My guest was still asleep when I woke the next morning. I took a quick shower and dressed in the bathroom, grumbling to myself over the moisture that made my shirt stick to my back. Back in the bedroom, one glance told me she was still out. She’d curled up on her side, her back to me. Her breathing was slow and deep, this little whistle occasionally slipping from her nose. It wasn’t broken, but it was swollen enough that I was surprised the whistle wasn’t more pronounced.

I needed to go to the bank, but I didn’t want to leave while she was still asleep. I didn’t want her to panic when she woke and found herself in a strange place. But as I was once again debating with myself, the sat phone rang.

Fuck! I’d forgotten today was Monday!

I pulled it out of the drawer where I kept it and walked over to the couch, trying to put as much space between me and my guest as possible without leaving the room.

“Hello, sweetheart,” I said, my voice low as the Hebrew flowed easily from my lips.

“Moshe!” came the excited response.

I couldn’t help but smile. The sound of her voice, the sound of my native language…it was always such a relief to be allowed to be myself even for just a brief moment.

But today it was dangerous. I glanced over at the bed. My guest was still asleep, but the low whistle had stopped.

“Now is not a good time,” I said, my voice filled with regret. “I’ll call in a few hours, love. Okay?”

“Of course.”

The excitement was gone, replaced with disappointment and resignation. I hated to break her heart, but she was the reason all this cloak and dagger stuff was so necessary.

“I promise,” I said softly, the Hebrew word more beautiful than my use of it justified. “I love you, Ariella.”

“I know. I love you, too.”

I disconnected the call and held the phone to my chest for a long moment, the ache that always came with these calls refusing to be eased. I whispered a quick prayer under my breath in Hebrew, my eyes slipping closed as I imagined her thousands of miles away, an angel in the desert.

“Where am I?”

I spun around, almost forgetting about the girl in my bed for a split second. “You’re safe,” I told her, crossing to place the phone back in its hiding place before I went to her. She had sat up, backing up against the headboard to put as much space between me and her as she could. Her eyes were wary, full of fear.

“How did I get here?”

“You passed out last night. I had to take you somewhere safe, and I didn’t know where else.”

“What is this? Your house?”

“It’s a hotel room. I’ve been staying here for a few weeks.”

“Why?”

I shrugged. “Because there’s construction going on at the last place I was staying.” I went to the bed and sat beside her on the mattress. I touched her arm, encouraged that she didn’t immediately pull away. “How are you feeling this morning?”

She touched her face, her fingers moving over her swollen nose. “Like I’ve been hit by a truck.”

“You’re bruised up pretty well, but nothing catastrophic.”

“You changed my clothes?”

“Your clothing was pretty badly damaged. I didn’t have much choice.”

She ran her hand over her shoulders, down over her breasts. Her eyes narrowed as she focused on me again. “You didn’t have to take my bra!”

“You were covered in some sort of smelly dirt.” I shook my head. “I had no choice.”

Color came into her cheeks. “You’ve seen more of me than anyone has in years. I guess I should know your name.”

“Patrick,” I said, the sound of Ariella calling me Moshe rushing through my head. I shook it off as I held out a hand to this stranger. “Patrick Shaughnessy.”

“An Irishman?” She looked me over. “How did you end up in Arizona?”

“By way of Memphis and half a dozen other places.”

“A vagabond, huh?”

“Something like that.”

She lowered her head again, her arms moving over her shoulders to tuck her body tighter into itself.

“What should I call you?”

She was quiet for a long moment, long enough to make me wonder if she wasn’t going to answer. But then she said a word so quietly that I couldn’t decipher it.

“I’m sorry. Could you say it again?”

She glanced at me. “Rachel.”

“That’s a beautiful name. Very Biblical.”

She shrugged, a cloud passing through her eyes as she shifted her gaze again.

“Listen, I have to go to work. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you want.”

She glanced at me. “You’re not afraid I’ll steal all your stuff?”

“I don’t have that much to be stolen.” I smiled. “Besides, I did you a solid. I trust that you’ll do me one back.”

“Are you always this trusting?”

“No.” I touched her arm lightly. “But I’m going to trust you.” I got up and snatched up my keys from the low dresser where I’d set them the night before. “I’ll be back by dinnertime. If you get hungry, there’s food in the mini fridge there,” I said, gesturing toward it. “Not much, just a few pieces of fruit and some lunchmeat, but you’re welcome to it.”

