Rev (Jack 'Em Up #4) (4 page)

It couldn’t be Nolan. I knew that on a rational level, but my mind wasn’t fighting fairly. Flashbacks of him ripping at my clothes, fondling me with rough hands, all while degrading me with his words, macheted through me, leaving physical pain in their wake.

You’re disgusting.

Look at you . . . you’re a fat pig.

Good for nothing but fucking.

I’d tried to push past it. Tried to fight it, not believe him. It worked most of the time. But like a trained rat, I always came back in my mind. The questions and doubts. Could he have been right?

“No.” I spoke out loud as an affirmation to myself as I headed to my truck in the police station parking lot for my much needed lunch break.

Sweat immediately coated my skin from the oppressive summer heat. The sudden sensation of being watched grabbed me and my eyes darted around the lot. It was empty. Nobody. I hurried to my truck, locked myself inside, cranked the engine, and blasted the air conditioner. I swiped the moisture from my upper lip and focused on getting myself together. I had created a new Jewel since I left the nightmares in Florida behind. I had a restraining order and a shiny new life.

I threw the truck into reverse and began to back up, but a movement from the corner of my eye had me slamming on the brakes. I checked my rearview mirror just as a man walked past behind me. Stalky and not too tall, his gaze met mine in the mirror. Deep, dark eyes blinked at me, his face hidden behind his beard.

A scream was trapped in my throat, a hostage to the bubbling fear that began to swirl and whirl through me like a cyclone.

I struggled for breath.

My fingers went numb.

He continued to stare, his mouth moving with words I couldn’t hear. I imagined all sorts of vile things . . . then a woman grabbed his arm, shot my truck a glare, and they walked away together.

A ragged breath fell from my lips.

It was official.

I was losing it.

I couldn’t even cry. I was on serious adrenalin letdown as I cautiously pulled out and drove out of the lot. I headed to my apartment on autopilot, but as I sat waiting to cross traffic to turn into my complex, I realized I could not go home. I simply couldn’t face the emptiness that awaited me, demons in every corner.

I hit the gas and merged back into traffic, no particular destination in mind. When I ended up in Delilah’s driveway, parked behind her new crossover SUV, I didn’t even remember driving there, but I wasn’t surprised. I felt safe with her. She knew all my deep, dark secrets. Even the ones I was too ashamed to admit to the rest of my family.

I found her outside, watching little Molly splash in a blue kiddie pool, baby Declan lying on a blanket in the shade, chewing a teether.

She lifted a hand to shield her eyes from the sun. “Hey, you. What’re you doing here?”

I pushed my truck door closed and ambled her way. “Just came to say hi.” I smiled down at Molly, who was dunking a toy elephant under the water.

I glanced back when Delilah said nothing. She stared at me with inscrutable blue eyes, her lips curled into a frown. “Liar,” she finally said.

With a sigh, I plopped next to her on the grass. “Maybe.”

Declan began to fuss and she picked him up in the practiced way of a mother, putting him to her shoulder and patting his back. “What’s wrong?”

Now the tears came. I couldn’t help it. I blubbered on like an idiot, my words incoherent and spewed from an emotional well I’d capped off.

Delilah stood. “Come on.”

She didn’t wait for me to answer. She herded her daughter out of the pool and we all tromped inside. Somehow, she managed to tuck me into the couch with a glass of iced tea and a peanut butter sandwich while she got the kids down for naps.

Once the house was quiet, she sat with me, her eyes sympathetic. “Okay. Let me see if I caught all that. Another rape victim. The description she gave looked a little like Nolan. You freaked. You almost ran over a guy. And your little brother is coming for a visit.”

“That about covers it.” I dabbed my eyes. “Well, the guy I nearly hit looked like Nolan, too. I guess I have him on the brain and it’s got me a little freaked out.”

“He doesn’t know where you are, does he?”

“I don’t think so. I only told my parents and brothers and swore them to secrecy. They never liked him anyway, so I don’t think they’d tell him even if he did have the balls to ask about me.” I would make sure of that when John got there.

“It wasn’t him, right?”

I shot her a confused glance.

“The rapist she described today. The guy in the parking lot.”

“No.” My voice was a strangled whisper, but that didn’t keep the fear from screaming something else in my heart.

“No,” she echoed. “I think maybe today brought up some bad memories that you haven’t really dealt with.”

Same song, different verse. She worried about me. I glanced away and sipped my drink.

“Have you thought any more about talking to someone? If you’re hell-bent on keeping this secret from your family, I’m sure Tori could help.”

“Tori? She works with kids.”

“I know, but she’s still trained in psychology. She’s better than no one.”

Great. Just what I needed. To spill my guts to one of my new friends so she’d feel sorry for me. No, thanks. I was doing all right.

Delilah handed me a clean tissue since I’d torn up the one in my hand. I thanked her, suddenly uncomfortable. I shouldn’t have come.

I stood to go, excuses on my lips.

“What about Micah’s class?”

I whipped back to her. “What?”

“Micah’s self-defense class. Nolan may not be here, but maybe it’d be good for you to learn some stuff and feel empowered to protect yourself.” Her face softened. “It might help you.”

I thanked her and promised to think about it before hustling out the door to head back to work.

I wasn’t sure anything could help me now.

