Montana Heat: Escape to You Page 5

  Adam nodded.

  “Let’s take off your jacket.” Trigger unzipped it and pulled the sleeves off both his arms. “We’ll put this and your shoes and cap out by the fire to dry.”

  Adam stared past him at the cold fireplace.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll have a big fire going in just a minute. Your pants are all wet. We need to get you out of these clothes.” And Trigger wanted a look at the boy to be sure he wasn’t hurting like Ashley, too. “Wait here. I’ll get you a shirt of mine to wear.”

  Trigger went back to his room, frowned at the sight of Ashley in his bed, uncomfortable in that dress, his coat, and with her injuries. He’d take care of her soon. Every minute he tended to Adam and not her wore on him.

  Shirt from his drawer in hand, he headed back to Adam. He picked the boy up and set him on the tile kitchen floor. “Is it okay if I help you?”

  Adam pulled the T-shirt over his head. Though not nearly as bad as Ashley, every new and fading bruise on Adam, such a small and innocent child, ate a hole in Trigger’s already-battered heart. He could count every rib and bone in Adam’s shoulders and arms.

  “Do you hurt anywhere the most?” Trigger didn’t think Adam’s wounds needed anything more than time to heal, but he needed to be sure. The kid sure hadn’t gotten some of those deep welts from playing in the yard.

  Adam shook his head.

  The T-shirt draped all the way to the floor and pooled at his bare feet. “Let’s get those wet pants off. I’ll get you something to eat and you can sit by a warm fire.”

  Adam’s eyes lit up with the possibility of food. He hadn’t been treated as poorly as Ashley, but he hadn’t been treated well either.

  Adam had to sit on the floor to maneuver the wet denim off his legs, but he managed.

  Trigger gathered up the clothes and shoes and handed them to Adam. “Take those over to the fireplace and set them out on the side of the opening. I’ll get you some food. Do you like peanut butter and raspberry jelly?”

  Starving, Adam nodded vigorously.

  “You got it. How about some chips and a glass of milk?”

  The smile nearly undid Trigger. Choked up that such a simple thing as a sandwich and chips made the kid that anxious and happy, he stood and went to the kitchen, getting everything ready for Adam and Ashley. It didn’t take long for him to put the meal together and carry the plate and glass to Adam, who sat on the floor in front of the fireplace. He’d done a decent job of spreading out his wet things.

  Trigger handed Adam the plate and set the milk on the coffee table. Adam picked up one of the sandwich squares and stuffed nearly all of it in his mouth.

  “Slow down, little man. You’ll choke.”

  Adam chewed and washed the peanut butter down with half the glass of milk. Trigger turned his back on the ravenous boy, trying to contain the wash of fury sweeping through him. He used the poker to stir the coals in the fireplace, then tossed on a few pieces of kindling and a couple of logs. Some wadded-up pieces of newspaper got the fire burning hot. Trigger closed the screen and turned back to Adam, who had a mouth overflowing with potato chips. Several crumbs landed on the carpet between his knees.

  “You’re making a mess, little man.” Trigger reached out to pick up the bits of food, but halted when Adam recoiled like Trigger meant to hit him. Apparently, he’d been trained to fear making any little mistake and anticipate a smack or worse for the slightest misstep. “Let’s pick up the crumbs and set them on the plate.” Trigger showed him that’s all he meant to do and Adam joined in, cleaning up quickly, his gaze darting to Trigger every few seconds to be sure Trigger didn’t ambush him with an attack. “There we go. Full?”

  Adam swiped the back of his hand over his mouth, taking away the milk mustache that made him look adorable. He yawned so big Trigger could count all his tiny teeth.

  “I’ll get you a blanket. You can hang out here by the fire while I take care of Ashley.”

  Adam yawned again.

  Trigger went to the linen cupboard and pulled out a thick comforter. He laid it in front of the fire and opened one fold so Adam could climb inside. Trigger took one of the pillows off the couch and put it under Adam’s head, then tucked him in. Adam’s eyes fluttered closed almost immediately.

