Savage Cinderella (15 page)

The divorce was ugly. The constant fights,
the threats of violence, and him always in the middle trying to
keep the peace and often paying the price in bruises. How many
black eyes and busted lips had his father inflicted while in a
rage? And how many times had he endured drunken tirades of “You’ll
never amount to anything,” and words like “useless” or “failure”
every time he tried to protect his mother from the brunt of the
violence? His father rarely remembered those times, but Justin
would never forget. It was a lot to forgive. It had been a relief
when his parents divorced and Cal moved north to Virginia. It
wasn’t until then that Justin finally felt he could leave his mom
and go off to college. Going out west for school hadn’t been far
enough to erase the burden of guilt and anger he carried.

His father fumbled for words in the silence.
“Well, I just wanted to hear it for myself, I guess. I was worried
about you.”

Justin eyed Brinn, now passed out completely
in the front seat, her hair cascading across her face. He reached
over and brushed the fine dark strands out of her eyes. Fighting
the urge to stroke her cheek, he wrapped his fingers tighter around
the steering wheel. He didn’t want to wake or startle her. Instead
he let out a slow breath. There was no need to tell his father
about the girl who was rapidly taking over his every thought.

“
Really, Dad, I’m okay. I
have to go. I’ll call you soon when I can talk longer. I’m driving
right now,” he said, knowing his father wouldn’t want him
endangering himself. The man seemed hell-bent on making things up
to him, but the damage was done and any amount of repair was still
etched with cracks.

“
All right, then, Son; I’ll
let you go. Call me sometime when you can talk. I’d like to hear
about what happened up on that mountain. I guess I’ll just have to
read about it in that little magazine you’re working
for.”

Justin said good-bye and hung up, wishing his
father would leave him alone. No matter how hard the man tried,
every word that came out of his mouth held an insult. Justin shook
off Cal’s derogatory reference to his job at the “little magazine.”
He had finally reached a point where doing the right thing was more
important than gaining his father’s approval. When faced with
helping Brinn or furthering his career, the choice was an easy
one.

After everything he’d been through with his
family, he was determined to give Brinn the happy ending she
deserved. Her trust in him fueled more than a desire to do what was
right; he felt an overwhelming responsibility to protect her. She
was probably here, risking everything, because of him.

He glanced down at Brinn, amazed at how much
strength it must have taken for her to come out of hiding after all
these years. His heart wrenched at the prospect of the dangers she
now faced. How long would it take for her to build a new life for
herself?

Although recovery was no picnic, there was a
sense of peace to be found if you worked at it. Three years in
Al-Anon had taught him that. He wanted more than anything for Brinn
to find that peace. Forgiveness, he’d discovered, was another
matter. Maybe he and Brinn could work on it together. A smile
lifted one corner of his lips. The thought brought a glimmer of
hope rising from a dark corner of his heart—a dark corner he
suspected they shared, at least on some level.

He looked over at the sleeping face of
innocence beside him. Her unexpected beauty captivated him. Where
was the wild young woman he’d met just a few weeks before? “It’s
going to be all right, Brinn. I’m going to take care of you. I’ll
keep you safe tonight and when you wake up tomorrow, we’ll call
your mom and dad.”

Happy for the upcoming reunion but sad for
all the years the Hathaways had lost, he knew it wouldn’t be an
easy time for any of them. Parent-child relationships were
complicated under the best of circumstances. As if on cue, his cell
phone rang again, this time to the tune of Fϋr Elise.

“
Hi, Mom,” he droned, the
Bluetooth connected once again. His mother always seemed to know
the exact moment he was thinking of her.

“
Hey, Sweetheart. How’s
everything?”

“
It’s all good, Mom. But
right now isn’t the best time.”

“
What’s going on? I can
hear in your voice that something’s wrong.”

Her sixth sense was a scary freak of nature.
“Nothing’s wrong. How’s Adam?” Adam was a good guy, but most
importantly, he made his mother happy and treated her right. It was
good to know she had someone taking care of her—someone who could
protect her. He pushed the persistent self-recrimination aside.

