Grab Page 11

  “You know he was watching me that night and probably slashed my tires. I’ve wondered if he followed me then, to find out where I lived.” Her voice was quiet, like she was talking to herself. Jordan used the opportunity to sit next to her on the couch. She sipped on her hot chocolate and went silent again while she turned the thoughts over in her head. “When he grabbed me, he was already in my apartment. Watching me.” She looked up at him, and the sadness in her eyes was a palpable entity that reached out for him and crushed his heart. “I was getting ready for you. He watched that.”

  Jordan sat there in the most difficult silence he’d ever experienced, listening to her tell her story, hopefully without reacting visibly. Of course, by the time she’d finished, his jaw hurt from clenching his teeth, and his fingernails were digging into his palms so hard he thought there might be blood dripping from them. And then she said something that made him blanch.

  “So when your mom came in tonight assuming we were engaged, I knew it had to be some joke. Because there’s no way. And when you reacted the way you did, I realized you see it, too. I’ve been ruined for anybody, especially you, because you know.” The tears had been streaming down her face for some time, but now she was choking to get the words out, and he couldn’t stand any more.

  His voice was sterner than he meant, but she had to understand. “Mia, that’s not what I meant. We were the butt of a horrible joke with my mother. She showed up at my apartment, unannounced, the day after you were taken and wouldn’t leave. Mike had actually showed up at your apartment and talked to her, and she seemed oblivious to the fact she’d spoken with a kidnapper, and I had to get her out of there. So I told her my brother and his girlfriend were pregnant. That got her to leave. He was pissed at me, so he returned the favor.” He clasped her hand in his, even though he wanted to haul her back to his bedroom and show her what he felt for her. “What I said to my mom was true, but I fully intend to spend my life with you, Mia, when you’re ready, which you’re not. Even though that’s none of her business.”

  “He told me there was a woman at your apartment. That was your mother?”

  “Yes.” Jordan clutched her face, hoping to impart something to her he wasn’t sure of himself. “I love you. I don’t know how to make you believe that. You’re not ruined for me. I want you.”

  “I don’t know if I can…”

  “I don’t mean just sex. I’m willing to wait for that, until you’re ready. But I want you, Mia. The good and the bad, all of it. When you can give it to me.”

  Leaning into his touch, she whispered, “I want that, too.”

  Scooping her into his arms, Jordan carried her to bed.

  The next morning, Mia woke up exhausted, not having rested well, but with one thing on her mind. She needed to talk to Misty, the other survivor from Mike’s house. She had been keeping tabs on her, and it had been touch and go for a while, but she was finally able to see visitors.

  Mia had done as much research as she could stomach, asking Jordan to tell her about the other women. It seemed Mike had been in love with Evelyn, a woman unfortunate enough to be his step-sister. When that didn’t work out for him, he looked for other women who resembled her: small, curvy, dark-skinned, dark haired, women of Latino descent. Misty fit the bill, as did Mia.

  Mia’s father, husband number two, had been a Migrant worker who’d been killed in a tragic accident with a thresher. Her mother swore he was her true love, but Mia never knew if that was the truth or just something to make her feel better about the rest of her mother’s husbands. Mia sort of had the idea that if she and Rose compared stories, her sister would say the same thing about her dad, husband number four.

  Pictures of Evelyn and Misty both showed vibrant, Hispanic females. Powerful women. And it gave Mia a weird sense of pride to be associated with them, even if it painted a bullseye on her for a kidnapper, rapist, and murderer. She only hoped Misty retained some of that power and regretted that she’d never known Evelyn.

  At any rate, Misty was awake and willing to see her, so Mia dressed herself, carefully applying concealer under her eyes to hide the dark circles, and went to the hospital, Jordan in tow.

  Misty was a shade of her photo. The pictures Mia had seen showed a confident woman with a large smile. That smile was a ghost of its former glory, a wan representation as it flashed at the two of them walking into the room.

  “Hi,” Mia offered shyly. Jordan squeezed her hand in silent support.

