Out Of The Smoke Read online

  Alan came skidding into the room. No surprise after her squeal of pain. “Are you okay? What happened?”

  “I’m so sorry.” Liz scrambled down from the chair to pick up the tiny soccer player on his heavy base. A blush rushed to her face. Would Alan be mad about her carelessness? “I guess I didn’t get this guy back up on the shelf good enough. He tumbled down and…” She examined the trophy for damage. “I think he’s okay.”

  Liz held the golden athlete out for Alan’s inspection with a trembling hand, her other going automatically to the spot on her lower back that now throbbed with an inordinate amount of pain.

  Alan grabbed the statue and set it on the chair behind him without a glance at it. “Are you hurt?” She brought her gaze to his in surprise. He hadn’t even checked to see if it were broken.

  “The…” She pointed at the couch.

  “It’s just a stupid trophy. Don’t worry about it.” His brow furrowed. “Let me see that.”

  Before Liz could stop him, Alan spun her around and lifted her shirt off her back to see the damage. He froze.

  “It’s nothing. Just a scratch. I…I’ll go see about it.” She pulled out of his grasp and turned to head for the bathroom, wincing at both the knot forming on her back as well as the knowledge that he’d seen the evidence of other “injuries”. Hadn’t he?

  “Liz…” He called her name, and then reached for her arm, as gently as if he were handling a small child.

  Liz swallowed and fought back the tears that threatened to spill. She couldn’t remember when anyone had ever held her so gently. She couldn’t have this conversation right now, or his pity. She didn’t want to answer his questions. She couldn’t.

  “I said it’s no big deal.” Without being too obvious, Liz tugged herself from Alan’s grasp and headed for the restroom. For the second time in as many weeks, she was reduced to tears in his presence.

  Damn. She could have gone her whole life without seeing that look on his face. As she splashed cold water on her eyes, she took deep breaths to calm herself. He wasn’t like Matthew. He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t mad. He wasn’t pissed. He wasn’t going to hit her. Or yell. Or lock her in a room.

  Liz slid down onto the tile floor and leaned her head against her knees. She squeezed her eyes closed in attempt to shut out the images of her past. Unsuccessfully.

  “You lazy, no good, piece of shit! Why do I bother with you?”

  Liz pressed her hands over her ears to block out the hateful words and images as she tried to catch her breath and stay in the present. But, they kept coming.

  “You think you can just do whatever you want around here with no repercussions for your actions? Huh? Do you?”

  Liz began to rock back and forth against the counter. She fought the pounding behind her temples.

  “You’re just begging me to whip you. Is that what you want? You like it when I drag you down the stairs by your hair? Huh? Answer me, bitch.”

  Liz reached up to hold her ponytail. She could feel the pain run from the back of her head around to her temples from being dragged to the basement by her hair even though it had been over two years since she’d last experienced the abuse.

  “I’ll shove your sorry ass in the basement closet again if you don’t answer me.”

  She started to hyperventilate and cupped her hands over her mouth to force herself to breathe through her nose. One. Two. Three.

  Two days. He’d left her in the tiny room in the basement with no food, no water, and no toilet. She hadn’t been claustrophobic before that, but she was now.

  Liz took huge gulps of air into her lungs. Her hands felt numb. Her butt hurt from sitting on the hard tile. Why now? Why did this panic attack have to happen right now? Here? In Alan’s house? She had to pull herself together.

  Naturally, she hadn’t been able to afford counseling after she’d escaped the horror of her past, but she’d done everything in her power over the last thirty months to regain her self-respect and heal her wounds, both the physical and the emotional. She’d spent hours on end at the library researching and studying the patterns of abused women. It hadn’t been a truly clinical psychology, but it had helped and had been the best therapy she could afford.

  The man on the other side of the door was just a regular man. One who was stunned by what he’d seen. She hoped he wouldn’t ask any questions. She couldn’t answer them. Not now. Maybe not ever. What were the chances of that?

