Shadows shifted on the screen. Ashley tracked them on one monitor then another, knowing nothing was out there, but driving herself insane with each obsessive stare-down of yet another imagined threat. Her stomach soured, yet she kept eating. She needed to get her strength back. She needed to be at her best to protect Adam. The food would help her physically, but what would help her to mentally prepare to face what was to come? Sooner rather than later, since Beck wanted to get all the facts on film, so to speak, and on paper. She dreaded having him take photographs of her battered body. She’d told him as much as she ever wanted to say about what happened to her. But the investigator in him would ferret out every last detail.

Would it really make a difference?

She didn’t think so. She truly believed that in the world she lived in, Brice would use his money and celebrity to twist the story to his advantage and use the people who’d come to his home to rub elbows with celebrities but ended up trapped in his web to protect him from jail.

She rubbed Adam’s back, reassuring him that she was there as he slept peacefully. She tried to shut off her mind, the overwhelming urge to run, the fear that at any moment Brice would bust down the door and take her again. She felt the walls closing in.

Something moved on the screen again. Her wandering gaze shifted to the horses in their stalls. While all the other cameras pointed to possible points of entry and hiding spots, one camera kept an eye on them. She wondered if sometimes Beck sat here watching them, lost in their simple lives, the sheer wonder of such large, magnificent animals. Graceful in their way. Strong. Capable. Yet sensitive to their environment and emotions. Or so she’d heard. She wanted to go out and see them.

She’d bet Adam would love to pet the horses. She’d give anything to erase the bad memories from his mind and fill it with nothing but happy ones from now on.

Berry. Who knew the all-too-serious Beck had a sensitive side?

It hit her that as paranoid and scared as she was about Brice coming after her, Beck lived with that kind of mindset every day, knowing that someone he’d gone up against in his work wanted revenge and might come after him. He did a noble job that put a target on his back. He lived in a world full of lies and betrayals. Not unlike her, but in a different way.

“Ashley, you okay?”

Well, her throat went a little dry when she looked up and spotted the tall, dark, and handsome man standing there in snug jeans and a black T-shirt that stretched across his wide chest and shoulders. The description almost made her chuckle, but his dark, intense gaze told her he was anything but the gentle sort. Everything physically and mentally about him was hard. At least that’s what he wanted people to think, but he’d shared that tiny glimpse of a tender side in the story about the little girl who loved her horsie. She would never forget the sweet way he held Adam close to his chest as they slept together in the chair last night. Or the achingly soft way his fingers brushed her skin the few times he’d touched her.

She wondered if she’d ever take anyone at face value again.

She went with an honest answer. “I’m trying to contain my paranoid crazy by watching the horses and not my imagined ghosts lurking on the property.”

Beck picked up the remote and clicked off the TV. “It gets better.” He tried to reassure her, but the shadows in his eyes said better was relative and a long way off, especially if she kept feeding her fears.

He stared at her and raked his fingers through his long, damp hair. “Uh, are you up to taking care of some business?”

“No, but I’d rather do it this way than having a bunch of strangers staring at and dissecting me.”

She didn’t know what she said to make his gray eyes narrow with an intensity that stilled her under his sharp gaze. She didn’t look away under his scrutiny. She couldn’t. Instead, she fell into the depth of his eyes and found a connection to him she recognized on some level and felt deeply in that moment. She didn’t know what it meant, but somehow that feeling of being utterly alone dissipated like smoke on the wind.

Funny how the man who saved her but she didn’t know at all felt like much more than a friend. A friend she could sit beside, say nothing, and feel like he got everything about her.

Strange. The details of who he was and what he believed in didn’t matter. She needed something deeper. Something more. And she found it in this dangerous-looking, stoic, quietly intense guy who had just as many nightmares locked inside him as she did.

A guy who’d recently been shot in the line of duty and hid away in the middle of nowhere alone.

“Whatever you’re thinking, stop. I am a stranger and, more importantly, someone you don’t want to know. I’ll help you navigate the investigation and make sure that bastard pays for what he did to you and Adam, but that’s it. I’m no good for anything else.”

Ashley eased away from Adam, settled him in the spot she moved out of without waking him, and stood to face Beck, though she kept that same five-foot distance she needed less and less, but he seemed to want with those words he gave her.