  “I’m so glad you came,” Misty said. “I was wondering if you would.” She held out her hands for Jordan and Mia to take. “Thank you,” she said to no one in particular.

  “You’re welcome,” Jordan offered. “Um, I’m going to wait outside.”

  “Thank you for killing the son of a bitch.” Misty was looking at him intently, and he blushed, which Mia found endearing.

  “It was nothing anybody else wouldn’t have done. He needed to die,” he said quietly as he walked out of the room. A strange sense of pride welled up in Mia as she watched him leave. Jordan was hers. And his actions, by association, reflected on her. It was weird she would think that, but it was a new feeling, and she embraced it. She was proud of Jordan. Proud she could call him hers. Her what, though, she wasn’t sure. But he was hers.

  Mia knew he was stressed about what the Assistant DA would decide when it came to his punishment and trial. And she knew she was to blame for it, even if the way he acted was all chivalrous and anybody would have done it and shit. She still felt bad.

  Misty looked her square in the eyes, and Mia couldn’t escape her gaze. “So, what now? Do we form some sort of Survivors of Michael Bishop Club, or what?”

  Mia laughed at the woman’s candor. “I don’t know about club, but a bottle or two of wine on Thursdays wouldn’t be a bad thing.”

  “What’s next for you?” The question from Misty took Mia aback.

  “I don’t really know. That’s sort of why I’m here.” She shrugged and sank down into a chair opposite the bed.

  “I figured. I don’t know, either, but I do know I’ve seen death first hand, and I’m not ready for that shit right now. I want to actually do something with my life, you know? I’ve been given a second chance and I don’t want to waste it. Jesus, I sound like a cliché.” Still hooked up to tubes and monitors, Misty wore her faded bruises like a badge of honor. Mia wished she had the dignity of this woman sitting in the hospital bed in front of her.

  “You sound like you’ve figured it out, at least. I’m still stuck.” Mia was trying to be encouraging, even if it made her sound self-deprecating. She felt bad. Misty had spent nearly a week on the floor of Michael’s garage, bound and gagged and left for dead with only the horrors of her mind for company. Compared to that, Mia had probably gotten off easy. At least they hadn’t ended up like Evelyn. Nobody would talk to Mia about what happened to the dead woman, yet.

  Gesturing at the hospital room around her, Misty said, “I’ve had nothing but time to think and watch bad TV. And I’ve decided what I want to do, I just need to figure out how to do it. Grounds for Redemption is what I’ve come up with. It’s a coffee shop, and a portion of the proceeds will go to people like us.” She sat herself up in her bed, pushing the rolling table with the remnants of her lunch away with finality.

  “Wow.”

  Eyebrows raised, Misty’s face shown with a smile reminiscent of the smile in the picture Mia associated her with. “I know, right? I surprised the shit out of myself with that one, but I think it can work. Especially if I’m up front about it, you know? I tell my story to people, offer help to those who need it. I’m talking to my counselor, and she’s on board for some reduced-price sessions.”

  “Like a rewards program? Buy five cups of coffee, get a free session?” Mia was laughing, but in a good way. It felt cathartic, freeing.

  “No, but you see what I’m saying? I keep a portion of the profits but the majority goes to others. I can get some non-profits to work with me on free advertising, a
nd my old boss is even willing to help. She feels awful that the guy targeted me at her shop.”

  Mia listened eagerly as Misty talked about her plans, finally finding a hint of purpose for this tragedy. No, purpose was the wrong word, but if it gave her a reason to help others get through the same thing, then it might someday become surmountable.

  Mia was feeling some hope. Hope for something brighter in her future. And that felt good.

  Jordan sat outside the hospital room, listening to the murmurs of the women talking and laughing. This had been a great idea, and he was glad Mia had come. He could hear the healing happening, right now, as he sat there and listened. He knew it was just a first step, but one that was the crucial next step in his life with Mia.

  It was funny, when he’d first met Mia, she’d seemed so exhausted all the time from work. He’d wished he could just watch her rest. Now that she lived with him, he watched her every damn night and most of some days. It was creepy, he knew, and he would never in a million years admit it, but it was one of his favorite things to do. She was so relaxed, and unless she was having her nightmare, she wasn’t afraid or on edge while she slept.

