Part 1 (2/2)

”You're pretty mellow tonight,” Erin said as she slid a plate laden with pie toward him.

”I have it good. Why not be mellow? Pretty women to my left and right, good music, good beer and good friends.” He tipped his beer toward Ben, who'd wandered in a few minutes before, not so miraculously, when the pizza had shown.

She smiled. ”Good. By the way, I thought of a new tat I want you to do.”

”Whatever you say, baby girl.” He shrugged, happy to do it. He'd done all her inkwork and trusted it would continue that way. Raven handled the piercings and that was fine by him. But Erin's tats were special, like she was, and Brody wanted to be sure no one he considered inferior ever did work on her.

The predictable argument broke out between Erin and Raven about why Brody should do it instead of Raven, while Ben and Brody looked on before returning to their dinner.

Ben rolled his eyes at the exchange and looked back to Brody. ”We need to go for a ride on Sunday. You up for it? The weather should be good. I thought a trip out to the Olympics? We can stop and eat some crab before we turn around.”

Brody respected the man who cared so much about his sister. The guy was good people, and he'd come along at a time in Erin's life when it would have been a h.e.l.l of a lot easier to run in the other direction. That went a long way in Brody's book.

Sunny weekend with bikes and friends? ”Yeah, that sounds d.a.m.ned good.”

2.

Pain sliced through her as his fist connected with her jaw, sent her flying back against the table they'd bought years before at a flea market. Wood splinters rained on her as she slid to her knees, bright points of light painting her vision as breath tore through her lungs.

He hauled her to her feet, but her right leg buckled and she fell again. He'd used a baseball bat on it. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew it was broken. Knew she'd never dance professionally again. But her mounting fear had nothing to do with that.

Blood marked the pale tile in the entry, and had smeared where he'd hit her and dragged her while she screamed and fought. And then he'd hit her until she couldn't fight much anymore. Handprints, spatters, smears-all ominous portents of just how far the situation had deteriorated over the past nearly three hours.

In the midst of the beating, of the verbal abuse, of being sick from the pain and of watching him tie off and be unable to find a vein for long minutes at a time, she'd tried to focus on a plan. Time had pa.s.sed; he'd dragged her from room to room, becoming increasingly agitated. He broke things, like he wanted to break her. He wouldn't.

The clock on the living room mantel chimed four times. Her baby was due home soon. She knew he'd harm her daughter. Knew he had to be stopped before he could get his hands on Rennie. She only had herself to count on, but no one was going to hurt her child. Not while she still had breath.

Elise pulled to a stop in her driveway and looked into the backseat. Rennie was asleep, her well-loved blankie curled against her side, pillowing her head, pale blonde hair spread around her face.

An ache, both sharp and sweet, spread through Elise's chest at the sight of the unlined forehead, the trouble-free face of sleep. Seattle had been very good for the both of them. Hard, yes. A long way from the life Rennie had known and Elise had been supported by. There'd been no choice; there was nothing left but pain for them in New York. But, wonderfully, they'd begun to place roots there in the Northwest. Rennie was settling in, making friends. Rennie even expressed an interest in sports. Her baby girl-oh h.e.l.l, not a baby anymore; the kid was nearly seven, going on forty-was coming out of that dark place they'd both been in.

More than that, Elise felt safe safe for the first time in a decade. That was more precious than she cared to even contemplate for very long. The price had been higher than she'd ever imagined. But, she thought as she bent to ease Rennie from the seat and carry her into the house, there was no way but forward, no direction but up. for the first time in a decade. That was more precious than she cared to even contemplate for very long. The price had been higher than she'd ever imagined. But, she thought as she bent to ease Rennie from the seat and carry her into the house, there was no way but forward, no direction but up.

As she made herself a late dinner, she took in the s.p.a.ce they now called home. Over the weekend she'd hung up the art she'd stuffed into the van they'd driven out from New York. The couch, on sale at a local store, had come a few days prior. Red Red. Red with white cus.h.i.+ons. Just looking at it made her happy.

The area rugs she'd collected over the years as she'd traveled the world covered the s.h.i.+ny wood floors. The house was earthy, colorful and warm. A big change from her silver and pale blue Manhattan condo.

A needed needed change. Warm and earthy suited her, d.a.m.n it, and it would keep on that way. Rennie's recent artwork splashed the refrigerator doors with color and lent that extra bit of home. One positive she got from her father. change. Warm and earthy suited her, d.a.m.n it, and it would keep on that way. Rennie's recent artwork splashed the refrigerator doors with color and lent that extra bit of home. One positive she got from her father.

