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Chapter Eighteen

“ T hat’s it.” Joe jumped up. “We’re going to my house.” He glared at Sam and dared her to say no. Although it wouldn’t matter, he was taking Claire away from here, and if Sam fired him, so be it. He was never letting Claire get hurt again.

Sam nodded.

Good.

“Okay, that’s settled. Let’s get this show on the road,” said Joe. Damn, this was not how he wanted the day to end. Claire and Sam had been so animated, happy and smiling when they walked in.

However, Mark’s house had been compromised by Keith too many times now. Joe was afraid the next time Keith would up the ante and attempt something vicious.

“Claire, come on. Let me help you pack,” said Sam.

Sam marched back to Claire’s bedroom, Claire faltering behind. Joe glanced around the living room, at the bags Claire had been carrying—tossed aside, forgotten.

Damn. Hank told him Claire and Sam had gone shopping, needed a little girl time to relax and laugh. So why had Keith sent the flowers now? Coincidence? Happenstance? It didn’t matter. Claire was devastated. Why couldn’t he leave her alone? For that matter, why couldn’t the bastard just up and die?

Claire looked so small and forlorn after reading the card. Keith probably thought the picture was a nice touch—show her happier times, get sentimental with her, and she’d come running back. Claire was romantic like that, but he knew that ship had sailed with Keith.

Joe picked up the shopping bags and brought them into Claire’s room. Claire was sitting on the bed, staring into space. He watched as Sam packed Claire’s pitiful belongings into the tattered suitcase. It was too small to hold all her new items.

“Almost ready?”

“Yeah.” Sam looked at the little suitcase and then pointed at the shopping bags. “Joe, you’ll have to carry those. Tomorrow, we’ll get a bigger suitcase.”

“No,” said a small voice. Claire hadn’t moved from the bed, her shoulders hunched. “I’m not getting a bigger suitcase. Tomorrow, I’m returning everything, and as they say, ‘getting out of Dodge.’”

Sam sat next to her, rubbed her shoulder. “Claire, you’re not returning anything, and you’re not going anywhere. Except to Joe’s house. We are going to protect you. Keith will not get to you. Do you understand?”

Claire sighed. “You don’t understand. He’ll ruin you. I don’t know how he does it, but he can. He will.”

Joe needed to be with Claire, but what he really wanted to do was finish the bastard. No one had a right to abuse another person, to bully them, touch them inappropriately. He hated Keith.

“Humph. Not happening on my watch,” said Sam as she stood up. She nodded at Joe. “Will you get Claire’s suitcase?” Then she looked at Claire, tightened her lips and asked, “Do you want any food to go? You must be starving.”

Claire shook her head, stood and followed them out of the room. Joe watched as she kissed Mark goodbye and wiped a tear from her eye.

“Joe, I’m so sorry to be such a bother. If there isn’t any room for me at your house, I can get a room. Somewhere.”

Joe put the suitcase and bags in the truck.

He turned toward her, placed his hands on her shoulders and lifted her chin so she had to look at him.

“Listen to me. You. Are. Never. A. Bother. I have good security, plenty of room, and personally, I’m glad to finally get you in my house.

Do you understand? I’m happy you’re coming home with me but not at the reason why. ”

Claire nodded and gave him a little smile.

The ride to his house took about half an hour.

The very fact that he bought a house, which to most people was normal and meant stability, success, and safety, had been a surprise to him.

Those factors weren’t as important to him as the fact it was a sign that he was putting down roots.

He never had roots after traveling all over the world for work, growing up on the streets and in foster homes.

Well, except for the four years at Mr. and Mrs. G’s home for foster kids.

He’d also sworn to himself to never return to Black Pointe.

He had a reputation as a bad boy. And God almighty, he had been.

He was always on the police radar. Parents, except for Claire’s parents, didn’t want their daughters—or sons, for that matter—hanging out with him.

So, he always felt like an outsider. But here he was.

On good terms with the police, a productive member of society with a terrific job and a house.

A house! He shook his head. Maybe miracles did happen.

The rain made good on its promise to come down—sheets and sheets of it. The roads were slippery, and Joe drove carefully. When he finally got to his driveway, he pushed the garage door opener and pulled the truck in. The tires crunching on the gravel could barely be heard over the rain.

