ARROGANT PLAYBOY (41 page)

JENSEN

“This is bullshit.” I slam my fist across
the counter of Kath’s house the second I’m alone with her. “You know that,
right?”

“Jensen.” Her body tenses. “You
are not to speak about Mark or his decisions with disrespect.”

“You know he’s no better than
Dad, right? He’s fucking Josiah Mackey 2.0, the delusional, polygamist
version.”

“Jensen.” There’s more bark in
her voice this time, which is funny, because I’m not sure I’ve ever seen Kath
raise her voice before. “Do
not
make
this worse than it already is. I think we all need to cool off for a bit. Why
don’t you head upstairs and relax?”

“Yeah, because relaxing is
exactly what I want to fucking do.”

My mother slaps me across the
mouth, leaving a mild sting. Fair enough, I suppose, but it was worth it.

“I’m leaving.” I pull my keys
from my pocket.

“Where are you going?”

“I don’t know.”

I head outside, climb into my
truck, and drive around town for what feels like hours. The shop is closed on
Sundays, so I can’t go to work. Liberty is probably hung over as hell, so I
can’t go there.

So I just drive.

And think.

This is just a minor hiccup.
I’ll see pay one of the twins to slip a note to Waverly at breakfast, and we’ll
figure everything out. A lot can happen in forty-eight hours. I can figure
everything out for the both of us.

I return to Kath’s several
hours later, a black Audi with Arizona plates rests in her driveway.

“No fucking way,” I mutter when
I climb out. Approaching the vehicle with careful steps, I’m floored the second
I notice it’s Juliette sitting in the driver’s seat. I rap on her window,
startling her, and when she turns to face me, my stomach drops.

With black and blue eyes so
swollen it’s a wonder she can see, she begins to sob. She climbs out, throwing
her arms around me like I’m some kind of lifeline. The bump on her nose tells
me he broke it again, and dried blood resides in the gash across her bottom
lip.

“You should’ve left him.” I
brush her hair from her eyes. I forgot how small she is, how delicate. “I’ve
been telling you that for years.”

“I never wanted to leave you,”
she says, wiping away tears carefully. She protected me from him when she
could, but I know I would’ve been fine without her. “I thought he loved me.”
She laughs, dabbing tears. “I’m a stupid woman.”

“Don’t say that.”

“You look good, Jensen.” She
licks the dried blood from her lips. “You look healthy, strong.”

What she’s saying is she’s not
used to seeing me without so much as a bump or bruise.

“You doing okay?” she asks.

I don’t have time to get into
it with her. “More or less.”

“Good for you.” She cups her
hand above her eyes, shielding the morning sun.

“What are you doing here,
anyway? You know you could get in a lot of trouble coming here.”

“I had nowhere to go, Jensen. I
finally left him. For good.” She holds my gaze with those helpless, puppy dog
eyes, the ones that lured me in each time. We were both broken and fucked up in
our own ways, suffering years of abuse at the hands of the men who were
supposed to protect us. She’d mentioned one night that her daddy used to touch
her when she was little, and I’m certain that Josiah knew damn well how to give
her just enough of his bullshit-flavored love to fill the void that left her
emotionally stunted.

“There’s got to be a women’s
shelter around here,” I say.

“I don’t want to go to one of
those,” she says without hesitation.

I want to help her. I do. “You
can’t stay here. Kath wouldn’t allow it. Plus, there’s no room.”

And
I’m not in a position to be asking personal favors at the moment…

“What about your sister in
Provo?” I ask.

“She won’t speak to me.”
Juliette hangs her head. I know she had a falling out with her sister years
ago, though she never went into detail. I get the feeling she’s been a
disappointment to a lot of people over the years, but she’s a product of the
cards she’s been dealt. No one should blame her for that. Underneath her fake
boobs, stripper-blonde hair, and layers of caked up makeup, she’s got a heart
of gold. People prey on women like her because they’re easy targets.

“Why don’t I help you?” It’s
the best I can do. “I’ll go with you, kind of help explain the situation.
Mediate a little. Once she sees you, once she hears what you’ve endured over
the years, she won’t be able to turn you away.”

