She’d never met a man like Blake. He had a way of getting past all her defenses and speaking right to her heart. He was dangerous in a whole new way. A very dangerous man, indeed.
Chapter 9
Two hours after he left the main house, Blake stared at the dark ceiling from the sofa in the office above the garage. He couldn’t bring himself to go home. Too far away from Gillian her first night here. Some irrational part of his mind made him believe she might need him, despite the fact that she maintained a six-foot personal-space bubble around her. After the way she reacted to the room Dee made up for her, he didn’t want anything else to upset her, but he wanted to be close if something did.
Like a nightmare about killing her father. How did she feel about killing the bastard? Did it haunt her?
The rage he’d been holding back since he’d seen her bruised and broken body wanted to surface and explode. He wanted to punch Ron and make him feel as bad as Gillian looked and felt. Ron was dead, but if he wasn’t, Blake would hunt him down. He wouldn’t stop until he found him and made him pay for what he’d done to her. Not just for her physical injuries but the torture he’d made her endure all her young life.
Blake couldn’t conceive of how a person could hurt another like that. That Gillian had been physically and emotionally abused her whole life made him sick. She could have turned out mean and bitter. She could have turned her back on Justin and the responsibility of taking care of him.
She could have, but she didn’t have it in her to give up. The word “quit” wasn’t in her vocabulary.
Under her strength and determination was an underlying kindness and love. It shined through every time she looked at Justin and cared for him with infinite patience and gentleness. Blake hoped one day soon she found an inner peace and learned to smile again. He’d really like to see her smile.
Blake kept his promise and checked on Justin in the bath. The fading bruises on his arms and back sickened Blake. Ron had gotten in a few licks before Gillian had stepped in and stopped him. Permanently.
Blake had watched Gillian with Justin. She adored the little boy. She’d given him some medicine to bring down his fever and tucked the sleepy child into his own bed, where she’d kissed him goodnight. Justin had hugged her tight and hadn’t let go for a good long minute. Gillian had given him all the time he’d needed, despite how much it must have hurt her back to bend over like that.
Justin’s piercing scream broke the quiet night. Blake jumped up from the couch barefoot and bare-chested, and he ran for the door.
The scream woke her with a jolt. Gillian should have known better than to let Justin sleep alone in a strange place. He wasn’t feeling well, and suffered nightmares ever since the night of the attack.
She rolled to her side, planted her hand on the mattress, and pushed herself up sideways, ignoring the pain in her back and leg. She swung her braced leg off the bed and hobbled into Justin’s room. He thrashed in the covers, trying to run, and whimpered. The sad sound broke her heart. She touched her hand to his cheek and called his name. “Justin.” He woke with a start, eyes wide, and launched himself out of bed and into her arms. She caught him, but it cost her.
“That’s it, now. You’re fine. You’re safe, baby.”
Justin sobbed and held on tight around her neck. She rubbed his back with her fingertips and rocked side to side with her hips. Blake rushed toward her from her room, and her grandfather came in from the hall, letting the light spill into Justin’s dark room.
“He’s fine,” she said to both worried men. “He’s just fine. It was just a bad dream,” she crooned softly and ran her fingers through Justin’s sweaty hair. “Just a bad dream that’s all over now.”
“It was him. His eyes. He picked me up off the couch and threw me to the floor.”
“Shh. Baby, you’re okay. He can’t hurt you anymore. No one is ever going to hurt you again.”
Justin sobbed harder. “He punched you. You fell, and he kicked you in the stomach.”
She fell back onto the bed and sat with Justin in her lap, with his legs wrapped around her. She pulled him back and held his face in her hands so his tear-filled eyes gazed into hers.
“I’m fine, honey. Look at me. I’m fine. He can’t hurt us anymore.”
Justin sobbed harder. “You aren’t fine. You don’t look fine.” He put his hand to her swollen eye and touched it softly. Then he traced his fingers along the bruise on her jaw.
“They’ll go away. They look better now than before. Right?”
The tears faded and he nodded. She brushed her fingers through the sides of his hair and wiped his tears from his red cheeks. Dee came in and gave her a warm washcloth. She took it and wiped his face and neck. His fever was back and most of the cause for the nightmare.