Hidden Currents (27 page)

She looked at Jackson with despair in her eyes, feeling it with terrible dread in her heart. “I’m so sorry,” she murmured.

“Do you really fucking think I would ever blame you for the things he did to you?” Jackson spat out, shaking with rage before he could contain it. He made a visible effort to gain control, letting out his breath and burying his face in her neck for a long moment. “Stavros Gratsos has nothing to do with what is between you and me and he never will have. He doesn’t know what love is, or pleasure or giving and sharing one’s body. He wants to possess you and control you, force you to be whatever he chooses for you.”
He might have forced your body to react to him, Elle, but he never had you. He’ll never have the real you.
“You’re my heart and my soul, baby, and whatever he did was all about him and nothing about you.”

“I can try,” Kate said. “I’d like to help.”

Elle took a deep breath and shook her head regretfully. She wasn’t strong enough to shield Kate from the emotional trauma of what had happened to her and she wasn’t about to let her gentle sister experience a man as depraved as Stavros. Jackson had saved her.

You saved yourself by taking that leap of faith. You trusted me enough to give yourself to me wholly.
And Jackson had been humbled by Elle’s faith in him. After all she’d been through, she’d still believed in him enough to let go of everything and hand herself over to him. He kissed the top of her head, trying not to crush her in his arms. He had the need to hold on to her with everything he was, every last bit of his strength, and shelter and protect her, make certain nothing could ever touch her again.

Elle stirred, pressing closer, but she didn’t respond. Her mind moved against his, a warmth, a feeling consuming him that he was unfamiliar with. Love. It felt like love flooding his mind.

“Everyone needs to rest,” Ilya said. “We should go back to the Drake house and let Jackson and Elle have a little time to recoup before we make any decisions. Kate, before you do anything, you need to discuss it with Matt.”

Her chin rose. “I can help my sister without consulting my fiancé, Ilya.”

His eyebrow shot up. “Really? Not when you’re risking burning out your own talents.”

Joley scowled at him. “It’s bad enough that you want to boss me around, but I swear, Ilya, you’re turning into another Jonas. Don’t be telling my sister what to do.”

Ilya caught her chin in his hand and leaned down to brush a kiss over her upturned mouth. “Believe me, honey, it takes both Jonas and me to keep the lot of you in line. It’s a full-time job for us.”

Elle tried to smile as the ribbing started. Ilya had successfully moved the attention from her, but now she could dwell on what had happened as she looked around the room and saw the broken lamp and the overturned furniture. She felt every bruise and her throat was sore. Was she letting Stavros have access to her by just simply thinking of him? Letting him into her thoughts and mind? If so, how could she possibly stop? He’d done terrible things to her, things she couldn’t help but remember in vivid detail. Worse, what if she was just plain crazy and none of it was real? She was asking Jackson to believe her, but could her mind be so hysterical that she was somehow doing this to herself?

No! I felt him, too. And Bomber knew he was here. I think he has access whenever my mind leaves yours. You’re too broken now, your natural barrier’s in shreds and he waits until you’re defenseless and then he pours in like the ooze he is.

Another man had assaulted his woman in front of him. If Gratsos could have, he would have raped her to show her she had no control, that she was nothing and he could get to her anytime he wanted. Rage was a living, breathing entity deep inside and Jackson breathed it away, forcing his mind from that dark place where he’d lived for so long. What Gratsos didn’t understand was, Elle was far more powerful than the shipping magnate could ever conceive. And combined with Jackson, when she was back to full strength, he was certain Gratsos wouldn’t stand a chance. In the meantime, he had to keep her safe.

It was surprising how small of a ball Elle could curl into. She took up very little of his lap and felt small and light in his arms. He wanted to be alone with her. “Maybe we should let Elle rest,” he agreed with Ilya. Jackson was busy examining the damage done to Elle without trying to make it obvious. Gratsos was angry with her. He’d wanted to hurt her and he’d done so. She was shaking and trying to hide it from her family.

Libby crossed the room to stand in front of them. “I know you don’t want me to feel anything that happened to you and I respect that, Elle. But I’m a doctor as well as your sister, and I can heal.”

