Battered Not Broken (11 page)

Opening her eyes, another figure in the
mirror captured her attention. Her heart stopped before picking up
a galloping beat and fear, deep seeded, physical beating imposed
fear, held her in place.

“I’ve missed you.” Kyle stepped closer, a
mud-caked hand stroking the top of her head and still she didn’t
move. “I’ve been hunting you, and now I’ve found you.” Thick, dirty
fingers dug through her hair, snagged and pulled at the strands as
he forced her head back as she stood, moving with his grasp.
“You’ve been running a long time, Gillian. But I’ve found you, and
now, I’ll cleanse you before I take you back.” His breathing came
harsh. The stench nearly overwhelmed her and she opened her mouth
to breathe. She could taste his hate in the air. “Got to wash those
men off of you. You whored your body out to them, but I’ll wash you
clean again.”

He yanked on her hair and toppled her
backwards. She landed with a thud and a scream muffled by his hand
over her mouth. His hand moved and closed around her throat, his
grip tightening with each breath, cutting off her airflow.

“Ah, ah, ah. No screaming, Gillian. You
remember our rule.”

Of course, she remembered.
No screaming,
no yelling, no fighting back. Lie there and take it, bitch.
She’d close her eyes and take it, take everything. Nodding, she
sighed as he relaxed the hold he had on her throat.

“Gilly? You okay in there, dear?”
Damn,
Ethel.
Ethel needed to run, to hide. He’d hurt her and Gillian
would never forgive herself. Never.

His voice grated in her ear. “Get rid of
her.”

Good, he didn’t want Ethel, only her. “I’m
fine, Ethel, just tripped and I’m having a bit of trouble with a
door.
”

“All right dear. If you’re sure?”

“I’m fine, Ethel, really. Just trouble with a
door
and then I’ll be out.”
Please let him be too drunk
to realize what I’m trying to say. Please.

Kyle yanked on her hair again and she
followed his tugs, bending at the waist as he dragged her toward
the bathroom window. Pulling a gun from his waistband, she eyed the
barrel as he directed her with harsh roughened whispers. “Out.
Don’t yell for help. I’d hate to shoot someone because you couldn’t
remember our rule.”

She’d hate that too. After climbing through
the window, she made sure each step she made left large, deep
prints in the snow. Maybe they could follow them and rescue… No,
they’d only get hurt. Gillian couldn’t stand the thought of them
getting hurt. She’d have to figure a way out of this on her own.
She’d escape and come back to them. She would.

The gun pressed into her back as she stumbled
through the woods, her adrenaline pumping, and her muscles ready
and waiting to be put into use. She’d act docile and wait. Wait for
the perfect moment to run, hit, or hide.

The sound of rushing water filtered through
the trees and Eric’s previous words came back in a rush.
I’ll
cleanse you before I take you back. No!
Her mind screamed, and
her body rebelled. She stopped moving, frozen to the spot. Instinct
told her he planned to use the river as his cleansing medium. There
was no way she’d go willingly into the frozen waters of the river.
No.

“Move.” He cocked the gun, the bullet dropped
into place as he prepared to shoot it into her body. “Move your
ass.” Kyle shoved the barrel into her spine, digging into her
through her layers of clothing.

Death by beating and Kyle’s version of
cleansing or hypothermia, which should she choose? Neither sounded
appealing, but the water—it moved fast, deadly cold. It would sweep
her away. Maybe…maybe she could swim to safety—dive into the
freezing, turgid waters and let the current carry her away from
him, away from danger.

Stars burst behind her eyes as something
hard, cold crashed into her temple. Pain lit every nerve ending and
she stumbled, catching herself on a tree. The bark dug into her
palms, but the extra twinge kept her coherent while Kyle barked
orders at her. “Move.” He struck her with the butt of the gun.
“Your.” This time, he punched her in the stomach and she slid down
the trunk. “Ass.” She hadn’t seen it coming and wasn’t prepared for
the kick. His foot struck her ribs and what little air she’d sucked
in rushed out with a wheeze.

Kyle didn’t give her time to recover though.
He dug his fingers into her hair, grabbed a handful and yanked. She
had no choice but to follow. Gillian stumbled to her feet, tripping
on twigs and rocks as she followed Kyle’s path. Bent over at the
waist, she still couldn’t catch her breath. Tiny droplets of blood
stained the snow beneath her and she prayed the brothers wouldn’t
see. She didn’t want them following, not when Kyle had a gun. And
he’d use it.

