Held by You Read online

  What kind of trouble could her stepbrothers be in now?

  When they finished eating, Hollie wiped her fingers on a paper napkin and John carried their plates and empty mugs to the sink. It took only a few moments to wash, dry, and put away the dishes.

  They returned to the living room. John took her hand and brought her down on the couch beside him. She kicked off her shoes and tucked her socked feet beneath her as he put his arm around her shoulders and pressed her head against his chest. He slid his fingers into her hair as she snuggled closer to him, feeling like they were two puzzle pieces that fit together. Maybe it was too soon to feel that way, but right now it did.

  As she rested against him and he stroked her hair, she listened to the crackle and pop of the fireplace and found herself feeling drowsy. She relaxed more fully, lulled by his warmth, his scent… His body was solid, hard, yet she fit so comfortably against him… Warm and secure in his embrace…

  She woke with a start. She was confused only a moment as she gained her bearings. She was lying on John’s chest, his arm draped over her, caging her in.

  Yet she didn’t feel caged. She felt safe. Like he could protect her from anything, anything that the world had to throw at her. Including her stepbrothers.

  She shifted and put her hand over her mouth to stifle a yawn.

  “Awake, Princess?” he asked.

  She moved in his arms so that she was looking into his eyes. “How long was I asleep?”

  John glanced at his watch. “Two hours. It’s close to midnight.”

  She raised her brows. “Two hours? You must be stiff from sitting here so long.”

  His shoulders lifted in a slight shrug. “Not really.” His fingers slid down the length of her hair. “It’s been nice.”

  “It has.” She smiled at him.

  “I think enough time has passed since your last drink,” he said. “It’s been a good three hours or so.” He gave her a sexy little smile. “Unless you want to spend the night.” He held up his hand. “I promise to be a real good boy.”

  “I trust you.” She pushed herself to a sitting position. “But I do need to get home.”

  He shifted her so that she was sitting up. “I’ll drive to the Highlander and we can get my truck before you head on to your place.”

  It took only a few moments to get their jackets on and for him to make sure the fire was out. Before they walked out into the chilly night, he handed her the purse he’d set on the couch.

  He opened the passenger door for her. “Are you sure you’re awake enough to drive home after we get my truck?”

  She shivered. “If I wasn’t before, I sure am now.”

  He kissed her on the forehead, helped her into the car, and closed the door behind her. She put on her seatbelt and rubbed her arms, trying to warm herself again. It had been so nice and cozy in his home.

  Once the car was warmed up, he drove back to the bar. Before she could open the passenger side door, he caught her chin in his hand. “When I get out, you can slide on over to the driver’s seat so that you can stay warm.”

  She looked into his eyes, unable to respond when she saw the intensity of his gaze that heated her from the inside out.

  He cupped her cheeks in both hands and slowly lowered her face to his. His kiss was gentle, his touch delicate. It seemed like the kiss lasted an hour yet no time at all.

  “I’d better let you get home.” His voice husky, he drew away. “I can follow you to make sure you get safely there.”

  “I’ll be fine.” She rested her palm on his stubbled jaw. “Thank you for tonight.”

  “This weekend I’ll give you a call,” he said. “I have your number.”

  She smiled. “I’d like that.”

  He gave her another quick, hard kiss then opened the car door. Cold air rushed in and she scrambled over the console to get into the driver’s seat. He looked at her one more time before closing the door firmly behind him.

  The parking lot was still full of vehicles—the bar wouldn’t close for another hour or so. John had parked her car next to a silver truck and she watched him as he went to it. The vehicle’s lights flashed and then he climbed into the truck. Exhaust plumed from the muffler, rising into the night air.

  Once he had started his truck, she backed out of the parking space and headed from the parking lot onto the street before driving out of town toward her ranch.

  She smiled to herself as she drove, thinking about John and their first kiss. She thought about the time they had spent at his home and how he had let her fall asleep in his arms.

