“Can we close those blinds?” she asked, biting back a yawn as Ryan helped her ease under the covers.
“If that would make you feel better.” He paused. “No one can hurt you out here.”
He was already moving toward the window.
“I feel rotten for kicking you out of your own room. Are you sure you don’t want to put me on the couch? I’d be fine.”
“You’re in my house. That means we play by my rules. You get the bed.” He winked at her, but she could see the storm brewing. “I’ll leave the door open in case you need anything. Just give me a shout.”
“Where will you be?” She must look pitiful for him to hold off his questions until morning. Maybe she’d figure out what to tell him by then.
“On the couch.” He walked toward the hallway. “It’s not the first time.”
Even so, it didn’t feel right.
“No, Ry—”
His hand came up before she could finish her protest. “My rules, remember?”
She was biting back another yawn as she conceded. For tonight, she wouldn’t argue. However, she hoped to stay a few days, at least, and she had no plans to force him out of his bed for that long.
“I’ll be in the next room,” he said, turning off the light. “Unless you need me to stay until you fall asleep.”
“I’m good. Thank you, though.” Lisa knew that Ryan wanted answers and normally she’d trust him with her life, but more lives than hers were on the line. She had Lori and Grayson to consider. Maybe she could get word to Beckett that she had no plans to reveal his secret. Leave her family alone and she would never bring the truth to light. Would it work?
No. Wasn’t that the deal they’d had all these years?
There had to be a reason for the change. A family like his would be savvy. Maybe he figured she would come forward. No way could he allow this accusation to come to light given the depth of trouble his father was already in. The Alcorn name was worth a lot of money. Their reputation was big business. Between that and ruining their family name, their history in the town, maybe Beckett figured he needed to ensure only positive press for him and his father in the coming months. It was the only thing that made any sense.
If a plea wouldn’t work, then she’d threaten him if she had to. If he didn’t leave her family alone she would go to the law and then to the media and tell them everything.
His voice echoed in the back of her mind. What were the chances the sheriff would believe her? And especially after all these years? Would the media? It wasn’t as if she could produce any tangible evidence, not now. She’d believed Beckett’s threats as a little girl because she wasn’t aware of rape kits and forensics.
A good attorney could turn her testimony upside down. And then she, Lori and Grayson would have to watch their backs for the rest of their lives. Wealthy men had long reach and she doubted she’d be safe no matter how far away she moved, which was precisely why that plan wouldn’t work.
Either way, she couldn’t see an out. Plus, there was this new guy to worry about. The man who’d attacked her in the hospital was not Beckett.
Trying to think made her brain cramp. Frustration ate at her. Exhaustion threatened to pull her under. She was toast. No way could she think clearly.
For now, Lori and Grayson were safe.
She let that thought carry her into a deep sleep.
* * *
LISA WOKE THREE times throughout the night, screaming from nightmares. When she opened her eyes for the fourth time, the sun was bright in the sky. She glanced over and saw Ryan, shirtless, still sleeping in a chair. He’d stayed after the first round, saying he wanted to be close if she needed him.
His presence comforted her.
Her lips tingled with the feel of the kiss they’d shared. She didn’t want to be thinking about that first thing when she opened her eyes. And yet there it was all the same.
His chest was a wall of muscle and she had to force her eyes away from his sculpted abs. That body was built from hard work and she admired him for it. There were other marks on his body, too, and she didn’t want to think about the scars left behind at his father’s hand. She’d witnessed one of the beatings as she was skipping home from school one day. Thinking about it even now caused her heart to squeeze and anger to flair through her.
She didn’t ask, didn’t know what had triggered Ryan’s father that day. Everyone knew how bad the man’s temper had been. Ryan was quick to step in to cover for his brother, Justin, and she wondered if Ryan had done it on that day, too.
It had been two weeks until summer break, and the Texas heat had arrived early that year. Lisa couldn’t have been more than ten or eleven at the time. She’d stayed after school to finish a science project and passed by Ryan’s house on her way home.
His father had him around the side of the house, his hand clamped around Ryan’s arm as the man beat his son with a belt, buckle still attached.
There were no screams from her classmate, no begging for mercy, and that was a fact that would haunt her for years.
Ryan’s pain was endured in silence, like hers. He never spoke about that or any other beating afterward, either. She could see in his eyes when they’d been exceptionally brutal. His father was always careful to hit Ryan in places where the bruises wouldn’t show in plain sight. Every time Ryan had worn long pants in ninety-eight-degree temperatures to school, she’d noticed. Every time he had eased onto a chair, she’d noticed. Every time he’d worn long sleeves in the summer, she’d noticed.
And she’d known why.
Fire burned through her veins, boiling her blood at the memories. Only a coward hurt a child. Ryan’s father had been one. And so was Beckett.
“How’d you sleep?” Ryan’s voice surprised her.
“Good,” she said quickly, trying to slow her racing pulse. She’d slept better than good actually, even with the nightmares. She didn’t want to tell him how comfortable she felt in his bed. The sheets were soft against her skin. The mattress was like sleeping on a soft cushion. And his clean, masculine scent was all over the pillow.
The pain was messing with her mind. This bed was no nicer than the one at the hospital, she tried to tell herself.
He stood and fastened his jeans, and she forced her gaze away from the small patch of hair on his chest leading down toward the band of his jeans.
Walking toward her, he yawned and stretched, and she noticed just how powerful his arms were. There was enough muscle there to hold off a bear, let alone a man who liked to hurt women. She told herself that was the only reason she noticed—to see if he could protect her—and not because of the awareness she felt every time he was in the room.
The mattress dipped under his weight as he sat on the edge of the bed.
“Are you hungry?” he asked.
“I think I can eat.”
“What sounds good?”
“Don’t put yourself out. Anything is fine. A piece of fruit or yogurt would do.” She hated feeling so helpless.
“I can make an omelet,” he offered.
“No. That’s too much work, seriously.”
“Would you stop worrying about being a pain already? I don’t mind. I can scramble some eggs and heat sausage. But first, how does a cup of coffee sound?”
“Like heaven on earth.” She waited for him to leave the room before she tried to sit up. Pain shot through her with every movement. She fought through it. No way was she asking him to help her to the