Chapter 7
Chapter
Seven
July 24 th
4:16 P.M.
“Oh my …” Susanna’s strangled voice trailed off as her knees weakened and she started to fall.
Before she could hit the floor, Cole was there. Snapping an arm around her waist and pulling her up against his chest.
“It’s … me,” she stammered, her head whipping about as she took in the hundreds of photographs of herself pinned up all over the walls.
Anger burned brightly inside him.
Vinny Vitoli had been staying there.
Of that he was certain.
And whatever his reasons for assaulting Susanna two nights ago it was clear the man had been fixated on her for a long time.
Hands pressing at his chest until he released his hold on her, Susanna walked on shaky legs around the room. Like she was in a daze, she’d pause every so often and touch a fingertip to one of the many pictures of herself.
Cole couldn’t imagine what was running through her head right now. This was just another violation on top of the horrific one this man had already inflicted on her. It was the last thing she needed, and he was almost overcome with a need to wrap her up in his arms, take her out of there to someplace where she’d be safe, and take care of her, make sure she had nothing else to worry about.
“These … these go back … years …” Susanna said in a stricken voice.
His control snapped and he moved. Stalking over to where she was standing, arms wrapped around her middle in a gesture of self-comfort. Knowing she’d been badly hurt, that touch might be the last thing she wanted—or could handle—right now, Cole stopped just behind her. Close enough that she could feel his presence, his heat, but just shy of outright touching her.
“He won't hurt you again,” Cole growled.
In slow motion, she turned and lifted her gaze until it met his. “He really did this. I know we all assumed but …”
“But you weren't expecting to find out he’d been stalking you. You thought it was just because of me and my family,” he finished for her.
A sliver of guilt he immediately wanted to ease flared in her eyes. “I didn't blame you. I don’t blame you. I just … I didn't see his obsession.”
Her eyes closed and her head dropped, her forehead resting against his chest. Her arms were still around her middle, and he couldn’t hold back any longer. He had to do something to comfort her.
Lifting one hand, he pressed it to the small of her back, letting it linger there, willing Susanna to understand that she wasn't alone. Just because he’d treated her badly from the moment they’d met, and just because despite Vinny Vitoli’s obvious obsession with her, what had happened the other night was still because of him, he wanted her to know he was there for her.
His whole family too.
If she couldn’t be around him, Willow or Cassandra would happily be her friend, support her, and be there for her. Hell, if it came to it and it was all she could handle right now, Essie and Gabriella would be there for her. There was nothing in the world like the bright, joyful presence of an exuberant child who loved with her whole heart.
Unsure what to say to make this better for her, mostly because he knew there was nothing he could say that would make this even marginally better, in the end, Cole let his head dip and touched a brief kiss to the top of her head.
“I'm here,” he whispered. It wasn't much, didn't even come close to being enough, but it was all he had.
A small, strangled sound that reminded him of a sob someone was trying desperately to contain filled the quiet room, and then a moment later, Susanna took a step back. Unshed tears shimmered in her eyes, but there was no condemnation when she looked up at him. If anything, there was gratefulness.
“There’s writing on some of the photos,” she said, moving over to one of them and removing the tack. “What would Susanna do? That’s what it says.”
“On this one too,” he said, moving to untack another photo. “On all of them.”
“What would Susanna do? It sounds like he’s not just obsessed with me in a … sexual way. It’s like he’s let his whole world focus around me. I think he’s devolving,” she said, shooting him a scared look.
They both knew what that meant.
It meant that even if Vinny had been sent to her by someone else to convey a message, he wouldn't stay away.
“We need to get you out of here, someplace safe,” he said, reaching for her arm and tugging her closer. “You can't go anywhere on your own until we find him, Susanna. We need to tell the cops.”
“That might ruin your chances of getting to him first and getting answers,” she protested as he guided her through the house.
“Not more important than your safety.” Cole meant it too. As badly as he wanted answers about what had happened to his mom and stepdad and clear both their names, he didn't want it at the expense of an innocent woman’s life.
And that’s what he feared would happen if Vinny Vitoli got his hands on Susanna.
He’d wind up killing her.
“But between all of you and me, I think we can?—”
Susanna’s words were abruptly cut off as they stepped onto the porch, and the unmistakable sound of a weapon firing cut through the afternoon.
Acting on impulse, Cole knocked Susanna down, covering her body with his own, as more bullets plowed into the side of the house above their heads.
Someone was shooting at them.
Vitoli?
When the shooting stopped, he lifted himself just enough so he could look down at Susanna, who was staring up at him with shock-widened green eyes.
“Stay here, don’t move,” he ordered.
Her fingers curled into his T-shirt, stilling him when he went to straighten. “Where are you going?”
“To try to catch the shooter.”
“But … you might get hurt.”
Warmth blossomed in his chest.