  For a brief moment she thought about being under the mistletoe with him and that almost-kiss. But she found herself immediately pushing aside the thought because with it came the memory of how that almost-kiss had been cut short. That had been when the fight had broken out. She shook her head as she tried to rattle out the thought of her stepbrothers having been in a fight and how humiliating that had been.

  She worried her lower lip as she thought about John and then she smiled. His kisses, his touch, and the way he had held her as she slept had been incredible. The fact that he wanted to see her again sent a thrill throughout her.

  She knew that she was thinking like a dreamy teenager, but just maybe things would work out and this Cinderella would have her own happily ever after.

  Chapter 7

  When Hollie drove up to the ranch house, a lead ball landed in her gut when she saw Carl’s beat-up old Ford truck in the driveway and Freddy’s newer vehicle. Knowing that Freddy was inside her home made her belly feel as if it was filled with acid.

  Freddy was crazy and he scared her even more than her stepbrothers did.

  Both Dickey’s and Floyd’s trucks were gone, meaning they’d gone to the bar separately tonight. A thought flittered through her. Maybe Carl and Freddy had gone to town with Dickey or Floyd and she just hadn’t seen either one of them at the bar.

  She parked the car away from Carl’s and Freddy’s vehicles. She sat inside her warm vehicle for a few minutes, chewing a fingernail and staring at the house, praying that the two men were not inside.

  “Suck it up and get in there, Hollie,” she said aloud. “Don’t let them get to you. They won’t hurt you.” She bit her lower lip. At least not physically.

  But that thought was followed by another thought—Freddy had been making sexual comments to her for some time now. What if he acted on them? What if he raped her, taking her virginity along with her dignity?

  The acid in her belly climbed up her throat as she stared up at the older two-story home. If only there was a way to sneak into her house to avoid running into Carl or Freddy, she would gladly do it. Her bedroom was on the second floor and there was no way to get to it without going in the front or back door, and in either case she had to go up the staircase. The staircase’s boards creaked and it was in the hallway between the kitchen and family room. Too bad she didn’t have a sturdy trellis to climb up to her room.

  Of course all she would be doing was delaying the inevitable, whatever the case. She had to face the men, if they were in there.

  She let out her breath and shut off the motor. Immediately the warm air started to dissipate and cold began to creep in. She grabbed her purse, opened the door, and climbed out of the car before hurrying up to the front door of the house. Her hands grew instantly numb from the chill and she fumbled with her keys. She went ahead and tried the doorknob in case it was unlocked. Her heart sank as the cold knob turned in her hand.

  The door squeaked as it swung open and she held her breath as she stepped onto the creaky wood floor.

  “Is that the fat bitch?” came Carl’s voice from the living room, his words slurring.

  Great, he was drunk. She should be used to his verbal abuse by now, but it always stung, always chipped away at something inside her. Sometimes she felt so fragile that she thought she might break if they hit her hard enough with their words.

  She stared around her. Pieces of china and shards of wo
od were scattered across the floor. Holes had been punched in the walls and the door to the closet beneath the stairs was hanging on its hinges. The contents of the closet were in a heap on the floor.

  A hot and sick sensation filled her belly. She felt a wave of anger followed by despair as she set her purse down on the hall table and started to slip off her jacket. Carl stumbled into the entryway. Her arms were still caught up in the sleeves as he bore down on her, his features twisted and angry.

  He caught her by the shoulders, her arms tangled in her sleeves. His breath was foul and smelled of sour beer. “I told you to get your fat ass home and fix dinner.” Spittle flew from his mouth and felt like spots of acid when it landed on her skin. “You didn’t do what I told you to and you come in late like this. I think you need to learn a lesson.”

  Her heart pounded as he gripped her arms tighter. “Let me go, Carl.” She hated how her voice trembled.

  He shoved her away from him so hard she stumbled. With her arms caught up in her jacket, she had no way to stop her fall and she hit the wooden floor hard, the landing jarring her teeth. She landed on wood shards and felt them through her jeans.