  The nightmare had come last night with a vengeance, but he’d been there for her like always. Just holding her and cooing to her until it went away. It was like she gave him a gift by letting him soothe her. They’d been getting less frequent; she’d only had them once a night until last night. He supposed her talking about her experience was what made them come back so much, but she needed to get it out.

  Never mind it had killed him to hear it.

  He hadn’t been able to sleep at all after hearing about her experience. He’d wished he’d found her sooner, been there when she got home, stopped the fucker before it even happened.

  But he hadn’t, and he’d have to live with that. Just like Mia had to live with what happened. They would get through this.

  It was time for Mia to heal, and he would do everything in his power to help her. With that end in mind, he called Mia’s mother and made plans to bring Rose home.

  Like all progress, Jordan and Mia seemed to be taking two steps forward and one step backward, which was evidenced by the night-time’s activities: Nightmares.

  While they had seemed to be decreasing, Jordan was upset to find his own were returning. With a vengeance. It must have been the entire Mia episode, but when he awoke in cold sweats for the third night in a row, being comforted by the woman he was trying to help, it seemed like the worst kind of irony.

  So when Jordan awoke, a tangled mass of sweaty limbs, fighting his sheets as if they were the enemy, soft, cool hands stroked his arm.

  “Shhhh… It’s just a nightmare…” Mia’s voice was soft in his ear, and he marveled at the guts she had, soothing a vet in the throes of a nightmare. Most women wouldn’t do that. Or at least, they shouldn’t.

  Wildly, Jordan gripped her arms, suddenly struggling with reality, trying desperately to focus on the present. Mia was his reality. His present. Mia looked at him with soft, brown eyes, sleep-tousled hair, concern etching her features.

  “Mia,” he breathed at her, crushing her to his chest ferociously. His heart pounded, and he struggled to catch his breath, but he had Mia. Mia was in his arms, where she belonged. Yeah, Stewart was dead, Duke was wounded, and Mia was in his arms. The IED was the past. Mia was now.

  “You show me yours, and I’ll show you mine,” Mia whispered quietly.

  His hand hurt—phantom pains that re-awoke every time he thought about them. When he dreamed, his hand was on fire, raging out of control, but when he woke up, he clenched his fist, determined to make the pain go away with his squeezes. If only that would work.

  “I used to have nightmares, but they were getting less frequent until you went missing. They returned with a vengeance. Not knowing where you were, who had you, any of it, the lack of total control brought them back.” He knew he was rambling, but the words came willy-nilly, tumbling out. Her tiny hands stroking his back made him talk.

  “I was in Iraq, and an IED went off in a building we were clearing. Stewart thought he could disarm it, and even though I told him to wait for EOD, he tried anyway, cocky bastard. Stewart was lost, and we couldn’t find enough of him to take home. That was the worst part. Sometimes I dream about that, instead of the explosion. Just sifting through shit, looking for enough of him to send home to his wife.”

  The words came out in a rush, and he said them while he held Mia to his chest, the past threatening to invade his present with just the words. As if saying them aloud would bring his ghosts back to life.

  But he’d buried all that shit. Even the nightmares had stopped, sort of. But all this stuff with Mia, his lack of fucking control, had brought them back. And he was back to tamping them down again.

  Mia stroked his back softly while Jordan clung to her soft curves. He groaned. “I’m sorry, Mia.”

  He was sorry for making her feel like she had to take care of him when he needed to be taking care of her, but she was so good. Her hands on his back were gentle and made him feel like a little boy. After the dream, he was happy to be soothed like a baby.

  “I don’t dream in pictures.” She spoke softly. “It’s colors and emotions. Sometimes I’ll hear words. Lately, it’s been a lot of words, because his voice is right there. I can’t escape it.” She continued petting him, as if providing Jordan with comfort was helping her speak. He was okay with that. “When I have good dreams, they’re filled with blues and greens and purples, all swirling together slowly and gently, along with giddy feelings. Like when I was a kid and Mom took me to a carnival. Or that night when we first met, and you pretended to lock yourself out of your apartment.”

