Page 27 of Ciaran

“He’d call me umpteen times throughout the day. If I didn’t answer immediately, he’d inundate me with text messages and follow-up calls. ‘Worried about you, babe. Don’t want to stress you out, babe. Who’s there with you, babe?’”

She pauses, waiting until the server retreats after dropping off our drinks. Her finger circles the rim of the glass as she stares into it. Not being able to see her eyes makes her harder to read, but I can hardly demand she look at me. However she needs to get off her chest what happened to her is fine by me. Although the more she discloses, the angrier I become. That fucker isn’t getting within ten feet of this woman again. Not without going through me first.

“My life consisted of being on the receiving end of constant criticism and ridicule. Nothing I did was ever good enough for Tanner. He turned insignificant things into big problems, and every single one was my fault. Tanner mastered ‘the sulk’, and boy, I’d do anything I could to avoid one of those. They could last for weeks. He was an expert at passive aggression and manipulation. Treading on eggshells around someone you live with for days on end… well, it crushes your soul. Eventually he wore away my confidence, my self-esteem, my self-worth. I hated him for that and hated myself even more for allowing him to do that to me.”

A chill runs down my spine. “Did he hit you?”

She shook her head. “No, but the threat of violence grew steadily worse. About a year ago, I plucked up the courage to tell him I was leaving. He threw himself to the floor and begged me not to, telling me he’d kill himself, so I caved. As soon as he knew he’d won, the old Tanner returned. That night he removed every knife from the kitchen drawer and sharpened each one, his eyes fixed on me the whole time. The underlying threat was blatant.”

My vision clouds, and I clench my fists, nails digging into my palms. “Jesus,” I mutter, my brain suggesting the innumerable ways I could torture that fucker until he begs for death.

She carries on as if I never interrupted. “That was the final breaking point. I knew I had to get out. I spent a year saving every penny I could. It wasn’t easy because Tanner often checked receipts from the grocery store. I lived on the edge, panicking in case he discovered my stash of escape money. When the time came, I waited until he went to work, packed two suitcases, and left. My hopes, my dreams, my home, all left behind, and it was worth it… until he found me.” She closes her eyes and rubs at the space between her eyebrows. “It was stupid to come back here. Of course, New York would be the first place he looked, but I craved the familiarity of home. I guess I just thought if I stayed away from my parents’ house, I’d be okay. Manhattan’s huge. What are the chances of him stumbling across me?”

“I doubt he stumbled across anything.” My heart pounds as I struggle to contain my rage.

She shudders. “But how did he know where I’d be tonight?” She doesn’t wait for an answer, or my thoughts. “It doesn’t matter, anyway. The fact is he’s found me. I have to leave. Coming here was wrong. He wouldn’t be able to track me if I went somewhere else.”

“Do you want to risk that, though? Spend the rest of your life looking over your shoulder, waiting for him to turn up?” I take a chance and reach for her hand again. The earlier touch left me craving more. I sense her retreating, getting ready to take flight—a wrong decision that I intend to prevent—and I fold her hand inside mine before brushing my thumb over her knuckles. “You have choices. You can take out a protection order. That way if he harasses you again, we can arrest him.”

She shakes her head. “No. No police. No courts.”

“Millie—”

Her hand comes up. “No, Ciaran,” she says in a firm tone. “Doing that will only rile him. Let me deal with this in my own way.”

I’m not surprised by her response, but equally, I’m not willing to sit back and do nothing, either. Not when it comes to her.

“Then, let me help. I can keep you safe. Trust me, please. Don’t run. It’s no way to live your life.”

Her eyes rove over my face. A warmth grows in the pit of my stomach the longer her gaze rests on me, reaffirming my belief that she is The One, the reason why I’ve never got past a few dates with anyone else. But her confession that Tanner had abused her for years changes everything. She doesn’t need another man, despite the fact I’m nothing like that bastard. She needs safety, security, protection, and a place to slowly heal.

I can provide all of those. And perhaps, one day, when she’s ready, she’ll turn to me the way I desperately want her to.

She blinks slowly, her lids almost closing. “I don’t want to leave,” she whispers. “Not when I have a chance of reconciling with my parents. Not when I might rediscover the person I used to be.” Her eyes spring wide. “That’s how he found me, isn’t it? I bet he’s been watching my parents’ house, then he followed them tonight.”

Yep, highly likely, though I don’t know for certain. How could I? But the last thing she needs is more blame piled upon her. Her fucking husband has done more than enough damage.

I tighten my hold on her hand. “It’s possible, I guess.”

Her head rocks back, and she rests it against the wall behind her. “I’m never going to be free, am I?”

I grind my teeth. “Yes, you will. I understand your reluctance to get the police and the courts involved, but please, keep it in the back of your mind. In the meantime, trust me.” I hit my chest with a clenched fist. “Not police officer me, but Ciaran, your friend.”

She rubs her lips together, indecision written in the curve of her shoulders. After what feels like an age, she nods. “Okay.”

Relief rushes through me so quickly, my head spins. I stand and hold out my hand. “Come on.”

“Where to?”

The one place I know I can keep her safe. I’ll deal with the fallout later if, in fact, there is any. “We’re going back to your apartment to grab your stuff, then you’re coming to stay at the hotel with me. No arguments. You can have Nate’s room.”

I brace, readying myself for her refusal, though it won’t make any difference. I have an endless supply of reasons she should take me up on my offer.

“Are you sure?” There’s a tentativeness to her voice, tinged with a bite of hope.

“No. I’m certain.”

An hour later, I carry Millie’s suitcases up the steps of the hotel. Even if I hadn’t already made the decision about her coming to live here, one look at the hellhole she’s been living in for the past four weeks would have remedied that. I can’t fucking believe how the law allows those places to house people. They’re drug-addict, rat-infested shithouses I wouldn’t keep a dog in, never mind a woman living alone. Shuddering as I imagine what could have happened to her there, I kick myself for not finding out where she’s been living sooner. The wage she gets for working at the hotel should allow her to afford a far better place than that. My guess is she decided to live frugally in case she had to run again.

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