  Carl nudged her hip with his boot just enough to make her grimace. “Get up.”

  The boot didn’t really hurt her, but it still stung mentally. She tugged off the jacket, arms shaking with fury. She was scared, yes, but she was pissed, too. She said nothing as she pushed herself to her feet and hung her jacket on one of the coat hooks that were in a row along the wall by the door.

  He grabbed her purse off the table and started digging through it.

  “Give that to me.” She put her hands on her hips, looking at him with defiance, but a tremble in her voice betraying her.

  He sneered at her as he pulled out her wallet. He opened it and dug out the small amount of cash in ones and fives that she had left. He tossed the wallet onto the floor and counted the cash. “Thirty-eight fucking dollars?” He shoved the cash into his front pocket. “I know you’ve got something stashed around here. Where is it?”

  She fought to keep her temper in check. “I don’t have a stash.”

  “Bullshit.” He took the three steps between them and then his face was in hers. “You always have one. Where is it?”

  Freddy walked into the hallway, his smirk making her sicker. He leaned up against the archway that led to the living room as he watched. He was holding something in his hand that she couldn’t see from where she stood.

  “I’ll get her to talk.” Freddy ran his gaze over her in a way that made hair rise at her nape and her stomach churn.

  “I’ve got this.” Carl took whatever it was that Freddy had been holding and brought it closer to Hollie so that she could see it. Her heart hit the pit of her stomach. He was holding the old carved music box, inlaid with abalone and silver, a precious possession that her mother had passed down from their grandmother. It was one of Hollie’s few remaining treasures. She’d kept it hidden beneath a loose floorboard in her bedroom.

  “Where did you get that?” Her voice shook.

  Carl laughed. “Been looking for the cash you’ve hidden and found this instead. Tell me where your stash is or I will break this piece of crap.”

  “No.” Hollie reached for the music box. She couldn’t give him the ten grand she’d hidden and she couldn’t lose one of the last precious things she owned.

  Before she could do anything, before she could think it through, he flung the music box on the floor and slammed his boot on it, crushing it beneath his heel.

  Tears pushed from her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. She wanted to hit him like she’d never wanted to hit anyone in her life. She’d been raised to be like a southern gentlewoman, and she’d never raised a hand to anyone. But all that went out the window.

  Without really thinking about it, she swung her hand and slapped Carl with everything she had. His head snapped to the side. Slowly he turned his head to look at her, fury and hate burning in his eyes.

  Fear shot through her like ice-cold shards. She knew in that moment she had screwed up and she was going to pay for it.

  Even though she was expecting something, she wasn’t ready for it when he backhanded her and she screamed. She clawed at the air as she started to fall and her fingernails raked Carl’s arm. He hit her again. This time the impact of his hand across her face sent her sprawling. Pain splintered through her head. Even more pain shot through her skull as she slid across the floor and skidded into the wall.

  Stunned and blinded by pain, all she could do was stare up at him, tears flowing down her cheeks. She felt something dripping from her nose and over her lips and touched her hand to it. Her fingers came back sticky with blood. She could feel her face starting to swell, the pain from the slap and from her head striking the wall so intense that she could barely see.

  Carl spit on the floor beside her, rubbing the deep scratches on his arm. “Lard-ass bitch. You ever touch me again and I’ll make you wish you’d never been born.”

  She tasted the blood on her lips and used the sleeve of her light blue sweater to wipe it away. The sweater would be ruined but right now she didn’t care. She’d never hated anyone like she hated Carl in that moment. She winced as the fleece rubbed across her lips and realized that one of her lips was split.

  “Get up.” He swung his boot and the hard toe connected with her side. She cried out as more pain burst through her. Had he just cracked one of her ribs? “Get up.”

  He turned away, leaving her sprawled on the floor. She blinked, nearly blinded by the throbbing in her head. She started to get up when Freddy stood over her.

