“I had your things packed away.” He motioned to the couch. “You won’t need most of your belongings. They don’t really reflect you as my wife, do they? Thrift-store finds, yard sale items.” He stepped closer.
They were her things. Hers. She didn’t say that, though. She’d learned not to say what she was thinking with him.
“Where is your ring, Katherine?” he asked.
If only Jock hadn’t left. But he had. She knew he had, but maybe . . . maybe . . .
Kaitlyn turned and dashed to the door.
Her fingers fumbled with the locks even as he slammed into her, her head knocking hard against the door.
“I don’t think so, little whore,” he growled in her ear.
Kaitlyn whimpered.
“You are mine. It’s time you learned your place.” He whirled her around, his long fingers digging into her arm.
“I-I was afraid I’d-I’d lose the ring so I took it off, to keep it s-safe,” she tried.
He stepped back.
She took a careful breath. “And—”
“Who was he?” he asked, a muscle bunching in his jaw, his dark eyes glittering down at her.
Stupid, so stupid.
Run away with me, Kaitie.
She should have . . .
“No-no one. He’s no one, just a ride I caught back. I missed my bus.”
Before she could take another breath, he hit her, backhanding her hard.
She stumbled as the pain flashed into the side of her face. She would have fallen if he hadn’t clasped her arm.
He hit her again, this time across her mouth, and she stumbled against the door, grabbing the handle.
“Landon,” she tried, the copper of blood on her tongue.
“You are mine!” he hissed, raising his hand again. She’d never get out the door. Never get out . . .
She scanned the area.
A lamp still sat on a side table beside the sofa. A book was still on the table.
“Who was he?” he asked, reaching for her, but she darted around him.
“Leave me alone!” she yelled. “Get out!”
“No. You’re coming home with me and—”
“I’m not going with you, Landon.” She shouldn’t be talking. Her face hurt, her eye throbbing in time with her pulse.
“You need to tell me who you were with.” He stepped closer to her, blocking her way to the door.
Her bedroom? She looked down the hallway. Boxes were stacked against her door. Had he packed up the whole apartment?
“No one,” she answered, focusing back on him. “No one. I needed time to think, to see if you were right, if it was just cold feet.” She clasped her hands and eased backward even as he came forward. “We’re not right together, Landon. We’re just not.”
“I heard his voice, who were you with?” he asked again, still coming at her.
“No one,” she lied.
He lunged one way and she went the other, but her foot caught and she tripped over a box. Kaitlyn cried out and reached out to steady herself. Her elbow hit the table with the lamp. The table overturned and the lamp crashed to the floor, the bright pottery breaking.
He grabbed her, half pulled her up and hit her again. “Who. Was. He?”
“No one.” She held her hand up, but he just knocked it away, dropping her.
Her head hurt and she knew her eye would be black. Blood dripped off her chin and she realized her cheek was now bleeding as well.
She never saw him move before his foot connected with her ribs, kicking the breath from her.
She gasped, curling onto her side, trying to get away from him.
Kaitlyn grabbed the open box on the floor even as he kicked her again. Pain burst along her side, stealing her breath. Her hand gripped the edge of the stupid box.
Please, please let there be something in there . . .
He jerked her to her back, standing over her, then raised his hand and hit her again.
“You are mine!” This time she saw his fist coming but couldn’t get away. “Not a whore. Mine.”
“Please,” she said. “Please stop.”
He let her go but followed her down, his fingers gripping her shirt.
Some part of her heard it rip. No. No. No.
Not after Jock.
Not with Landon.
“Please, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
“You’re going to be sorry. You’ll never forget again,” he hissed as his mouth slammed down on hers.
She jerked her head away, tried to hit him, but his hand gripped hers and slammed it down beside her head.
“Mine. You are not quitting us,” he rasped, even as he leaned up and pulled her shirt more, his nails raking over her skin.
With her left hand, she stretched, reaching. Something glinted from the box.
He let go of her hand as his went to the waistband of her pants.