“I’m not sure if I can stand to be locked inside this house for another second. I’m not sure I can stand this constant fear and feeling like any second my worst nightmare will show up at the door. I don’t know if I can take speaking the words about what happened to me when it is so raw and suffocating. I don’t know if I can endure you or anyone seeing the evidence of my stupidity.”

“Ashley, no. It’s not your fault.”

“I’m not sure about that. But I am sure of one thing despite the fact I have little evidence or reason to believe it other than my gut and heart convincing me of it absolutely.”

“What?”

“You are a good man. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to say that about anyone again, but I can say that about you.”

Beck sucked in a breath, ready to wind up and tell her all the reasons she was wrong, or just warn her away. She didn’t want to hear it because, like him, she presented one thing with her distance and actions, but deep down in the part of her that couldn’t stand the loneliness one more second, she wanted a connection to him. It mattered. It made a difference, even in its small, fragile way.

“So let’s do the hard stuff, then we can go back to our easy silence where we’re both mired in our shit swamp, hoping it doesn’t suck us under completely, knowing that we aren’t suffering alone even if we do it separately.”

“I have no idea what you need.”

“That’s okay, Beck. I have no idea what I need, except what you’ve already given me. A safe place to stay, food, an honest assessment of what I’m facing, and more important than anything, you showed Adam not all men are bad guys.”

“You give me far too much credit.”

“I owe you my life and Adam’s. I’m pretty sure I haven’t given you enough credit or proper gratitude.”

“I don’t want either.”

“I think it’s more accurate to say you feel like you don’t deserve it. Doesn’t matter. You have both my gratitude and belief in you.”

“Then you’re doomed to disappointment.”

“No one is infallible. No one is all good or bad. But it’s how you treat strangers—taking them in, caring for them instead of dumping them on someone else—that speaks volumes about who you really are on the inside.”

Ashley didn’t want to hear another denial or excuse for why she should stop thinking of Beck as anything but a good guy, so she marched right past him—ready, though scared, to face taking the pictures Beck insisted she needed as proof against Brice.

Too mentally weary and physically exhausted last night or this morning to even think about a shower, she desperately wanted one now. Especially after smelling Beck’s clean scent and realizing she could scare away a skunk with how bad she smelled. Even worse, she felt grimy and unclean in a way that went beyond skin-deep. She desperately wanted to scrub away the filth Brice left behind, that indelible mark he’d put on her, unseen, but felt all the same.

She smiled at the small pile of items Beck left for her on the bathroom counter. A towel, washcloth, razor—her furry legs needed one—and a brand-new toothbrush. The anticipation of being clean, silky smooth, and minty fresh died the second she caught her reflection in the mirror. Her hands gripped the edge of the counter. She leaned on her arms as her knees shook at the sight she beheld of a woman she didn’t recognize.

Silent tears cascaded down her cheeks. She lost her breath as her chest constricted. She ran her hand over her pale face, her fingers brushing over her dull skin, the dark circles under her hollow eyes, her sunken cheeks, and cracked lips. The T-shirt fell off one bony shoulder, revealing her too-prominent clavicle. Her once-full breasts barely rounded under the draping material. She leaned back and stared at her stick-thin legs and feet that were bare but for the wrap Beck put on her very swollen ankle. What she thought was her uneven gait because of her injury had more to do with her utter lack of strength.

She’d once been touted as one of the most beautiful women in Hollywood. “They should cast me as a zombie in some horror movie,” she whispered, tears clogging her throat. “No makeup or special effects needed.”

Beck stood in the doorway, quiet and watchful as ever, and frowned at her assessment. He walked up behind her, standing more than a head taller than her. He set his phone on the counter, bent, planted his hands next to hers on the marble top, and leaned in close, his head at her shoulder.

Blocked in by his big body and arms, she didn’t feel trapped. He’d let her out if she wanted him to. His nearness didn’t disturb her but gave her comfort. Just like before, she welcomed the wash of warmth that went through her. She wasn’t alone. With him, danger seemed faraway, unable to touch her.

