Page 7 of All My Broken Dreams

A delayed reaction to the attack. She clung to the lapels of his coat and buried her face against his chest. Deacon cradled in that position for a long time, not rushing her to move or even to settle down. Her mind and body needed time to accept that she was safe.

Chapter Four

He glanced over the darkened alley at her clothes that had been strewn everywhere.

“I don’t think they stole anything. Your wallet is still there. They might have got the money. Where’s your passport?”

“In my coat, in the inside pocket. I have a credit card there too. Harry said if I ever got better, he wanted me to visit him. He told me to put my passport and a credit card in a separate pocket on my person.”

“Smart guy,” Deacon said, encouragingly. Talking seemed to be calming her down. “He sounds like a good brother. Were you sick or something?”

She made a snorting noise. She could probably use a tissue, he thought, and of course, he didn’t have one.

“In a way. I have a condition. Don’t worry; it’s not catching. I don’t like being in open spaces. I wasn’t always like this. Panicking over the least little thing. When those guys started hassling me, I should have run but I couldn’t. The way ahead was open and the alley was a confined space. Believe it or not, I felt safer here. What kind of fucked up thinking is that?”

“It wouldn’t have mattered. You couldn’t have outrun them anyway.”

Her body relaxed, slumping against his, like she was falling asleep. “If you hadn’t come along, I’d be dead by now. Even if they didn’t kill me, I would be dead because I would never leave my apartment again. I haven’t since my dad died. That was my life for more than a year and now look at me. My therapist’s star pupil.”

She started to laugh, hysterically. “I mean think of it! If a dead father was enough to drive me over the edge, just imagine what a rape could do.”

Her laughter was unnerving. Deacon held her as tight as her wounded shoulder would allow. Her tights were torn at the knees and her skirt was askew. The filth of the alley cobblestones were smeared on her clothes and face.

He had to keep her away from Dugald Croft for the weekend. Those were his orders. Robbie Listowel was in no position to argue. Her injury gave him the upper hand, no pun intended, he thought wryly. She was going to do whatever he told her to do.

He shifted her weight gently to one side so he could slide out from under her without jarring her shoulder.

“Where are you going? Are you leaving me?”

“No.” He laughed in spite of himself. “No. I’m going to pick up your stuff, put it back in the suitcase and get anything else they left behind in their haste to be away.”

Robbie giggled and wiped her eyes. “You talk like a poet. Are you a poet?” Then her eyes cleared. She caught his arm before he could get away. “Hey…. I know you. I’ve seen you before. You were in the bookstore reading a book of poetry.”

Her central nervous system was settling down. She was beginning to regain her faculties, which wasn’t necessarily a good thing.

“I was,” he said carefully. “I don’t remember seeing you though.”

“Liar.”

Her eyes caught the light and glowed. They were like pools of blue ink. Staring into them, Deacon felt the ground beneath him shift.

“Yes, I’m lying,” he said. “I saw you in the bookstore.”

She sat up in alarm. “Were you following me? Is that how you turned up so suddenly, right in the nick of time? Were you in on the attack?”

He shook his head and grimaced. “You watch too many movies. I remember you from the bookstore because you’re a girl and I tend to notice girls. I’m not ashamed of it, but it’s not something I’m going to brag about either. I left the shop long after you did. It was just luck that I happened to be going in the same direction as you. I’ve never seen those shitheads before in my life, but if I ever see them again, I’ll kill them.”

She gazed at him with a look of fear and alarm in her eyes.

Deacon’s passionate rage was always on a slow boil like a kettle on the back of the stove. He was able to control it most of the time, but when he looked at Robbie Listowel and imagined how close she came to being violated by those animals, it exploded out of him like a volcano.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. Adrenaline,” he said apologetically. “If I was going to kill them, they would be dead by now. Do you think you can stand up?”

“I think so. My legs are okay. But they’re weak. I feel like I can’t walk.”

“You’re in shock. Lean on me.” He lifted her under her good arm to her feet. She pressed against him with her full weight.

“I’m sorry I accused you of following me. Why would a poetry lover follow me out of a bookstore? I overreacted, readingtoo much into an ordinary encounter between two people. I haven’t had many of those in the past year. To be honest, I haven’t had any.”

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