She slung her free hand out, brushing the pottery. The broken pottery.
Kaitlyn gripped it, feeling the bite of it on her palm. She raked it down his face.
He yelled and reared back. Kaitlyn kicked and wiggled her way out from under him.
The box.
Her grandmother’s candleholders. Silver and heavy.
“You bitch.” He crawled toward her.
Kaitlyn whimpered and grabbed the heavy, ornate silver candlestick holder near the top and swung it out. The weighted bottom connected with the side of Landon’s head. For one moment he simply looked at her, his dark eyes empty and soulless.
“You’ll pay . . .” His voice trailed off and he slumped down and fell.
Kaitlyn jerked her feet back toward her.
She hurried to her feet, gripping her side and hissing out a breath.
Out. She had to get out. Her purse was by the door, her sweater.
She wanted her things. She turned back. Her grandmother’s jewelry. The quilt she and Gram had made.
Kaitlyn picked up her sack near the door and her purse, her sweater, whimpering as she swung the pack up onto her back.
Out.
He hadn’t moved. But there wasn’t time.
She needed to get out. She could go . . .
Where would she go?
Run away with me, Kaitie . . .
If you need a safe place . . .
The hotel.
Kaitlyn’s fingers slid off the final lock twice before she opened the door. He’d come after her. She stumbled down the flight of stairs, hurrying to get out of the building.
She needed a cab. A bus.
But she couldn’t wait at the bus stop.
The squeak of the door reminded her of Jock. She should have let him see her inside the apartment.
Should have . . .
Should have just gone with him . . .
Kaitlyn hurried down the street, hunched over and holding her side. Her head hurt and things were blurry. She knew she probably had a concussion. She kept wiping her chin and her cheek with her sleeve. The chilled wind blew down the street and she shivered. A car horn blared and she jumped as boys whistled from inside the car.
“Show ’em, baby!” someone yelled.
Her shirt
Her shirt was torn. Kaitlyn tried to get her sweater on, to pull the edges together without stopping, but she was tangled with her purse strap and the knapsack.
She glanced over her shoulder but the sidewalk was empty.
At the end of her block she took a right and hurried toward the hospital. She was four blocks away when she stopped.
He’ll know I’m going to the hospital. He’ll look for me here. I can’t go to the hospital. I can’t . . . He’ll get me. He’ll hurt me.
Jock. She wanted Jock.
Landon would come after her though.
Oh, God.
Or what if he didn’t . . .
What if she’d killed him?
Her hands shook. Kaitlyn startled at the cry of an ambulance as it turned onto the street and all but flew toward the ER entrance. Kaitlyn eased between two brick buildings. Something scurried in the shadowed alley behind her, but she didn’t care. She slid far back so the shadows covered her.
She had to think. Had to think, but she couldn’t . . .
She didn’t . . .
Her hands trembled.
“Think, Kaitlyn. Damn it. Pull it together. Tears get you poetry, not results.” The saying Grammy had quoted at odd times rolled off her tongue.
What she wouldn’t give to be sitting in Grammy’s kitchen right now. For now, she needed to get out of here. Get to Jock without Landon noticing. She didn’t know how long she hid in the alley, but when voices filtered through her fog, getting louder, she pressed back against the bricks and hoped no one saw her. The voices drew closer, someone laughed and then the voices passed.
“Bus’ll be along soon,” a voice said to her left.
Kaitlyn jerked and stumbled back toward the light.
“Not going to hurt you, lady. Looks like someone already did.” The voice was soft. “Better hurry. Bus’ll take you where you need to go if it’s outta here.”
She nodded. “Th-thank you.”
She carefully looked out the mouth of the narrow passageway and saw Landon wasn’t on the sidewalk and none of the cars she saw were his.
She glanced across the street and saw the bus slowly rolling to a stop near the hospital.
The bus.
Kaitlyn shuffled, trying to hurry before it left.
Please, please, please . . .
The doors closed and the bus pulled away before she reached it.