Was it possible she cared about him enough to not want him to get shot?
Cole found he liked that, given Susanna had absolutely zero reason to care about him at all.
“I won't get shot,” he assured her, then very gently untangled her fingers from the soft material of his T-shirt.
No more shots fired as he jumped off the porch and scanned the street.
There.
Down the west end of the street, a figure was running around the corner.
Best lead he had, Cole took off running after it.
When he got his hands on whoever had just scared Susanna, shot at her, and added trauma on top of trauma, he was going to work out a little of the anger pulsing inside him.
Just as he turned the corner, he spotted the figure jumping into a waiting black SUV that then took off screeching down the street. Cole raised his weapon and thought about firing, but there were people about, kids, elderly, couples, regular people going about their business, and he was worried about one of them getting caught in the crossfire if a shootout occurred.
Cursing, he turned and headed back the way he’d come. As badly as he wanted to find a way to go after the shooter, he’d left Susanna alone and unprotected.
He had to get back to her.
Running back to the house where Vitoli had been staying, he saw Susanna standing by his SUV when he approached. Fear clenched in his gut. He’d told her to stay hidden, to stay where she was, where the porch would offer a little protection if the shooter had doubled back or if he wasn't working alone.
But she hadn't.
She was standing right out in the open where anyone could get to her.
Fear curled inside him, mixing with anger and impotent helplessness. He wanted to fix this whole mess but had no idea how to go about actually doing that.
Their eyes met as he approached, and even though they were too far apart for him to be able to see, he could feel her eyes doing a visual sweep of his body, searching for any injury.
Likewise, he did the same.
Freezing when he spotted it.
Blood.
On her arm.
Dribbling down in bright red rivulets toward her wrist.
Susanna had been shot.
The first bullet must have struck her before he could get her down and out of the line of fire.
He’d failed.
He’d had one job to do today, and that was to keep Susanna safe while they tried to track down the man who had raped her.
Instead of doing that, she’d gotten hurt.
Even when he tried to do the opposite all he brought this brave, unselfish woman was pain.
July 24 th
4:34 P.M.
Cole’s eyes zeroed in on her.
She could feel their searing gaze as they stared at the blood she knew was dribbling down her arm from what she was certain was nothing more than a scratch.
Only from the way Cole glared at it, you’d think her arm had been blown clean off.
A growl rumbled through him as he stalked the remaining distance between them, and Susanna shivered.
Not in fear, she knew without a shadow of a doubt that even though Cole could have a cruel tongue he would never be physically violent with her. The shiver was because of how protectively Cole looked at her.
Never before had anyone looked at her like that.
Even her mother had never once stood up for her, protected her, or cared that she was suffering. And her father was a monster. Teachers and cops, people she should have been able to trust, and to go to when she needed help, had never done what they were supposed to do.
They hadn't protected her, but Cole looked like he’d burn the entire world down just because she’d gotten a minor flesh wound.
Susanna wasn't sure how to feel about that.
“You got hurt,” he growled as he gently grasped her wrist and lifted her arm.
“It’s nothing,” she assured him. “You didn't get the shooter?”
“He jumped into a car and drove off. Had a partner,” he told her. “We have to get out of here before the cops turn up.”
“We have to give a statement,” she protested.
“We’ll call one in. I'm not standing around out here, there’s not enough cover, I have to get you someplace safe,” he muttered, although more to himself than her it seemed.
Before she could say anything else, Cole was guiding her toward the passenger door. His large hands spanned her waist, and he physically lifted her and put her in the seat, then reached over and snapped her seatbelt in place for her.
Then he jumped into the driver’s seat and took off down the street. Seconds later, she could hear the wail of sirens. It felt wrong to leave when they hadn't done anything wrong. Well, technically, they’d been trespassing, but she didn't think they would be arrested for it.
“We’re going to call the cops, explain everything, right? We’re going to have to tell them what I remembered,” Susanna said. Phillip and Polly were her friends, she knew they’d understand why she hadn't said anything right away. Besides, it was clear that Vinny was obsessed with her, and now they could test his DNA which would be on file from his arrests, and find proof he was the one who had raped her.
“I promise you we will get everything sorted out,” Cole assured her, but he sounded distracted, and when she glanced over, she could see that his attention was more on his rear-view mirror than on the road in front of them.
“What’s wrong?”
“We’re being followed,” he said tightly.
“The shooter?”
“My guess is yes, it’s the same vehicle.”
“What are we going to do?” Panic tinted her voice, and she hated that she was trembling again. Since she’d been attacked, she couldn’t seem to stop it from happening. She was fairly certain that whoever had shot at them, and she was assuming it was Vinny, wouldn't start a shootout in the middle of the street. Then again, she would have sworn that he’d never shoot at her at all.
She would have been wrong.
Vinny wasn't who she thought he was.
