Trigger slipped one hand under Ashley’s knees and the other around her back and under her arm. Unable to lift herself, she allowed him to pick her up right off the floor. He held her in his arms against his chest, dismayed by how little she weighed, and surprised by how right she felt against him.
She gasped in pain and leaned into him to ease her ribs. “Put me down.”
He adjusted her in his arms, carried her to the sofa, and gently set her on the cushion, her back to the side, feet spread out in front of her. He pulled the soft blue blanket off the back and draped it over her.
“Stay put. I’ll get you some ice for your injuries, more ibuprofen, and food.”
She gazed up at him, her eyes pleading. “Coffee. Please. I beg you.”
He laughed under his breath at the drama she put into wanting a simple cup of coffee. He wondered how long it had been since she had one. “We need to have a serious talk about what happened to you. We’ll need to file a report. Take pictures of . . .” He swept his hand in the air down the length of her.
She paled even more than her sun-deprived skin showed moments ago. “You can’t be serious.”
“Proof of his abuse can’t be denied.”
“Haven’t I been subjected to enough humiliation?”
He wanted to ask what else she’d been subjected to, but held his tongue because Adam waited patiently for him in the kitchen.
“It’s necessary. A female officer or nurse will take the pictures.”
“Right. And sell them to the highest bidder at some sleazy tabloid.”
Trigger sat on the coffee table, leaned forward with his forearms on his thighs, and looked her right in the eye. “I know you’re scared to face what happened and tell your story. The cops will take it slow. They’ll explain everything along the way about the process and where they are in the investigation and arrest.”
“With the connections Brice has and the dirt he has on them, they won’t arrest him. They’ll simply find a plausible reason to dismiss my claims.”
Trigger stared at her. “Your appearance can’t be dismissed.”
She scrunched her mouth into a pout and took a minute to think through what needed to be done. She didn’t look at him, but said, “You do it.”
“The cops will want to control the case. I’m DEA. They won’t let me interfere, but I can make sure they’re doing what they should for you.”
She shook her head and wrung her hands in her lap. “No. You take the report. You take the pictures. I’ve already told you some of what happened. I can . . . I can try to tell the rest and put it in some kind of order.”
“Ashley, I hunt down drug dealers and infiltrate and take down drug trafficking rings. I don’t know anything but the basics of working a kidnapping, torture, and rape case.” There, he’d said his worst fear that for the last year that piece of scum had not only held, starved, and beaten this beautiful, fragile woman, but abused her in another horrific way, too.
Ashley’s whispered words barely registered to his ears. “He tried, but he couldn’t. That’s why he hurt me.”
“Christ.” Trigger raised his head to the wood ceiling and rafters overhead, pissed and relieved all at the same time. He didn’t know if his gut or the heart that woke up again in his chest the moment he found her could take much more of this.
He’d shut the damn thing off for a reason. Caring got in the way of doing his job.
Here she was asking him to do a job he never signed up for and didn’t want, but she trusted him to do it anyway.
“Once Adam eats himself into a food coma . . .” Trigger shook his head at the boy who’d made himself at home and gotten himself yet another handful of fudge stripe cookies from the pantry and his third glass of milk. The kid acted like he’d never had sweets. Trigger didn’t want to let his mind go to that place where a little boy had never been given treats or hugs or any kindness in his short but precious life. “No matter what happens, we have to be sure Adam gets all the cookies he wants.”
“We?”
Trigger tore his gaze from Adam happily chomping down his cookies to stare at Ashley. He didn’t know what to say because while he’d spoken without thought, he really did feel like they were in this together for Adam’s sake. Yes, that was it. For Adam. Not the woman he had a hard time keeping in the victim-who-needed-his-help zone in his brain.
“Kids should not be denied cookies.” As covers went, that one sucked, so he got them back on track. “Once he takes a nap, we’ll deal with the pictures, then you can take a shower.”
She nodded her agreement.
“Great. I’ll make you something to eat, take a shower, and find you something more suitable to wear.”
