He moved the hand on her shoulder to gently cup her chin. "I won't hurt you, Selena. Look, you show me exactly where the pain is coming from, okay? I won't touch you anywhere else." He looked into the big violet eyes welling with tears. "I won't look at you anywhere else. Just show me the worst part, where it hurts the most."
Her hand hesitantly moved on top of her shirt to a spot on her right side, almost adjacent to the small swell of her right breast. One tear rolled down her cheek and she closed her eyes.
"Good girl." He reached down and gently probed the area over her shirt.
She flinched.
"Okay, Angel. Now I'm just going to lift the shirt and take a look. I won't look anywhere else, okay?" He paused and waited for her answer.
For the first time, Selena actively tried to communicate in English with him. "No.No, Boss. P-please, no."
Travis let out a small smile. "Travis. My name is Travis. You don't have to call me Boss."
"T-Travis."
"That's right." He lifted the right side of her shirt and saw an ugly purple bruise there. "
Goddammnit
." He swore. What he wouldn't give to have at the scum that did this to her. Just five minutes. He could do some serious damage in five minutes, and he would feel so much better.
Selena turned her head away from him and away from the bruised side of her body. She held herself perfectly still as he inspected the damage. Her heartbeat increased when he touched her side. The skin on his hand was rough, his fingers firm and calloused as they ran over her ribs with a slight pressure. She lay in shock as a man touched her body for the first time. She had been raised piously, in a strict Roman Catholic family. No man had ever touched her before, not in any way.
Travis picked up the liniment and rubbed a small amount into her skin. He did it quickly, so he could move away from her sooner. She was going to his head like a drug.
He pulled her shirt back down and sat back in the chair. He picked up the cloth she had used earlier and wiped his hands clean with it. He tossed it to the floor.
"I don't think anything is broken. But you're badly bruised and it's going to take a few days for you to heal. I have a couple of questions." He paused and waited to see if she was following him.
She nodded her head.
"First question. Is there a man out there looking for you? Somebody that did this to you that is going to come back to hurt you again?"
She shook her head. "No."
Travis studied her intently. "Were you raped, Angel? Do you need me to get you to a hospital?"
Her face lost all color, and then just as quickly, a blush rose up her cheeks. She shook her head emphatically.
"Good. That's good, Selena. Last question. Are you really a citizen and can you prove it if you have to?"
She nodded her head. "
Si
."
"How?"
Selena thought he asked how she could prove it, not how she happened to be a United States citizen when she couldn't even speak the language. She pointed to her backpack.
Travis looked at the article in question and reached over and snagged it and handed it to her. He was surprised by its weight.
Selena opened her bag and started at the top. She took out the bottle of water and set it on the bed. Next she took out half a loaf of bread that was badly squished and the jar of peanut butter. A rumpled pair of jeans and another t-shirt followed.
Finally, she pulled out a well-worn Bible stuffed with mementos. Pictures, papers, and pressed flowers kept the book from not closing properly.
Travis watched the sad little pile of articles surrounding her. His stomach clenched when he realized that he was probably seeing all that she possessed in the world.
He truly hoped for her sake that she was telling the truth. She needed something positive in her life right now.
Selena opened the Bible and found what she was looking for. She carefully opened the large envelope and handed him the three sets of papers she carried.
Citizenship papers for her father, her brother and herself.
Travis skimmed the papers and looked at her in dismay. Her last name was Taylor.
Selena Taylor. She didn't even hold a Spanish surname. It was a good last name.
Simple. American. Her father was Anglo. A white, American citizen. That must be where she inherited the pale, ivory skin tone. Relief passed through him. She also had an American passport and social security number. Then he noticed her date of birth. A quick calculation put her age at twenty-three. She wasn't a teenager. Thank God. Instantaneous relief surged through Travis. He wasn't lusting after a minor.
She wasn't underage. Far from it. She was a woman full grown.
This was very good.
