Heartbreaker Read online

  He held her tight and rocked her, his hands stroking up and down her back. She’d been beaten. The knowledge kept ricocheting inside his skull, and he shook with a black rage he’d never known before. If he’d been able to get his hands on that slimy bastard right then, he’d have killed him with his bare hands and enjoyed every minute of it. He thought of Michelle cowering in fear and pain, her delicate body shuddering under the blows, and red mist colored his vision. No wonder she’d asked him not to hurt her the first time he’d made love to her! After her experience with men, it was something of a miracle that she’d responded at all.

  He crooned to her, his rough cheek pressed against her sunny hair, his hard arms locked around her. He didn’t know what he said, and neither did she, but the sound of his voice was enough. The gentleness came through, washing over her and warming her on the inside just as the heat of his body warmed her cold skin. Even after her shivering stopped he simply held her, waiting, letting her feel his closeness.

  Finally she shifted a little, silently asking him to let her go. He did, reluctantly, his eyes never leaving her white face as she walked into the bathroom and shut the door. He started to go into the bathroom after her, alarmed by her silence and lack of color; his hand was on the doorknob when he reined himself under control. She needed to be alone right now. He heard the sound of the shower, and waited with unprecedented patience until she came out. She was still pale, but not as completely colorless as she’d been. The shower had taken the remaining chill from her skin, and she was wrapped in the terry-cloth robe she kept hanging on the back of the bathroom door.

  “Are you all right?” he asked quietly.

  “Yes.” Her voice was muted.

  “We have to talk about it.”

  “Not now.” The look she gave him was shattered. “I can’t. Not now.”

  “All right, baby. Later.”

  Later was that night, lying in his arms again, with the darkness like a shield around them. He’d made love to her, very gently and for a long time, easing her into rapture. In the lengthening silence afterward she felt his determination to know all the answers, and though she dreaded it, in the darkness she felt able to give them to him. When it came down to it, he didn’t even have to ask. She simply started talking.

  “He was jealous,” she whispered. “Insane with it. I couldn’t talk to a man at a party, no matter how ugly or happily married; I couldn’t smile at a waiter. The smallest things triggered his rages. At first he’d just scream, accusing me of cheating on him, of loving someone else, and he’d ask me over and over who it was until I couldn’t stand it anymore. Then he began slapping me. He was always sorry afterward. He’d tell me how much he loved me, swear he’d never do it again. But of course he did.”

  John had gone rigid, his muscles shaking with the rage she felt building in him again. In the darkness she stroked his face, giving him what comfort she could and never wondering at the illogic of it.

  “I filed charges against him once; his parents bought him out of it and made it plain I wasn’t to do such a thing again. Then I tried leaving him, but he found me and carried me back. He…he said he’d have Dad killed if I ever tried to leave him again.”

  “You believed him?” John asked harshly, the first words he’d spoken. She didn’t flinch from the harshness, knowing it wasn’t for her.

  “Oh, yes, I believed him.” She managed a sad little laugh. “I still do. His family has enough money that he could have it done and it would never be traced back to him.”

  “But you left him anyway.”

  “Not until I found a way to control him.”

  “How?”

  She began trembling a little, and her voice wavered out of control. “The…the scars on my back. When he did that, his parents were in Europe; they weren’t there to have files destroyed and witnesses bribed until it was too late. I already had a copy of everything, enough to press charges against him. I bought my divorce with it, and I made his parents promise to keep him away from me or I’d use what I had. They were very conscious of their position and family prestige.”

  “Screw their prestige,” he said flatly, trying very hard to keep his rage under control.

  “It’s academic now; they’re dead.”

  He didn’t think it was much of a loss. People who cared more about their family prestige than about a young woman being brutally beaten and terrorized didn’t amount to much in his opinion.

  Silence stretched, and he realized she wasn’t going to add anything else. If he let her, she’d leave it at that highly condensed and edited version, but he needed to know more. It hurt him in ways he’d never thought he could be hurt, but it was vital to him that he know all he could about her, or he would never be able to close the distance between them. He wanted to know where she went in her mind and why she wouldn’t let him follow, what she was thinking, what had happened in the two years since her divorce.

  He touched her back, caressing her with his fingertips. “Is this why you wouldn’t go swimming?”

  She stirred against his shoulder, her voice like gossamer wings in the darkness. “Yes. I know the scars aren’t bad; they’ve faded a lot. But in my mind they’re still like they were… . I was so scared someone would see them and ask how I got them.”

  “That’s why you always put your nightgown back on after we’d made love.”

  She was silent, but he felt her nod.

  “Why didn’t you want me to know? I’m not exactly some stranger walking down the street.”

  No, he was her heart and her heartbreaker, the only man she’d ever loved, and therefore more important to her than anyone else in the world. She hadn’t wanted him to know the ugliness that had been in her life.

  “I felt dirty,” she whispered. “Ashamed.”

  “Good God!” he exploded, raising up on his elbow to lean over her. “Why? It wasn’t your fault. You were the victim, not the villain.”

  “I know, but sometimes knowledge doesn’t help. The feelings were still there.”

  He kissed her, long and slow and hot, loving her with his tongue and letting her know how much he desired her. He kissed her until she responded, lifting her arms up to his neck and giving him her tongue in return. Then he settled onto the pillow again, cradling her head on his shoulder. She was nude; he had gently but firmly refused to let her put on a gown. That secret wasn’t between them any longer, and she was glad. She loved the feel of his warm, hard-muscled body against her bare skin.

  He was still brooding, unable to leave it alone. She felt his tension and slowly ran her hand over his chest, feeling the curly hair and small round nipples with their tiny center points. “Relax,” she murmured, kissing his shoulder. “It’s over.”

  “You said his parents controlled him, but they’re dead. Has he bothered you since?”

  She shivered, remembering the phone calls she’d had from Roger. “He called me a couple of times, at the house. I haven’t seen him. I hope I never have to see him again.” The last sentence was full of desperate sincerity.

  “At the house? Your house? How long ago?”

  “Before you brought me here.”

  “I’d like to meet him,” John said quietly, menacingly.

  “I hope you never do. He’s…not sane.”

  They lay together, the warm, humid night wrapped around them, and she began to feel sleepy. Then he touched her again, and she felt the raw anger in him, the savage need to know. “What did he use?”

  She flinched away from him. Swearing softly, he caught her close. “Tell me.”

  “There’s no point in it.”

  “I want to know.”

  “You already know.” Tears stung her eyes. “It isn’t original.”

  “A belt.”

  Her breath caught in her throat. “He…he wrapped the leather end around his hand.”

  Joh