Juliette’s shoulders rise and
fall as she sucks in a long breath. She hangs her head, her shoes scuffing
against the pavement of the driveway.

“But first, let’s go file a
police report. Josiah Mackey might own the Charter Springs police department,
but he doesn’t have any weight up here.”

We head to the police where
they take Juliette’s statement, give her a fresh change of clothes, and
photograph damn near every square inch of her bruised and battered body.

It’s a long process involving
tears and retellings of harsh memories neither one of us wanted to recall, but
there’s a spring in her step when we walk out, and I know we did the right
thing.

“I don’t think I could’ve done
that alone.” She flicks the business card of her assigned caseworker as I walk
her to her car. She’s going to meet with her first thing Monday, and she’s been
told this lady will help her find housing and hook her up with other resources
to help get her on her feet.

“Just promise me, no matter
what, you’ll never go back to that bastard.”

“I promise.” She drags her
fingers across her chest, making an “X” and then crosses her fingers. For
whatever reason, I believe her this time.

“Ready to go to Provo?”

She combs her nails through her
hair, sweeping her platinum hair into place and staring toward the sunset.
“Yeah. Let’s go.”

WAVERLY

“I’m on your side, you know,” Bellamy says
after a solid half hour of silence. Her hands grip the steering wheel of her
Toyota, perfectly placed at ten and two. She’s been checking the rearview
mirror every other second, and by the way she’s acting, you’d think we’re being
followed.

She’s on a mission, one of my
father’s loyal minions. I should’ve known not to trust a girl with secrets as
deep as they are wide. I wouldn’t put it past her to have been conspiring with
him all along, waiting for the perfect time to arrange my marriage.

It makes sense. She didn’t want
to be married off, so she put the heat on me. I wouldn’t be surprised if she
were feeding my father’s paranoia about Jensen and me this entire time.

I
hate my sister.

I stare out the window, my head
against the glass. If I could sit further away from her, I would, but her car
is small and there’s no escaping. Maybe when we stop for gas, I’ll run. It
would be insane and desperate, but it might be the only way.

“Waverly,” she says,
“everything’s going to be okay.”

I huff, rolling my eyes. I shut
them for a minute. They ache and they’re still very much swollen from my fit of
hysterics this morning.

“You have to trust me,” she
says.

I laugh, though it’s more of a
cackle. “You’re delusional if you think I’ll ever trust you again.”

She merges into a westbound
exit lane. I could’ve sworn Mom said I was going to South Dakota. “Isn’t South
Dakota northeast? Why are we going west?”

“I told you. Trust me.”

JENSEN

Right now, somewhere in Charter Springs, an
arrest warrant is being made for Josiah Mackey. The Charter Springs Police
Department may have been able to sweep his dust under the rug for the last
decade, but not anymore. Now that another department is involved and human
services employees in Whispering Hills have been assigned to the case.

The officer who helped Juliette
promised Josiah would be sent away, though it didn’t sound like he’d be gone
all that long. Juliette was okay with that though. The crumbling of his gilded
reputation and the promise of a protective order was enough retribution for
her.

It’s an hour and a half to
Provo, and I follow her in my truck. Her sister lives in a quaint little
subdivision with a waterfall at the entrance and one of those generic names
like “Maple Valley.”

Her house is big, with a
sweeping two-story entrance visible from the outside. It’s dusk now. Most
people are eating dinner and settled in for the night. Her sister, Charlotte,
isn’t expecting us, but I dare her to try to turn away her mangled sister.

“You ready?” I take Juliette’s
hand as we walk up the windy, landscaped sidewalk to her sister’s front door.
We pause for a moment before ringing the doorbell. A yippy dog barks and rushed
footsteps pad closer. The lock clicks and the door swings open. A woman, the
spitting image of Juliette—only with darker hair and a much flatter
chest—stands before us.

“Charlotte?” Juliette’s voice
is a timid squeak.