“No.”
A horn honked behind her and she jumped, thinking Landon was already . . .
A cab. It was a cab.
“Need a ride?” the cabby asked as he pulled up to the curb.
She could only nod.
He didn’t ask any questions as she carefully eased into the back. “Please go. Just go.”
The cabby narrowed his eyes at her, his bushy white hair standing every which way.
“Go.”
“Go where? The ER? Lady, you’re bleeding on my cab. Looks like someone took a hand to you.”
“H-h-Highland Ho-hotel. Please. Go.”
Kaitlyn trembled and knew she was probably going into shock, but there wasn’t anything she could do.
She had to get away. Had to get to Jock.
Chapter 7
Jock stood staring out over the lights of Baltimore from his penthouse suite. He’d planned to just run in, check on a couple of things and then head out. However, there’d been an issue with VIP guests he had to see to. Had to contact their lawyers and then make sure the other guests the VIPs had the brawl with were happy.
He’d finally gone upstairs to his suite and then sat beside the phone. He wanted to call her. But he decided to wait. Then he paced.
He had to give her some space. He didn’t want her to feel he was boxing her in. She’d clearly had too much of that in recent months.
He rubbed the back of his neck. He never should have left her. He’d gotten here about an hour ago. Nothing felt right and it wasn’t just because he’d spent over half that time dealing with asshole people who thought they could do whatever they wanted simply because they had the money to do so. The fact he’d left Kaitie in that damned run-down apartment building had not helped his patience when dealing with the assholes.
Of course if he’d gone inside Kaitie’s, he wouldn’t be standing here looking at the lights, he’d be lying in bed with Kaitlyn. Or on the floor of her living room.
Her couch?
The phone trilled.
He walked over and grabbed the receiver, untangling the swirled cord as he walked back toward the window.
“Kinncaid.”
“Mr. K. There’s a woman downstairs claiming you said she could come here. She’s also asking we pay her cab fare. She’s causing a scene, but still—”
He hadn’t informed his staff yet.
“What’s her name?”
“I don’t know, but she’s hurt and won’t let anyone near her and—”
Jock dropped the phone and ran to the door, cursing at the elevator. It took too long for the damned thing to get up here, then to get him to the lobby.
He saw her, the back of her, before he reached the concierge desk.
“Scotty, take care of her cab,” he said, walking up and putting his hand on the small of her back. “In future,” he said, waiting until the man looked at him, “don’t ever make her wait again.”
“Y-yes, sir.”
He felt her trembling.
“Kaitlyn?”
He saw the blood on the edge of her blue sleeve first. He turned her to him, his hand gentle on her shoulder.
“Please, can we just go . . . upstairs. People are staring,” she whispered, not looking at him.
Jock put his finger under her chin and didn’t need to raise it to see the damage done to her beautiful face.
Her right eye was already swelling. A cut on her cheek. Her bottom lip split, dried blood on the edge of her chin.
“Please, can we go up-upstairs? He’ll come . . . I know . . .”
He held her loosely. “You’re safe. I should have walked you in. I should have—”
She shook her head. “N-not your f-fault.”
“We’ll debate later.” He looked to the next person at the desk. A new hire . . . Lyle? Leon? He didn’t know just then and didn’t care. “I want my car brought around. Now.”
“Please, Jock. Please, can’t we just go upstairs?”
She tugged the edge of her sweater closer to her.
“Kaitie, I’m taking you to the ER—”
She shook her head. “N-no. No. He’ll look for me there, he’ll . . . I don’t want anyone to know, I don’t want—”
“You have friends in the ER?”
She nodded and licked her lip, wincing. “Yes. Yes.”
“Okay, we’ll go see them.” And contact the police.
More questions would wait. He kept an eye on the front of the hotel and shielded her from the rest of those in the lobby. He eased her purse and knapsack from her fingers and passed the items over to the person behind the desk. “Take these to my suite.”
Her knuckles were white, though he saw the blood smears on the back of her hand.