“You’ve done that. I can tell my wounds are already better,” Elle said in a small voice, without looking up. She burrowed closer into Jackson.

Libby sighed. “That isn’t good enough, hon. I have things I have to check for and you know it. We can’t wait. I don’t think I’ll need to touch you, not unless I find something.” She waited. Elle remained silent and Libby stepped even closer to her sister and held her palms outward, starting throat high, as if she were a machine taking an X-ray. Very slowly she ran her hands down Elle’s body, hovering for a long while near her groin.

Elle could feel warmth pouring into her. She curled her fingers around Jackson and just held on. It was humiliating to her that she couldn’t stop Stavros, that he had managed to kidnap and subject her to a monthlong torture and rape. She couldn’t imagine the women who had been taken and used as sex slaves for months and years on end. How hopeless they had to feel, how small and insignificant. How ashamed.

Stop it, baby. They have no reason to feel shame and neither do you. The people who do this kind of thing to others should feel shame.
Jackson brushed kisses over the top of her head.

Libby dropped her hand, staggered and Sarah wrapped her arm around her sister’s waist. “There’s no disease, no pregnancy, and I healed the tears and bruises as best I could without touching you, Elle,” Libby whispered, her voice choked. She turned away leaning heavily on Sarah.

Elle’s sisters gathered around Libby as they started toward the door. “We’ll be back to do another healing session and this time, we’ll be much more careful,” Sarah promised. “Ilya’s taking us home. You know you’re welcome to come.”

“I can’t yet. Give me another couple of days,” Elle pleaded. “I’ll be stronger and then maybe Kate can help a little and I can deal with the house.”

Jackson looked around his home, at the subtle difference in the walls. He didn’t want to believe it, but he was beginning to think maybe the Drake house was moving locations. “Don’t worry, Sarah,” Jackson promised. “I’ll take good care of her.”

Sarah nodded, her eyes meeting his. “I believe you will, Jackson. Thank you for what you did.”

Jackson watched the Drake sisters follow Ilya out. At once the tension drained out of Elle. She nearly went limp in his arms.

“I was so scared for you. Terrified.” Elle pressed her face tightly against his chest. “You risked so much. What if he’d gotten into your head? What if he could cause you pain, or even kill you, Jackson? You’re so reckless.”

He stroked her damp hair, only partially combed out. “I knew he couldn’t. You welcomed me. You invited me. He’s an intruder and he doesn’t belong. You don’t have faith in your own abilities anymore, Elle, because you think they failed you, but you’re still strong.”

A small shudder ran through her. “I wasn’t strong enough to keep him out.”

“Let me look at you. How much damage did he do?” He lifted her away from him, forcing her to stand on the floor.

He could see the smudges of fingerprints on her throat. He tugged the top of the shirt lower. The dark bruises formed a pattern across the slope of her breasts and he could see faint teeth marks. She was holding still in his mind, waiting for his recoil, waiting for his reaction, so he gave her none, tamping down the raw edge of violence that had been a legacy from his father. He had patience and he would find and kill Gratsos, but right now, Elle needed reassurance and Jackson was determined to provide whatever Elle needed.

“Not too bad. The bastard. And I want you to notice I didn’t call him a fucking bastard this time. I’m learning.”

She smiled just as he knew she would. “I don’t think you’re quite getting the concept I’m after.” She stroked Bomber’s head and rubbed his ears. “You’re such a good dog. Thanks for trying to save me.”

“Maybe we could use that,” Jackson said suddenly. “I’m going to make you tea the old-fashioned way and finish your hair while I think about this.”

“About what?” She watched him gather teacups and carry them into the kitchen, following a short distance behind. “What are you thinking about?”

“Bomber and his instincts. He obviously spotted Gratsos’s psychic energy long before we did. Each time you’ve had a problem, he’s alerted before. I didn’t recognize it right away, but that’s what he’s doing.” He glanced over his shoulder at her. “You hungry?”

She smiled again, this time her eyes lighting up. She’d been upset not wanting her sisters to have to heal her, but she was grateful to Libby. She had felt so unclean, and Libby made her feel whole again, not quite so dirty and used. “Jackson Deveau, you’re going all domestic on me. You really aren’t such a badass after all.”