“
Oh, he’s great. He has to
do some traveling soon, though. I thought maybe you and I could get
together for supper. How’s next weekend look for you?”

He’d have to explain about Brinn some time if
he intended to keep her in his life. He glanced across the seat
again. A flood of warmth made him realize that keeping her in his
life was exactly his intention. The implications of that
realization sent a wave of mixed feelings to his gut. Next weekend
would be as good a time as any to make introductions—though he
found himself wanting to put off the inevitable as long as
possible. He certainly couldn’t explain it on the phone and Brinn
wasn’t exactly what his mother would approve of as a “nice girl
from a good home.”

And who knew where Brinn would be in a week.
Her homecoming would be an event bound to stir up a hornet’s nest
of consequences. “Mom, can I call you back on that? I have some
things to take care of before I can commit.”

“
All right, Sweetie.” She
paused before adding, “Father’s Day is coming up. Don’t forget to
call Dad.” Remnants of her June Cleaver alter ego lurked below the
surface. As if she cared whether his father might feel slighted if
he wasn’t remembered on Father’s Day. He knew she pushed the
relationship for Justin’s sake, not for the cheating bastard who
had beaten her up and broken her nose. Justin would never forget
that night. He couldn’t forgive his father any more than he could
forgive himself for not being strong enough to protect her. If she
wanted to pretend, he wouldn’t argue. He had enough of his own
issues to deal with.

“
Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll
send him a card or something.” Brinn let out a loud groan and
rolled over to huddle against the door.

“
What was that?”

“
I’ve gotta go, Mom. Love
you. Bye.” He disconnected the call, dodging the million questions
he was certain would follow his explanation of his new
friend.

He shook his head, looking at Brinn, who lay
curled in a tight ball on the front seat as he pulled into the
parking garage at his condo. She was one hell of a story. Charlene
would go nuts for the exclusive and would likely pitch a fit that
Justin hadn’t taken advantage of the opportunity. But one look at
Brinn tonight in that bar and he knew his ambition had to come
second to what was best for her. There were more important things
in life than getting the story. Gramps would have agreed. A sad
smile curved Justin’s lips.

Tomorrow, he would call her parents and
arrange for the reunion. His heart swelled. It gave him a sense of
satisfaction to be a part of such a miracle. In the little time
he'd known her, he couldn't deny the easy bond they'd made and the
warmth in his heart he felt toward her. She needed someone she
could trust and depend on. He would do his best not to disappoint
her.

Justin pulled into his usual spot and turned
off the car. He studied her placid features, illuminated by the
bright lights of the parking garage. Her transformation was
remarkable, her beauty undeniable. The silken black hair, the way
the soft material of her dress clung to her delicate curves and the
fairy-like innocence of her face stirred a primitive need in him.
At that moment, he was certain that he would do almost anything for
the slumbering wood sprite at his side. He patted her shoulder
gently, attempting to rouse her from sleep without startling
her.

Brinn groaned, lifted her head, and
stuttered, "I don't feel so good...." Then she proceeded to vomit
all over herself and the pristine cream carpet of his BMW325Ci
convertible.

Waking to the World

Brinn groaned and tried to open her eyes. Her
skull throbbed in revolt. She clutched her head in her hands and
then wondered if her eyes had been glued shut along with her mouth.
Panicked, she forced herself upright—and then wished she hadn’t.
The room spun as her eyes began to focus. Her stomach churned and
her mouth tasted like the bitter algae that grew at the bottom of a
stagnant pond. She swallowed and grimaced. Her sluggish mind
snapped to attention—she had no idea where she was or how she'd
gotten there.

She sat frozen in the big bed and took in her
surroundings. She waited for the nausea to pass. Light streamed in
between drawn blinds and cast golden stripes across a plush white
carpet, forcing her to squint and blink to clear her vision.
Everything looked so clean and tidy, the walls painted a light
gray. The color reminded her of the morning mist that rose in
clouds around her in the mountains. There was an overstuffed blue
armchair with a small table next to the window, and a wall-length
cabinet housing a television set with rows of books on either side.
She noted the titles were all about photography.

