Page 2 of Stowaway Whirlwind
Now I’m pissed off for a whole new reason, liable to have a heart attack when my blood pressure continues to rise. “The fuck happened to you, honey?”
I drop the gun in the driver’s seat and pinch the dark denim fabric at my knees to hike my jeans up an inch so I can crouch down in front of her. She tries to scramble away from me, but there’s nowhere to go. I smile at her gumption when she pulls a knee up and tries to kick me again, but I easily swat her foot away and laugh when she growls with frustration. It’s cute. Mysmile drops when she shrinks and tries to make herself as small as possible, both arms shielding her middle.
She whimpers, her chin now quivering, when I gentle my voice and tell her, “Hey, hey, I just want to make sure you’re ok,” and then pull one of her arms away from her belly to examine it.
Her short, swollen fingers are damn near white and ice cold. She must be freezing in her tight, faded, off-white, Las Vegas graphic T-shirt, the hem of which stops just above her belly button that looks painfully stretched to the limits. A large swath of skin is exposed since the T-shirt doesn’t meet the waistband of what looks to be black athletic leggings.
She yanks her arm back, and I let it go so I don’t give her any more bruises. She wraps it around her middle again, a wave of fresh tears slipping down her cheeks, and she mumbles, “Please don’t hurt me. I’ll leave. I won’t bother you. Just please let me leave.” Her large eyes bounce around frantically while she starts shaking like a leaf.
I rock back on the heels of my square-toe brown boots with my elbows on my knees and try to relax my expression. It also works to block her view of the windshield between the front seats until she has no choice but to look at me. It’s difficult to make myself come across as less threatening or intimidating, seeing as I’m built like a linebacker in the NFL at six-foot-three and 250 pounds, but I try anyway so I don’t frighten her more than I already have.
I clear my throat and lower my voice, hoping it’ll help ease some of her fear. “I’m not gonna hurt you.” I sigh when her tears keep coming, and I back up to give her a few more inches of breathing room, then sit on my butt, my thick, leather billfold digging into my ass in the back pocket of my jeans. “You’ve got my word, ok? Now, why don’t you tell me your name, honey.”
“Marigold,” she whispers, her breathy, feminine voice scratchy but soft. It’s a massive difference from the fierce lookand shrill scream she gave me earlier. She slowly sits up straight and rolls to sit on her knees, giving me a better view of her. She looks young as hell—too young to be out on her own and breaking into vehicles.
“Marigold. That’s a pretty name.” And it is. With her mane of thick, red hair streaked with gold and the wide eyes she gives me, it suits her perfectly. “Now tell me, how’d you get those bruises?” I point to her upper arm, then fist my hands in my lap. It just ain’t right, whatever she’s been through.
She eyes me warily for a moment but nods like she’s giving herself permission to speak. “The last guy I hitched with…he told me I had to pay for my ride, but that he’d take it easy on me because of my…condition. That I only had to give him a…a…blow job.” She’s barely whispering by the end of it, and she presses a hand over her mouth like she’s going to be sick.
I have to take a deep breath and hold it in because I know if I explode with rage like I want to, I’ll end up scaring her worse than before. That can’t be healthy for someone in hercondition.
“I’m sorry that happened to you.”Fuck, I don’t want to have to ask her this, but I have to know. “Did he…did you…?” I don’t even have the words to finish asking just exactly what he did to her when she clearly fought back. Instead, I settle on, “Do you want me to call the cops or take you to the hospital so you can get treated for…something like that?”
Marigold shakes her head, and I guess maybe I’m gaining a little bit of her trust because she slides onto her butt to sit with her legs crossed and leans back against the side wall of the truck. She doesn’t take her hands off her belly, rubbing them up and down.
“No, I’m fine. I got away before he could force me to do it.”
“Ok, that’s…ok.” I blow out a massive sigh of relief. “If you don’t mind my asking, how did you get away? You’re just a little bitty thing, and you’re…” I gesture to her heavily pregnant state,which would make fighting and running away that much more difficult.
“Pregnant? Yeah. Um, I pretended to agree, and he pulled his car over at that last truck stop. When he unzipped his pants, I went for his gun holstered on his hip. He grabbed me, trying to get it back, but I was able to get the door open and get out. I started screaming as loud as I could and threatened to shoot him in the balls if he didn’t stop.” Her brows pull together. “Though, I guess he didn’t know it was unloaded either? That’s when your truck pulled into the lot close to us, and he took off with the door still hanging open.”
It’s getting harder to maintain control over my expression, and I think she knows it, judging by the way she tilts her head to the side, studying me.
“Well…I’m glad to hear you got out of a…bad situation.” It’s the understatement of the year, and my hands tremble slightly with the sudden overwhelming urge to pull her onto my lap and hug her. To hold her and tell her everything’s going to be ok and that she did real good protecting herself.
But I don’t.
I don’t think she’d take too kindly to a strange man—one who could easily overpower her—touching her after what she’s been through. Instead, I keep her talking, watching her shoulders slowly lower as she tells me her story. “After that, how did you get in my truck without me noticing?”
“I hid in the bushes behind your truck all night until you went into the store right before the sun came up. The door was unlocked, and you didn’t check back here when you got in and started driving.”
“That was damn near fourteen hours ago.” A thought pops into my head, and I remember what Dolly was like in hercondition. “Shit, was that the last time you used the restroom? My buddy’s wife is fit to burst all the damn time when she’spregnant. I can’t believe you haven’t pissed yourself.” I eye her lap, and she crosses her hands over it. “You didn’t, did you?”
“Oh my god, no!” The flush of her pale skin deepens with embarrassment.
“Hey, it’s, uh, it’s ok if you did. I about pissed myself when you pulled that gun.” I wink at her, and the redness in her cheeks spreads down the front of her slim neck to her even paler collarbones peaking above the scoop of her T-shirt. “I can walk you inside the store if you need to do your business.”
“I don’t need to…Promise. I can wait,” she says with a grimace, squirming a fraction—the little liar. “Maybe I can stay here if that’s ok with you? I mean, unless you want me to leave.” She shakes her head, fluttering the strands of her hair, then brushes them behind her ears, three gold-stud earrings pierced in a line up each lobe. “What am I talking about? Of course, you want me to leave. Jesus, that was dumb. Ok, I’ll just…” She rolls onto her knees and has to place both hands on the floor to stand.
I spring up to help her to her feet with my hands around her ribs. I drop my hands quickly, stepping back once she can stand on her own. I’m just over a head taller than the girl, and I clench my fists as I picture her fighting off a grown man. Even if her attacker was smaller than me, I’d wager he was still a lot stronger than her. She’s damn lucky she was able to get away.
Marigold arches her back with a wince and massages it, working out the kinks from being hunched on the floor for so long. She’s all belly, and I wonder with apprehension just how far along she is in her pregnancy. She yanks the waistband of her leggings up to meet the hem of her T-shirt, and it promptly rolls back down, showing off a dark line that trails from her belly button down to disappear into her pants before she bends to grab a ratty, dark purple backpack I hadn’t noticed yet on the floor.
“So, um, I’ll just be going. Right? I should leave, shouldn’t I?”
I click my tongue as I shift on my feet, uncomfortable with the idea of her striking out on her own again. “Where are you gonna go?”
“Oh, uh, I’ll just…” She rolls her pink lips between her teeth and hedges toward the open space between the front seats.