I left before she could answer, leaving the Do Not Disturb sign on the doorknob. The last thing I needed was for a maid to find her and start asking uncomfortable questions.

What the hell was I supposed to do with a battered and abused woman in my hotel room?

I’d have to figure it out later.

 

 

It was Quentin’s turn to deal with Alli’s today. I went to the office after dropping the deposit off at the bank and dove into the paperwork and video analysis that waited for me. We had five clients at the moment, including Alli. Two of them were businesses like Alli’s that had been harassed by the Guardians. We provided security systems and monitored them, but weren’t required to present a physical presence. One was a local executive who requested a bodyguard whenever she had to travel to Tucson or Albuquerque. The other was a former assistant pastor with the church who felt safer with a bodyguard following him whenever he left his house despite the fact that the Guardians were mostly in jail now.

The construction crew worked around me as I sat at the computer most of the day. They were putting up drywall now, telling me that the project was ahead of schedule. Jack had bought an old warehouse and was having them build offices and a second floor. To me, it just looked like a massive mess, but the drywall helped me picture what would eventually be. It almost made it worth putting up with the construction mess.

I found myself thinking about Rachel off and on as the day unfolded. Anger still boiled in my blood whenever I thought about what those men must have done to her. The bruises had been darker this morning, new ones showing themselves on her arms and legs. No woman deserved that sort of treatment. It wasn’t right.

All I could think about was Ariella and what I’d do to a man who dared to do that to her.

Matthew came in late in the afternoon, holding a perfectly written report on his trip to Tucson three days before.

“Hey, can I ask you a question?”

Matthew’s eyes lit up. He was something of an outsider here because he had been a member of the Guardians before we—meaning Stone Security—raided their compound and took most of them out. But his sister was Jack’s new wife, so we had to put up with him. But that didn’t mean we had to like him.

“Anything,” Matthew said.

I sat back and studied him for a second. “You’re a member of the church, right?”

A wariness came into his eyes. “Yeah,” he said, drawing the single syllable out into many.

“What happens to a woman, a member of the church, who’s raped?”

Matthew’s eyes narrowed. “Why would you ask that?”

“I have my reasons.”

Matthew tilted his head slightly. “It depends on what happened.”

“What does that mean?”

He shook his head, looking a little embarrassed. “Our church is a little archaic in some ways. Women are meant to keep themselves pure until they’re married. If they don’t—”

“But rape is not the woman’s fault!”

“No, it’s not. But the church sees it as the woman not following church doctrine, which requires chaperones and modest behavior.”

I shook my head. “That’s ridiculous.”

“It’s a little old-fashioned. But the church believes that this is the way the Scriptures meant for us to live our lives. It’s not up to men to change those standards.”

“But you’re blaming women for something that’s often out of their hands.”

“I know. But do you realize that fewer women in our church are raped compared to the general public? A lot of people believe that’s because of our moral standards, our chaperone requirements, and the required undergarments. We protect our women from the lowering moral standard of the country.”

“Required undergarments?”

“All members of the church are required to wear a certain type of undergarments. It’s a practical thing as much as a spiritual thing. It protects members from accidentally showing more of themselves than is morally acceptable.”

“Then women don’t just wear bras and panties?”

“They wear panties, but usually under a t-shirt. And their underwear is more like boxer briefs.”

I frowned. Rachel hadn’t been wearing anything other than a bra when I undressed her last night. Was it possible that was because her attackers removed them? The bottoms, yes, but the undershirt? Why would they re-dress her before dumping her? From the state of her clothes, I got the impression they didn’t bother to do more than move her clothes out of the way.

But had they undressed her?

“If a woman in the church is raped, but doesn’t tell anyone, does that impact her…whatever you call it? Her status in the church?”

“Why would it if no one knew?”

I nodded slowly, thinking of Rachel’s panic when she realized I wanted to call 911. She couldn’t go home, not yet at least. If someone saw those bruises, the way she was when someone touched her, they would know. And it would ruin her life. That wasn’t fair by any stretch of the imagination.

She’d have to stay with me for a while. Quietly. If anyone knew, it would negate the whole point.

I sat up a little straighter, thinking of all the things I’d have to do to make that happen. She’d need clothes, food. Toiletries.

I wasn’t sure I knew where to begin.

“Why are you asking me these things?” Matthew demanded. “Is something wrong? Did something happen?”

