Chapter 7

Jon helped the stubborn woman down the stairs. She was hell bent on doing everything herself and that included navigating two flights of stairs she just wasn’t ready for. She was shaky and sweating by the time they got downstairs and his temper was brewing way past a low simmer.

He walked away from her before he could throttle her, leaving her to lean on the oversized table that took up a quarter of the great room. She lowered herself gingerly into the chair and Jon immediately felt like shit that he was even pissed at her. Jesus, he just needed to relax. She didn’t need him to cop an attitude.

He opened the fridge and pulled out some ham, cheese and eggs and whipped up a huge four egg omelet and cut it down the middle. He’d set coffee to perk and poured juice into a couple of glasses. Loading it all on a cookie sheet to get it to the table he set it before her.

“You didn’t need to go to all this trouble, cold cereal-“ she cut herself off when he sent her a scathing look.

“You need to get your strength back. Protein and the sugar from the juice should start things off right. Coffee’s just fuel.”

She didn’t argue, just started eating in the same no-nonsense way he was beginning to associate with Cam. She drank her coffee black like he did and finished everything on her plate.

“Should I make another?”

“No, you don’t…” she closed her eyes and then took a deep breath. “No, thank you. It was perfect,” she said in a perfectly modulated recital of what his kids said to grown ups. Well, at least she had decent parents in her past.

“What’s the plan, Cam?” he said, pushing his plate away and folding his hands.

“I’m going to get out of your hair as soon as the storm moves through.”

“And then?” She hesitated and he reached over to her, brushing the tips of his fingers with hers. “I’m not going to tell anyone.”

She pulled back. “It’s best if I just don’t give you any details.”

“C’mon, it’s not like he’s going to torture it out of me.” He felt like he was in a surreal episode of the Sopranos.

“The less anyone knows the less chance he has of finding me. I don’t know how he found me here anyway. I didn’t tell anyone.”

”Not even your family?”

“I don’t have family. My parents died a few years ago and I don’t have any siblings.”

His stomach bottomed out. She didn’t have anyone at all? That couldn’t be possible. “Not even a girlfriend?”

“I have a few friends, but no one that I could or would involve in my mess.”

“That’s what friends do, Cam. They get involved, even in the ugly stuff.”

“Not with this.”

“Didn’t they know when he cut you? Didn’t they come and see what he did to you? Didn’t you report it?” He couldn’t understand the battered woman syndrome. She couldn’t be protecting him.

“You don’t get it, Jon. You don’t need to get it. You’ll have my undying gratitude for helping me out last night, but that’s all you need to know.”

He didn’t know why he needed to know, but he did. He had to find a way to get her to open up to him. “Just who is this Lucas guy?”

“You don’t want to know, Jon. Seriously, just back off.” She stood up and evidently the juice and food had helped even her out because she walked over to the couch herself and stopped abruptly. She lifted up her blood soaked coat and he watched her head hang in defeat.

Never one to miss an opportunity, even if it was sneaky and underhanded, he got up and stood behind her. He put his hand on her shoulder, “That’s how I found you. Please let me help you. I promise we can figure out something between the both of us.”

Her laugh was cold and nearly soulless and it shook him to his core. “Yeah right.”

“What on Earth could be so bad?”

“He’s a cop, Jon.” When he couldn’t find a single word to say in response she turned around and met his gaze. “Yeah, see even the great Jon Bon Jovi doesn’t have much to say to that one. I’ll even do you one better.”

Jon moved in closer and she backed up.

“No, you’ll really love this one, I promise.”

“Cam,” he whispered gently. He could see the chilly disdain in her eyes and feel it with every word she spat out.

“You wanted to know, didn’t you? You really want to know the deep dark secrets to my ugly little life?” she asked darkly. “Do you really want to know?”

He swallowed and met her icy cold blue eyes. “Yes,” he said tightly. “I want to know.”

“He’s the chief of police in a little city named Manhattan. Yeah, I know there are tons of different cop shops in the city but this one is really good. He’s the chief in the Upper East Side with all the trappings of lawyers, judges of the rich and influential. He can’t be touched.”

“I’m not up on my city politics, but no one’s untouchable,” he said disbelievingly.

Adrenaline gunned her motor and she came at him in a slow, steady walk. “Oh but this one is as close to untouchable as they come.” She pulled down her neckline to show off the scar she once tried to hide. “This little gift from Lucas came with a love note from a plastic surgeon that he owed a favor. See how lovely it is?”

Jon stood his ground as she came toe to toe with him.

“You should have seen it when Lucas was done with me the first time. All the blood and all the fun and he didn’t even flinch. He cut me open like a fish and watched me bleed. Then he calmly held a towel to my neck as he drove and met the surgeon at his clinic. He was kind enough to let me stay awake as the plastic surgeon put me back together again.”

Her head was tilted up as she poured out the horror of her life at his feet. Her eyes were so cold, like she was reciting a recipe that meant so little to her.

“Did you know that you can feel stitches pull even while you’re loaded up on a local? I can tell you how man stitches I had. Do you want to know how many stitches I had?”

His voice was rough and every part of him wanted to tell her to shut up. That he didn’t want to know any part of it. “Yes, I want to know.”

“I had fourteen staples and sixty-seven stitches from here,” she pulled the t-shirt down low and he saw the tiny silver edge of her scar as it opened up into a wide line that tracked across her neck and up behind her ear. “He even made an appointment for a follow up visit to make sure the scar would be taken care of. He wouldn’t want to mar the skin of his precious bride to be. She’d learned her lesson after all.”

He caught her as the adrenaline faded and she sagged under the weight of her confession. He cradled her in close and pressed her face into his neck as he rocked her. She struggled a bit, he could feel her embarrassment flowing hot and her flight instinct was strong. Instead of letting her sink back into memories he hooked an arm under her knees and settled them both in the oversized chair next to the fireplace.

She tried to get up, but he pulled her back gently, but firmly and wrapped his arms around her and held on. She stayed so still for a very long time, not letting herself lean against him, staying apart from him, but he could be stubborn and he knew she needed the contact. She needed to know she could lean on him, even if it was just for a day.

And when she melted into him and laid her head on his shoulder, sliding her hand around the cotton clad pecs of his chest and burrowed behind his back for warmth he let out a sigh. Then his heart broke as he felt her silent tears bleed into the cotton of his shirt.

He slid his fingers into her hair and just held on.