  She pulled herself upright, splashed her face with cold water several more times and stared into the mirror for a few minutes while the red splotches went down, at least a little.

  When Liz finally opened the bathroom door, she found Alan standing in the hall leaning against the opposite wall, arms folded, looking very serious. Not surprising. What did she expect?

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  Talk about it? No.

  “No.” Liz brushed past Alan and headed for the kitchen. “Did you do much damage in the kitchen while I was in the office?” She tried to sound lighthearted as her steps hastened.

  Silence followed her down the hall. She was glad he was behind her so he couldn’t see the grimace she was unable to wipe off her face from the pain radiating up her back. What the hell? She’d barely noticed the injury while she’d been in the bathroom…distracted by horrifying memories. But the little trophy must have hit her just right, because man did her back hurt now.

  “I don’t think so… Listen. It’s noon. Let’s make some sandwiches and sit down. You’ve been at it all morning without a break.”

  “Good plan. You sit and I’ll make lunch.” She forced a tight smile over her shoulder.

  “Don’t tell me you cook too. My heart won’t be able to take it.” He tried to sound nonchalant, but no matter what he said to her, it pulled her tighter into his clutches every time.

  Matthew had spoken to her in a similar manner once, before they’d gotten married. Before he’d started demanding perfection from her.

  She reached behind herself to touch the sore spot on her back. Was it getting worse?

  “No, actually, I can’t cook very well.” She pasted on a half grin at his mock dismay when he snapped his fingers in front of him. “But I’m pretty good at slapping meat and cheese between bread. I’ve even been permitted to wield a knife on occasion and slather some mayo or…gasp…cut the bread in half.”

  That got a full laugh out of him, and lightened the mood.

  When he sobered, he spoke gently. “You’re leaning to one side. Please sit down and put some ice on the knot undoubtedly forming on your side while I make you a sandwich instead.” He didn’t wait for a reply, but simply pulled out a high-back bar stool and motioned her to sit at the counter.

  Although his instructions were sometimes more like demands, Liz didn’t get even a remote sense that he forced her to do his bidding. He’d even been apologetic about it. And she was glad to take the pressure off her throbbing injury.

  She sat and Alan quickly brought her a Ziploc baggy filled with ice.

  Grateful for the ability to save face, Liz pushed the ice against her back and relaxed against the chair to support it and keep from falling.

  When she looked up, he was staring at her, his arms loaded with ingredients from the refrigerator. “What do you like on your sandwich?” He unceremoniously deposited the loot on the counter between them.

  She swallowed, but couldn’t stop her eyes from watering once again. She couldn’t remember a single time in her life when anyone had ever asked her what she wanted or for that matter did something for her. It was only a sandwich, but it was so much more. She suddenly doubted her resolve to keep Alan at arm’s length. What if he was truly sincere? Was it possible for someone to actually care about her and her feelings?

  “Liz? Honey? You’re killing me here.” Alan froze in front of her. “I’m trying my damndest to be chivalrous and you’re ruining it with those tears. Stop it or I’m going to come over there and pull you into my arms,” he w
arned playfully.

  “Ham…turkey…swiss?”

  “Coming right up.” Without looking her in the eye, Alan spent the next several minutes assembling bread and meat and cheese. Liz tried to regain her composure.

  Alan placed the sandwich on the table before her. She couldn’t keep her eyes off him as he headed for the fridge, and then returned with a variety of soft drinks balanced across his forearms. “Or I have juice, milk, and water, if you prefer?”

  “Coke is fine.” She reached for the closest can and lightened the load. Alan set the rest of the cans on the counter with a shiver, red splotches covering his arms from the cold.

  They ate in silence, Alan across from her. The food had no taste. She didn’t remember swallowing a single bite, but when she looked down, it was gone. Then for no justified reason, she began to speak.

  “I was married to him.”

  Alan stopped chewing, the last bite still in his mouth. Moments passed. Neither spoke. The only sound was his audible swallow.