He looked at her, sitting and silently watching him reading her papers.
He smiled at her and held out his hand. She slowly placed her palm in his hand.
"Travis Blake, at your service, Miss Taylor," he teased her and a blush spread over her face. He reluctantly released her hand and became serious again.
"This is good, Selena. This is going to make everything much easier for you. I want you to know you're safe here. But for now, as far as the men are concerned, you're a young boy named Manuel. This is my house. All the men stay in the bunkhouse.
I'll keep them away from the house and this room, and you can have time to heal.
You need to sleep and rest for a few days, get your strength back. That room through there will be your private bathroom. It has shampoo, soap, towels and stuff.
You use anything you want, and tell me if there is anything you need. Do you understand?"
Tears came to her eyes as she nodded her head. "
Gracias."
He smiled. "Say thank you."
"Thank you, T-Travis."
His nerves tied in knots at her soft reply and the shy look on her face. He decided to get the hell out while the getting was good.
As soon as he left the room, Selena braced herself for more pain as she moved to get off the bed. She was grimy and filthy all over, but still way too weak to attempt a shower. But the urgent need she had for the bathroom wasn't going to go away.
She slid her feet to the ground and balanced herself with one hand on the bedpost.
Her head swam. He was right. She was very weak. She stumbled to the bathroom, and made use of the facilities. The room was clean. Small, but very functional, it looked like heaven compared to what she had been doing without for the last few days.
He had said to use whatever she wanted, so she looked around while she was in there. A small drawer off the vanity contained toothpaste and several brand new toothbrushes. She quickly chose a pink one, unwrapped it and moved to the sink.
She thoroughly cleaned her teeth and mouth. Looking into the mirror, she gasped at her reflection there. One eye was swollen almost completely closed, and was bruised black and purple around the whole area. The side of her face was grazed, and showed pink skin underneath, where she must have hit the pavement when she fell.
She found a small tube of antibiotic ointment as well as a bottle of aspirin. She swallowed two aspirin, and carefully applied the ointment all over the scraped area. She felt a slight relief immediately.
Somehow, miraculously, her hair was still in the baseball cap. She knew it was filthy, but she couldn't find the strength to shower. She was afraid she might pass out in there, and need help. It would have to wait.
She slipped out of her jeans and bra, but left on her panties and t-shirt. The shirt came down to the top of her thighs, almost covering her panties. She didn't have anything else to sleep in.
She made her way back to the bed, and crawled inside and covered herself up.
The door was shut, but not locked, and she felt safe with it like that. If anyone here had wanted to hurt her, it would already have happened.
With the comfort of the bed and covers around her, her stomach fed and satisfied, she completely relaxed and finally let herself think of her family and grieve. There hadn't been time before and so she had pushed the thoughts away, her instinct for survival taking precedence. But now she felt safe for the moment, and the heartache and tears washed over her.
****
He quietly placed the tray on the desk, and moved the chair back over toward it, in case it was too heavy for her to deal with. He moved back to the bed to check on her. What he saw, almost had him groaning out loud. She was dressed only in the t-shirt, and she had kicked the covers down to about mid-thigh. He could see the strip of milky white thighs between where the shirt ended and the covers began.
Her legs were slim and looked like silk. His eyes travelled up, and he could see the edge of her panties, covering the feminine softness. The shadow of soft hair made his guts clench. The women he had been with in the last few years were all highly experienced, and it was the fashion for them to be free of hair. The sight of her, semi-exposed to his gaze, hit him as completely innocent, intensely feminine and highly desirable.
His eyes moved to the tiny waist and the soft swell of her breasts. She looked delicate and fragile, and he wondered at just how she had come into his possession. Her face was very bruised, but the darkness made it almost impossible to see how severe the damage was. She had either pulled the baseball cap off, or it had come off with her movements, and it lay neglected on the floor beside the bed. He bent and picked it up and put it on the bedside table. Then he realized he would be able to see her hair, and he looked again. He exhaled a sharp hiss from deep in his throat. Her hair was still in a ponytail, but it was long and silky and lay against her white skin. He imagined what it would be like, loose and flowing down around her.
