“I don’t feel right.”
The woman smiled at her coldly.
“I know, dear.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Jack
Jack broke about fifty laws in the fifteen block ride to Janet's house. He was angrier than he'd ever been in his life. And that was saying something.
They’d trapped her. They’d locked up his Jan.
He was going to murder someone if they’d hurt one hair on her head.
He was off his bike and at the front door less than five minutes after Kaylie had told him what was happening. He banged his fist on the front door until a man in his early 50's opened it. He looked terrified when he saw Jack looming in the doorway.
"Where's Janet?"
"She's gone."
A pinched face woman appeared behind him.
"You're one of the biker scum that she's been hanging around with. Get out of here before I call the police!"
A voice inside Jack screamed 'I'M NOT SCUM!' with tremendous force. He’d never heard that voice before. He’d never thought for a minute that he was worth anything.
Until her.
“You can have her. Tell that little hussy that she’s no longer welcome here!”
God, he wanted to wring their necks. How could they be so stupid? She was better than all of them.
A thousand times better.
How could they not take care of something so beautiful and precious? How could they do anything but protect her? Cherish her?
She was so special. So daring. So brave.
And fragile.
Janet had convinced him she was tough, along with the rest of the world. But it wasn't true. She was strong in her way, that was true. She'd had to be.
But there was a vulnerability about her he'd sensed and chosen to ignore. He’d known she needed a friend. He’d known it deep down. Now that he'd met her parents he had no doubt where that vulnerability came from.
They'd mistreated her. Endangered her. Ignored her cries for help. He felt sick to his stomach imagining her in her room, hungry and thirsty and alone.
No. That was wrong.
He was the one who left her alone when every fiber of his being had been telling him to take care of her, nurture her, protect her.
Love her.
He did something he rarely did. Something he rarely had to do. He made himself look deliberately intimidating, leaning forward to sneer at Mr. Mahoney.
"Where is she?"
Janet's mother stepped forward. She looked like his beautiful Janet, but distorted in a fun house mirror. She must have been gorgeous once. Before bitterness twisted her features. No wonder Janet's dad was so whipped.
"She ran away. Maybe if we're lucky she'll never come back."
He pushed her out of the way and stalked into the house.
"Show me her room."
Her father eyed him warily and wisely decided to humor him. He led him down the hallway to a door with a massive deadbolt on the outside. And hooks, just to make sure the door wouldn’t open from the inside.
Jack was horrified when he saw the size of that deadbolt. Janet was a girl, not a horse or a criminal. She hadn't stood a chance.
He stepped inside the room and winced. It smelled horrible in here. He saw a bucket full of piss and shit in the corner. He closed his eyes.
They'd left her alone with a bucket.
They’d made her sit in here, with her own offal.
This was his fault. All his fault. He's the one they didn't want her hanging around with.
He should have left her alone to begin with. Or claimed her for good. He should have taken care of her. Not this bullshit waffling he'd been doing. Fighting himself every step of the way.
Now she was the one paying the price.
It wasn't right.
"Get out."
Her father was lifting the bucket when Jack snapped the order at him. He hesitated then awkwardly carried the offending container out of the room. Jack blew air out through his nose and looked around the room. He could hear them arguing out there. The woman wanted to call the police but the man was trying to convince her not to.
Everything about the room reminded him of her.
The room looked like a sanctuary. With parents like that, it was no wonder she'd created her own world in here. Posters of far away places covered the walls, all interspersed with stunning photos of dancers. Slender girls with long legs and frilly costumes.
They were supposed to be beautiful and strong.
None of them held a candle to her.
A rose colored scarf covered her lamp, lending the room an ethereal glow. He turned and saw her bed. It was a mess, with blankets and sheets everywhere. As if she'd tossed and turned on it. All alone.
Except for his helmet.
He moaned out loud, realizing she'd been sleeping with it. He closed his eyes again, feeling a sharp sting of regret. He regretted everything he'd done since he met her.
Except kissing her. He could never regret that.
He stared at the window. She'd smashed it open after three and a half days trapped in this airless room with no food or water. Or comfort.