  Liz took a deep breath and cringed inwardly when the act jiggled the ice at her back. “Still am, actually,” she managed through slightly clenched teeth. When was this pain going to let up? She was trying her damndest not to let it show, but jeez.

  Alan didn’t move. Didn’t pressure her to reveal more. Whatever emotion he felt didn’t register in his tailored expression.

  Liz started to sweat, even though the temperature in the room was quite cool. She looked around at the stainless steel appliances and wondered what her life could have been like if only she’d married a man like Alan instead of Matthew.

  Would she have had children by now? Be a working mom or a stay-at-home mom? A weary smile touched her lips at the vision in her mind. Then she returned her gaze to the man sitting across from her as still as a statue, waiting.

  She could fall for a man like him. If only she had met him before Matthew. If only…

  She drew in a deep breath and continued. “It wasn’t always like that. In the beginning, he was kind and considerate. I thought he loved me.” She glanced down at her lap and then back up into Alan’s eyes. Why did she feel compelled to tell him the whole, sordid truth?

  “I was in college when my mother died, my last semester. I happened to meet Matthew while I was out with some friends. He swept me away with his wit and charm. Within months, we were engaged. I guess I was so enamored with him. Thought I was in love with him.” And he was rescuing me from a difficult financial situation. She left those words unspoken. “I didn’t stop to think his actions were anything less than honest.”

  Alan leaned against the counter on his elbows, but didn’t utter a word. His attention focused fully on Liz.

  “I wasn’t raised around nice men. My mom… She jumped from one man to the next. I never knew who my father was. So when Matthew came along, I thought he was my knight in shining armor.” Liz laughed, and then winced as the pain in her back increased. Why did a bump from such a small object hurt so bad? “A quick trip to the justice of the peace,” she shrugged, “and we were married.”

  At his quizzical expression, Liz explained. “I never had another unique opinion again. Not one that mattered to Matthew anyway. The bastard had me wrapped around his pinky and as soon as the ink dried, he had himself his own personal slave to torture any way he pleased. Nothing I did was ever good enough. His food was never hot enough. His clothes never starched enough. His house was never clean enough.”

  She took another moment to swallow back the tears threatening a waterfall down her face. “I thought…I thought if I could just do everything he wanted the way he wanted it…” Her voice lowered to a near mumble. She had to struggle to get her lips to keep moving and follow the instructions shooting at them from her brain. “I thought he would love me, that I could make him love me.

  “On my wedding night he raped me. I was a virgin and he…” She tried not to choke and just get the words out. “He took what he wanted and left the room, left me lying there in my own pile of tears. I knew I’d just made the biggest mistake of my life.”

  Alan reached tentatively toward her, but he didn’t touch her. She was grateful for his silence and thoughtfulness at this moment.

  “Could we move to the living room? I think I need to lean against the couch to keep this ice in place. I’m not usually such a baby, but this really hurts.” Liz tried not to recoil at the pain in her back, but it wouldn’t go away.

  “Of course. Let me help you.” Alan scrambled around the counter and took Liz by the arm to assist her.

  When she was relatively comfortable on the sofa, he sat next to her and took her hand gently in his own. “Go on,” he coaxed.

  “I’ve never told anyone any of this.” The raw emotions started to scare Liz. What if he couldn’t stand her after he heard it all? She wouldn’t be one bit worse off than she already was, that’s what. After more than two years of living in silence, she needed a friend. She needed this man to be the one she confided in.

  “I know,” he stated simply. He started to gently rub the back of her hand with one finger and smiled at her with more warmth than she’d ever seen before.

  “I won’t burden you with the gory details, but suffice to say, when the opportunity presented itself, I ran. I’m not proud of the way I did it, but it’s done now.” A mountain lifted off her shoulders. It was only a start, but it was more than she’d ever been willing to share with anyone before now.

  “Do you think he’s looking for you?”