“Look at that woman again. She’s a shower away from having shiny, silky hair. She’s a few days’ sleep away from losing the dark circles under her gorgeous green eyes. She’s a dozen good meals away from filling out her beautiful face and building back the muscle and curves every man admires.” His deep voice rumbled at her ear as his soft beard barely brushed her cheek. “You will get back to what you used to be, but look deeper and see that the woman you’re looking at right now is a survivor. She’s filled with strength and courage and a determination that defies limitations. Your will alone made you walk out of hell. You carried Adam through the night and across some damn rugged land in heels headed for nothing more than your freedom. He tried to break you, Ashley, but all he did was make you stronger.

“Don’t for one moment think that you are anything less than amazing.”

She closed her eyes and leaned her head against Beck’s face. She needed the contact and a moment to drink in his words, said with such sincerity and warmth she couldn’t help but believe he truly meant them.

One of his arms hooked around her front. His hand settled on her side. Her body trembled at the contact, echoing with the anticipation that a soft touch would turn mean and hurtful. But this was Beck, not the monster who didn’t see her but a distorted fantasy.

She wrapped her arms over Beck’s against her stomach and held tight to him. He stood tall behind her, wrapped his other arm across her chest, his hand on her shoulder, and pulled her against the hard wall of his chest. She leaned her head against his arm and felt safe and protected and let it all go. The dam on her emotions broke and the tears flooded out. She cried like she hadn’t allowed herself to cry in months. She felt the grief, the sadness, the loneliness, the anger, and fury for all the injustices and humiliation she’d suffered. The overwhelming emotions racked her body along with the tidal wave of tears. Knowing she had so much more to face, she allowed herself this moment to release it all and let it go as much as she could.

Beck didn’t say a word, just held her through the worst of her breakdown. He held her until she wound down and found her footing again. She hadn’t realized at some point her knees buckled and Beck held her up and close. As much as she wanted to stay in his strong arms, suspended in this state of safety, she needed to stand on her own and not expect Beck to make it all better. Though he had with his kind words and solid presence.

She hugged Beck’s arms tight to her body, then let loose. “Thank you. I’m okay now. I’m sorry I lost it on you.” She tried to step away, but Beck held her still. He gave her a soft squeeze to get her to look up at him in the mirror.

He held her gaze for a second, then said, “You’re going to be okay.”

Funny how she needed to hear that from him to believe it. Maybe he needed the same thing, because she saw far too much of what she felt in him.

“You will be okay, too?”

His mouth flattened. “We’re not talking about me.”

Easier to talk about him, think about what he’d been through, than to think about herself. “Maybe you need someone to talk to about why I’m not the only one hiding out here.”

He gently set her away and reached for his phone. “Let’s get this done.”

Right, he wanted to focus on her, not himself. They should both do something else. “Can I avoid this the same way you’re avoiding your problems?”

“My only problem right now is a feisty movie star who wants to avoid doing the hard stuff by turning things on me.”

“Movie star,” she scoffed. “He stole that from me. The only thing I’ll ever be famous for now is being the woman Brice Mooney kidnapped and tortured. They don’t give out Oscars for that.”

“What happened doesn’t change the fact you’re a damn good actress.”

She rolled her eyes. “Please. You’re the last person I would say watched my movies.”

His mouth tilted in a lopsided frown. “I may not have seen them all, but Dark of Night was my favorite of the couple I did get a chance to see. You really made me believe you were two different people. You played each role so well.”

She dropped her head. “Thanks. I appreciate that you said it and you meant it. A year ago, I was so tired of everyone kissing my ass. It all seemed so shallow and calculated. Over the last year, I’d have given my right arm to be mired in the Hollywood illusion—glitz and glam and everything is nothing more than surface with no depth—just to avoid another criticism, the verbal abuse, the beating for forgetting a line or not delivering it just the way he wanted.”

Beck touched his finger to her chin and made her raise her gaze to meet his. “You know nothing you ever did would have been right and the second you gave in he’d have turned on you. You said so yourself.” Beck poked the end of her nose. “Now stop stalling and let’s get this done.”

She dropped her head again and stared at her feet. “How do you want to do this?” She didn’t have anything on beneath the T-shirt. She’d spent countless days, weeks, and months naked. Punishment. A way to degrade her even further. A means to keep her from trying to escape yet again. She’d become comfortable in her skin, but stripping down now made her shudder and feel exposed.

