“Baby,” I say, reaching a hand across the table. I scoot my chair a little closer to hers. Our knees brush under my kitchen table and I notice she doesn’t move away, but she flinches a little, as if surprised at first, and then she relaxes. The warmth of her thigh suddenly lines up against mine, and I feel her heat in my cock. “What’s this plan? It’s time you level with me.”

  Alice draws a shaky breath and shakes her head. “I don’t want to involve you any more than I already have. I can’t—”

  “Alice.” I clap my hand over her knee under the table. I give her a gentle squeeze and leave my hand there. If she looks uncomfortable, I’ll take it away, but right now, I need her focused on me. On telling me everything I need to know. “Who are you running from?” I ask. “Husband, boyfriend? Baby daddy?”

  Alice shakes her head and clamps her mouth shut.

  “Alice.”

  I look behind us into the living room, making sure that Zoey’s watching TV. The little princess is totally preoccupied by a cartoon princess kicking some ass against a squad of bad guys with a dagger. Is this what kids watch these days?

  “Alice,” I repeat, bringing my attention back to the beauty beside me. But this time, I lift her chin with my hand.

  If she’s going to ignore me, she’s going to have to do it looking me dead in the eye.

  I raise her chin, and she flicks her eyes to meet mine. But once I have her skin under my fingers, I can’t help myself. Her sugary scent draws me closer, and I stroke the ridge of her chin softly with my thumb. My dick reacts to that light touch, and I have to release her before I go full animal on her.

  Jesus, what this woman does to me.

  I want to sucker-punch the fucker who put those shadows under her caramel eyes. The light purple bags make her look tired and lonely. Like she’s been running a long, long time.

  If I could pull her close and shred the assholes in her world like that TV princess, I’d do it with my bare hands. No dagger required. But first, I need to know what the fuck she’s dealing with.

  “My husband,” she admits. “He’s…an asshole,” she supplies.

  I drop my hand from her skin, which draws both of us out of the sensual haze.

  “Zoey’s dad?” I ask.

  The answer to that one simple question will make everything either a hell of a lot harder or a hell of a lot simpler.

  She shakes her head. “No. I think that’s why all this is so fucking triggering,” she explains. “When I met Jerry, I was working as a waitress, a single mom with a four-year-old. He owned the car dealership across the street, and for months, he worked me over. Coming in, waiting to sit at one of my tables, leaving really big tips.”

  Alice sighs, her shoulders sagging even lower. She plays with the ends of her hair and avoids my eyes like she’s embarrassed or ashamed.

  “In my eyes, sweetheart.” I lift her chin again. I can’t stand to see the fear worrying her face.

  “I didn’t want to date him. I really didn’t.” She meets my eyes and laughs, a frustrated, ironic laugh. “He had that slightly slimy vibe, you know?”

  She sighs.

  “But he was charming too, and he was really persistent. Begged me to just let him take me to dinner. And eventually, I caved. One dinner led to two, and within three months, he gave me a huge ring.”

  She holds up her unadorned left hand. She chuckles a wry laugh. “I sold the ring to buy that fucking car,” she laughed. “I should have known.”

  “Jesus.” I can’t help myself. “You traded in an engagement ring for a whole goddamned car?”

  She sighs. “Jerry was all sparkle, no substance. Just like our marriage. Just like that car. I got taken for a ride yet again.”

  “And let me guess, the blush was off the rose by what, the end of the honeymoon?” I ask. “When did the mask come off?”

  “Well, we didn’t go on a honeymoon,” Alice says. “I had Zoey to think about. He made me quit the job as soon as he proposed. He didn’t like how it would look to his clients and business partners if his wife worked in a greasy diner. I’m qualified to do other things,” Alice says, her voice suddenly small. “I didn’t finish college, but I have an associate’s in business. I just… Well, that’s another failure.”

  “You’re not a failure,” I snap, a little more harshly than I planned.

