Stripped(28)

Every time memories of it rose to her mind, she shoved them down. She had moved on, and left those terrible nights far behind. The thought of it happening to Audrey or Sara sickened her, and Abby knew she would protect them from it at any cost.

About ten minutes had passed when Chris called her name from the top of the stairs, and Abby flew up them. His hair was a mess and his gray t-shirt was marked with a streak of blood.

“Chris,” she said, reaching for him. “Are you okay?”

“I boxed in college, I’m fine.” He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to him tightly. “Abby…”

She squeezed her eyes shut, willing away the tears that were gathering. His chest was so warm, and his arms so strong, that she felt like it was safe to cry. When the dam broke, she sobbed against him.

“I’m so sorry,” he said softly.

“I didn’t want you to know,” she said through her tears.

“Why? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“It makes me feel trashy,” she admitted into his chest, unable to look at him.

“Abby, no,” he said firmly. “You’re a survivor. It amazes me, what you’ve had to endure, and how you’ve handled it all.”

“Did you hurt him?” she asked, curious but not concerned.

“Yes.”

She took a deep breath, relaxing into Chris as he stroked her hair and tightened his hold on her.

“Good. It’s what I’ve always wanted to do, but I never could.”





As he pressed the bar up toward the ceiling, Chris exhaled with exertion. He was lifting more weight than he usually did, because he’d been feeling pent up all week. The agony he’d felt at hearing Abby admit she’d been abused hadn’t dissipated.

The thought of her as a child, being mistreated that way, made Chris want to find Tim and beat the shit out of him again. He’d enjoyed breaking his nose. Tim had howled in pain, which had given Chris a little satisfaction. Men who abused women and children were always spineless cowards. He saw it often at work. And he’d also had a closer look at an abuser, but that was something he never allowed himself to think of anymore. It was just too painful.

A flare of desire to protect Abby had risen in him, and it was at odds with his desire to keep his distance from her. He was realizing why she had so little self-worth; no one else had ever valued her body, so why should she?

But deep down, he worried that the worst thing he could do was get even closer to Abby. Let her rely on him and feel the assurance of being protected and adored. Because when his fear of commitment came to call, Abby would be left more heartbroken than ever, and he couldn’t live with himself if he did that to her.





Chapter 7



Sam sniffed while rubbing her nose as she sat at the vanity with Abby.

“I got $200 for a blowjob in the parking lot last night,” Sam said in a low, confiding tone.

“You don’t need $200,” Abby said, trying to keep the disgust out of her voice.

“Well, it’s just fun to see how much I can get. And it didn’t even take ten minutes.”

“Be careful.”

“I am.”

Sam stiffened nervously as Mickey approached with a young brunette in tow.

“Lacey, Nikki, this is Roxy, our new dancer,” he said. Abby eyed the tall, lean woman with long hair and high cheekbones. She was beautiful, and she barely looked 18. But Mickey was always meticulous about making sure the dancers were legal, so that was probably exactly how old she was.

Roxy looked fresh and eager, and it made Abby feel old. She had been dancing for a long time, and it had gotten mundane a while ago. She wished she had time to return to the real dancing she’d practiced in her childhood and teen years. When life at home had been tenuous, Abby had always found an escape in dancing.

“Nikki, can you show Roxy around?” Mickey asked.

“Sure.”

Mickey stared at Sam, who squirmed under his gaze. Abby no longer wondered whether Sam was using drugs; she was sure of it. Now it was only a matter of time until Mickey fired her.



Abby felt Mickey’s eyes on her as she danced, and she wondered what he was thinking. When she finished her pole dance and left the stage, he made his way toward her.

“Nicely done as always, Nik,” he said smoothly.

“If this is about my boobs, the answer’s no,” Abby said defensively.

“It’s not. I would recommend a full Brazilian wax, though, Godzilla.”

“Godzilla?”

“What? You’re a hairy beast.”

“Please, Mickey. I get waxed every week and there’s like a fourth of what grows there naturally.”

“I need a favor,” Mickey said with a fake smile.