  Trigger sighed. One down. One to go before he could stop and think what to do next. He should call the cops. Ashley was a missing person. He had no idea about Adam. Something told him to wait, talk to Ashley, then blow the whistle on her whereabouts.

  Besides, no one could get out here tonight with the snow coming down thick and hard outside.

  Trigger steeled himself for what he had to do next. He went to the kitchen, grabbed his ID, the mug of warm water mixed with the dissolved pain pill from his gunshot wounds, and a bottle of water, and headed back to his bedroom.

  He never thought the next time he had a woman in his bed he’d have to hurt her to make her feel good.

  He set everything on the bedside table and carefully sat next to her on the bed. He took a deep breath and did what needed to be done. He unzipped his jacket, but left it closed over her bare chest. He had to stand to take hold of both sides of the dress and work it down her body all the while trying not to jostle her too much. He tossed the thing to the floor and pulled off the one shoe she still had on. He tossed it atop the puddled dress. One of her ankles was swollen. He went into the bathroom and found an old bandage and came back and wrapped her foot. He should ice it, but he wanted to give her time to rest and recover. Without the dress constricting her torso, she breathed steady and easy.

  He leaned over and shook her shoulder. “Ashley. Hey, can you hear me?”

  She raised her hand to his chest and tried to push him away, but her hand simply slid off him and fell back to her belly. “Stop. Go away.” Her voice sounded stronger than the last time. She finally got some oxygen into her blood. Even her skin color had improved.

  Who the hell would torture her with that damn dress? Someone had to have put it on her, because there’s no way she got it on alone, not when he’d barely been able to get it unzipped.

  “I’m going to take the coat off and check your ribs. I won’t hurt you. You’re safe,” he assured her, though he didn’t think anything he said or did would convince her after what she’d obviously been through.

  He braced himself for what he’d see again and opened the coat, revealing her bare body. The dark bruises held his attention, but seeing her hip bones and ribs sticking out like she hadn’t eaten in a decade soured his stomach.

  Poor thing.

  He gently removed the wet coat. Goose bumps broke out on her bare skin. He walked his fingertips along her ribs, checking for obvious breaks that might poke into her lungs. Aside from a couple of bad areas that made her moan and try to turn away from his touch, nothing appeared to be serious. Cracked ribs hurt like a bitch—he knew from experience. She’d be fine in a few weeks. Malnourished, battered and bruised, in need of a hot shower and several good meals, she’d heal, but he wondered about the injuries he couldn’t see, the even more disturbing torture done to her mind.

  He covered her with the sheet and blankets up to her chin, lifted her head and shoulders, and held the mug to her lips. “Take a drink. It’ll taste bad, but it’ll make you feel better.”

  The second the water and pill liquid hit her lips, she drank deeply, thirsty for more.

  “Hold on, let me fill it back up.” He set the mug on the table, managed to get the cap off the bottle of water one-handed without laying her back down and moving her more than necessary. He filled the mug halfway, not wanting to overtax her system and make her sick. He held the mug to her mouth again. She drank more. He caught a glimpse of her green eyes intent on him. “You’re safe.” Her eyes fluttered shut.

  “He can’t find me,” she whispered the moment he took the mug away and settled her back on the bed.

  He wanted to reassure her he’d keep her safe, but she’d already fallen back to sleep. She needed it.

>   Trigger rolled her onto her more injured side so her free side could expand with every breath and the other side could take a rest. He adjusted the pillow to make her as comfortable as he could without knowing the true extent of her injuries and pain. He gently tucked the blankets around her to keep her warm. He glanced out the window again and cursed the snowstorm that trapped them here and prevented help from reaching them. The fact that she didn’t seem in distress helped ease his anxiety. Some. But he still worried about internal injuries.

  “The pain meds will kick in soon. You’ll feel better.” His need for her to feel better struck him hard in the chest. He hated seeing her suffering like this. Anyone, but especially her for some reason. Maybe because of the way he’d found her, lost in the middle of nowhere, and at the end of her endurance.