  He chuckled, even though it still sounded shaken. “You knew about that?”

  He felt her smile against his naked chest. “You’re not the greatest actor, Jordan.” Her fingers trailed up and down his back, and goose bumps erupted across his skin, but as sensual as it was, it wasn’t sexual. “Anyway, the nightmares, they’re all orange and red, like blood and rust mixed together, and the edges are sharp. The feelings and words are all that man and one of my mom’s husbands. The one we don’t talk about anymore. Number six. But mostly that man. The colors swirl together faster, sloshing around. It’s hard to explain, but I know if I touch them, I’ll die. That’s the feeling I get in my dream. And he’s always calling me beautiful Evelyn. I can’t stand it.”

  Even though she spoke so quietly he almost couldn’t hear her, he knew this was major. This was a breakthrough. He didn’t know how to stop the nightmares, but maybe now that they’d shared them, they could be less afraid.

  Jordan laid back down, still holding Mia, and together, they wrapped their bodies around each other in a comforting cocoon.

  Yeah, this was major.

  The next morning, Mia awoke more refreshed than she had in a while, and memories of the night seeped in slowly with the sunlight. She looked over her shoulder to see Jordan sleeping peacefully, the weight of his arm welcome across her chest. Her gaze turned to her chest to see one of Jordan’s massive paws cupping a breast, holding onto the nipple between his thumb and forefinger. That was probably what had woken her up.

  But she wasn’t going to move it, not just yet. Jordan nuzzled into her shoulder while he grunted, grinding his morning erection into her hip. She couldn’t help it, she giggled, which snapped Jordan’s eyes open. His blue eyes suddenly alert and on her.

  “Good morning. What’s funny?” Jesus, his voice when he was just waking up had to be one of the sexiest things she’d ever heard in her life. As she lowered her gaze, looking pointedly at her chest, he grasped what he was doing, his entire body pressed up against her. Jordan released her and backed away. “Sorry,” he muttered in a sexy grumble.

  “It’s okay, really,” she reassured him. She wasn’t ready for sex yet, not after him, but it was freaking Jordan. She’d have to be dead not to have some sort of reaction to him pressed up against her like that. />
  As he got up and walked to the restroom, Mia’s thoughts turned toward last night. Jordan had been having nightmares for a couple of nights now, and it was nice to see him vulnerable. Not because she wanted him to hurt, but because she wanted to soothe him. The mutual comfort they’d been able to offer each other spoke to something inside Mia—a maternal instinct she’d never had the opportunity to indulge in.

  Although, with the events planned for the day, she would have plenty, if Rose was willing. They would be picking her up at the airport this afternoon, and Mia was nearly giddy with excitement at having her sister with her again.

  Even though he’d been willing, Mia was nervous about Jordan and Rose together. He was acting like they were going to be one big happy family, and Mia was scared to tell him she and Rose had had enough of those. With all her mother’s husbands and boyfriends, she was afraid Rose would just assume Jordan was like all the rest.

  Mia knew he wasn’t but didn’t know how to tell Rose that, and she didn’t know what Jordan could do to prove he wasn’t out to be Rose’s new daddy. As he flushed and started the shower, Mia propped her head on her arm behind her. She’d just have to see what happened and hope for the best. Jordan seemed to think he knew what he was doing. Mia knew he wasn’t going to hurt her, or Rose, either, for that matter. She just wasn’t sure he knew what he was getting into.

  Would it all be too much for him?

  Time would tell.

  The airport was crowded and hectic, and Jordan could see the wild fear in Mia’s eyes, even as she tried to hide it. But he held her hand, squeezing it occasionally in a silent gesture of support as they waited for Mia’s sister, Rose. Jordan was under no illusion he could be what Rose needed. He didn’t think father to a fifteen-year-old was in his skill set. But Mia needed her here, and he would do what was necessary for Mia.