Page 7

Chapter Six

“ Y es!”

Keith punched his fist in the air. Women. They couldn’t keep their mouths shut if they tried.

He had installed the mic in Sheri’s apartment and the spy app on her phone a week ago.

Heard nothing for days. He was beginning to despair that he would never get a lead on Claire.

The private investigator he’d hired to find her had been useless.

He should fire him, but he had been helpful in the past, especially with some of his not so lawful endeavors.

A few, well, a lot of bucks under the table and he knew Troy Romano of Romano Investigations—“ Your Secrets are Safe with Us”— was his.

It was early evening when he finally left his office. He poured himself a big glass of whiskey at home, sat in his leather chair and turned on the recording device. Heard the voice of his sweet, devious, lying bitch of a wife talking to her friend Sharon—no, Sheri.

The two of them laughed over something stupid while he was here frantically trying to find her.

His face flushed, and he wanted to throw the recording device at something.

Instead, he threw an etched glass bowl—Claire’s favorite Limoges.

Watched as it dented the wall and then shattered into pieces on the floor.

Perfect. Just like his relationship. Claire wounded him and shattered their love.

Unlike the bowl, he would put their relationship back together.

Florida? Why hadn’t he thought about that cousin of hers?

Too good-looking for his own good. Muscular, too—probably from working at his construction firm.

Then he remembered Claire mentioning Mark had been a SEAL.

Had Mark fixed Claire up with one of his buddies?

Was she out on the town, drinking and whoring with some muscle-bound idiot while he was in New York, desperate to know where she was?

Well, maybe not desperate. Hillary had helped calm him down.

Hillary was getting more annoying. She wanted him to leave Claire and marry her.

Like that was going to happen. He had a good deal going with Hillary.

But whores were a dime a dozen. He couldn’t fire her because she knew too much about him.

She handled his finances, at least what he let her handle.

She made all his travel plans, well, except for the really personal trips he made himself.

She had access to most everything on his computer and knew the less than ideal people he dealt with.

In short, she knew too much about him. Plus, he suspected she knew more than he thought.

She could ruin everything he worked for in one phone call.

He tapped his fingers on the table. The Hillary problem was going to take more thought.

Maybe at some point, he would have to call someone to take care of her.

Right now, though, Hillary was more than eager to cater to his every need at the office and her condo.

Damn, he was getting hard thinking about Hillary.

Maybe he would have her come over since Claire wasn’t here.

But first, he listened to the rest of Sheri’s and Claire’s conversation.

Now that he knew where to find Claire, tomorrow he would fly to Florida and bring her back.

Maybe do a little business with a client at the same time so that he could write the trip off.

He took a sip of whiskey, sat back, and relished the thought of punishing Claire.

Claire had been staying at Mark’s house for a week.

If he wondered why she was still there, he hadn’t said anything or indicated that she should move on.

She appreciated that but she needed to move on.

It was only a matter of time before Keith found her.

And then there was Sam Knight. Sam was getting too curious about her life.

She couldn’t keep avoiding the questions; the woman sensed too much and was always watching her.

She wasn’t sure what she was going to do since she only had a couple of dollars to her name. Sheri promised to send some money, but that would take a day or so. She would wait until it came, and then she would leave.

She assumed there were a couple of women’s shelters in town that she could stay at. Moving on to another city wasn’t possible until she found a job and earned some money.

The three of them had just finished dinner and were watching TV. Sam was snuggling on the sofa with Mark. Claire was completing a crossword puzzle—in pen, which Mark and Sam had laughed at. Both confessed they weren’t that good at crossword puzzles and always did them in pencil with big erasers.

The doorbell rang.

Mark picked up his phone. “Love this video doorbell app.” He looked over at her and grinned. “Well, Claire, it looks like you have a visitor.”

Her heart stopped. No. No. No. It couldn’t be. She put the puzzle down. Got up on shaky legs and asked Mark who was there. Oh, God. She didn’t need to ask. She knew who was there.

“It looks like Keith. Probably missed your smiling face,” he jokingly replied.

She placed her hands on the back of the chair so she wouldn’t fall.

“Don’t let him in,” she whispered.

“Whaaat?” Mark’s mouth was hanging open. The doorbell rang again. He looked at the door and then at her.

“I said, don’t let him in.”

“Claire …?”

Sam jumped in. “Claire, come with me. Mark, let him in, find out what he wants, and don’t say a word about Claire being here.”

Mark looked confused but nodded.

Sam hurried her into the kitchen. Claire could hear Mark open the door and greet Keith. Keith’s voice, the voice he used with clients, the calm voice, scared her more than yelling. She knew he came to bring her back to New York City.

Would Mark tell on her? A small moan escaped from her lips, and Sam pushed her into a chair, held a finger to her lips. A gun materialized from somewhere. Sam held it by her side. Oh, sweet Jesus . Was Sam going to shoot him? Did she care?

She could hear Mark talking to Keith and inviting him in.

NO. Please don’t invite him in. Her heart was thumping so hard, Keith could surely hear it.

She got up to rush out the back door, but Sam put her hand on her shoulder and shook her head.

Claire’s breath came out unevenly. She felt like she was going to pass out.

She concentrated on the strength in Sam’s hand on her shoulder and felt safe for a minute.

The men’s voices echoed in the small room.

“Keith, nice surprise. What brings you here?”

“I’m looking for Claire. ”

“Claire? Damn. What do you mean?”

“I hate to be the bearer of sad news. Claire had a mental breakdown and has disappeared. She was in the hospital for a week in a locked ward, but they released her, said she was okay. But she isn’t and ran away. I was hoping she came here. She didn’t take her meds with her and might be suicidal.”

