Wild Justice (Nadia Stafford 3)

"Nah," Jack said. "I'll sleep on the--"

He stopped before offering, as if realizing that meant Quinn and I would share a bedroom. Yep, more awkward.

Quinn insisted on the sofa, being gallant. We agreed and I scampered off to our room at the earliest possible opportunity.

Jack went out after that. I heard the door close, and for a moment I thought maybe Quinn had left for a walk, but I knew by the soft click that it was Jack. A few seconds later, my phone buzzed with a text. Stepped out. Making some calls. Be in soon. Then, before I could finish reading it, a second one. Sleep tight.

I smiled and put the phone aside. I was halfway between waking and sleep when he came in later. I could still hear Quinn moving around in the other room, so I kept my eyes closed. Resist temptation.

Jack left the light off. His footsteps crossed to the top of my bed, and I felt him pausing there. He bent, his lips brushing my forehead, and then he climbed into the other bed.

I hadn't had a nightmare since I found Drew Aldrich dead. Even discovering that he'd raped me hadn't brought on the midnight screaming fits. It was as if when he left this world he took that baggage with him. Or enough that I was able to cope with the rest. Except now I had to face the real possibility that Amy hadn't been avenged by Aldrich's death.

After reading the file, I finally realized that testifying wouldn't have helped. Admitting I'd been raped wouldn't have been enough. Even if he'd been convicted of that, he'd have been out after five years, and from his journal, that's about as long as he'd been "scared straight" anyway. He'd have left Ontario, changed his name, and gone right back to victimizing young girls. I wouldn't have saved them.

But I still might have saved Amy if I'd stayed instead of running. I can argue against that during the daytime. At night, though, I was certain if only I'd stayed, she'd be alive. At least if I'd peeked into that room, I'd be sure of who really killed her. But I'd run.

That night the nightmare returned from a fresh angle. Aldrich was walking away, and I was lying on the floor, hurting so bad, hurting everywhere, from the rape and from the knife wound on my neck. I didn't really know what happened. I did and yet I didn't. He'd told me to lie still, and I'd thought I could do that, but when he'd pulled my legs apart, I just . . . I just couldn't. I'd gone crazy with fear and panic and rage and there was no way I was letting him do that--I just wasn't.

I'd fought, and he'd held me down, and I'd kept fighting, and the rest was a blur of pain and terror, and when it finished, I wasn't sure if he'd done it or he'd only tried to do it or what exactly happened, only that I hurt inside and I was bleeding and I thought maybe that meant that he hadn't done "it," because Amy said "it" wasn't supposed to hurt and maybe the pain meant he'd only injured me trying.

I was lying there, confused and numb and aching and trying very, very hard not to cry. I had to stay quiet and get away. I managed to get up and find my underwear, and it seemed to take forever to figure out how to get them on, and even then there was a part of my brain screaming that it didn't matter, forget my underwear, but I couldn't.

I was struggling to get my jeans on when I heard a voice. A man's voice. Not his voice. I stopped. The voice did, too. Then I heard Amy, saying she'd do what he wanted, whatever he wanted, just don't hurt her and don't hurt me. A voice answered and this time it was him. Aldrich. I strained to listen, but part of my brain was shouting, louder now, telling me to go, just go. Amy was smart. She wouldn't fight and get hurt like I had. She'd stall. She was good at that with boys. She'd stall and I'd get help and she'd be okay. I could still hear them talking, and it was only Aldrich and Amy. No one else. It must have been Aldrich the first time. It must have, because we were the only ones here.

In real life, I'd run then. In the dream, I kept trying to hear that other voice. It was important. I had to hear it. Better yet, I had to see. Look around the corner and see who it is. I slipped to the doorway, took a deep breath, peeked and--

And I saw Amy, on the floor, being held down by Aldrich as another man climbed on top of her. The other man turned, but his face was blank, no eyes, no mouth, just a horrible, blank face and--

Hands caught my arms. I tried to wrench away, my heart pounding in panic, but the hands held me fast. I heard a voice--one that scattered the nightmare.

"Shhh, shhh. It's okay, Nadia. Wake up. It's okay."

My eyelids fluttered, and I saw Jack's face bent over mine. I felt the bed under me, the sheets wound around me.

He gingerly laid a hand on my arm. "Okay?"

I nodded, and I could feel my cheeks now, hot and wet with tears. I swiped at them. "Sorry, I--"

"Shhh."

He squeezed my arm and then disentangled the sheets and crawled in. I was moving back to give him room when I remembered Quinn and glanced at the door.

"Locked," he whispered.

I still pushed up. "Did he hear . . . ?"

"Nothing to hear."

Jack stretched out beside me and put his arms around me, and I curled up to him, head on his chest, his arms tight around me, and it felt so good, so damned good, the warmth of him, the reassuring beat of his heart. He smelled faintly of sweat, more strongly of soap, comforting smells that chased away the last bits of the dream. He rubbed my back and whispered, nothing that needed a response, just words, quieting the ones in my head until, finally, I drifted back to sleep.

I woke up a few more times. No nightmares. Just waking, perhaps roused by the unfamiliar feeling of someone in my bed. Jack woke, too, enough to tighten his arms around me or whisper something I couldn't quite catch. I thought of saying I was all right and he could go back to the other bed, but I didn't want to disturb him. No, I didn't want him to leave. So I relaxed against him and slept.

Quinn was pounding on the door. Okay, in retrospect, it was just a rap, but it seemed like pounding, Jack and I both jumping up so fast--and looking so guilty--that you'd think Quinn had walked in on us having sex. Jack motioned for me to be still and mouthed a reminder that the door was locked.

Quinn rapped again as Jack slid from the bed. Then he whispered, "Dee?"

Jack gestured for me to hold off answering. He crept to the door. Then he nodded and I said, "Yes?" loudly, in hopes of covering the click as Jack unlocked the door.