Page 26 of Jagger

I knew better than most what happened to people who let their guards down.

They almost never survived.

CHAPTER 9

Bella

With Jagger’s touch and close inspection of bruises, I’d swallowed another reminder of why I’d run.

“You’re not going anywhere, Bella. You belong right here. Unless you never want to see your daughter again.”

I slapped him with everything I had, keeping the hate-filled glare I’d had since he’d barged his way inside. “You son of a bitch. If you ever threaten me, I will do everything in my power to have you prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.” I spun around, prepared to walk out.

The brutal snap of Joel’s hand around my lower arm brought instant agony. Using horrific force, he jerked me around to face him. “You will never talk to me that way again.” As he bent my wrist, I realized he was trying to break it.

“You’re hurting me, you son of a bitch.”

He twisted my arm, bending it at an awkward angle. Stars floated in front of my eyes. “You seem to forget how much worse I could do to you, Bella. Don’t test me.”

Horrible memories and images slammed against the thick armor I’d sheltered around my mind, the steel plates cracking under the pressure. The image of Joel’s face as he’d laughed from my pain was almost worse than the anguish he’d forced me to endure.

I could still feel the tightness in my chest, including the ache from when he’d tossed me into the wall, watching me fall as he’d laughed. But the moment he’d kicked me in the ribs I’d almost passed out. At least he’d had his fill, leaving after that, not caring in the least if I was curled up in sheer agony.

I stood outside on the front porch in the frigid temperatures, watching the snow fall and trying to clear my mind. The sky was dark from the heavy snowfall, making the once bright atmosphere appear as if twilight had fallen when it was only two in the afternoon.

With every deep breath I took of the cold air, the tendrils of panic slowly began to fade away. My little tyke was taking her usual afternoon nap and I had a feeling with the excitement of the day and her tummy filled with chicken noodle soup and a peanut butter sandwich, she’d be out for a long time.

That was fine. She’d been my company and my reason for making it through the long, difficult nights, but right now I needed the solace both Danger Falls and the snowstorm had provided.

With a cup of hot coffee in my hand, I continued to try to process the events of the last few days.

Jagger had been on the phone when I’d walked out. He hadn’t paid much attention to me since bringing me back. I could tell he was still angry that I hadn’t followed his rules without question. I should have. Then again, I wasn’t particularly good with taking anyone’s advice. If I had been, I wouldn’t be lost in a sea of hopelessness.

The bruises would eventually fade just like the ache in my arm had, but the ones in my soul would take a lot longer. Taking it out on Jagger wasn’t like me. I could be opinionated, even caustic when the need arose, but I’d never been so spiteful to someone who’d done little more than try to help me.

With steam rising from the mug, I inhaled the rich aroma of the dark roast and tried to relax. There was something so peaceful about a snowfall, especially when it was fresh. I leaned my head against the column, staring out at the snow as if the delicate flakes would provide answers. Only I could do that, but at least while stuck in an insanely nice house with a gorgeous yet surly man, I could forget all about who I was for a little while.

The door was opened and a part of me hoped it was Jagger and not Cally, who’d bugged me about reading to her from almost the moment we’d returned to the cabin. With new books and toys, her little mind was already working overtime. I couldn’t lie to myself. I wanted to find more out about Jagger.

Everyone had a story. I sensed his was a doozy, and not in a good way. He’d finally gotten comfortable enough to roll up his sleeves late in the morning. That’s when I’d noticed a series of tattoos on both arms. He’d caught me looking at them, immediately turning away. My personality was such that his attempt at hiding them away only made me want to learn more.

Every piece of body ink told a story just like a brooding man’s eyes did.

His scent of testosterone and the forest hit me first as it almost always did. He was by far the most masculine man I’d ever spent any time with. He looked even more so standing on my front porch without his parka on. His usual glare was filtered toward the covered driveway. With his hands in his pockets and leaning against the railing, he appeared almost approachable.

He was anything but.

We’d had tension between us before, but what I was feeling right now was much worse. He must hate me. “Have you lived here your entire life?” I asked for no other reason than that the quiet was starting to become suffocating.

His chuckle was filled with his usual animosity. How dare I ask such a question? I could almost read his mind. “Does it look like this is my kind of place?”

“I think almost anyone can adjust to their surroundings if they want to.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t want to.”

“Why? Because the townspeople are boring? Because they’re beneath you?” I hated that around him I easily turned sarcastic or worse.

Jagger didn’t resort to his usual nasty retort. “When you’ve been stuck in small towns without running water and people dying because they don’t have enough food, you learn to hate the cities and towns prospering pretty quickly. Decorations. Happy people. Laughter. Quaint little shops. The townsfolk take it forgranted. They have no idea their entire life could be stripped away from them in a matter of seconds.”

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