Chapter Eleven
Ashes stood outside his bedroom and leaned against the door.
Tilting his head back, he propped it against the door as he wondered what the fuck he was getting himself into.
Miranda was fucking hot, if a little underweight.
He wanted to beat in that fucker Dwyer’s head all over again for her condition.
Clearly, she hadn’t eaten on a regular basis, and the scars that shithead and given her .
.. Ashes clenched his jaw and pushed away from the door.
Dwyer was gone, but they could look for the rest of the women, see if they could be rescued, or if they were even still alive, and go from there.
But right now, he had something more urgent on his mind.
He wanted to know a little more about what had happened and maybe see if Winter could help him with his mission for clothes for Miranda.
Miranda didn’t seem to want to go shopping.
It made him wonder what was wrong. In his experience, women never turned down a shopping trip.
Especially if someone else was footing the bill.
He wondered if she didn’t want to go out, to be seen like this, or if there was something else going on.
Determined to do something, he headed for Hammer’s office first. He needed some answers and Hammer was the best to find them.
An hour later, after filling in the tech sergeant on what he needed, he got a phone from him for Miranda.
He wanted her to feel at home, protected, but not isolated.
Miranda had told him she had no family to contact, but what about friends?
Did anyone care that she was free, and eventually would be okay?
If she hadn’t before, she would now. He would see to that.
He shoved the extra phone into his jeans pocket and went in search of Winter.
It took longer than he’d planned, but he found her behind the clubhouse stretched across two of the chairs they kept beside the pool.
Instead of a swimsuit she wore a tank top and shorts, but with her hat and sunglasses she could have been on any beach at the height of summer.
It just felt a little out of place for mid-November.
But women always did weird things that left him shaking his head.
“There you are. I’ve been looking for you all over.” Ashes grabbed another chair and pulled it close before sitting down, though he was careful not to get between her and the sun.
“You found me.” Winter didn’t move as she spoke. “What’s up?”
“A couple of things. I need to know what happened with Miranda earlier. What was said, how she reacted, that kind of thing. “
“Just wait a minute.” Winter reached for her glasses and Ashes could tell he was in for an ass-ripping if the wasn’t careful. He hurried to head her off.
“Hang on. I’m not accusing you of anything. I suspect she just got overwhelmed but I need to know if it’s a sore topic, if it was physical, anything, to help me figure out how to help.”
She watched him for a moment then relaxed back across the chairs.
“I don’t know how much I can help. I saw her, knew who she had to be, and went to talk to her.
She was already sitting on the bench seat, her back to the wall, but when I sat down and started talking to her, she withdrew.
She never said a word. I don’t know what set her off.
” Winter turned her head and took off her sunglasses.
“What did he do to her?” she asked, meeting his gaze.
Her tone turned soft, as if she didn’t want to be overheard. “Did he rape her? Torture her?”
Ashes turned and stared at a plane that seemed to hover in the sky. From this distance it looked like it was barely moving, though he knew that wasn’t true. “She says he didn’t rape her.”
“Is she too embarrassed to admit it?”
Ashes turned to meet her gaze. “I don’t think so.
She doesn’t hesitate to let someone touch her.
She even reaches for me once in a while.
I don’t think she’s lying. But that’s not to say she wasn’t tortured.
He told her he was training her. He whipped her.
I don’t know what he used but she’s got scars.
” He tilted his head as he wondered if a plastic surgeon might be able to eliminate them or even minimize them.
Not that he would suggest it, unless Miranda seemed bothered by them.
The last thing he wanted to do was give her the idea he saw them as flaws rather than the trophies of survival he knew they were.
Ashes blinked, coming back to the present.
“And another ask. Would you mind picking up some things for her? When we found her, she wore little more than rags. What she was wearing when we came in is stuff Sparrow picked up and as you can tell, he sucks at sizing, not to mention picking things a woman might want to wear.” He reached for his wallet, pulled out a credit card, and handed it over.
“Get anything you think she needs—shampoo, lotions, all of it. I don’t care what it costs. ”
Winter took the card, glanced down at it, then back to him. “Are you sure you want to let me go with this? I could max it out and take off.”
“Then I report it stolen.” Ashes gave a half shrug.
“You’re family, Winter. You might not have been here all that long, yet.
But you’re one of us.” She started to say something but Ashes put up one hand to stop her.
“I know there are families out there that do that kind of thing. I know there are people who don’t care who they hurt.
You’re not one of them. I trust you.” He folded her hand over the card, then stood and walked away.
He had a lot on his mind and needed to burn off a little energy.
He headed for the gym. Some weights then time with the heavy bag would do him good.
****
Sweat dripped down Ashes’ face, stinging his eyes, but he ignored it as he continued to pummel the bag.
He’d long ago stripped off his shirt, now he stood beating the ever-loving shit out of the bag in a pair of basketball shorts.
He pictured Dwyer’s face and let him have every bit of the rage he’d kept bottled up since finding Miranda in that pit.
He channeled every emotion he’d fought into his exercise, wanting to rid himself of the demon whispering in his ear.
It wasn’t that the demon was counseling him to violence.
But possessiveness. The voice in his ear swore Miranda was his, but he couldn’t do that.
She’d been through so much, and the last thing he would do was take away her choice in anything.
The door behind him burst open, but Ashes ignored it. The only one he would stop for was Miranda and she was sleeping.
“There you are,” George, one of the prospects, said between gasps for air. “The girl in your room. She’s screaming and won’t let anyone near her.”
“Fuck.” He spun on his heel and headed for the clubhouse.