“Whew, I was afraid we would have to run for it,” quipped Claire.

“Hey, nothing’s too good for you.” He was happy that Claire could find a little humor in the situation.

They entered through the kitchen. Joe put Claire’s belongings down, spread his arms. “Home sweet home.”

Claire looked around the homey kitchen. It wasn’t high-end, but Joe did have a gas stove, always a plus in her mind.

His cabinets were painted white, and countertops were a checkered pattern of white and black.

The walls were a soft yellow. There was a small table in the corner with two chairs, and he had an island with three barstools pushed under it.

A toaster oven and coffee setup were the only other appliances she saw.

Overall, a little outdated but spotless.

“Joe, this is so homey-looking. It looks familiar.” She thought for a moment. “Oh, my goodness, it’s so similar to Mr. and Mrs. Grissom’s kitchen.”

Joe looked around, shrugged. “Yeah, probably.” Not probably, it did. He remembered all the good times he had around his foster parents’ table in the kitchen. Now that he thought about it, it was probably subliminal that he would decorate his home like the only place he considered home.

“Come on. I’ll show you to the guest room. It has its own private bath, and you should be comfortable there.”

Claire followed Joe down the hall. She wanted to look at everything, but the only thing she could concentrate on was his back muscles flexing through his tee. And what beautiful muscles they were. His shoulders filled the small hall, and when he stopped short, she almost ran into him.

He turned around and raised a brow. She took a step back, and a small smile threatened to erupt on his face.

“Okay, then. Here you go.” He motioned for her to go into the bedroom and placed her suitcase and bags on the bed. “If you need anything, let me know.”

“I’ll be fine, thanks.” Just then, her stomach growled.

“How about I make some eggs. We left Mark’s before we could eat.”

“Eggs sound wonderful.”

Joe slapped the door and headed toward the kitchen.

Claire glanced around the small room. A double bed was placed in the middle of a wall and covered with a white coverlet.

Joe had a pleasant beach scene over the bed, but that was the only picture in the room.

The room was painted a peaceful sage green.

There was a comfy-looking accent chair in the corner.

Claire wished she brought a book with her, but she still had her crossword puzzle, so that would have to do until she could buy one.

“Eggs are ready.”

Claire jumped. “Oh my. You are quiet, aren’t you?”

“Tricks of the trade, babe.” He gave her a half-grin. “I’ll try to make some noise the next time.” He indicated she should follow him.

Joe had made scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast and had set the table.

“I smell coffee.” She desperately needed a cup, although it was later than she usually drank coffee.

“One cup of coffee coming up.”

Claire sat down, and her mouth watered. It had been hours since she ate, and she was starving.

“Eat while the eggs are hot.”

They ate in comfortable silence. “Joe, I’m surprised you bought a house. You’re a single guy, and houses are a lot of work.”

“Surprised me too. Especially here in Black Pointe when I swore I would never come back.” He settled back into the chair.

“So why did you?”

“When I left the Navy and the government job, I felt I wanted roots. The only roots I had were with Mr. and Mrs. G. Then I got the offer from Sam, and here I am. Besides, Mark moved here, and we were SEAL buddies.” He shrugged. “I like stability.”

She patted his hand. “I understand stability. I love Black Pointe. When I left for college, I always thought I would come back here, but life got in the way.”

She gave him a small smile. “Sam seems to run a tight ship. Do you like working for her?”

Joe leaned his head back and sighed. “I do. I like the hours, the lack of excitement most of the time, but occasionally, a case gives us more excitement than we want. It’s what I need right now.”

“Ever get married?”

His eyes widened.

“No, I take that back. That’s too personal,” she quickly said.

“It’s okay. No, never even came close. I never found anyone I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.”

“Oh.”

“Marry me, Joe. We’ll run off and see the world.” She looked into blue eyes as guileless as the blueish sky.

He patted her cheek. “Oh, sweetheart, your parents are expecting you to go to college. You need to go, find a man who will love and support you in all your endeavors.”

“But we love each other,” she protested. “Come to college with me.”

