“Go and change, and you take the bed. I’m fine in the chair.”
Chess didn’t argue because she had no fight left in her. She got up, waited a few seconds until she was sure she wouldn’t keel over, and then took the clothes. When she saw her face in the mirror, she let out a sob that sounded so pathetic, she immediately shoved her fist into her mouth. She didn’t know how long she stood there, staring at the bruise on her swollen cheek and the black eye that would definitely look worse in the morning. There were scratches on her breasts, and bruises as well, one of them clearly showing the imprint of a man’s hand.
She yanked off the dress and threw it in the garbage. She told herself it could have been much worse. She could have been raped or left for dead. But as she climbed into bed and turned her back on the stranger named Cash, it didn’t matter. She felt like she’d reached the end.
Chess closed her eyes and shivered until the cold passed and she was warm. Until she heard Christmas music and hummed along to “Silent Night.” Until she smiled, relieved when her dad walked through the door and held her and told her everything was going to be okay.
“Why’d you leave us?” she asked, struggling to open her eyes as a wave of cold drifted over her. “Are you going to stay? Promise me you’ll stay. I’ll be good. I swear it.”
Her dad didn’t answer, not that time, or the next, or the next. When she stopped asking, Chess’s voice was hoarse, she was burning up with fever, and she wanted nothing more than to fade into the shadows and stay there forever.
But the angel with the dark eyes was back. He was relentless. He tried to force her to drink. He told her to stop fighting, and she hated him for it. She drank the water. Took the pills he offered. Then everything faded to black, and those shadows in the corner crept up the bed and settled over Chess like a coffin. She surrendered, glad the angel had gone, glad for the warmth, glad for the silence.
But the mind, it plays tricks, and she fell asleep clinging to a man she didn’t know, unaware and feverish. And for the first time in months, she slept like a baby.
Chapter Four
Cash strode into the office on the heels of a huge gust of wind and snow. He didn’t wipe his boots but kept moving forward, not stopping until he walked up to the guy behind the desk. His anger was palpable, and he barely kept it in check.
The man, if that was what you could call him, looked just as greasy and unappealing as the night before, and he’d not bothered to change into clean clothes. A name tag hung crookedly from his chest. Cash glanced at it.
“Hey, you can’t come back here.” Jerry licked his lips nervously and looked at his cell on the counter next to the computer.
“I need the key to room twenty-nine.”
Jerry scratched his head, recovered somewhat from Cash’s entrance. Maybe thinking he was safe. “That’s not your room, mister.”
“No.” Cash leaned forward, a lethal grin on his face. “It’s not.”
Jerry was nervous. A tic appeared beside his fleshy lips, and his voice rose at least an octave. “I can’t give it to you. We have rules.”
“Is that so?” Cash’s tone was conversational, but he made no effort to hide the anger inside him. “Those rules include propositioning a customer for sexual favors in exchange for letting her into her room?”
Jerry’s mouth fell open and his cheeks exploded in a ruddy patchwork of red that crept up from his neck. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and shrugged. “Chess Somers is crazy. Everybody knows it. You can’t believe anything she says.”
Cash took a moment and clamped down on his temper, because if he didn’t, he’d smash his fist into Jerry’s nose and flatten him but good. The douchebag wasn’t worth it, and with Cash’s record, it would only get his ass tossed into jail again.
He looked the asshole straight in the eye because he wanted him to know he meant business. “I’ll make this real simple, Jerry. You give me the key, and I won’t hurt you.”
Jerry almost smiled, as if this was a game between the two of them. But he saw the cold, dark thing in Cash’s eyes and moved back a step or two.
“I already told her I don’t have another one. Her mother took the spare last week, and she hasn’t returned it.”
“Give me the master. And, Jerry? I’m not asking again.” When Cash took a step toward him, it was enough to spur the bastard into action. He shoved his way past Cash and disappeared into a small room, then returned with a key. He didn’t look up or meet Cash’s gaze, but then he was a coward, and Cash didn’t expect as much.
“I found a spare. You tell Chess to return it or we’ll have to charge her for it.”
Cash grabbed the key and turned around. He reached for the door, but before he pushed it open, he looked over his shoulder. “You leave her alone, understand? If you don’t, well, you and I are going to get acquainted.” He pushed out into the storm, his anger propelling him forward.
By the time he reached his room, Cash was shivering from the biting cold, and his face smarted from the ice pellets that hit his skin like bullets. He quietly let himself inside and stood there for a few moments, contemplating his situation. He was stuck here for another day, if not longer. The storm hadn’t let up through the night and showed no promise of dying down any time soon. The snow it dumped was impressive, and it had taken a lot to get through the parking lot to the office.
“Just great,” he murmured.
Nervous energy had him on edge. He wasn’t the kind of man to sit still for long, and the need to do something ate at him. He glanced out the window and, before he could change his mind, rifled through his bag for a thick cable-knit sweater, an extra pair of long johns, and a scarf.
He got dressed for the second time, and, before he slid on the gloves, Cash knelt beside the bed and touched Chess’s forehead.
She was still warm, but not burning up like the night before.