I shook my head as I shut down the computer system. “Not a thing. It was just hypothetical.”

“That’s a pretty heavy subject for a hypothetical discussion.”

I shrugged. “We’re in security in a highly religious town. It’s good to know these things.”

“You’ve never asked me any other questions about the church.”

“That’s my mistake. I guess I should have.”

“Is there anything else?”

I could see the expectation on Matthew’s face. Was he really that unhappy with the way we treated him around here? There were only five of us at this office, three now that Crispin and Jack had been out of town these past weeks. I didn’t think we were that cruel to him, but maybe I was missing something.

But I needed to get back to the hotel.

“I’m sure I’ll think of something. But, for now, I need to head out. I have a date this evening.”

“Of course.” Matthew’s face fell a little. “You want me on Stewart again tomorrow?”

“No. You need to go out to Alli’s and relieve Quentin there in an hour or so. You can have the morning off since it’ll be a late night.”

Matthew blushed. He hated working at Alli’s because of the nature of the business. But he always did it without complaining, something that definitely earned my respect. I patted him on the shoulder as I walked past.

“Thank you, Matthew. You’ve been a big help.”

He beamed, his smile bright and eager, like a smile that a child might shine on a parent who’s offered unsolicited flattery.

I headed out, reluctantly heading to the local Walmart. The nearest mall was more than an hour away, but Walmart was conveniently located less than five minutes from the hotel. I didn’t want to leave Rachel alone in my room longer than necessary.

The thin, cheap material of the clothing insulted my sense of fashion, but I quickly picked out several conservative blouses and skirts, a package of cheap cotton panties, and a couple of bras. I hadn’t bothered to check the sizes on the clothes I threw away last night, so I had to make my best guess. I hoped I was fairly close. I tossed a couple of nightgowns into the cart, and a pair of canvas tennis shoes.

That would have to do.

“Shopping for your sister?” the pretty clerk with dyed blue hair asked as she dragged my purchases over the scanner.

“Something like that.”

“She’s a lucky girl, having a guy like you shop for her.”

I tilted my head slightly. “I wonder if she’d agree.”

I was headed out of the store, that cashier watching me like I was a filet mignon she wanted to fix for dinner, when a colorful flyer on a corkboard near the store entrance caught my attention:

Good Christians Avoid Sinful Shops like Alli’s Little Shop of Pleasure.

I frowned. I’d known the Guardians had a new leader in town, some guy named Briggs Thomas, but I didn’t know they were back to their old tricks. It was annoying, really. Things had been so quiet these past few months. I was hoping they’d stay that way.

I found Rachel still lying in bed, watching some reality show on the television. She clicked it off when I walked in, backing up against the headboard as she watched me warily.

“I bought you some clothes,” I said, holding up the bags. “I thought you might be more comfortable in something more feminine.”

Her eyes dropped to the bags, curiosity burning in those gray depths. “Thank you,” she muttered softly.

I set the bags on the end of the bed. “Did you eat something?”

She pulled her knees closer to her chest, hugging them as she rested her chin on them. “I wasn’t hungry.”

“You should eat. What do you like? I’ll order room service.”

She shook her head, but I was already halfway to the phone. “How about some soup? Do you like chicken?”

“I suppose.”

I made the call, ordering myself a steak and baked potato. After I hung up, I stood near the bed to study her face.

“I’m going to run you a bath. It might make you feel better to wash properly.”

I didn’t wait for her answer. I went into the bathroom and ran hot water in the deep bathtub, pouring the whole bottle of bubble bath into the water that the hotel had provided. In a few moments, the room filled with the scent of roses as the water created big, fluffy, white bubbles. When it was full, I stepped back out into the bedroom.

“Can you get in there alone?”

She nodded. “I can walk.”

“Good. If you need any help, just call.”

She blushed, but nodded again.

I stood near the doorway and listened for a moment, making sure she didn’t fall or otherwise require assistance. When I was confident she was okay, I kicked off my shoes and removed my jacket, laying my silk tie carefully on the top of the dresser. I turned the television back on as I curled up in a chair, my thoughts still worrying at the things Matthew had told me. I didn’t understand a religion that would punish a woman for a man’s actions. It bothered me.

I’d grown up in a violent world, surrounded by cruel acts committed by men. The traditions of my childhood were not unlike those of the church that dominated this town. They blamed women for the violence of men, too. A woman raped and battered in the streets was often doomed to spinsterhood, becoming that unmarried aunt that every family seemed to have. No man wanted a woman who’d been used in that way. And that, of course, was if she didn’t commit suicide in the aftermath of the shameful event.