“We’re going to lose them then we’re going to chill at a motel tonight,” Cole answered.
“A motel? Why?” Susanna couldn’t say she was ultra excited to get back to her place, while she hadn't been assaulted in her apartment, the entire building was tainted now, but she also craved some familiarity.
“Because when we lose him, I don’t want him going to our building and lying in wait. I'm going to text my brothers to see if they can catch him if he goes there. We need to talk to Vitoli before the cops get their hands on him. It’s the best chance we stand at getting answers.”
“Are you … going to … beat answers out of him?” she asked in a small voice. She didn't know a lot about Prey, although, of course, she’d heard of them, but she wasn't sure what to expect about how they went about doing their jobs.
“Would that change how you looked at me and my brothers if I said yes?” Cole asked, voice dark, but something lurked in his eyes that suggested he would be upset if she saw him differently.
“No. Vinny … I knew he wasn't a good man … I just didn't realize how unbalanced he really is. I understand you and your brothers have to do what you have to do.”
They lapsed into silence, and when Cole relaxed beside her, the tension in the vehicle seeping away, Susanna assumed they’d lost their tail. She didn't ask any questions as Cole drove them to whatever motel he’d chosen for the night. Whatever else she thought of him, she trusted him to keep her safe.
Maybe even trusted him more than Polly and Phillip.
She knew for sure her friends would do whatever they had to to protect her. But she also knew that Cole would rip to shreds any threat that presented itself, while her cop friends were bound by their oaths. There were limits to what they could do, and although she did respect that, it was nice to be with someone who had no limits on what he could do.
“Here we are,” Cole said, startling her out of her thoughts.
Looking out the window, she saw a small but comfortable and clean-looking motel. When Cole climbed out of the car, she followed, waiting outside while he went into the office. While she waited, she wrapped a hand around the wound so it didn't draw too much attention. The last thing she wanted was for someone to spot them, notice the blood, and assume she was in danger with Cole.
“Sit,” Cole ordered once he led her into a small but tidy room and closed and locked the door behind them.
“We’re sharing a room?” she asked, a weird fluttery feeling low in her stomach catching her by surprise.
“Not leaving you alone and unprotected. I’ll sleep on the couch,” he said, disappearing into the bathroom. He returned in a moment with a wet cloth and a first aid kit that he must have brought in from his car.
Noticing the determination in his eyes, Susanna didn't even bother suggesting that she clean up the wound herself. Instead, she went and perched on the edge of the bed.
Cole came, knelt in front of her, and when he reached out to take her arm, he was so gentle that tears burned the backs of her eyes. Not that she’d let them fall. Already she’d allowed herself to show too much emotion around this man, and that left her feeling uncomfortable.
Unsettled.
For the last three years, she’d thought she understood Cole, knew what to expect from him, and there was a certain sense of security that offered. Now this new Cole, the one who was so carefully cleaning her wound, trying his best not to hurt her, confused her. She didn't know what to make of it.
Who was the real Cole Charleston?
When Cole pulled out a bandage, Susanna stopped him. “Before we bandage it, can I take a shower?”
Even though she asked it as a question it wasn't really one.
Thing was, she needed a shower.
Coming up on forty-eight hours since she’d been raped, the feel of dirtiness clinging to her skin was yet to dissipate.
In fact, it only seemed to be growing over time.
She had to take regular showers, scrubbing at her skin under scalding hot water until she was stinging all over, it was the only way she was able to cope with the feeling.
“Wound isn’t deep, doesn’t need stitches, so sure. You're supposed to be keeping the wound on your head dry, though, it has stitches,” Cole reminded her.
That was the last thing she cared about right now.
If she didn't manage the feeling of dirtiness, it overwhelmed her, and she couldn’t afford to fall apart tonight. If she did, she’d have an audience.
Which wasn't going to happen.
“I’ll keep it dry,” she said, and she’d do her best to do that.
“Here.” Cole rifled through his kit and then came up with a waterproof bandage that he taped over the top of the bandage already on her stitches.
Perilously close to bursting into tears, Susanna gave a quick nod of appreciation then hurried into the small bathroom, sinking down to rest against the door once she’d closed it.
Why was Cole’s sudden complete one-eighty messing with her so badly?
Was she that starved for affection that she would be this affected by a couple of nice gestures?
Hurrying to turn the shower on, Susanna stripped out of her clothes and stepped under the spray mere seconds before the tears came.
They streamed down her cheeks, mixing with the hot water as she wrapped her arms around her middle and did her best to keep her cries silent. She felt stupid, she felt unworthy, and she felt so very dirty.
The kind of dirty nothing could clean away.
Still, she reached for the bar of soap sitting on a little ledge in the shower wall and unwrapped it, grabbed a washcloth, and began to scrub at her skin.
She had to find a way to feel clean.
She had to.
Or she was going to lose what was left of her sanity.