Joe gave her a small smile. “You know I can’t afford it, and Mr. and Mrs. G.

can’t afford to pay for a foster kid, or any kid, to go to college.

Besides…” His eyes got a faraway look. “I need to get out of this place. I’ll never get a good job with my reputation, plus I want to see the world before I settle down. ”

She put her hand on his. “We can see it together after college.”

“Sure, babe. It’s a date. Now give me a sweet kiss.”

A goodbye text was all he sent the day after graduation—her heart broken by circumstances.

“Turnabout is fair play. Why did you marry Keith?”

She hesitated, wondering how to answer what should be a simple question. However, nothing was simple as far as Keith was concerned.

“He was a good friend of a man I was dating. He was charming and witty, loved the same things I did. At least, I thought he did. When I broke up with Mason, Keith started asking me out, bringing flowers, tickets to the opera, art shows, telling me what a great artist I was.” She fiddled with her fork.

“How can I explain how utterly charming he was until he wasn’t? ”

“I know you skimmed over this, but can you tell me when the abuse started?” Those blue eyes of Joe’s were now a dark navy.

“We were married for a few months, and I was thrilled he wanted me to himself. He convinced me that he needed a partner who was available all the time to preside over dinner parties and make friends with the other wives. I wanted him to succeed, so I quit my job and stayed home. I was volunteering at different organizations, but even that took me away from the house too much. Then—” Her voice caught.

“I realized, after a while, Keith didn’t want to visit my family or have me visit without him.

He made such a fuss that I stopped seeing or calling them so often.

Then he complained about my friends, only wanted me to be friends with his friends’ wives.

Soon I had to report where I was going and use his charge card for things.

If I messed up in any way…” She turned her face.

It was bad enough confessing to Joe that she had been manipulated into becoming one of those women, but to admit she allowed Keith to strike her was another story.

“Anyhow, I wasn’t working, so I didn’t have any money or access to any.

Keith controlled everything, every waking minute of my time. ”

“Claire.” Joe reached for her hand. “I’m sorry I asked.

You have to remember you are not at fault here.

Everything that has happened is on Keith.

That’s what abusers do. They push down your self-confidence so you depend on them and then alienate you from friends and family. It’s a horrible circle of abuse.”

She wiped a tear. “I know.” She nodded. “I know. It still doesn’t make me feel any better about myself.”

Okay. Pity party over . Claire stood up. “Let’s clean up these dishes. I don’t know about you, but all this excitement has made me tired.”

Joe wanted to punch the wall. Punch Keith. Punch something. The pain in Claire’s eyes said it all. How a man, or anyone, ever lifted a hand to strike a woman or child was beyond his imagination.

Why didn’t he stick around while Claire went to college?

If he had, none of this would have happened.

He would have protected her. But he knew even back then that he would have held her back.

She was off to greater things—things he could never afford.

But they had been so in love. He’d desperately wanted to marry her after high school, but that was a dream or his nightmare all these years.

In retrospect, he could have found work, made their marriage work somehow.

Contrary to Claire’s belief, he knew he would never get into college.

He had no money; his grades weren’t good enough.

If he had stayed, he knew Claire would never have gone on and explored the world, or she would have quit college to work to help pay the bills. He sensed that her parents didn’t think he was good enough for her, although they never came out and said it to his face.

So, he did what he thought was best for her.

He knew he’d broken her heart. Lord knew, his had been torn to pieces.

But he’d heard that she had gone to college to pursue an art degree, that she was happy, got married.

He’d been happy for her. It had been devastating for him.

And here they were ten years later. Life could be deceiving.

The Navy had provided the discipline and skills he needed to step up in the world.

They honed his natural talents, and when he finally left he was making decent money and liked himself.

His reputation as a wild kid was forgotten.

He made a respectable life for himself. His job at KnightGuard Security provided him stability, respectability, and a great income.

He owned a house, albeit a small one, and had money in the bank.

He wondered if Claire had ever forgiven him for leaving her or ever thought about being with him again.

He knew enough about her to know that she would never cheat on Keith while they were married.

But maybe after she got divorced? Bah . What would she want with an ordinary guy like him after living in a penthouse on Fifth Avenue, eating at fancy restaurants, and wearing designer clothes?