It was a world that disgusted me. From a young age, I had been determined to change it. But it was a hard lesson learned: no one could change generations of thoughts, beliefs, and culture overnight. All I did was bring more danger down on the people I loved. That’s why I had to come to America.

But here I was, given a second chance in a roundabout sort of way.

I was halfway through a reality music competition show when I heard the water draining in the bathroom. About the same time, a knock sounded on the door. I got up and let the room service waiter in, scrawling my John Hancock on the receipt as she came out of the bathroom. She backed up, standing just inside the bathroom door until the waiter left.

“You’re safe,” I told her.

She stepped into the room wearing one of the long nightgowns I’d bought for her. It flowed in straight lines down the length of her body, only her breasts breaking the simple flow. It was more attractive than I would have imagined. Maybe there was something to be said for the more conservative of the females of the species.

I cleared my throat, suddenly a little overwhelmed. She blushed, diving back onto the bed, tucking the skirt of the nightgown tight around her legs as she settled among the pillows.

“It’s chicken tortilla soup,” I said, a little apologetic. “I hope that’s okay. It was the only soup they had on the menu.”

“It sounds good.”

I carried the heavy tray, with her soup in the center, to the bed, helping her settle it on her lap. She removed the lid and sniffed delicately, her eyes closed and a soft smile of pleasure on her lips. In that second, I could imagine the woman she was when she wasn’t suffering in the aftermath of such terrible violence. She was beautiful.

We watched the end of the competition show as we ate. When she was done, I gathered her tray so that she wouldn’t have to, taking the whole thing out into the hall for the housekeeping staff to retrieve later. I could feel her eyes on me as I returned, watching me move around the room, fussing a little as I tried to formulate the words to ask questions I needed answers to.

“I’m sorry. I’m taking your bed away from you.”

I glanced at her. “It’s not a problem.”

“It is. I promise I’ll be out of here in the morning.”

“You don’t have to go.” I leaned back against the low dresser, standing across from her as I studied her face with naked curiosity. “I understand the impact this will have on you if others find out. I don’t have a problem with you hiding out here until the worst of the bruises heal.”

Her head fell forward, her hair falling to cover her face. She brushed a few strands back behind an ear, revealing a blush burning on her one exposed cheek.

“I’m not involved in the church, but I know some of what goes on there. I understand your desire to keep this to yourself.”

“It’s just…if my parents find out…”

“I understand.”

She was quiet for a long moment, her fingers reaching up to her eyes once or twice, like she was brushing tears away. She sighed heavily.

“My parents think I’m in Yuma with friends. I was supposed to go the night…the night this happened.”

I crossed my arms over my chest, that anger building again as I imagined the men who’d done this to her. “Did you know them?”

She tilted her head slightly, one eye exposed as she relived a memory. “Yes,” she finally said, her tone low, but filled with shame and anger.

Anger was good.

I waited. She rubbed her hands together, her thumb really digging into that webbed space between the thumb and index finger of her other hand. I wanted to stop her, to protect her from injuring herself, but I knew if I touched her, she’d never tell me what I needed to know.

I needed to know who did this. I needed to get justice for her, even if it was more for me than her.

“I was supposed to drive straight to Yuma, but this guy I knew from school asked me to meet him at this restaurant downtown. I thought that it would be okay because it was a public place, you know? Lots of people around. But I got there, and he must have slipped something into my drink.”

Big tears welled in her eyes. She brushed them away with an angry gesture.

“I should have known better. I might be a member of the church, but I don’t have my head in the sand. I know how the world works.”

“You trusted him.”

“I shouldn’t have.”

“You couldn’t have known what he had planned.”

She was quiet for a long moment, wiping at her tears again and again. “I passed out. I remember getting up to go to the restroom at the restaurant and getting really dizzy. The next thing I remember is waking up in the back of a utility van. They were on top of me, touching me. I fought them the best I could, pushing at them, scratching at them with my nails.” She looked down at her hands, at the perfectly shaped, undamaged nails. “The one I thought was my friend started hitting me, and I guess I was dazed. Or maybe it was the drug. I don’t know, but I couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything while they…when they…”

“It’s okay,” I said, unable to keep distance between us now. I went to the bed and sat close to her, resting my hand beside her, but not touching her. It was the best I could offer her. “It’s not your fault.”