  She looks surprised by the tone of my voice, but she continues. “Oh, wait,” she says, half bitter, half ironic. “I am. My college boyfriend left me when I got pregnant. That’s how I ended up waitressing with a four-year-old. He ended up with a scholarship from a university out west. He said a kid and no degree weren’t in the cards for him. He knew I was pregnant, but he just transferred. And since he was out of state and I was broke, pregnant, and twenty-two, I just didn’t have the money to pursue him. He’s never even met Zoey.”

  “And this Jerry character? He married you but didn’t adopt Zoey?”

  I can’t imagine what kind of piece of shit gives his wife a sparkler worth as much as a car but who doesn’t adopt the child he is responsible for helping to raise.

  “That was never on the table,” she says simply. “I mean, it literally never came up. I think in the back of Jerry’s mind, Zoey would always be just mine, my problem, my responsibility. In fact, the older she got, the worse things became between us. When she was four and was in day care all day while I worked and while we dated, I think he was able to pretend I didn’t really have a kid. But once we moved in to his house…”

  I clench my fists, bracing for what comes next. “Did he—”

  The color must be flooding my face because suddenly, I feel a soft hand on my bicep.

  “No, Morris. Not Zoey. He never laid a hand on her.” Alice’s voice is so, so small. I can’t comprehend what it feels like to have a child, to be responsible for a beautiful little life like Zoey’s, and to be beholden to anyone to provide for her.

  “I would hunt him down and kill him right on that goddamn showroom floor if he did.” I can picture it now, the image of this fuckwad’s jaw when my fist hits it freeing a little bit of the rage building up in my chest. “You sure?” I press. “You’d tell me.”

  She blinks fast and smiles. “I would tell you. I trust you,” she says.

  And somehow, it feels like an invitation. One that I know I won’t refuse.

  But then as quick as the light came on, it goes out. “But there are so many ways to hurt a woman,” she adds quietly.

  The heat explodes in my chest again as I throttle back the rage her words bring. I know guys like this. Shit, had my circumstances been different, I might have been a guy like that. But my mother died of breast cancer when I was young, and my old man was a miserable prick.

  I spent my teenage years taking care of things no kid should ever have to care for. It’s not something I linger on, but it occurs to me now that maybe that’s why I never wanted to have a family of my own.

  “He’s not going to hurt you ever again,” I say quietly under my breath.

  “Morris,” she says, shaking her head. “You don’t know what he’s capable of.”

  “If you think that, darlin’, then you don’t know what I’m capable of.”

  10

  After our talk, Morris makes a couple phone calls, and I take a few minutes to check my messages.

  As I punch in the code to my voice mail, I start regretting that I ate at all. The sandwich sits like a rock in my belly, and I have to breathe in through my nose and slowly out through my mouth to ease the waves of nausea rolling through my body.

  You can do this, I remind myself. He can’t find me. He can’t hurt me.

  And that’s the truth, isn’t it?

  I can breathe easy.

  I’m safe.

  But the pep talk falls flat even as I give it to myself. I snuggle up on the couch next to Zoey, who immediately curls against me and settles in. I grip my phone in a clammy hand, and I follow Morris with my gaze.

  He’s leaning against the kitchen counter, his legs crossed at the ankle. His jeans are well broken-in, the thin patches over his knees just barely breaking through to his skin. The denim fits his thighs like the jeans were made for his body, and I follow the lines of his muscular form until I reach his face. He’s holding his phone with one hand and is talking in a low voice, but the deep rumble reaches me all the way across the apartment.

  I can’t explain what it is about this man, but his presence calms me. He’s a solid mountain of mass. Just being in the same room with him makes me feel so different. The way he walks, holds his body, even the way he stands still, completely focused on the phone call he’s on… He’s so different from the frantic, erratic way Jerry is constantly moving, shifting, yelling, doing.

  Morris’s body is huge, his arms nearly as wide around as my thigh. The salt-and-pepper beard is trimmed close to his face, so I can make out the contours of his chin and lips. He has a beautiful mouth. His lips are average, not too full and not thin, but it’s his smile, that full grin, his square white teeth that soften the look of a man who otherwise could be even more imposing than Jerry.