“Hang on, sweetie, and we’ll get you fixed up.”
A tremor shook her frame.
He caught the flash of blue from under the portico lights. Finally. He walked her to the door, biting down the urge to just pick her up. The set of her shoulders, the jut of her jaw told him she wouldn’t welcome that.
Damn that bastard.
Damn himself for not making certain she was safe.
Jock helped her into the car, not quite holding back the curse when her hand let go of her sweater.
Her shirt was ripped, and he could see scratches along the top of her chest.
Jock took a deep breath, then another, and finally he whispered, “Did he rape you?”
Her green eyes looked to him, blank.
“Kaitlyn?”
She shook her head. “No.”
Jock held her eyes for a moment, ran the tip of his finger down her nose. “Just hang on a bit longer, okay?”
“Jock, I don’t want the hospital.”
He wanted to tell her
too damned bad
but knew someone had been ignoring her wants and opinions too often of late.
“Kaitlyn”—he touched the blue knot on the left side of her forehead—“I want to make sure your head is all right. That’s a nasty bruise, sweetie.” All of them were. He’d noticed her holding her left side. He squatted beside the door so they were at eye level and she wasn’t looking up at him. “I want to make certain your ribs aren’t broken.”
Her bottom lip trembled.
“Baby, what would you tell a friend looking like you, in this situation?”
Her eyes rose to his and for the first time he saw a flicker of something in them. “It’s annoying that you always are right, Jock Kinncaid.”
He smiled to put her at ease. “Well, you’ll have to continue to try and prove me wrong.”
He made sure she was in then hurried around to the driver’s side. Scotty stood on the sidewalk. “Mr. K., I didn’t know she was yours. I apologize.”
“Call the chief of police and let him know that I’ll be contacting him myself on an assault case, Scotty. Let him know that I’d like to see him later this evening when we return from the hospital.”
Scotty nodded. “Yes, Mr. K.”
Jock climbed in and broke as many traffic laws as he dared.
“I just need some ice,” she said.
“And a few X-rays.” He glanced at her, but she only looked at her lap and picked at the sleeve of her sweater.
“I hit him hard on the head.” Her hands trembled. “What if . . . what if . . . Jock, what if I killed him?” Her eyes rose to his.
“Then I’ll be pissed I didn’t get a chance at him and irritated, that like usual, you had to fend for yourself and I wasn’t there to help you.” He gripped the steering wheel. “And I’ll make certain you have the best attorneys I can find.”
She didn’t even smile, though he knew there was nothing to smile about.
At the ER there were people she knew. The doctor was glad Jock was with her, and the other nurse, Rainey, was more than happy to help him.
Then Baltimore’s chief of police showed up. Jock knew him from functions and various social events. He also knew him from the fact he and the chief’s son, Dan, had roomed together at college. Someone had put them together, and though they’d hated each other at first, they’d become close friends. Dan was now a hotshot lawyer in the D.C. and Baltimore area on the political fast track.
Jock had always admired the man. He gave the chief a brief rundown and the man promised to check things out. The doctor backed Jock up, as did Rainey. And finally, Kaitlyn herself.
The more she spoke, the madder Jock became. Until he’d all but ripped the curtain aside as he’d left the exam room. He needed air.
He was standing outside wishing he’d taken up smoking like so many of his friends and acquaintances.
“You need to cool down, son.”
Jock simply speared the chief with a look.
“I don’t want to have to cart your ass in for murder and I know that look on your face.”
“I should have walked her into her apartment.”
Chief didn’t say anything.
“Just get her out of town. That’d help in this case. All he needs is a good lawyer and—”
“To hell with that. That bastard—”
“I’m not arguing with you, I’m just telling you how I’ve seen too many cases like this go. He-said-she-said, no matter how many bruises are on her. Don’t put her through some damned trial. Get her out of town.” Chief’s eyes narrowed on him. “You like the woman, that’s plain as day for anyone who’d care to look. Put a ring on her finger so those in power behind the Goldburg family will have less of a chance to hurt her. You and I both know how these things go for men like him.”