  He pulled another shirt and a pair of sweats from his drawers and set them on the end of the bed. Neither would fit her, but if she woke up, he wanted her to have something to put on and feel comfortable. He opened his ID on the table beside the bed facing her. He stood there staring down at her face, looking for what, he didn’t know. He couldn’t take his eyes off her or convince himself that she was okay here for the time being. He felt the threat of danger infused in her plea that “he” couldn’t find her and the unsettled way she slept, her body tense and ready to fight or flee, though she was in no condition to do either.

  Nothing spooked him, but he’d had to be hypercautious working undercover and trust his gut. Something told him to keep her close and hidden, despite the fact he should call the cops and let them handle things and bust whoever hurt her.

  Until she gave him some answers and he knew she’d be safe, he’d protect her here. The storm helped. If whoever held her all this time came looking for her tonight, he’d have a hell of a time surviving the dropping temps and increasing snow on the ground.

  He tore his gaze away from her and went to the fireplace. He stoked the coals and rebuilt the fire to keep her warm. He didn’t want her to wake up in the dark, if she even woke up before tomorrow morning.

  Despite telling himself no one could get here tonight, he checked all the windows and doors. With his place locked up tight, he checked on Ashley one more time to ease the tightness in his chest, but seeing her so still and small in his bed renewed his anxiety. He reluctantly left her to add another log to the fire Adam slept peacefully in front of, grabbed a beer out of the fridge, settled into his recliner, and picked up the phone to call for the only help he could count on, no questions asked.

  Chapter Six

  Trigger took a long pull on the beer bottle, hit the speed dial for his brother Caden, and tried to think things through and decide what needed to be done first.

  “Are you okay?” Caden asked, concerned. He had reason to be. Trigger’s injuries might be healing, but his emotional and mental state hadn’t gotten any better. Look at the crazy thing he had done, bringing Ashley and Adam here instead of calling the cops and dumping what was sure to be a mess on someone else.

  Still, not even a hello from his brother, so he got to the point, too. “I need your help.”

  “What’s wrong?” Mia asked in the background.

  “Is it Guzman?” Caden worried the drug dealer had discovered Beck’s true identity.

  “Not this time.”

  “Are you hurt? Did you take too many pain meds?” Caden’s increasing concern touched and irritated Trigger.

  “No,” Trigger bit out. “But thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  “If you talked to me more often, I wouldn’t be so worried.”

  Fine. Working undercover meant he sometimes had to do things he didn’t like, things that he hated, including using the product he tried to take off the streets. He did it to stay alive, but every once in a while it became less about that and more of an escape. But Trigger loved his misery, so kept those escapes short-lived. Another reason he needed this break and time to get his head straight.

  “Whatever. Listen, I found a woman and child on my property tonight.”

  “Did their car break down? We’ve got to have at least a foot of snow already.”

  Probably two out here where he lived. “Shut up and listen. She’s in trouble. It’s safer to keep her here, but I need you and Mia to bring me some supplies, including some clothes for her and the kid.”

  “Um . . .” Yeah, Caden never expected that.

  “Have you seen the news about that actress who went missing a year ago?”

  Caden swore. “Are you telling me you found Ashley Swan? The Ashley Swan. The actress. And she has a child with her?”

  “Yes. But I have no idea who the kid is.”

  “You have Ashley Swan in your house?” The disbelief and surprise in Caden’s voice annoyed him as much as his asking the question again.

  “Yes. You can’t tell anyone. I’m still trying to figure out what happened and how the hell she ended up walking onto my property.”

  “Wait. What? Your property is miles from anything. You sure she didn’t have a car?”

  “I’m telling you she walked. Or ran might be more accurate. Listen, I don’t have all the answers right now, but I plan to get them before I let the world know she’s alive. So can you help me, or not?”

  “Yeah. Anything you need. You know that.”

  “Thanks, man.” The relief in his ragged voice alerted Caden.

  “Is she okay?”

  “No.” The single syllable held a wealth of worry, desperation, and fear.

  “Beck, do you need me and Mia to come over now?”