Juliette’s hand cups over her
mouth, her eyes dart between both of us. “My God, Juliette. What happened to
you?”

Juliette breaks down into tears
before she has a chance to speak a single word, and I place my hand on her
lower back, gently nudging her closer to her sister. She doesn’t need me
anymore, she needs Charlotte. And Charlotte should be the one comforting her
this time. It always should’ve been Charlotte.

“Come in, come in,” Charlotte
squints at her sister, as if it’s painful for her to see her in such poor
condition.

Good. It should be.

“You okay or do you still need
me?” I whisper into her ear. “I’ll come with you, if you want.”

Juliette looks at her sister
and then back at me, her lips inch up. “I think everything’s going to be fine,
Jensen. Thank you.”

She kisses my cheek, and I let
her go.

This time, it’s forever.

***

I pull into Kath’s driveway a
little after eight. The house is dark, save for a small light coming from the
living room. I do my best to enter quietly, since the twins are in bed by now.

“Jensen.” Kath stops me by the
stairs, appearing out of nowhere. “Where’ve you been?”

“Had to help a friend.” I’m not
sure how she’d feel, knowing I left without telling anyone where I was going
and spent most of the day with Juliette. She wouldn’t understand, so I won’t
bother explaining anything.

“Next time, tell me if you’re
going to be gone.”

“Were you worried about me, or
something?” I laugh, mostly because the idea of her worrying about me is
hilarious.

She folds her hands and then
crosses her arms, shifting her weight between both feet. Her eyes scan mine. “With
everything that happened today, I just need to know where you are at all
times.”

“I’m tired,” I say, pointing to
the stairs. “Mind if I head on up?”

She brings a nail to her mouth
and nibbles. “Don’t wake your brother.”

Kath’s acting squirrelly; then
again, it’s nothing new for her. All I want to do is go to bed, wake up in the
morning, and see Waverly at school. Until then, everything is in limbo and
nothing else matters.

WAVERLY

Bellamy takes the exit toward downtown Salt
Lake City. We are most definitely not driving to South Dakota.

Maybe this is where Harold is
picking me up? Maybe I’m getting on a plane and flying there? They wouldn’t
take me to an airport, though. Too obvious. Too many opportunities to run, and
you can’t force someone onto a commercial airplane without making a scene.

My palms sweat. I rub them
against the front of my jeans. I’m sitting up now, paying attention to every
detail, every turn. We drive another five minutes before Bellamy gets off on an
exit, veers right, and pulls into and underground garage and into a reserved
parking space.

I’m afraid to ask what happens
next. This feels like a transaction, and of course it would happen underground.
I’m being taken against my will and handed off, forced to marry someone I’ve
never met.

“Get out.” Bellamy says
lightly. She pops her trunk revealing two suitcases, though I only recalled Mom
packing the one.

My nose wrinkles, and maybe the
question is irrelevant, but I have to ask. “Why are there two?”

A man dressed in a black suit
climbs out of a dark limo parked next to us, and I’m not sure how I hadn’t
noticed it before. The windows are tinted and obscure, and I’m not sure who’s
inside. For all I know, it could be Harold and his wives.

The well-dressed man walks
around the car, opening the passenger door, and out emerges another man. With a
fitted, navy suit and a long, skinny tie, he checks the chrome watch on his
left wrist and flashes Bellamy a dazzling smile. This man, who looks nothing at
all like a guy who’d be named Harold from South Dakota, steps toward my sister
and grazes her cheek with his lips. “You’re on time. Very good.”

The driver of the limo grabs
both of our bags and places them gently in his trunk.

My feet remain planted, digging
into the concrete floor as best they can. “Bellamy, you going to tell me what’s
going on now?”

She faces the man who greeted
her. His dark hair is slicked into place with product, combed neatly and parted
on the side. His rich cologne subtly fills the muggy garage air. He could
easily fill the pages of a men’s fashion magazine if he wanted to, and he’s
looking at my sister like she’s the center of his universe.

Bellamy inhales softly, her
eyes lighting as they dance between the man and myself. “Waverly, this is my
boss, Dane Townsend. He’s going to save us.”