He did and it pissed him off.
“I mean it, Jock. You’re a good kid, man now. Hell, you’re all kids to me, but as someone who’s sat back and watched all you’ve accomplished even with what happened to your parents and sisters, don’t throw it away on a man who’s not worth a drunkard’s piss.”
The man still spoke with an Irish accent, even though he was born here.
Jock took a deep breath and raked his hands through his hair. “I’ll take her back to the hotel tonight and then take her with me to D.C. tomorrow.”
The chief just looked at him. “And?”
“Well, I’d already planned to marry her, now it’ll just take me longer to convince her of that.”
Chief smiled. “I don’t know about that. You play the hero rather well, Jock, m’boy,” he added with a wink.
“Your Irish is showing.”
“I’ll tell Dan you said hello.”
Jock waved him away as he went back inside.
• • •
Jock could
not
sleep. He’d waited while she took a shower, something she demanded. He’d told her she could take a bath, but she’d been afraid she wouldn’t be able to get out of the tub.
He’d been worried she’d pull away from him again, but she hadn’t. Instead, she’d clung to him, wanted him to hold her. He had until she’d fallen asleep. It hadn’t taken long. The doctor had assured him the pills they’d given her for pain would keep her knocked out for hours. She had a cracked rib, several bruised ones and a slight concussion. For half an hour he’d stared at the ceiling, at the windows, at the shadows cast by the small lamp he’d left on in the hallway.
Kaitlyn lay next to him breathing deeply, one hand beneath her cheek, the other resting palm up on the pillow. Jock ran a finger down her forearm; a dark bruise manacled her wrist. She was sleeping in one of his shirts, the sleeves rolled up, the thing all but swallowing her.
She didn’t even have her things. He’d given housekeeping the clothing from her knapsack. What of her other things?
Screw this.
Wondering who to call here, he decided on the chief’s son, Dan. He met him downstairs fifteen minutes later. He didn’t want to leave Kaitlyn alone, but he had to do something. He’d left her a note in case she woke up, and he’d hired a man to guard the hallway on the off chance the damned doctor made it up to the penthouse level.
“Do you know what time it is?” Dan asked him as he got into Dan’s car.
“And?”
“Where are we going?”
“I want to get her things.”
The traffic was nonexistent this late—early? It was half past one in the morning.
“Dad called.”
“Figured.”
“He’s worried you’ll do something stupid.”
Jock didn’t say a word.
“As you called me, I’m wondering if he’s not right.”
“You couldn’t defend me very well if you were an accessory to a crime, could you?” If he’d been in D.C., he’d have called his good friend Eddie Carlisle, but he wasn’t in D.C.
He gave Dan directions and they made it to her apartment in little time.
It didn’t take him long to get the super to let him into her apartment. He wondered if the doctor had paid the man as well or if the good doctor had a key. He rather doubted the latter, as much as Kaitie hadn’t wanted the man around.
It took less than ten minutes for them to load the few belongings already packed in boxes or sitting next to boxes into the back of Dan’s car. Once that was completed, Dan took a deep breath and asked, “We’re not going back to the hotel yet, are we?”
The lamp had been broken and blood had been on the floor, on the sofa, on the locks. He wondered what the police had done—if anything.
“You might need to defend her if he’s stupid enough to try and press some sort of assault charges on her,” Jock told him. “Or your firm, if you can’t, but I don’t want a damned flunky.”
“Like I’d stick you with the newest member with our firm?”
Jock decided to just be quiet.
He’d looked the doctor up in the phone book and knew where he lived.
“Dad said the guy wasn’t at home, and he wasn’t at his parents’, or the hospital.” Dan turned onto the doctor’s street. The house was dark, but that hardly mattered.
Jock was out of the car on the quiet street and around back before Dan had time to follow him.
“You know breaking and entering is frowned upon, right? Rather illegal?” Dan muttered as he made his own way behind the house.