second grade, he’d sat beside her bed and sung her a silly little song that made her laugh.

But those small kindnesses had been few and far between. She was older and wiser now. All her childish dreams had been reduced to ashes, leaving her alone and helpless, captive to a cruel man.

“No one will keep you from me. Not that fucking neighbor or social services. Not the foster family they’ve got you with or the law. Nobody. You’re mine. And you always will be.”

***

She’d never told anyone about that conversation. Not the social worker, the police, nor even Mama Lewis. She had been too embarrassed, too ashamed, too frightened. Looking back, she knew those had been the wrong emotions. The fifteen-year-old girl was now a twenty-nine-year-old woman who understood what she should have felt was anger.

Her father had always been a drunken asshole. She couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t tipped the bottle up until it was empty, then started slinging the insults and fists, smacking her and her mom around. When her mother passed away, Dani had only been twelve, and she remembered standing at the funeral thinking,
this is it. I’m on my own.

And for three years, she had been. She’d thrown herself into her schoolwork and joined every damn club the school system offered. She volunteered anywhere and everywhere someone would let her because it kept her out of the house and away from him.

Her dad didn’t seem to mind—or maybe he hadn’t noticed—her absence. When she was home, she shut herself in her room, putting on her headphones, losing herself in music while living a very silent life.

Occasionally she’d slip up and put herself in the path of her father when he was wasted. He’d yell or hit and she’d work harder to find new ways to disappear.

By the time she turned fifteen, she’d already started the countdown, living for the day when she was eighteen and could get the hell out.

Unfortunately, hormones had kicked in. She’d gotten boobs and for the first time in her life, her father started to actually
see
her. In a way that made her skin crawl.

Dani forced herself to focus on the road, to blink back the tears forming as she recalled the night he’d broken into her room and crawled into bed with her.

***

She wasn’t sure what had woken her up, but as soon as she opened her eyes, she realized she wasn’t in bed alone. The strong smell of whiskey told her exactly who was with her.

“Wake up,” he demanded.

She stiffened when he shook her roughly.

“Wake up, you little bitch. It’s time you started earning your keep around here.”

He was drunker than she’d seen him in a very long time. His words were slurred, his dark eyes struggling to find her face.

“I can get a job. Earn money.” She prayed to God that was what he meant, though her heart knew it was something else when his hands drifted to her breasts, squeezing them painfully.

She twisted away, but despite his drunkenness, he was stronger than she was.

“I don’t want fucking money from you.”

Dani tried to push him away when he shoved his hand into her panties.

“No!” she cried out. “Please.”

“Shut up. You’re gonna like this, Dani.”

His rough fingers were thick, callused and cold. She wrapped her hand around his wrist, trying to pull him away. Her touch was ineffective as he burrowed deeper between her legs, touching her where she’d never been touched before.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

Why would he do this?

She had never fought her father. Not with words or with fists. Not once.

Dani considered that, feeling slightly shocked by the fact.

Why hadn’t she?

Something inside her snapped. His fingers breached the opening to her body, the touch agonizing. It felt as though he was ripping her in two.

Reaching out blindly toward her nightstand, she wrapped her hand around the base of the lamp. She lost her grip as pain ripped through her when he pushed three fingers deep inside her.

She screamed.

“Goddamn. Dry bitch. I’ll take care of that. Gonna shove my cock in that tight little hole.” He pulled his fingers out and chuckled malevolently when he saw blood on them. “Virgin.”

His tone was one of approval, one Dani had never heard him use when talking to her. God, how fucked-up was this? She had to get out of here.
Now.

He reached for the fastening on his pants, his clumsy fingers fumbling with the zipper.

She took advantage of his distraction. Lifting the lamp, she brought it down on his head, hard. It was wrought iron and made a loud crack when it connected with his skull.

He grunted and fell back on the bed. She spotted the blood dripping along his scalp, staining her pillow, and for a brief second, Dani wondered if she’d killed him.

Then, he groggily raised his hand to his head. She’d only knocked him out for a second. “What the fu—”

That was all Dani heard as she jumped out of bed and ran from her room. She managed to get out of the apartment, beating on the neighbor’s door, begging Ms. Stern to let her in.

Mercifully, the woman did. Dani raced into the apartment, slamming the door closed behind her. Ms. Stern threw the deadbolt and the chain seconds before they heard her dad come out into the hall.

Ms. Stern called 911 as Dad beat on the door, demanding that Dani come out. Dani leaned against the door, praying the locks would hold as he rained a steady stream of insults at her, calling her a slut, a whore, a cock tease.

She didn’t realize she was crying until Ms. Stern wiped her eyes with trembling hands.

“It’s going to be okay, Dani. The police will be here soon…”

***

Dani dug into her purse for a tissue. For a moment, she considered pulling over. Driving and crying didn’t mix.

“Get it together, girl,” she muttered to herself as she fought back the tears. She blinked several times and then took a steadying breath. She was doing herself no favors with this damn trip down memory lane.

She’d spent her entire adult life recreating herself, working hard to overcome a childhood spent living in fear. She had been helpless and fearful when she was a girl and apparently some of those traits had carried over, despite her best efforts to shed them.

It had to end here. She refused to carry the label of victim for one second longer. She’d go back to New Orleans, face the bastard who’d tried to destroy her and show him he held no more power over her. Then she’d return to Nashville and embrace a very bright future with no regrets or fears, and without the shadow of Russell Patton casting her in never-ending darkness.

Dani Patton had died the night her father crawled into her bed. And Dani Lewis had emerged from the ashes. It was time to dump the baggage.

She made the exit that took her to the next interstate, the last stretch of her trip before she hit Louisiana.

She recalled the last time she’d been on this road so late and grinned. Mercifully, not all of her memories were bad.

Dani had snuck out of the Lewises’ house after learning her father had been released from prison. He’d cut his two-year sentence down by a month due to good behavior. Dani had been counting on that extra month because it put her that much closer to her eighteenth birthday.

Mama Lewis had cried when she’d told Dani the court was sending her back to him, but legally, her beloved foster mother’s hands had been tied. She had to abide by the rules of the system.

Despite that, Dani had suspected Mama Lewis was preparing to fight the ruling. Dani couldn’t let her do it. After all, Mama had taken in two other foster kids, the sweetest little boys on the planet, Zac and Noah. She wouldn’t allow Mama Lewis to do anything that might get her in trouble and impact their placement. They’d only been there a few months and had only just begun to feel safe. How could Dani take that security away from them?