Micah

I
finished up the last job of the afternoon, a set of new rotors on an ancient boat of a car, then left early to hit the gym. Unease that I couldn’t name ate at me, a sense of foreboding crawling up my throat like acid. I needed to get rid of some of this excess emotion before dealing with the public.

I apparently had a brand new self-defense class of a dozen women, all ready to learn how to kick some potential rapist’s ass. It was my job to help them learn not only the moves to protect themselves, but the mental space they needed to be in to do it. Defending yourself is not about aggression or offense. It’s about being smart and calm and using your inner power. Something I was definitely lacking at the moment.

I met JD by the free weights after changing into my gym shorts and a worn gym T-shirt. Restless, I bounced on the balls of my feet like a fighter about to hit the ring. “Hey, dude. What’s up?”

He eyeballed me. “Not much. Thanks for doing this class.”

I rolled my neck. “No worries.”

“I promise I’ll keep looking for someone to help so it’s not all on you. Though, I’ll admit, Kathy appreciates it. She loves you, dude . . . though I have no idea why.”

“It’s my charm,” I deadpanned without cracking a smile.

“Yeah. I know.” His gaze floated to the door. “Looks like some of our newbies are getting here.” He faced me again. “Go. Work off some of that tension. I’ll get them signed in and ready for you.”

He knew me well. I nodded, thankful, and took off for the punching bag in the back corner. It was silent back here, which was what I needed to get myself in the right frame of mind to deal with a room full of women tonight. Normally, JD and I sparred until I was exhausted, but tonight I had to be social. As in speak.

I let my mind be lulled as I jabbed at the speed bag, my rhythm getting faster and fiercer, more instinctual. I began to bounce again, my arms still beating the bag into submission. I don’t know how long I was at it, but sweat was rolling down my face when JD finally got my attention.

“They’re all here and in the back room.”

My hands dropped, my breath scissored in and out of my lungs. “Okay. Thanks.”

He offered me a water bottle then spun away.

I chugged half the water then wiped my face with the bottom of my shirt as I headed to the back. Time to get this show on the road. I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment, then swung open the door. Women’s chatter filled my ears, but was quickly silenced by my appearance.

I glanced around, trying to keep my face neutral, if not pleasant. “Good evening, ladies . . .” As my gaze swung around the room, I backtracked and froze. What was she doing here? I swallowed, looked away then back again to be sure my eyes weren’t deceiving me.

Nope.

Jewel Jackson was in my class, alone in the back corner, her platinum hair in a high ponytail, her eyes uncertain. She offered me a tiny wave, as if not wanting to be busted for knowing the teacher. Something in me uncoiled and warmth filled my belly.

She was here.

I cleared my throat and moved to the front of the room. “I’m assuming you’re all here for the gym’s Safety First self-defense class. If so, you’re in the right place. My name is Micah Christian, and I’ll be your instructor for the next few weeks.” I talked a little bit about what we’d be covering in class, but my eyes were continually drawn to Jewel. I hated speaking in front of people, and I’d only agreed to teach this class because of her. She’d never come before now, but I would never ask why. Thank God she finally realized she needed to protect herself from that douchebag who liked to prey on blondes.

“Are we gonna learn how to choke someone out?”

“Uh . . .” I faced the frail, older woman in the front row. She was eighty if she was a day. “Mrs . . . ?”

She smiled, showing perfectly white partials. “It’s just Mildred. Used to be Mrs. Wallace, but I’m a widow.” She eyed me up and down like she was starving and I was a juicy steak. “Free as a bird now.”

I gaped. I was being hit on by the queen of the cougars.

Rather than let grandma make me uncomfortable, I bent and set my water bottle on the ground, then indicated for her to come to the front of the class.

She smiled and obliged, the other women catcalling. I even caught Jewel smiling.

I stood behind her so my front was pressed to her back. “Trust me?” I whispered.

She wiggled and nodded. “Go ahead, teacher.” There was a definite flirty bite to that last word.

I ignored it and whipped my arm around her neck in a simulated chokehold. I felt her tense in front of me, but I made sure she had room to breathe. The other women gasped.

“Now,” I said sternly. “More important than learning to choke someone, is learning how to get out of an unexpected chokehold and protect yourself. Go ahead and try, Mildred.”

She fumbled to grasp onto my holding arm, her feeble attempts desperate but weak. After a minute, I released her and let her move back to her place in the front.

“So, what did you learn, Miss Mildred?”

“That our teacher smells divine.”

The women laughed. I did not. “What else?”

Her smiled dropped. “That I’m weak. I couldn’t have gotten away.”

“Okay.” I gazed around at the wide-eyed women. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

“What?” she sputtered. “I thought you were teaching us how to defend ourselves.”

“I will. But the first and most important lesson we’re starting with is this: Prevention is better than any defense. If you try to keep yourself out of dangerous situations, you won’t need to worry about the rest.”

I went on to explain to a dozen frowning women the basics of being observant of their surroundings, walking with purpose, keeping keys handy as a weapon. “If you can deflect an attack by handing over your purse or car, by all means, do it. No property is worth your life.”

Now they were starting to pay attention. Yes, most people value their lives, but so few truly knew the searing tragedy of loss. That was what propelled me to help in any small way.

“A girl I know at work was raped by that guy a few months ago,” a young woman near the back spoke up. “Apparently, he was waiting to ambush her by her house. What about then?”