  “No. I’ve got them settled for the night.” He hoped Ashley got the sleep she needed to erase the dark circles under her eyes and put some color back in her hollow cheeks. “I don’t want anyone else out in this storm. I need groceries and clothes for her and a very skinny little boy.”

  “Okay. I’m sure Mia can help me with that. We’ll be there tomorrow, or as soon as we can get there with the snow.”

  “Thanks, man.” Pure relief infused Beck’s voice.

  “I’ve got your back. Always.”

  “I know you do. Call me tomorrow. I should have a list of supplies by then. This stays between us. Tell Mia, too. I need you to trust me on this, Caden. No one can know she’s here. Please,” he added, the desperation coming back into his voice and racing through his veins.

  “You got it.”

  “Okay. Thanks. Oh, did you ask Mia to marry you yet?”

  “How did you—”

  “I know you. Soon as you figured out you loved her, it was only a matter of time. You like things all tied up nice and neat. I’m happy for you guys.” Beck really was happy his brother had found a friend and partner to share his life, a woman who stole his heart and made him smile.

  A spurt of jealousy hit Trigger by surprise. He wanted the best for Caden. And wished for a bit of that kind of easy happiness in his own life.

  “Tell her I said welcome to the family.”

  “Thank you, Beck,” Mia called out, overhearing their conversation.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” Caden never stopped worrying.

  “I got this.” If Trigger didn’t sound absolutely sure, he couldn’t help it. He needed answers. But those would have to wait until Ashley woke up and gave them to him. The storm would pass; he’d get her to someone who could help her. He barely took care of himself these days. Ashley and Adam needed more than he could give.

  Trigger hung up without a goodbye, downed the rest of his beer, and lay back in the chair with his forearm over his eyes. He let the quiet settle around him and listened to the occasional spark and pop in the fireplace. The storm made its own monotonous sound outside the huge windows. He moved his arm and stared at the white haze outside—like watching static on an old TV.

  It took a long time to settle the disturbing thoughts in his mind and give in to sleep. Instead of waking from his own nightmare, Adam woke him with his. The boy shot bolt upright, breathing heavily; his mouth opened to scream, but the
sound never came. Adam barely spoke to him. Trigger didn’t want to think about how he’d been taught to be quiet as a mouse.

  Adam’s gaze collided with his. Beck didn’t move. He didn’t want to startle the poor child, but Adam’s tears tore at Trigger.

  “It’s kind of scary being in a new place, right?”

  Adam wiped at his eyes and nodded.

  Trigger took a shot at getting some answers. “Do you miss home?”

  Adam’s eyes grew wide with fright. He shook his head back and forth faster than a bobblehead in an earthquake.

  He definitely didn’t want to go home.

  Ashley had taken him with good reason judging by the bruises on him and the nightmare that made Adam groan and whimper in his sleep.

  Adam yawned and laid his forehead on his up-drawn knees, then looked up and shot his gaze toward the bedroom door.

  “It’s open. You can go see her if you want.”

  Adam eyed him, then rose and tiptoed over to the door and stared in at Ashley. Satisfied she hadn’t left him and was safe and sound, Adam came back, but stopped at the edge of the carpet and shifted from one foot to the other.

  Trigger got the message and pointed to the door behind Adam. “Bathroom is right there, little man.”

  Adam dashed off, flipped on the light in the room, and pushed the door shut, locking it. Trigger shook his head. The kid didn’t speak, had nightmares, and locked doors. The kid took just about as much caution as Trigger.

  The door opened with barely a sound. Adam tiptoed back to the living room without taking his sharp gaze off Trigger. He dropped back onto his blanket bed and glanced all around the room, the uncertainty and fear evident in his puppy dog big blue eyes. The boy didn’t want to go back to sleep, knowing the only things awaiting him were more nightmares.

  Trigger felt the same way. “Hey little man, you want to come sleep up here with me?”

  He practically bolted up from the floor and ran over, his arms up for Trigger to pick him up and settle him next to him in the lounge chair. Squeezed up to Trigger’s side, Adam snuggled in under Trigger’s arm and against his chest, staring out the window at the snow. Adam pointed one finger toward the window.