***

The limo takes us across town
to a sweeping estate on the outskirts of town. A guarded, eight-foot-tall gate
protects this fortress, which from what I can see seems to be modeled after an
eighteenth century French chateau. It’s mostly white with baroque ornamentals
that I recognize from my Art History class.

A tree-lined drive sweeps us up
toward a two-story porte-cochere.

The driver comes around to our
side and pulls the door. “Welcome to Golden Oak, the estate of Mr. Dane
Townsend.”

He takes our hands one-by-one,
gently guiding us out to where a blanket of intricately laid herringbone marble
directs us toward a staffed entrance.

“Welcome.” A man dressed in a
butler’s suit holds the door open for us. “We’ve been expecting you.”

I try not to ogle too much, as
I know it’s rude, but every square inch of this place is outfitted in marble,
gold, and the most fabulous look-but-don’t-sit furniture I’ve ever seen. A
Renoir painting rests above a marble buffet table in the entry, and there must
be a hundred white roses sitting pretty in an extra-wide, crystal vase below
it.

Dane walks up behind Bellamy,
placing his hand gently on her middle back. She fights a half-smile, pretending
his touch doesn’t affect her.

I know better.

“Mathilde,” Dane calls out. A
middle-aged woman with gray hair pulled into a ballerina bun walks out into the
foyer, her hands folded neatly at her hips.

“Oui,
Monsieur Townsend?”
Her accent is French, her tone pleasing.

“Please show our newest guest
to her room.” Dane hasn’t left Bellamy’s side.

Newest
guest?

I follow Mathilde up a
sweeping, winding staircase and down a long corridor, passing door after door
until we reach one on the end. I swear we’ve walked at least a quarter of a
mile just to get here.

“This will be your suite,”
Mathilde says. “Bronson will bring your luggage from the car. Feel free to wash
up, and then meet us in the dining hall for dinner by six o’clock sharp.”

Mathilde leads me into the
room, which is fit for a princess. A king-sized bed with a million fluffy
pillows anchors the room. Five floor-to-ceiling windows cover the far wall, and
an en-suite bathroom is tucked away through another door.

“Thank you,” I say. Mathilde
goes to show herself out, but I stop her. “Mathilde, can you please send my
sister in here?”

“Yes,
mademoiselle.
”

I explore my surroundings,
mesmerized at the way so much beauty can be crammed into one luxurious suite.

“Hey.” My sister stands in the
doorway a few minutes later, a coy smile on her face. “Still hate me?”

“
What
is going on? I’m so confused.”

She shuts the door behind her,
slinking across the room and climbing onto my bed. “Dad’s been planning to
marry you off for a while. He was never going to let you go to college. I
overheard him talking to our moms about it a few months ago, and then again,
not long after Mr. Waterman came over.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because you’d have ruined my
plan.”

“This was your plan?”

“You act surprised.” A hand
slinks to her hip as her blue eyes dance. “It took a lot of careful
forethought, and a little bit of sacrifice, but I waited for the right time and
then I made it happen. We Miller girls were bred to be patient.”

“So, Dad thinks you’re driving
me to South Dakota?”

She grins, like she’s just
pulled off some mastermind heist. “He won’t know for another day or two that we
didn’t make it, and by then, he won’t know where to find us. At least, not for
a while. Should buy you some time to figure things out.”

“Where’s Jensen? Does he know?”
I miss his voice, his touch. Not knowing where he is or what he’s doing kills
me.

“He doesn’t know anything yet.”
Bellamy tucks her chin, speaking slowly. “We had to be cautious.”

“You have to tell him where I
am, Bell. He’s probably worried sick looking for me.” My hand clasps at my
heart, pressing against the squeezing sensation in my chest. I never knew it
was possible to miss someone this hard.

She tilts her head to the side,
a knowing smile warming her face. “I knew you loved him. I knew you wouldn’t
want to be away from him.” She places her hand over mine. “You’ll see him very
soon. Trust me.”