Trigger stood and went to the kitchen, giving Adam a pat on the head as he passed him at the bar. Trigger made quick work of scrambling up some eggs and reheating the bacon strips they’d saved from breakfast this morning. Adam found his way back to Ashley on the sofa and curled up with her. She gently brushed his hair over and over and stared at the fire Trigger built up to keep the place extra warm for them. Skinny, undernourished, Adam always seemed cold and tired.
Trigger plated up the food, buttered the toast that popped up from the toaster, added a generous amount of raspberry jelly, then carried it all over to Ashley, and handed her the plate and the cup of coffee she’d desired. She took one sip after another of the hot brew, then sighed when she satisfied that initial craving.
“I suggest you eat slow and eat it all even if you feel like you can’t. You need your strength and your body needs the energy to heal.” He stared down at Adam sleeping peacefully, his body tucked in the curve of Ashley’s. “Are you comfortable?” Her ribs must hurt like hell every second of the day.
“I’m fine, Beck. Thank you.”
“Want those pain meds now?”
She shook her head. “No, thank you. A good night’s sleep helped. I feel better this morning. Plus, I woke up here and not there.”
The relief in her eyes told him how much that meant to her. Freedom, even if the storm kept her here, meant a new day without crippling fear.
“I’m going to take a shower. Help yourself to anything else you want.”
She stuffed half a strip of bacon in her mouth and chewed, her eyes rolling back in ecstasy. “I’m good,” she said around the other half of the bacon strip as she chewed.
“There’s nothing better than bacon.”
“Amen.” She bit a smaller piece off the next strip.
He turned to head back to his room, but stopped when she called his name.
“Beck.”
She never called him Trigger.
“Yeah?”
She glanced out the big windows, then at the front door. “Can I have your gun?”
“No.” The last thing he wanted to do was walk out of his room when she got spooked and get shot because she lost her shit and perceived some threat that wasn’t really there. Still, he understood her fear and desire to protect herself from ever going back to that hell she escaped.
He picked up the remote from the coffee table and pointed it at the flat screen. He quickly changed the channel from CNN to his security setup.
“Hey, wait, go back to the news. I want to see what’s happening in the world.”
“No.”
She wanted to see what they were saying about her. She needed more time to settle into the fact she escaped and understand what came next.
“You’re not ready to face the full scope of reality. Eat. Rest. Take the time you need to breathe before we have to begin the hard stuff.”
He pointed to the screen. “Hidden cameras at the front and back of my place, in the barn—”
“You have horses.”
The delight in her eyes made him grin. “Rocket, Gypsy, and Berry, short for Blueberry.”
“Berry?” Ashley’s eyebrow shot up in question.
“Named by a six-year-old girl who loved her gray horsie, but the horsie proved too spirited for a child.”
“It’s sweet you kept the name.”
“The horse answered to it, so what the hell.” He pretended it meant nothing. But really he kept it because every time he called the horse he thought of that sweet little girl. He had too few good things to think about sometimes.
“Monitors.” He reminded her of what they were really talking about before she asked too many questions about things he didn’t want to talk about. “You can see 360 degrees around the house. Motion sensors on the gate and spread around the property will sound an alarm.” He pointed to the doorbell box over the door. “Normal doorbell for when guests arrive, which never happens, and a buzzer when the alarm triggers, which hopefully won’t happen.”
Ashley swiped her tongue over her bottom lip to clean away a dollop of jelly. “Uh, why do you have so much security here?”
He gave her the cold hard truth of his life. “Drug cartels from Mexico to South America would love to find and kill me. I’ve made it damn hard for them, but nothing is infallible. The alarms give me a head start if they actually get past all the security measures I’ve put in place.”
“Wow. I’m not sure if I should feel safer here or more in danger.”
“The best I can do to reassure you is say that this”—he pointed to the nine blocks of security feeds on the screen—“is better safe than sorry. My way of feeling relatively safe when I live in a very dangerous world.” He spun around and headed for his bedroom, knowing she spotted the gun he had slipped in the back of his pants.