  “Well, not exactly. Let’s just say I’m cautious. He thinks I’m dead.”

  “I see.” He couldn’t, not really, but she was glad he left it at that. For now.

  Their gazes locked and Liz held her breath. What she wanted more than anything in the world right now was for Alan to hold her. She needed the reassurance that his opinion of her hadn’t been destroyed by her tale of woes.

  Liz concentrated on the warmth of his smooth grip on her fingers. It spread through her body and made her want to lean into him.

  Matthew was the only man she’d ever really kissed. At first, he’d been gentle and sweet. But his kisses had always been rather chaste before they were married. Later, when he’d begun to rape her, he’d kissed her more thoroughly and was a horrible kisser. He was rough and sloppy, and his breath usually reeking of alcohol and smoke, made her gag. Why, then, would she find the need to kiss another man? Why was her gut clenching at the prospect?

  Alan began to lean toward her slowly. Almost imperceptibly. Allowed her all the time in the world to detain him in his mission.

  Liz did not.

  When their lips met, she was ready. He was so incredibly gentle and soft. He lingered for several moments, barely grazing her flesh until he finally painstakingly angled his head to the side and deepened the kiss into something more extreme. The kiss was more wonderful than she could have dreamed. His tongue wandered around the inside of her mouth, to tease, taste, savor, and explore all at once. His lips were warm and tender.

  Liz pulled her hands from his light grip and grasped his forearms. She didn’t know whether she wanted to pull him in closer or push him away to lessen the intense feelings. She simply held him there, inches away from allowing him contact with her entire body.

  For the first time in her life, someone let her call the shots. Let her decide when, how and where, with no pressure to perform in any particular manner. The sensation was overwhelming and Liz felt lightheaded.

  *

  Alan used every ounce of strength he possessed to maintain his position poised over Liz without touching anything but her lips. Her eyes closed on a soft moan she probably was unaware of, but he still gazed at her content expression and couldn’t believe his good fortune at having captured, at least the lips, if not the heart, of such a perfect woman.

  He wasn’t about to break the pace she set. If she needed to be in control, then by God he wasn’t going to stop her. He had all the time in the world. Contrary to the messages he was receiving from
his rock hard cock that pulsed against his jeans. The space was too tight.

  The kiss was heavenly. She tasted of Coke, sweet and spicy at the same time. Her lips were as soft as clouds and he never wanted to stop kissing her for as long as he lived. If that was all she ever gave him, he’d be a content man. Sort of.

  His arms ached and he shifted to relieve the pressure on his growing erection.

  The slight movement broke the spell, however, because her lazy eyes slowly opened to stare into his. Alan nibbled a line across her lips and finally lay his forehead against hers, keeping her as close as he could without forcing the issue. Heavy deep breaths heated the air between them.

  Liz bit her lower lip, the first sign of uncertainty she’d displayed, and Alan smiled at her. “You’re amazing.” He reached out tentatively to stroke her cheek and gasped at how warm she was. Flooded with concern, he quickly sat back a few inches and looked into her eyes. “Liz? You’re burning up.” Her cheeks were rosy and her eyes glassy. How had he not noticed?

  Alan moved his hand over her face to confirm his suspicion.

  “What?” A confused look met his gaze. “I’m fine.” Liz attempted to sit up, only to fall back against the couch from the effort. “Well, maybe not. But give me a minute.” She smiled unconvincingly and continued, “You probably just scrambled my brain with all that kissing.”

  He was dubious about her assessment. He’d love to think he had that effect on women, but realistically he just wasn’t quite that macho.

  When her head lolled back against the armrest, Alan grew incrementally concerned. “We have to get you to a doctor, honey. Something’s wrong. You have a fever.”

  Maybe she had the flu or a virus of some sort, but he wasn’t taking any chances. She looked worse by the minute. In fact, she didn’t even argue with that last statement, which spoke volumes and sent Alan into a frenzy.