“David went away for a few days. I think it was a conference, though by this time he really didn’t talk to me much. He used to keep me chained when he went out and left me a bowl of water in case I got thirsty.”
Warmth flooded her cheeks at the memory. Lying there, next to a big man who hadn’t hurt her once, she wondered how she’d ever let herself fall so low. In her rational mind, she knew victims always blamed themselves, but rationality disappeared in the face of fear.
Murphy pulled her closer. He was holding her so tight it almost hurt. She wasn’t sure who he was trying to protect: herself or him. She dipped her head into his chest, her voice muffled by his skin.
“David was running late, bitching under his breath about missing the plane. I think he’d mislaid some papers, because he was looking in every drawer, slamming every cupboard. Finally, he found them and left, and in the heat of the moment, he forgot to padlock me. Even then, I stayed curled up under the table for an hour, convinced he’d realize his mistake and come back.
“By some miracle, he didn’t return. I kept waiting and waiting, expecting him to come in and roar at me, tell me it was all my fault. I think the fear kept me chained stronger than the metal links ever could.”
Her heart was beating like a drum against her rib cage. Talking about it was enough to change her back into Lucy Eversleigh, wife and victim.
“Eventually, I crawled out of the room on my hands and knees and made my way to the bathroom. When I glanced up at the mirror, I saw this girl with a metal collar around her neck and a chain hanging from it. I stared at her, seeing her pale face and dark shadows, and I hated her so much. She was weak and pathetic, and I wanted her gone. Before I knew it, I’d ripped off the collar and threw it into the glass to make it shatter.”
She was ugly crying now. Fat, hot tears escaped from her eyes, mixing with the snot running from her nose. Her sobs were loud and uneven, ending in wails that made Murphy flinch. He rubbed his hands in reassuring motions on her back, murmuring soft words of consolation.
“If it wasn’t for the broken glass, I probably wouldn’t have left. But I knew if he came home and found a smashed mirror, I was going to be punished. I don’t mean a few lashings, or even the cane, because even though that shit hurts, I could take it.” Her voice broke. “He really liked to cut me and watch me bleed. Sometimes he’d do it so much I’d pass out from the blood loss.”
She could still feel the cuts on her legs, the way the blood pooled on the floor as he watched. Afterward, when she managed to drag herself up from the tiles, he used to make her clean it up.
“You were lucky to make it out alive.” Murphy’s voice was a growl. “How did you end up in West Virginia?”
“I hitched rides. I went wherever the trucks took me. Eventually, at a rest stop in Virginia, I got picked up by a guy delivering beer. That’s how I ended up at here at Buddy’s.” She could remember the day she walked into the bar, dark hair falling limply over her pale face, hoping nobody noticed the scars.
“He took you in?”
Rachel nodded, biting her lip. Tears stung at her eyes as she thought of Buddy, of the way he’d offered her a home. They spilled out, burning a trail down her cheeks, pooling at her mouth. She didn’t want to cry and hated feeling weak, but her body hitched as sobs wracked through it. The emotion of the night before and the paralyzing fear of seeing David again was enough to push her to the edge of reason. She curled into a ball, trying to gain control of her feelings, enough to stem the flow.
Then she felt a hand, warm and calloused but gentle against her skin. He brushed her tears away, then moved his thumb beneath her chin, tipping her face to look up at him. She stared at his face—hardened and unreadable. He curled his other arm around her waist.
He held her for minutes, letting her sob it out, waiting patiently as her muscles unwound enough to make her relax. She could feel his gaze burning her skin, his intensity making her raw.
Eventually, she gained enough control to let herself breathe normally again.
“You okay?” He tipped his head to the side and looked at her.
She nodded. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to …” She took a deep breath. “I’m so fucking scared, you know? I don’t want to go back to him. The thought of him hurting me again …” Her voice cracked.
He rolled onto his back, letting out a soft sigh. The need to touch him pulled at her skin, and she moved on her side until her body was close to his. He turned his head, enough so his lips were inches from hers and she could feel his warm breath bathe her skin. His green eyes looked dark, confused, like he didn’t know what the hell he was doing.
Rachel licked her dry lips and stared back at him, letting the intensity of his gaze invigorate her body; there was more than something there. Whatever it was between them seemed to be growing without permission.
It was a while before his low voice penetrated the silence. “You would have stayed under the radar if you hadn’t applied for a gun license.”
She took a moment to consider his words. “I needed to feel safe. I wasn’t expecting him to send somebody else. I thought if he found me, he’d come himself. I was going to be ready for him.”
He turned to look at her. “Would you have shot him, if he came here?”
Rachel nodded. “In a fucking heartbeat.”
“Good girl,” he said in a rough voice. He pushed his lips to her forehead, kissing her softly. It felt as if he understood how she was feeling, that he recognized her pain. His sensitive reaction made her wonder if she was reaching him, making him see what a vile human being David really was.
His chest expanded under her cheek as he inhaled a deep lungful of air. “I watched my mother get beat up for eighteen years.” He twisted the sheet between his fingers, bunching the fabric in his palm. “My father wasn’t a sadist, not like David, but the bastard liked to show her who was boss.”
Rachel turned her body until they were almost touching. Her heart hammered against her chest. “What happened?”
He looked up at her, and she could see the pain behind his gaze. His vulnerability touched her more than she could admit. “She killed herself. I’d just started earning enough to make a down payment on a house for the two of us. I came home from work one day and found her lying in the bathtub.”
Rachel winced at the image of a young Murphy coming home to find his mother dead in the bathroom; no kid should ever have to see that. Compassion flooded her veins.