She slept on while he continued to study her. Emotions he hadn't expected washed through him. She reminded him of a small injured bird he had found when he was a boy. The fierce need to protect, to heal, ran through his system. And a disturbing need to stroke, to pet. His heart beat loudly in his chest.
He needed to get her well, so he could set her free.
Selena woke once after midnight with another urge for the bathroom. When she came out, she saw the tray of food on the desk, lit up by the moonlight shining from the window. She was hungry and didn't want it to ruin.
She sat in the chair and picked up the spoon and began to eat. Again, the soup soothed her stomach. When she was almost finished, she wondered about the man who put it there for her. Knowing he had come into the room while she slept, a slight shiver ran through her. She felt something she couldn't identify. Her breathing fractured and her hand shook while she took the last few bites.
Her need for sleep was still paramount, and she put the disturbing thoughts aside and climbed back into bed.
Twelve hours of sleep had refreshed her, and she woke early the next morning, with the need to feel clean again. If anything, her right side was more stiff this morning, but she knew she needed to move to get the kinks out. She gingerly got out of bed, retrieved her backpack, and went through to the little bathroom.
She took her clothes off and dropped them to the floor and stepped into the shower tub combination. The water pulsed from the showerhead and Selena rinsed the dirt and grime off, before filling the tub with hot water and sinking in all the way to her neck. The water felt heavenly. She soaked her sore muscles for about twenty minutes and then washed herself thoroughly. She shampooed her hair twice, and used the luxurious conditioner. It tamed her hair and made it smooth and silky.
When she was finished bathing, she wrapped herself in a fluffy towel and combed her hair out, and then washed out the four dirty garments she had been wearing.
Rinsing them in the sink one by one, she wrung them out and laid them over the tub to dry. Then, she slipped her extra set of clothes on. She reapplied the antibiotic ointment, and she found an unscented lotion and applied it to the rest of her face. Her bruised eye was startling, and she brushed her hair loosely, to cover part of her eye and the side of her face. On the good side of her face, she tucked her hair behind her ear and let it flow down her back.
She was as ready as she could be. She wasn't going to stay in this room for two or three days and let the man Travis wait on her. It was bad enough being a charity case, but she refused to be a lazy one at that. Quietly, she opened the door and walked out of the room.
When she came to an open bedroom door, she stopped and peeked inside and saw a large body, sprawled on the bed, asleep. Her breath caught at the naked chest, and she hurried away to explore and find the kitchen.
The house wasn't big, even though it was called the big house. It contained three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a living room, kitchen, dining area, and mudroom with laundry. It was masculine, with large sturdy furniture, and was made from wood and brick, as was the American way. Everything was on one story, and there were no stairs to climb. Half of the living room was obviously used as his study, with a large desk and leather chair. A state of the art computer system sat on top.
Selena ran her hand over the smooth top of the desk and looked at the desktop computer. It didn't take her long to identify the
Internet Explorer
button among the many icons on the screen. Thank God. She could still be connected to the world, if she cared to be. In fact, it had been days since she checked her email.
She slipped around the desk and quietly pulled out the big chair, telling herself she wasn't doing anything wrong. Just using his computer for a minute. She logged on with a few strokes of her fingers and within seconds was reading an email that was two days old. Her eyes filled with tears, as her friend Maria recited the new deaths from her old neighborhood.
A light switched on and Travis stood in the doorway. "What are you doing?"
Selena was totally horrified by the surge of feelings running through her. She was near tears, trying to assimilate the deaths of her childhood friends, and watching him looking at her accusingly from the doorway. He stood there half naked, with his bronzed, muscular chest exposed. A small trail of dark hair weaved its way down to his jeans, which was all he wore, and were zipped, but not buttoned.