  The lightness in him comes out when he smiles. As he talks now, he’s scowling, but I can remember some of the smiles he’s gifted me with so far. At the gas station. On the drive here. Talking to Zoey.

  How such a rough giant can make me feel more at peace than I’ve felt in years is…a mystery. But I say a silent prayer of thanks to the angels who led him to help me. I know I’m strong. It took heart and commitment and guts to plan this escape. And I made it. I made it out. I’m out from under Jerry’s control, and I never, ever have to go back. I just have to get through the next few hours. Jerry finding out that I didn’t go to my sister’s. His rage when he realizes it’s over. But I’m so close. I’m like a bird trapped in a cage. I finally pried open the door and can see the way out. I just need to stay out of sight of the cat until I find a new perch.

  Morris catches me looking at him and waggles his brows once. He sees me watching him. And he’s eyeing me too. That moment of playfulness feels almost normal. Almost real.

  Like the asshole whose voice I’m used to hearing or the scary messages I’m dreading listening to are nothing more than an annoyance from my past. Something to get done and get through so I can get back to the good stuff that I have now. Jerry is trash be put out and taken away forever.

  Zoey adjusts her head on the back of the couch, so I close my eyes and draw in one more breath. I half wish I could stand near Morris while I do this. Somehow, his closeness would make this feel easier. But at the same time, I don’t want anything having to do with Jerry anywhere near Morris. I want to get through this and put Jerry Cruz in my rearview mirror as fast as humanly possible.

  I punch in the voice mail password and listen to the first message.

  Babe.

  Jerry’s voice is clipped in the first message he left this morning. Based on the time stamp, he called just about an hour after my flight should have taken off.

  Just wanted to wish you a safe flight and a good trip.

  His voice sounds strained, tight. The tone doesn’t match the words he’s saying. Then he says:

  Make sure you call me the second you land. I wanna hear from you before you deplane. Do you understand? Call me the minute you land.

  I understand him, all right. This isn’t bad, but it’s not good either. He wants to know my first thought when we land is of him. My first call is to him. I almost delete the message on instinct, but then I decide to wait. I don’t know what’s coming, and it can’t hurt to delete them all at once. Or hold on to them…if I need to.

  I press play and listen to the second message, which came in not long after the first.

  Alice… Zoey’s iPad was turned off this morning before you even boarded the plane. Maybe you dropped it. Forgot to charge it. You can be a real shithead when it comes to the small details. I wouldn’t put anything past you. I’m going to drive over to the airport lot and see if the iPad is there. You better hope I don’t find it, Alice. You better hope I don’t find anything I’m not expecting.

  My hands start to shake before the message even ends. He knows Zoey’s iPad is turned off. Before we were supposed to board the plane. Why would he check? He’d have no reason to check the location tracker on my daughter’s iPad while he expected us to be at the airport. Why did he?

  I swallow hard and notice Morris lift his face to me. He’s studying me, so I force a tight smile and try to lean back against the cushions.

  I need to listen to the last message. There are a few missed calls, but for some reason, Jerry only left three messages. Two down, one to go.

  I curl my toes and swallow against the panic fluttering in my throat like the wings of a hummingbird, beating fast and making my chest nearly vibrate with anticipation.

  Alice. Alice. Alice. You filthy fucking bitch. So, you’re not in Denver after all. I should have known. I should have expected as much. You don’t give a shit about your cunt sister and spring break. But don’t worry, baby. I’m coming to bring you home. I’ll see you tonight. I’m coming to get you.

  My mouth falls open, and as I drop my phone, I let a tiny yelp slip through my lips. He knows.

  He knows.

  He knows.

  He knows.

  My thoughts race, and my palms are suddenly clammy. The room spins slightly, but I can’t be sure if the movement is in my head or if it’s the sudden appearance of Morris in front of me, blocking my view and blurring my vision. I can hardly focus on him.

  I’m falling down a hole, a deep, dark pit where Jerry waits for me. I can feel his presence for the first time since I left. Like an invisible chain, he’s got me shackled to him emotionally, mentally. He knows I didn’t go to Denver.

