Page 32 of The Eraser

"Little Dancer," I say low, trying to wake her up. She moans low in her throat as she stirs. "Wake up, baby."

"Wh—what... what happened?" she asks, her eyes small as she tries to sit up.

I help her into a sitting position, noting the wince she tries to conceal. "Where are you hurting?" I question.

She doesn't answer. Instead, she turns to Freddie, her face paling, and she scoots back so she's further away from him. A growl works up my chest. Freddie notes her reaction and steps out of the room.

"What happened, Little Dancer?" I ask.

"He's gone crazy," she wheezes. "He's drunk. He'll sleep it off and everything will be fine."

I'm pissed that she's blowing it off and acting as though it's not a fucking big deal. "How long has that fucker been hurting you?"

She glances away, shame shining in her eyes. I pull her chin back to me, not letting her brush me off. I want to know. "Please," she whispers. "I can't do it."

I lift her into my arms and sit my ass on the floor, cradling her close to me. "He's not going to hurt you again," I vow. "He wants you, baby, he's going to have to go through me."

Tears flow down her face and my gut tightens at the sight of them. "Since Mam died," she whispers. "He doesn't always hurt me. It's been a while since he did."

The way she says it tells me there's a fucking lot that I'm missing. Right now, I'm not going to fucking push her. She looks as though she's about to break.

"Mav's here," Freddie calls out. "He's pissed too."

I bet he is, but he and I are going to have a talk. I want to know why the fuck he's missed this. How did he not see that she's been hurt? He's the closest person to her. He should have seen it.

I scoop Jess into my arms and hold her close. She doesn't protest to being held. With her bag in my hand and Jess in my arms, I make my way out of her room and down the stairs. The party is over. Everyone's gone, including Jerry, who is no doubt trying to find out where that cunt has gone.

"Where's Thomas?" Maverick growls when he sees us walking out of the house.

Jess tenses in my arms and I slice a glare at Maverick. "Now's not the fucking time," I tell him. "You good with driving?" I question him.

"Yeah. Where's Jessica's car?" he asks. There's no anger in his voice, just curiosity.

"Dad sold it," she whimpers, her fingers curling in my t-shirt as she holds on to me. "He was raging that you bought it for me."

Why did Maverick buy her a car? There's so fucking much I don't know, so much that I need to uncover, but right now, we need to get the fuck out of here and get Jess someplace safe.

Freddie slides into the front passenger's side as Mav jumps into the driver's seat. I keep Jess close as we sit in the back. No one says a word as Maverick drives us toward the house I have.

I purchased it four years ago. I've been working on it for years, making it the way I need it. There's more security for my house than there is in the White House. I always knew that I'd bring Jessica back with me, that she'd live with me. When the time came, I wanted to ensure that no one could get to her, and that's exactly what I've done. I'll be damned if I finally have her, only to lose her. That's not happening. Not fucking ever.

"You okay?" I ask Jess. She's wincing every time Maverick drives over a pothole.

"Yeah, I'm just tired. I'm scared. What's going to happen now?" she asks, her voice a soft whisper.

“I have a home, one that is secure. Only the three of us know about it as they've helped me secure it. I trust them with your life, Jess, which means they're the only ones who will be close to you. Your dad's not going to hurt you. I won't let him."

She looks up at me, tears clinging to her dark eyelashes. "I don't trust you," she whispers. "You hurt people, Stephen, just like Dad does."

Her words shouldn't hurt. They're the truth. I have hurt people. I've killed more people than most, and I enjoy doing it. But not once have I ever hurt her. That should be enough reason to not lump me in the same bracket as her father. But fuck, there's nothing I can do. Trust is earned, just as Maverick and Freddie worked to earn my trust. It's not something that happens overnight.

"I'll not harm you," I say thickly, my voice rumbling out of my chest. "I need to know you're safe, so you're coming to stay with me. Your da has no idea where this house is and nor does your uncle. If anyone wants to talk to you, they'll have to call." Which reminds me... "Where's your cell?"

She shakes her head. "It was in my room. Did you get it?"

"No. But it's okay. You don't need it. I'll get you a secure one."

Her eyes flash with anger. "My one has my friends’ numbers in it."

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