“Oh. Poor Claire. This isn’t good news. You must be frantic.” Mark and Keith talked a little more. Then they could hear Mark pick up his keys. “Listen, I have an appointment I can’t miss. Can you tell me about Claire on the way to my truck and how I can help?”

They heard the house door slam, and Claire started dropping toward the floor. Sam caught her and sat her up.

“Claire, judging by the fear on your face, I take it you are not suicidal and you definitely don’t want to go home with Keith,” Sam said in a soothing voice.

Claire could only nod. The situation was so embarrassing. She had hoped to move on before Keith found her. She was too late. Again.

Sam patted her leg and said, “We need to talk. Let’s wait until Mark gets back so you don’t have to repeat yourself.” She pulled out the coffeepot and some mugs to make coffee.

About ten minutes later, they heard the door open and the alarm being set just as Sam was handing her a cup.

“Sam? Claire?”

“In here,” said Sam.

Mark walked into the kitchen. Walked over to Claire and knelt in front of her.

He looked at her thoughtfully and spoke in a quiet voice.

“Hon, I don’t know what is going on, but you’re safe here with us.

Do you understand?” He waited until she nodded and went to sit in a chair.

“Can you tell us what’s happening? Why Keith is looking for you? ”

Sam brought two more cups of coffee over and sat down.

They looked at her expectantly. Neither said a word. Just waited.

Could she do this? Confess that she was a battered wife? Confess that she let it happen? What did that say about her? Would they believe her? Would they kick her out? Think less of her?

Didn’t matter. Sam and Mark were already involved.

They needed to know why—and what would happen to their careers if Keith knew they were harboring her.

He would ruin them just like Theresa and John.

But she couldn’t confess all that had happened to her.

It was too embarrassing. She would give them crumbs and hoped that would suffice.

Inhaling deeply and letting her breath out slowly, Claire said, “Well, I guess I better explain.”

Sam and Mark waited. They didn’t interrupt. It was her story—she appreciated that she could tell it her way.

“First, I’m so sorry you are involved in my drama. You need to know that I’m not suicidal. I’m not on any meds.”

Sam reached for her hand. “We gathered that.”

Claire was grateful for the touch, but the next part was going to be painful to talk about. She couldn’t face them and looked at the floor. “Keith has been abusing me.”

When she looked up, Mark’s face was red. “Goddamn son of a bitch. I knew I should have pummeled the asshole.”

Sam patted his arm and looked at Claire. “Can you be more specific? And no, I’m not trying to embarrass you. I need to know so we can help.”

“He would beat me for no reason. I could only work at the museum’s gift shop because he wanted to know where I was every minute.

I had to account for every penny I spent.

” Her voice broke, and tears dripped down her face.

She couldn’t bring herself to tell them about the belt-whipping or her scars.

She felt humiliated enough. Telling them that would be the icing on the cake .

“Claire,” said Sam. “Look at me.”

Claire looked at Sam. Her lips were pursed.

Her eyes were flashing anger, and her nostrils flared.

“I want to find that bastard and beat the shit out of him so he understands what hurt feels like. But that won’t help.

We need to have you feel safe. However, I am curious as to why you didn’t tell someone about the abuse or try to leave Keith. ”

“Humph.” Claire fiddled with her cup, turning it round and round. Then looked at Sam. “Oh, I tried. I left a couple of times, but each time I left, Keith found me, and the punishment got worse.”

Mark and Sam shook their heads.

“The abuse got so bad that I finally confided in my friend, Theresa, who worked in his office. I hoped Keith would see the error of his ways and enroll in anger management classes. She and her husband confronted Keith. The next thing I knew, they were out of their jobs and had to leave New York because they were blacklisted.” She sighed.

“Keith has a lot of clout in the city. He flaunted that fact in my face all the time. He threatened the same action to anyone I told.”

“Why didn’t you go to your parents?” asked Mark. “They would have helped.”

“Damn, I need to call them and let them know I’m okay.

” She took a sip of coffee, her hands shaking.

“I’ve been putting it off, and I’m sure Keith has visited them and told some lie.

” She exhaled loudly. “Anyhow, you asked why I didn’t go to my parents.

Keith threatened to ruin my father’s business if I did.

” A sob escaped. She put her head in her hands.

“I am such a loser. I let Keith take everything from me.”

Sam got up and hugged her. “You are not a loser. You are a survivor. You did what you had to do. But we’ve got your back, and you will never have to be afraid again. Do you understand?”

Claire nodded. She was exhausted from the stress—from life. They talked a little more about her life until she yawned and stood up. “Well, now that I’ve dumped my problems on you, I’m exhausted, and I think it’s time for me to go to bed.”

She couldn’t wait to get into her room. The sympathy on Mark and Sam’s faces was too much to bear. She didn’t want pity, but she needed their help.

The bastard lied to him.

Keith had walked outside with Mark but not before noticing the crossword puzzle and pen on a side table.

Only one person that he knew did crossword puzzles in ink.

The cousin had walked out with him, chatting like they were old friends and lying through his teeth.

Well, Mark would pay for that. He knew a few politicians in the state government who would love to look at Mark’s construction business.

He would ruin the bastard but not before he brought Claire home.

He drove back to his hotel, fuming the whole way. Lying on the bed with the TV on low, he remembered the last time Claire had disobeyed him and he had to bring her home.

He had taken her once. Violently. That’s what she got for defying him. He thrust and thrust into her, relishing her moans of pain.

The next time he got her home, he wasn’t going to be so kind. The thought of how he was going to punish her made his cock hard, and he took it out to relieve himself—again.

Damn bitch. That’s what she was for.