  He knows I’m not with my sister… My sister. I need to call her.

  “Alice!” Morris’s voice snaps me out of the whirlwind of racing thoughts.

  I must look pale and terrified because Morris’s eyes are wide like he’s afraid I’m going to faint. I know I will if I stand too fast, but at this point, oblivion would be better than the anguish I’m feeling.

  I was supposed to have hours of lead time.

  I was supposed to get away before Jerry even knew I was gone.

  I was supposed to…

  Suddenly, a large hand takes mine, and Morris tugs me from the couch. “Excuse us a minute, little lady,” he says to Zoey.

  I can’t find words or even my footing. All I see is Jerry’s face, close to mine. I swear I can feel his breath on my neck, the pressure of his palm on the back of my head as he holds me against the mattress. It’s his favorite way to control me. His favorite way to exact my compliance.

  I blink against the memory, feeling the down comforter stifling the flow of air to my mouth and nose. I feel the strength in his hold, as if my body can feel the way he’s fighting for control over how much he will hurt me. He likes hurting me. It’s not sudden or violent, but gradual and harsh. I can almost hear him thinking about how much air he’s going to steal from my lungs before he lies on top of me and whispers in my ear.

  “Baby, come on back to me. Alice, baby.” I hear the voice and blink, trying to bring Morris’s face into focus.

  As I look around the room, I realize I am in a bedroom, sitting on a bed with soft, fluffy blankets folded at the bottom. A hand-sewn quilt hangs on the wall behind the bed, an odd wall-covering in a room otherwise fairly barren. We must be in Morris’s bedroom. The door is open and I can still hear the TV, so I know Zoey isn’t far. But I have no memory of walking in here.

  I swallow again and will my heart to slow, to steady its frantic beats. I nod my head and rock slightly back and forth, gripping the blankets in my fists. “He knows,” I whisper. “He knows I ran. He’s coming for me.”

  Morris doesn’t say a word. He grabs my hand and pulls me to standing. Before him, I’m weak. Fragile. Powerless. Prey.

  Before I can think twice about it, I practically fall against Morris’s chest. This space is becoming familiar, welcome. The moment my body touches his, I’m wrapped in his arms, and he holds me close.

  “Not gonna happen, baby,” he says. He shushes against my hair. “I got you. You’re safe. Zoey is safe. I got you.”

  I shake my head against the mass of this man. “You don’t… I can’t…” It’s impossible to put into words. How stupid I feel.

  How did I think I could leave Jerry?

  How did I think he’d just let me get away?

  I realize in a rush I have to call my sister.

  I have to warn her.

  He could do anything.

  He is capable of…

  “Alice.”

  As my name rumbles through Morris’s chest, I lean back and meet his gaze. Tears burn my eyes, and I blink hard. I know what comes after this. The stillness. The shutting down. It is a predictable pattern. First, the fear. Then, I freeze.

  But this time, the predictable cold doesn’t flood my veins. Instead, fire scorches my skin as Morris grips my chin in his hand.

  “Alice, baby,” he says. “Come here.”

  I follow the movement of his hand on my chin. It’s so easy. My body is functioning on autopilot, letting Morris lead me wherever he wants to go. In my weakened state, he could probably do anything to me, and I’d be powerless to fight. Just like I am with Jerry.

  But instead of fear, instead of manipulation, when Morris’s face closes in on mine, I don’t feel cornered or controlled.

  I feel something else.

  Seen.

  “Baby, I want to kiss you. You want me too.” It isn’t a question, but he is giving me an out.

  I don’t want out.

  I don’t want to think.

  I don’t want to fear.

  I do want Morris.

  I don’t wait for him to lead the way.

  I lift my lips to touch his. The moment I tip my head back, I close my eyes and breathe in everything that is Morris. The woodsy, earthy smell of his skin. The rough friction of his beard against my chin. The softness of his lips as he claims mine, gently at first, as though he wants to sample every inch of my mouth slowly. The sweep of his lips against mine. Nudging me open with his tongue. The huff of his breath before he plunges his tongue deep into my mouth, tasting me, exploring me.