They’d reached the bank of the river, and
Kyle threw her as he released his grip. Gillian took a step
forward, choosing her fate. She’d get away and begin her run again.
As much as she wanted to return to her three men, she couldn’t risk
bringing this danger upon them again.

Warmth surrounded her. A dull ache throbbed
through her body, but the warmth kept it mostly at bay. Sweet,
tender heat enveloped her from head to toe. With heavy eyelids, she
awakened to her room.
Hmmm…
Even in death she dreamt of her
place with the Bearclaw brothers. Ironic. She should have told them
of her growing feelings for them before she died, should have
confessed to her attraction to the three of them. Too late now.

With a sigh, she rolled to her side and the
ache increased for a moment, transforming to a shooting pain which
covered her completely before resuming its previous dull throb.
Damn,
heaven had been touted as the perfect place, so why
did it hurt so much? The warmth shifted behind her, covering her
now exposed back and she settled back into her peaceful sleep,
dreaming of the three men she had left behind.

Time passed as she continued to rest,
semi-waking occasionally to find the same heat surrounding her,
infusing her with feelings of love and protection as she slept. She
imagined sleeping with the Bearclaw brothers would feel like
this—protected from all sides, cared for and loved like no other.
Part of her wondered if God would let her go back, go back to her
men and profess her feelings. After staring into Kyle’s hate-filled
gaze, she realized her feelings for Ronan, Conner and Max had to
surely be love.

She grew restless, light burned through her
eyelids, and she threw an arm over her face to block out the
morning sun. Her other arm came into contact with a large, warm
body. Jerking awake, she went rigid with the realization that she
wasn’t alone.

“Gilly?”
Ronan.

She’d been sent to hell. Nowhere else would
phantasms of her loves be presented to torment her. Whimpering, she
covered her face, tears burning and soaking the sheets as she
cried.

“Poppet?”
God, not Conner, too.

The devil was cruel, creating creatures
similar to two of her loves. Would Max round out the threesome?

“No.”
Please no.

“No what, Gilly? You need something, love?”
She needed to be alive, not trapped in hell with Ronan and
Conner.

Unseen hands tugged at the sheet covering her
face and she relinquished it reluctantly. Gillian squeezed her eyes
shut, tight. She hadn’t expected the warm, callused hand stroking
her face, or the silken lips kissing away her tears. The
apparitions kissed a dead woman and the pain nearly tore her
apart.

“Dead,” she croaked. Her voice sounded
harsh.

“No one’s dead, poppet. You came close, but
you seem to be doing well now,” Conner whispered against her
cheek.

“Don’t lie.” Gillian didn’t have the strength
to say much else, but she didn’t dare hope the specter spoke the
truth. Because if it did, it meant she wasn’t too late. She could
confess her feelings and open her arms to them. If…

“Not a lie, Gilly. Never a lie. You were in
bad shape when Dad pulled you from the river, but Mom fixed you up
right. Your body is probably sore from banging on the rocks and
from…from the beating Kyle gave you, but you are alive, my Gilly,”
Ronan’s voice assured her, his lips brushing her ear with every
word.

Alive? She lived? Not a lie? Not hell. Not
illusions. Alive. God, she wanted to dance and sing and hug the men
beside her, but she didn’t have the strength.

Snippets of her memory came filtering back as
she lay on the bed, wrapped in the warmth of Conner and Ronan’s
bodies. Images of Kyle beating her, striking her as he pushed her
toward the water filtered through. The butt of the gun had struck
her once…no, twice, at her temple. Had she said something to make
him angry? She couldn’t remember. But he wanted her clean,
cleansed.

Gun cocked, ready to shoot, he’d pushed her
toward the water. It had been her chance. Instead of stepping in
slowly like he’d no doubt expected, she jumped, not thinking of the
way the ice cold water would freeze her muscles, tighten her body.
Once wrapped in the river’s embrace, she had been powerless to
direct her body’s movement. A victim of the roaring current, it
swept her downstream, leaving a raging Kyle behind.

