He wasn’t fighting back. He took everything she had to give him without a single protestation. He stood there and let her use him like a punching bag.
God, she wasn’t this person. She wasn’t the kind of person who hit people when it wasn’t in defense of herself or others. She wasn’t violent. Her whole life had been about helping people, and all she would be known for was her part in violating the rights of her fellow men, in torturing them and stealing the most precious thing a human being could have—a memory.
A moan was heard, the low sound of an animal in pain.
It was her. Becca started to fall to the floor, her strength gone in that attack. She braced herself but didn’t even come close to hitting the hard wood. Owen lifted her up and his arms were around her, holding her tight.
“I can’t let you go. I won’t let anything hurt you, but I can’t let you go.” There was a fine tinge of panic to his voice. “You can hate me, but I can’t let you go.”
She shuddered in his arms, coming down from the adrenaline high of her rage. She was left with nothing but an aching sorrow.
Her arms finally went around him and they stood like that for what felt like hours, clinging to what briefly had seemed like a bright future.
Chapter Eighteen
Owen sat up in the godawful uncomfortable chair he’d been trying and failing to sleep in the moment he heard Becca cry out. He was on his feet in a heartbeat, staring down at her.
“You’re still here.” She groaned and sat up, pushing the covers away and then pulling them right back up because it was chilly.
It was downright cold and he didn’t have a blanket to huddle under. He didn’t have her to cuddle with.
“I told you I wouldn’t leave you. Are you all right? Was it a nightmare?”
He knew he sounded like a mother hen, but he couldn’t help it. Ever since that moment when she’d broken down utterly and he’d carried her out of the cabin, he’d known he’d likely ruined every single chance he had with her. And he’d also known he wanted that chance, all those chances. He’d known in that moment that he loved her with his whole broken and busted-up heart.
And he’d ached when she’d attacked him. Not because of her fists or her righteous anger. He understood that. He’d been oddly satisfied that she’d taken it out on him. He wanted her. All of her—her love, her body, her soul, her joy, her sorrow, and her rage. He’d stood there, willing all that anger to transfer from her to him. He would have told her he would take it all if it brought her a single moment of peace.
“I didn’t have a nightmare.” She rubbed her eyes and yawned. “I just woke up and for a moment I couldn’t remember where I was. I’m thirsty.”
“I’ll get you some water.”
A long sigh split the air. “I’m hungry, too. I didn’t eat lunch and then well…I’m hungry. I had a protein bar in my purse but it’s back at the foundation.”
“Robert and Ari hit the supermarket in town on their way in. Come on. I’ll make you a sandwich.” He held out a hand. She wouldn’t need to get dressed. Other than her taking off her shoes, she’d kept everything on, even the purple cardigan she’d been wearing. He’d tried to talk her into slipping into one of his T-shirts. He had two in his go-bag, but she’d refused.
After that blissful moment in the gazebo when she’d clung to him like she wouldn’t let go, she hadn’t touched him again. He’d had to be satisfied with the fact that she hadn’t argued about him staying in the room with her. It had likely been shock, but she’d simply taken off her shoes, got under the covers, and fallen into an exhausted sleep.
“All right.”
He was shocked when she put her hand in his and allowed him to help her up. She dropped his hand the minute she was on her feet, but she’d touched him. It had to be enough for now.
“I can get it myself,” she said. “I’m not going to run or anything. It’s not like I have anyplace to run to.”
“I’m going with you,” he returned, following her out the door.
“You’ll do what you want to do anyway,” she muttered as she turned down the hall.
The place was quiet except for the sound of keys clacking. The cabin only had two bedrooms and a tiny loft with two twin beds. He and Becca had taken one and Theo and Erin the other. River and Jax had bedded down in the back of the van while the loft held Sasha, Dante, and Tucker. He wasn’t sure which one was sleeping on the floor, but he would bet it was Tucker, and he wasn’t sleeping at all.
The living room was quiet, only the crackling sound of a fire in the hearth making any noise at all. Nina was curled up on the love seat while Ari and Robert had taken the couch. His friend seemed to be moving in the right direction this time. Robert was lying on his back while Ari had draped herself over him, her head resting on his chest. They were cuddled together under a blanket and looked warm and happy.
He was fairly certain he’d looked that way the previous night.
He led her into the dining room where Ezra’s face looked ghostly in the light from the computer screen. He glanced up. “Everything all right?”
“She’s hungry” Owen replied. “Everything’s fine. How are the plans going?”
“We can’t get a plane out until the day after tomorrow, but I don’t think that will give Green time to track us.” Ezra looked over at Becca. “We’re going to take you to London, but we have to do it carefully. Jax is working on getting you a Canadian passport. I promise I won’t let him pick your name. He’s not good at them.”
“When he made one for River, he named her Fjord,” Owen said.
A hint of a smile crossed her lips. “Because it’s water. Like a river.”
“It’s ridiculous,” Ezra corrected, “because she’s obviously not Nordic, and even Nordic people don’t name their kids Fjord. Jax thinks he’s creative. I need him to be realistic. Amber or Ashley is normal. Fjord makes security look twice, so River is Amber and you get to be Ashley. Regular Ashley. No two ee’s or the p is silent.”
“They argue about spelling, too,” Owen admitted. He’d found it amusing. “Jax thinks fake names should be special. Ezra thinks they should be as boring as possible. What did he try to name Becca?”
“Sunny Brooke. Not joking. First name Sunny. Last name Brooke,” Ezra said with a sigh. “I’m sure he was going to try to work the word farm in there somewhere. My question is how the hell does he know about Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm. He knows next to nothing about the damn world. He can’t tell me who the last president of the United States was but he knows a kid’s book.”
“It’s Kay’s fault.” He adored Kayla Summers. She’d worked at the London office before she’d married her Hollywood sweetheart. Kay had been the one to take all the Lost Boys under her wing when they’d first showed up at The Garden. They’d been traumatized and unsure of what had happened to them and she’d sort of played big sister to all of them. “She would watch movies with us at night, trying to acclimate us to the culture. Unfortunately, she showed us the The Shining and then Sasha started sleeping with an ax, so then we had a whole week of kids’ films. I still don’t understand why they had to shoot that dog.”
“Old Yeller was rabid,” Ezra said with a shake of his head. “Like a couple of you. Anyway, Becca is now Ashley Jones from Ottawa. We’ll take a private jet to Mexico City. From there we’re going to split up. I’m sending Becca back to London with Ari and Nina.” He held out a hand as though he knew what came next. “Brody and Nick are meeting them in Mexico. They’ll provide security, although don’t let Nina hear me say that. She’s a badass all on her own.”
“I thought she was a barista,” Becca said.