Giving In(66)

“Let’s go, Jensen,” she whispered. “He’ll hurt her more. She doesn’t want you to call the police.”

“Listen to her,” the woman urged. “It’s nothing I haven’t dealt with before. He’ll regret it in the morning, if he even remembers.”

“That’s no excuse,” Jensen said flatly. “You should have his ass thrown in jail and swear out a restraining order against him.”

Kylie tugged at his hand, desperate to get away before the situation escalated. The man was struggling to his feet and whirling, obviously looking for his companion. The woman he’d just flattened with his fist.

The woman threw them one last desperate look and then went to the man’s side, sliding up against him, supporting his weight.

Jensen swore violently under his breath. His entire body quivered against her. His fingers were squeezing hers so tightly that she realized how tenuous his hold on his control was.

She pulled once more, worried he’d go after the man again. To her relief, this time he came with her. The entire way to his car, he kept glancing over his shoulder, worry evident in his gaze as he searched out the man and woman.

“Goddamn it, that makes me sick,” Jensen swore as he guided Kylie into the passenger seat.

Kylie stared out her window as the woman struggled to get the man in the passenger seat of their vehicle. Her heart clenched as she imagined the life this woman must lead. A life where she made excuses for her husband or boyfriend’s abuse. She closed her eyes, only wanting to shut out the images bombarding her from all sides.

The evening lay in ruins, her earlier optimism fading rapidly.

The entire way home, silence lay heavy over the inside of the car. Jensen’s hands were tightly curled around the steering wheel, his stare fixed ahead as he navigated through traffic. Several times she glanced his way but he never took his eyes from the road.

The tension was thick, a tangible cloak surrounding them, almost suffocating in its intensity. She’d seen the terrible rage in Jensen’s eyes and then . . . bleakness. So much grief and sorrow that it had overwhelmed her.

What darkness did he have in his past? They’d only spoken briefly about it. He’d hinted that he had his own demons to fight and the one time she’d asked, he’d steered her away from the conversation, saying he’d tell her later.

Now she realized that she had to know. Now, not later.

She’d been so absorbed in her own issues that she hadn’t given any thought to his, an oversight she intended to correct immediately.

If he’d open up to her.

She flinched because she hadn’t opened up to him but here she was expecting him to bare his soul to her. He knew some of her past, but she knew nothing of his. And if they had any hope of moving forward, they not only had to put her demons to rest, but his as well. Starting now.





TWENTY-ONE


JENSEN unlocked the door to his house and ushered Kylie in. He glanced sideways at her to see her face was drawn and pale. She had her arms hugged around herself and was rubbing her palms up and down her skin in agitation.

He swore under his breath because the night lay in ruins. He knew well what Kylie had planned, what she’d likely been working her nerve up to do all week. And now? Who knew what kind of hell she was enduring after that asshole’s behavior in the parking lot.

It went against every grain for him to just walk away when he damn well knew the bastard would hurt the woman again and again. He’d continue to do it until she fought back, until she put a stop to it. But for Jensen to just walk away and pretend he hadn’t witnessed what he did?

It made him sick.

His own demons came roaring to life, no longer contained by the barriers he’d erected over the years. They were simmering just below the surface, scratching and clawing their way out of his mind.

“Jensen?”

Kylie’s quiet voice shook him from his thoughts. He glanced at her again to see her studying him, her expression troubled.

“Yes, baby?”

“We need to talk,” she said in a low voice.

He nodded, unable to say anything in response.

She took his hand, surprising him with the way she seemed to be trying to soothe him. As if she weren’t the one who’d just revisited hell by watching in real time everything that had happened to her. Only what she’d endured was far worse. Getting smacked in the face wasn’t even scratching the surface of all that had been done to her.

“Come into the bedroom,” she said quietly. “Let’s get into bed and we’ll talk there.”

He pulled her into his arms, simply wanting to hold her for a moment. To reassure himself that she was safe. That she was here with him and not a million miles away in another place and time.