He grinned at her, a little embarrassed. “I’m a total badass. Don’t you go ruining my reputation around here.”

“My sisters are going to uphold it. They get hot under the collar when you yell at me.”

She sounded smug—and teasing. He liked that. It gave him a warm feeling in the pit of his stomach. He’d always wondered what a loner like him would do with a woman around permanently; now he knew he wanted her with him.

“I’m reading your mind,” she reminded, walking on bare feet into the tiled kitchen. “Tell me about your great plan.”

He sighed and picked her up, putting her on the counter beside him as he put away the groceries Inez had brought them. He held up several bags of Elle’s favorite dried fruit—tangerine. “That woman is so sweet sometimes.”

“I never thought I’d hear you say that about Inez. You don’t talk to her.”

“I talk to her.” He cleared his throat and looked away from her, a faint flush of color rising up his neck. “She brings me groceries sometimes.”

“Without you ordering them?”

He shrugged and pulled out the makings for sandwiches.

“Jackson.” Elle waited until he looked at her. “Why does she bring you groceries?”

“I don’t know. I tell her it’s not necessary, but she thinks she owes me or something.”

She could tell by his color and reluctant tone that he really was embarrassed. Elle moved in his mind. Her eyebrow shot up. “You loaned her money?”

“Damn it, Elle. Don’t say it out loud. No one knows and I didn’t exactly loan it to her. She’s a very proud woman and she helps people out all the time. Too much. She insisted on keeping Frank Warner’s art gallery open. He’s getting out of prison any day now.”

“How could he be? It hasn’t even been a full year.” Elle was shocked. Frank Warner had allowed the Russian mob to use his art gallery to smuggle in illegal items and launder money. She’d felt a little sorry for him in that he hadn’t known what he was getting into, but through his greed for money, he had allowed a dirty bomb into the country by opening up the smuggler’s route.

“He was only sentenced to three years and he got time off for good behavior. Inez was very instrumental in his receiving the lightest sentence possible. Frank was huge on charity and helping out the local food drives as well as the programs for school kids, the shoes, the field trips, and he participated heavily in all the auctions, donating some great works. She worked tirelessly to help him. They’d been friends since grammar school.”

“How did you know all that?”

He handed her a sandwich and poured the boiling water into the small teapot. Before Elle had come into his life, he didn’t even know what tea was. Now it was a staple. Worse, he actually knew the differences in teas.

“I was doing a drive by her store late one night and found her sitting outside in the back in tears.” He couldn’t help the embarrassment creeping into his tone and in his mind. He glanced at her as if half expecting her to say something.

Elle remained silent, a funny melting sensation in the vicinity of her heart. This was a side of Jackson she never saw. He was such a loner, and acted as if he didn’t want to speak to or get involved with anyone or the community if he could help it, yet she was finding out interesting little stories about him that told her more than he obviously wanted her knowing.

“To make a long story short, she’d invested a great deal of her own money in the art gallery, buying in with Warner and becoming partners with him, but the gallery really suffered the first few months after his arrest and she was behind a little on her own mortgage payments. The store was doing fine, but she was working most of the hours. She couldn’t figure out how to pay someone to work the gallery to keep it going, as well as the grocery store and still have enough for her home. Frank’s apartment is over the gallery, so as long as she made the payments on that property, his home was safe.”

“And you lent her the money?” Elle prompted.

He squirmed. “She wouldn’t let me loan it to her.” He looked around as if someone might overhear. “She insisted I buy into the grocery store. I didn’t want to, but she wouldn’t take the money any other way and I couldn’t figure out how to save her home.”

“You own part of the grocery store?”

He shrugged. “Eat your sandwich.”

“How big a part?” Elle persisted.

“Okay, maybe half. I don’t know. I just signed whatever the hell Inez drew up. It didn’t matter to me and it did to her so I just did it.” He confessed it like a sin, in a small rush.

A slow smile lit her eyes. “Jackson Deveau, you have a soft streak in you, don’t you?”

“Hell no. Inez’s just different. She doesn’t have any family and she needs someone looking out for her is all.”

“Like Donny Ruttermyer,” Elle pointed out with a raised eyebrow.