She remembered hearing screams and shouts.
The echo of gunshots flittered through her mind. Had she been shot?
No. Conner and Ronan hadn’t mentioned her being shot. What
about…

“Max?” Her eyes traveled from Conner to Ronan
and back again, and she didn’t think she would like what she was
about to hear. Their faces paled slightly, brows furrowed as if
thinking of a lie to tell her. “The truth.”

As if conjured by the mention of his name,
Max’s voice traveled through the silent room to capture her
attention. “She’s awake? Oh, Gilly…”

Levering her body up, she rested her weight
on her elbows as she stared at Max in the doorway. A white bandage
wrapped around his head as well as a sling cradling his right arm
told her that if anyone had been shot, it had been Max. Her
carefree, smiling, mischievous Max. A sob tore at her throat, but
she swallowed it back. No matter what she’d been through, it was
obvious he’d been through worse.

“No tears, Gilly. I’m okay and so are you.”
He closed the distance between them. Conner rose, giving Max his
place. The moment Max settled on the bed, she laid her head in his
lap, anxious to feel his touch. His hand stroked through her hair
and pulled at the tangled strands, but the sharp tugs of pain
reminded her she was alive. She didn’t complain.

“What happened?” She had to know. Had to know
how they knew she needed them and they came to her rescue.

“Maybe we could talk about this another…” Max
tried to push it off, but she needed to know.

“Now.”

The three men sighed in unison and she
imagined them sharing a look of annoyance, but it didn’t matter to
her.

“Poppet?” Conner hedged.

“Now, please now.” She gripped Max’s thigh,
afraid he’d disappear and not give her the answers she needed.

Ronan pressed against her back, his chest,
groin and thighs melding to her. Conner laid on the bed near her
feet, but in her line of sight. Surrounded. Her men surrounded her,
each of them stroking a part of her with gentle touches.

Max spoke first. “We came in after fixing
your car and Mom said you’d been in the bathroom a while. At
first…at first, we thought she’d told you more about us than we
would have liked and you were hiding out. We got pissed and
argued.” Gillian smiled as she twined her fingers with Ronan’s on
her hip. She just bet they argued. “Then she mentioned that maybe
you were stuck. You said you were having trouble with a door.”

Ronan’s fingers tightened around hers, he
growled in her ear. “We knew he had you. God, we ran harder and
faster than we ever had before. Broke the door down and saw his
footprints on the floor.” It figured Ronan would notice the
footprints. “I followed through the window, running, needing to
find you. Max was on my heels, Conner got our dads. By the time we
caught up to you and Kyle, you’d already thrown yourself into the
river. I…I tried to come in after you, but it swept you away…” Hot,
wet tears fell onto her cheek and she realized what her life meant
to them. She’d been willing to end her life to save them and he’d
been willing to do the same.

Max brushed the hair from her face. She
looked up into his eyes. “I fought him. He ran, up the outcropping,
firing at me, but I didn’t care. I thought he’d…he’d hurt you,
killed you. Before I could get to him, he fell over the edge and
into the river. Still firing as he went in.”

The tension in the room rose, thrumming
through the brothers. Conner stroked the tender skin of her ankle,
drawing her attention. “Dad and I found you, floating, near frozen.
We pulled you…” His grip tightened as he drew a breath. “Pulled you
from the river, stripped you and wrapped you in our jackets,
brought you home.” They’d brought her home. Home. She liked the
sound of that word. “Mom took care of you, told us what to do. We
wanted to take you to a hospital, but Mom said your spirit is
strong.” Conner gifted her with a half smile. “She was right.”

“I said her spirit was strong, but her body
is not invincible!” The four of them jumped, jostling Max and
sending new aches through her body. Ethel, framed by the doorway
with three large men crowded behind her, stomped her foot. “Leave
the girl to rest.”

“Aw, Mom,” the three men groaned in
unison.

Conner spoke up for them, trying to cajole
their mother and fathers. “Please?”

Fathers, wow. Staring at the men standing
behind the diminutive Ethel, Gillian saw where the brothers' size
came from. At least now she had a good idea of what her men would
look like in about thirty years.

Ethel stomped forward, an imposing presence
even if the only reason she towered over the men was because they
were lying down. “She needs her rest and so does your brother,
Conner Bearclaw.”