Big tears fell from her eyes. She studied her hands, her thumb pressing harder and harder against that webbed spot. I laid my hand on top of hers, stopping the movement.

“What those men did to you is senseless and violent. It was their way of proving themselves to be powerful and superior. But it had nothing to do with you.”

“It feels like it had everything to do with me.”

“I know.”

My heart was being crushed under the pressure of the anger and grief that burned inside of me. The memory of having this same conversation with another made my hands ache to close around the necks of the men who did this. I’d missed my chance before. I wouldn’t miss it this time.

“You’re safe here,” I promised her. “I won’t let anyone hurt you, and no one will learn what happened to you. Not from me.”

Her head came up, a hand pushing back the curtain of hair so she could look at me. “Why are you doing this? You don’t even know me.”

“It doesn’t matter. No one should get away with doing this to any woman.”

More tears flowed from her eyes. She studied my face, searching for something I wasn’t sure she would find. I stood and crossed the room again, standing with my back to her for a long moment.

“Who did this? Were they members of your church?”

“No. It was just this guy I knew from high school, years ago. And the other guy…I think he attended the school, too, but I don’t remember his name.”

“They weren’t members of the Guardians?”

“No. Why would the Guardians want to hurt me like that? They’re here to protect us.”

“You’d be surprised at some of the things they’ve done.”

I thought about the fire in Alli’s parking lot, the trashed inventory after they broke into her shop. And the fact that they ran Harry Cravits off the road and killed him.

Couldn’t forget that.

“The Guardians had a misguided leader before. Their new leader is better. Moral.”

“I hope so.”

“He is. He’s good people.”

There was conviction in her voice, but Matthew had once believed in the Guardians, too. I turned to face her again. “I need a name.”

“What are you going to do?” she demanded, alarm causing red spots to pop out high on her cheeks.

“I’m going to take care of this. Do what needs to be done.”

She shook her head quickly. “I can’t talk to the police.”

“I’m not suggesting that.”

“But you…” She stopped, her eyes widening. “You can’t take the law into your own hands!”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s immoral! It’s wrong!”

“It’s what I do for a living. I’m in security.”

“But this isn’t security. What’s done is done!”

“I will find them whether you tell me or not.” I studied her face, finding the high color more and more fascinating. She had skin like browned butter, creamy and tan. The color on her cheeks only highlighted the natural color of her skin, making her even more beautiful. “They will pay for what they’ve done.”

“I just want to forget it.”

“Good. That’s what you should do.”

She watched me as I moved around the end of the bed and back to the chair I’d occupied before. I snatched up the television remote and switched the muted television off.

“Get some rest. We’ll talk some more in the morning.”

I flipped off the lights, untucked my shirt, and settled on the couch. I stared out the window for a moment, my thoughts thousands of miles away.

“You knew someone who was hurt this way, didn’t you?” she asked, her voice no louder than a whisper.

“I did.”

“What happened to her?”

I wasn’t eager to tell her the truth. In fact, I hadn’t said the words aloud…ever. We had metaphors for this sort of thing in my country, when we spoke of it at all. Usually we pretended it never happened, that the person never existed. And that was its own kind of wrong.

“She took her own life. Hanged herself in her bedroom three days after it happened.” I was quiet for a long moment, remembering the sight of her hanging there. “She left a note, said she couldn’t live with the shame of it.”

Rachel gasped. I glanced over at the bed, picking out her silhouette in the darkness. I could just see her shoulders shake, her arm come up to cover her face.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled.

“It was a long time ago.”

She began to cry, her shoulders shaking harder in the darkness. I listened as long as I could stand it. Then I got up and went to her, hesitating before sliding onto the bed beside her and wrapping my arms around her. I expected her to pull away, but she didn’t. She pressed her back into me and pulled my arms tighter around her chest. She held me against her, her tears flowing freely onto the pillow and over my arms.

We held each other like that for a long time. She fell into an exhausted sleep after a while, little sobs still escaping her lips for a while after. I tried to pull away once or twice, but her hands tugged me back. I relaxed, okay with sleeping on the king size bed, okay with holding a beautiful woman in my arms. I was a little horrified by the reaction my body instantly had to her unconscious movement of her hips against mine. I shifted to the side, afraid she would feel the need burning through me and feel violated once again.

Sometimes I hated my male nature.