“We’ll do this in . . . sections, I guess. Let’s figure out how to do this with a thought that these photos might be leaked. We want to document the bruises and how thin you are because he starved you.” Beck sighed. “Um, the sight of you is enough to convince anyone you’ve been terribly mistreated.”

“Stray dogs are fatter than me.” She tried to think how to do this without humiliating herself. She sat on the toilet, tucked the T-shirt between her thighs and close to her crotch, showing her wrapped sprained ankle and exposing the bruises all up her legs.

Beck bent and gently unwrapped her foot. Her ankle was swollen, but didn’t hurt as bad as her ribs.

“Look straight ahead. I’ll get a few shots of your legs, but I want your face in the frame so there’s no doubt it’s you.”

“Just do it.” She’d done a Nike commercial decked out in a cute workout outfit showing off her ripped abs and toned thighs. She’d been a running and Pilates fanatic. It seemed a long time ago. Now she could barely keep her eyes open after only being up for a couple of hours.

Beck made quick work of taking the photos. He even snapped one of her face as she zoned out.

Knowing what she had to do and dreading it, she stood and turned her back to him. Her hands shook when she took the hem of the shirt and pulled it up and over her head. She held it down the front of her to cover her breasts and private parts, but it didn’t make it any easier to stand naked in front of a man she barely knew.

She held her breath while he took more pictures. Her ribs ached. Her heart hurt. Her mind wanted to shut down and go to that riverbank in her mind.

“Ashley, I’ll turn my back. Sit back on the toilet with the shirt draped over your hips. Cover your chest with one arm. I’ll take a few of the bruises on your neck, chest, and running across your ribs.”

She glanced at their reflection in the mirror. Sure enough he’d turned his back. Only the side of his face was visible and the pulsing muscle at his jaw. His free hand hung clenched at his side against his thigh. This wasn’t easy for him either.

She positioned herself on the toilet seat as he instructed with the shirt covering her and one hand covering one breast, her forearm covering the other. She used her free hand to hold on to the seat and help her sit as straight as possible to relieve the pain in her ribs.

“Ready?”

“Not really,” she admitted, her eyes filling with tears she thought had dried up.

“Take your time.”

“Hurry up and finish it.”

Beck spun around and raised the phone to take the pictures. She didn’t look at him. She couldn’t. Not sitting here completely exposed and vulnerable. She couldn’t hide what Brice had done to her. She couldn’t help but remember how she got every bump and aching bruise.

Beck turned his back the second he finished. “I’ll leave some clean clothes on the bed. I know it’s been a while, but I’m sure you can resurrect that high-maintenance movie star and be that girl who takes forever to get ready.”

Beck left her, if not with a grin on her face, than lighter for his small attempt at a joke and teasing her.

Ever considerate, he closed the door, but left it ajar, understanding her need to know she could escape, even if it was unwarranted.

Desperate to wash away the past year, she stood, letting the T-shirt slide to the floor, turned on the shower beside her, grabbed the washcloth and razor, and stepped into the spray. She didn’t care that the water took a minute to heat and steam the wide tiled stall. The blessed sluice of water over her skin sent a wave of relaxation through her.

The soap smelled like Beck, simple and clean. She used it and the washcloth to scrub her skin pink. It didn’t take away the echo of Brice’s hands on her body, but it made her feel better. She put the razor to good use, then lathered and rinsed her hair twice before she cleaned away all the oil and grime and mud from her tumble in the weeds on her mad dash to escape. She stood under the spray, letting the hot water ease her tired and sore muscles. Who knew she still had a few more tears to shed, but in the quiet with the monotonous beat of the shower spray over her head and body, she gave herself one more chance to grieve what she’d lost, rage for what had been done to her, and find the strength to keep going.

She shuffled out of the shower just as the water cooled. She dried off and wrapped the thick, lush towel around herself. She took Beck’s advice and took her time combing out her long hair with his brush. She brushed her teeth and blow-dried her hair.

She stared at the reflection of yet another version of herself. Not the movie star she used to be. Not the beaten down woman of yesterday. But a survivor who still faced several hurdles and obstacles before she could live her life again. She didn’t know how that new life would look or what it would include, but right now she told herself to take it one day at a time. That’s about all she could manage.

With Beck’s help, she’d been able to endure one of the hard things facing her. She hoped she had the strength to complete the rest.

She hoped she didn’t have to face them alone.