A connection clicked. This must be Justin's
home. He had rescued her last night from those awful men. The
memory came back in a flood, but she could touch only bits and
pieces of the night before. The effort brought another wave of
crushing pain to her head. She rubbed her temples.

She couldn’t remember coming here. She looked
down at the light blue checked comforter and lifted the layers of
blankets. Her dress had been removed and she was wearing a man's
button-down shirt and her underwear. Realization dawned and a funny
sensation crept through her. Justin had undressed her.

She suddenly felt vulnerable and bare.
Anything could have happened last night and she wouldn’t have been
able to protect herself. A shudder passed through her, acid
creeping up in her throat. She pulled the soft blanket tight to her
chest. She would never let this happen again. A small sense of
relief washed over her when she noticed her knife, sheathed and
resting at the ready on the table next to the bed.

"Hi, there." Justin pushed the door open
slowly and entered with a steaming cup of aromatic coffee, which
immediately made Brinn feel a bit better. He tentatively sat on the
edge of the bed and handed her the hot mug. Gingerly sipping the
golden sweet liquid, Brinn closed her eyes and inhaled deeply.
Coffee was a rare treat and he’d prepared it exactly how she liked
it.

"I thought a cup of coffee might be a good
start. Is it all right?" he asked softly.

“
It’s perfect,” she smiled
ruefully, "But can you take my head into the next room and empty it
of all the rocks? Maybe then my stomach will stop trying to climb
out of my body."

Justin chuckled, conscientiously trying not
to be too loud. "How much do you remember about last night?"

Brinn sipped her coffee and contemplated the
answer that drifted like fog in her mind. "I remember having dinner
with Abby and Phillip. Then Phillip took us to the horse place
where there were lots of people and loud music. I remember those
men trying to take me, and then...I remember you..." She gazed into
his sympathetic brown eyes, pictures becoming clearer. Her face
flushed with heat. “You took my clothes off.”

“
You were sick so I had to
wash your clothes.” He smiled teasingly. “Besides, I owed you for
stealing mine.”

She wanted to smile but a sick feeling sank
into her stomach. “You didn’t... I didn’t...did you...?”

“
Nothing happened, Brinn.
You were sick and I took care of you. That’s all. I slept on the
couch.” His reassuring smile sent her fear back to its dark corner.
Relieved, she gave him a look of gratitude. Another memory came to
mind.

"I remember flying to heaven and finding my
parents, but that can't be right."

"You’re kind of right. I told you last night
that your parents are alive. I spoke to your mother a few days ago.
I told her I was a reporter following up on missing children. She
said that they’ve never stopped looking for you. I didn't tell her
you were alive, but I know they would want to know about you. I
just thought you’d like to be the one to tell them."

Her hands shook. Coffee spilled onto the
blankets. Justin took the cup and set it on the nightstand and slid
closer. Tears silently rolled down her cheeks as her gaze fell to
her hands. "What will I say to them? I can't tell them what
happened. They will never understand. I don't understand. I don't
remember...I don't know..." Tears splashed onto the comforter and
Justin reached out to take both of her trembling hands in his.

"Tell them the truth, Brinn. You miss them
and you want to come home."

She felt sick and hollow, confusion
exacerbating the pounding in her head. At the same time, her heart
swelled with hope at the thought that she had family out there
somewhere close—people who wanted her, who would protect her.
People she could call her own. Then a solid knot formed in her gut.
"If I go home, he will find me."

"Who will find you? Who is it that you are so
afraid of, Brinn?"

"He promised he would always find me. ‘A
promise is a promise,’ he said." She stared past Justin, her eyes
unfocused. A crushing sensation filled her chest and bile rose in
her throat. Justin helped her to the bathroom just before she
heaved into the toilet. He knelt on the floor beside her, holding
her hair away from her face and whispering soft assurances as her
body repelled every thought and memory of the man who had taken her
from her parents so long ago.