  She froze as he grinned. “You’re like a broken doll, aren’t you darlin’? Just waitin’ for someone to pick up the pieces.” He crouched down beside her and she held her arm beneath her nose, the sweater soaking with blood. He reached out a hand and trailed his fingers along her cheek. “I like to see when the light goes out of a woman’s eyes when she’s broken. It makes everything so much easier.”

  Her chest ached and she realized she was holding her breath as she stared up at him, afraid of what he might do. What if he did rape her like she’d feared? Carl would probably just watch and she’d see his hateful grin.

  And John… If anything developed between them, he might not want her because she’d be damaged goods, ruined by Freddy.

  Freddy was right, she did feel broken. She let out her breath. At that moment despair filled her soul and nothing had ever felt so bleak. She was trapped. There was nothing she could do, and now that Carl had crossed that line, there was no going back. Who knew how often he would hit her now.

  She swallowed, still staring at Freddy. He trailed his fingers down the front of her sweater to her breast. She shuddered and flinched from his touch. He gave a low laugh, clearly pleased by everything that had just happened including the way she reacted to his touch. Sick bastard. “I like ’em big,” he said.

  “Let’s go.” Carl came up beside Freddy. “Dickey and Floyd went to the Highlander. We can go have ourselves a beer with them.”

  Hollie wasn’t about to volunteer that his brothers had been arrested. Let them go and find out for themselves. No doubt she’d be the one bailing out Dickey and Floyd in the morning.

  Carl glared at her one more time before he jerked open the front door and passed through the doorway. Freddy, who had still been crouched beside Hollie, got to his feet. He grinned at her then followed Carl out the door.

  The moment the door closed behind the men, sobs wracked her body. She cried hard, not just for the physical abuse, but for all the things she’d endured at the hands of her stepbrothers.

  Gradually she became aware that her palms were stinging. She looked at them and saw that pieces of wood and abalone had sliced into her flesh and were lodged there. She bit her lower lip as she started pulling out the splinters and shards.

  When she finished, she pushed herself to her feet. Her face felt swollen from where Carl hit her, her head hurt from hitting the
wall, her nose and ribs hurt, her eyes felt puffy from crying, and her palms stung.

  She wiped away tears with her fingertips as she stumbled to the downstairs guest bathroom. Her heart sank as she saw more of her things broken in the bathroom. Carl had clearly searched for her stash in here, too. Everything was pulled out of the cabinet beneath the sink, the extra toilet paper and cleaners, and the cabinet above the toilet where she normally kept the folded towels. The towels were tossed across the bathroom and a bottle of shampoo was on its side on the floor, the shampoo dripping into a puddle.

  When she went to look at herself in the mirror she saw that it was cracked in a diagonal line. Her reflection was distorted from the crack, but the blood on her swollen face, her blackening eye, and her split and swollen lip were only too clear to see.

  She braced her hands on the porcelain sink, ignoring the sting in her palms as she lowered her head, closed her eyes, and cried.

  When she thought she’d let loose every tear inside her, she found a clean washcloth and cleaned up. She wet the cloth and wiped tears and blood from her face. When the blood was gone, she picked up another cloth, wet it with cold water, folded it, and pressed it to her eyes.

  A few moments later her eyes felt a little better and she hung the washcloth over the edge of the hamper along with the bloody cloth. She took a deep breath, side hurting, and shored up what strength she had. This time she didn’t look in the mirror, not wanting to see the broken-looking woman staring back at her.

  She stepped out of the bathroom and nearly stumbled over a lamp that lay in shards near the door. She wandered from room to room. It looked like the house had been ransacked. Her southern mother would have been horrified and would have made sure the house was spotless before retiring for the night. She couldn’t dishonor her mother by leaving the house in such a horrible mess.

  The thought of her mother gave Hollie strength. She got out the broom and dustpan along with a bottle of cleaning solution. When she started to clean the living room, she saw that something red had been spilled on the couch. She looked at it more closely and saw that it was ketchup. She found upholstery cleaner and worked out the ketchup before it could stain the material.