Shaking her head, Elise moved back to pleasant things. She made a mental note to thank her friend from the NBT who'd hooked her up with some local people and gotten the word out about her school. That word had given her enrollment numbers a huge boost. The bills would be paid, and in a year or so they might even be turning a profit.

Rennie appeared to be making friends in her summer camp program, which kept her busy during the day and worked most of her energy out, much to Elise's relief at bedtime. They'd gone furniture shopping and gotten new beds for each of them. Their nightly routine included grabbing some groceries and heading home.

Glorious and totally, utterly normal.

The fact that she lived without fear occurred to her in the same way you notice when crickets suddenly start up in the summer. Life springs around you and you realize it's going to be okay.

Her left left leg was fine. Elise could still dance better than 95 percent of the population, but she'd never be a primary dancer again. She'd never dance with any major company, because her body would not hold up under the stresses of that life. Age was a factor now, but mostly it was the damage to her right leg and the multiple dislocations of her shoulder. Her balance wasn't as precise, her strength not quite enough. leg was fine. Elise could still dance better than 95 percent of the population, but she'd never be a primary dancer again. She'd never dance with any major company, because her body would not hold up under the stresses of that life. Age was a factor now, but mostly it was the damage to her right leg and the multiple dislocations of her shoulder. Her balance wasn't as precise, her strength not quite enough.

In that, Ken had won. He'd taken that dream from her.

But simply by standing there, happily enjoying a rage-free home and a gla.s.s of wine, Elise had won. And she had absolutely no intention of feeling guilt for surviving. Rennie needed her. Moreover, Rennie needed to see her mother as a woman who stood tall instead of wincing in fear. Who took what life had to offer with both hands and forged a place for herself instead of waiting for someone to provide it for her.

Through it, Elise knew she'd be a better person for herself too.

Elise worked in her front yard, cleaning out the flower beds and getting some new plants in. As she did, it wasn't like she couldn't take a look from time to time as a new, hot-looking bad boy rode up on a big motorcycle. For someone so big and sort of scary-looking, that guy who lived across the street was pretty hot. His friends too. Apparently Elise had a thing for bad boys. Hmm. Well okay, so that wasn't so much of a surprise, but hopefully the bad on those boys was the good kind.

And since this was just a conversation going on in her head and all, it was nice to know that after two years of having s.e.x with no one but her hand or her toys, her libido could still rev up at the sight of something so spectacularly male. She could look, store up some fantasy fodder for her dates with her hand and also know men like her neighbor were totally out of her league.

But holy s.h.i.+t holy s.h.i.+t, all the hard thighs encased in faded denim, the tight a.s.ses, the tattoos and general bad-boy air going on was more than enough to overcome any discomfort at being on her knees in the dirt. She had on sungla.s.ses and a ball cap, so it wasn't like they could see her ogling them or anything. She could objectify and fantasize to her heart's content. Mmm.

The earth was warm, the scent dark and rich as she dug and planted, tore out and worked. It felt good to make a physical change with her hands. To create a difference in her environment.

”Momma, we need more pink flowers. We don't have enough pink.” Grinning, she looked up the filthy legs of her monkey of a child and into a face dirtier than her clothes. ”I'd be challenged to find a spot on your body not covered in dirt. Honey, have you been eating eating dirt?” dirt?”

”Ew! As if! But a girl has to get her hands dirty when she's working in the garden. That's what Gran says.”

Elise laughed, thinking of her mother saying exactly that, though usually as she ordered someone else around to do the gardening for her while she watched.

”We can go to the garden center later today, if you like. Then you can pick out the flowers you'd like to plant. Maybe after we get some lunch. What do you say? A girls' lunch date and then some shopping?”

Rennie's big blue eyes lit. ”Awesome.”

”First, you need to be cleaned up and changed. Good Lord, I should just hose you off out here.”

Rennie squealed as Elise grabbed the nearby hose and gave her daughter a squirt. The squealing rose in volume and pitch as Rennie grabbed the watering can, tossing the contents at her mother.

”Oh, I'm gonna get even with you for that!”

Rennie hooted some smack-talk her way as she streaked through the freshly painted arbor over the opened backyard gate, her mother in hot pursuit.

Ben looked up from his bike and toward the noise across the way and then back over to Brody. ”Dude, when did you get a new neighbor? I thought an elderly couple lived over there.”

Brody caught the sight of two females, one grown chasing a smaller one, laughing, water spraying from the hose. He smiled briefly at the idyllic scene and the flash of pale blonde hair as they rounded a corner. ”Dunno. I noticed a new car in the driveway, but whoever they are I haven't met them yet. Maybe a young family or something.”

”Maybe a hot single mom,” Cope, Ben's younger brother, added. ”That would be nice.”

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