Back in the Saddle (Jessica Brodie Diaries #1)(44)

I paused and took a deep breath. I hated thinking about it. I hated that it almost happened to me. I hated that others weren’t as lucky as I to escape. William rubbed my thigh.

“...when he...tried to...suddenly the need to survive was stronger than anything. Everything Lump ever told me came to the forefront of my head. I had never done any of the moves before—except to practice on her--but I didn’t have any other choice...”

The Sergeant nodded again and stood up. With slow movements he took a couple steps and lay his hand on my shoulder. “I have taken a lot of statements about this sort of thing, more than I care to admit. Not many women were able to defend themselves like you did. You did yourself proud.” He looked at William. “I got all I need. Dusty will be locked up for a long time with the amount of charges he has against him. In addition to this, he hit a cop when we tried to take him in. Had drugs on his person. We got 'em.”

William nodded and thanked the Sergeant. The two men walked to the door, exchanged a few more words I didn’t catch, and the door closed.

Without thinking I curled up on the bed in the fetal position.

“William?” I asked.

“Yes?”

“Do you mind if I just sleep for a couple minutes?”

“Of course not. Here...”

I heard him rustling around, and then felt a blanket fall over me. I thanked him gratefully and fell asleep.

I awoke slowly with light on my face and the smell of bacon in the air. My stomach rumbled as a smile came to my lips. Then I flinched. My face hurt.

That opened the door to memories. The horror of what happened last night. How close I had come.

And then another thought hit me. I did not know this room! Where the hell was I?

I turned a little, looking behind me. Just to make sure. Half hoping.

No one. It was just me in this giant bed. It was relief, but I wouldn’t have been sad if William had taken me home.

Wait.

My eyes took in the room. It was stately with expensive looking furniture. Also uncommonly spacious. There was money in this room. Was it William’s?

I got out of bed, slowly, sore throughout my body. I was dressed in a silky, though large, nightgown. Butterflies filled my belly. Did he dress me? Did he take care of me?

I thought back to the night before.

I remembered falling asleep in the trailer. That was the last clear thought I had. From there everything was filtered through a strange haze. Cars starting, shaking, rattling. I vaguely remembered a nightmare. Dusty was in it, but details were elusive. Did I ask for William, or were those all dreams?

I did have dreams of him, though. Many. His arms around me in a field of wild daisies. Us on a winged horse, him sitting behind me, holding me tight. The two of us dancing slowly, no one else in the room. In every dream there was William and his pain staking beauty pressed against me in some way.

Usually each dream sequence ended in us kissing, or getting further, or going for home base. I smiled just thinking about a couple of the last dreams.

Could this be his room?

I surveyed the art. Then the clear dresser tops. The lack of personal items. No, it was a guest room. But in his house?

At the mirror I had a quick look, then stopped dead. I couldn’t process the image that looked back. Her face was heavily bruised along the left side. Her left eye was bloodshot and half-closed. Her throat had hand and finger marks etched into her skin. Her shoulder, the skin peeking out of the nighty on her chest…

My heart sank. I shook my head, tears rushing to my eyes. Deflated, I reached for the terry cloth robe that was laid out at the edge of the bed.

Three steps outside the door had my mood seeped further into the ground. I was in what Gladis's house. Not with William.

It was just as well in the state I was in.

In the parlor I found Gladis. Her face lit up when she saw me. "Hi dear!" She didn’t look twice at my bruised face or neck. “Breakfast is cooking and OJ is fresh squeezed. Do you want a mimosa?”

I smiled. It hurt. “No thank you.” My voice came out in a hoarse croak. I glanced my hand over my neck. “Orange juice straight up will be fine for me.”

She nodded without noticing and led the way to the main living room. Once there I plopped down in one of the overstuffed chairs and received a glass of OJ from Lady, who never seemed to be off duty. I then noticed an older man seated across the room. He was drinking a mimosa and lounging.

Seeing me notice the stranger, Gladis said, “Jessica, I would like you to meet my old friend George Herbert. Or should I say, my young friend of long-time acquaintance?” George and Gladis both shared a laugh. Old person joke.

“Hello, Jessica,” he said in a rich but scratchy voice.

“Hi George.” I carefully sipped my orange juice, wincing as the acid needled my cut lip.

Gladis started talking again. “George, here, is a doctor. I knew him before he got his degree. Well, degreezz, plural. He has quite a few. Spent too much time in school for my taste.”

“That’s why you got away!” he said humorously.

Their eyes twinkled as they looked at one another. I looked away awkwardly.

“Well, ladies,” George boomed. “I have to use the little boy’s room. If you’ll excuse me?”

His air current brought the smell of bacon wafting closer. My stomach rumbled.

“Jessica...” Gladis’s eyes were intent. “Tom Davies explained what happened last night.”