Sworn to Protect Read online

  Although Mya nodded, worry still shone in her eyes. “She’s not the same, Sonny. I don’t know what to do,” she admitted. She wiped at the tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. Sundance hated to see his sister cry. He gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze and she seemed to take comfort in the knowledge that he was there for her. She straightened and nodded, ready to put her faith in him to fix things. “Maybe you can do what I can’t seem to manage. But remember, she’s so fragile right now. Go easy on her.”

  Sundance nodded but he made no promises. He’d have to see for himself what was happening with Iris before he knew how to handle the situation.

  All he knew at this point was that Iris hadn’t left her home in the three weeks since she left the hospital. Mya brought her supplies, but otherwise she accepted no visitors. For all intents and purposes, she’d locked herself away in her house.

  And that definitely wasn’t the Iris Beaudoin he’d known since she and Mya were in kindergarten together and he was in the third grade.

  The Iris he knew was fearless, prideful, stubborn, a royal pain in his ass, in-your-face woman who laughed at challenges and never failed to gleefully insert herself into other people’s business without apology.

  He couldn’t let that Iris wither and crumple in on herself, and if it took him to rile her up and draw her out, he’d do it. Whether she liked it or not.

  Iris heard the sharp rap at her front door and ignored it just as she had whenever someone happened to stop by. She knew Mya was still at the urgent care center but even so, Mya wouldn’t knock because she had a key and would just walk in. So whoever was knocking—insistently and loudly—would eventually go away when they realized Iris wasn’t going to receive them.

  The darkened interior of her usually sunny bedroom was her sanctuary and her prison. She’d stripped the gauzy panels of her bedroom windows, replacing them with dark, heavy blankets that blocked any hint of sunshine as well as prevented prying eyes from seeing in. Each time she felt the stirrings of strength to face the outside, she shrank away with fear that he was out there, watching her, laughing. When she slept she fought phantom hands that grabbed and violated. She often woke screaming, soaking in her own panic-driven sweat, stinking of terror and helplessness. So she caught catnaps when her body could no longer fight the exhaustion, but she stopped sleeping through the night to avoid the nightmares. Mya had offered to write her a prescription for something to help her sleep but Iris had balked at the idea. The thought of being unable to rouse herself from her dreams was too much like that night, being unable to help herself as a stranger had raped and beaten her. She shuddered violently and she burrowed deeper into the blankets heaped on her bed. In spite of the summer heat, she couldn’t seem to warm her body. It was as if her internal temperature had been permanently set to deep freeze.

  At least the knocking had stopped.

  Then she heard the front door opening and she scrambled out of the bed, grabbing the baseball bat she kept by her bedside now. She’d thought of getting a gun but that would require leaving her house and facing people.

  It was probably Mya, the logical side of her brain offered, but the logic was drowned out by the panicked part of her that was in complete control right now. Her grip tightened on the neck of the worn wood.

  “Iris?” a voice called out, and recognition caused her to stiffen in alarm.

  “Sundance?” she answered, her voice scratchy from disuse. “Is that you?” He followed her voice and rounded the corner to the threshold of her bedroom where she still stood in the shadows with a raised baseball bat. He peered into the darkness and then flipped the light switch. She stumbled from the sudden wash of bright light and dropped the bat to crawl to the safety of her bed. “Go away,” she demanded, pulling the covers over her head. “I don’t want any visitors.” Least of all you.

  But he didn’t go away. Instead he walked to the window and she heard him taking down her blankets, flooding the room with natural light. She felt the sunshine filling the room and she burrowed deeper into her bedding. She didn’t want sunshine. She wanted darkness and solitude.

  “I need to talk to you,” Sundance said, ignoring her wishes. That was just like him, to do what he wanted despite what others said. “About your case,” he added unnecessarily. Why else would he be pestering her? It wasn’t as if he regularly dropped by to visit on a normal day. Normal…the word held no meaning for her now. She couldn’t remember normal any longer. Maybe she was delirious from lack of sleep. Maybe she was eternally cracked in the head because she couldn’t think straight, couldn’t think beyond basic needs. And when she said “basic,” she meant the very basics.

  The slow but steady tug on the blankets caused her to pull harder but her strength was laughable. Tears welled in her eyes as she felt the blanket slip from her grip. All that covered her was the sheet. Sundance stood in a pile of blankets, his gaze alarmed. She imagined she looked frightening. She didn’t care. She lifted her chin and met his stare. “What do you want?” she asked dully, wishing to hide but he’d made that impossible. “I said go away.”

  Sundance had never minced words with her. In all the years she’d known him he’d never held back. To be fair, neither had she. But as he stared at her, his gaze taking in every disgusting detail of her self-imposed retirement from the human race, she saw something different. Uncertainty. She would’ve rather that he started yelling at her or baiting her than what she saw in his eyes right now. The heavy silence battered at the thin, tattered veil of spunk she had left. Curling in a ball, she turned away from him, shame and defeat coating her every thought. Why’d he have to come? Couldn’t he have just left her alone? Had Mya sent him? She couldn’t imagine her best friend would betray her this way but, Great Spirit help her, she didn’t know what else to think.

  “Have you eaten?” he asked.

  She thought of the piece of toast she’d forced down, was it yesterday? Or maybe it was the day before that? She answered, “I’m not hungry.”

  “When was the last time you showered?” It’d been a while. She could smell herself and it wasn’t pretty, but there was a small comfort in her own stink. Perhaps if she smelled bad enough no one would come near her. When she didn’t answer, he said, “Never mind. I think I can figure that one out on my own. Come on, it’s time to get up and get moving again,” he announced, the grim tone telling her he wasn’t looking forward to the prospect, either.

  “Not today,” she answered, clutching a pillow to her belly.

  “Yes, today,” he countered, his firm control back in full swing. He’d always been such a bossy jerk, she noted almost distantly. “First things first, a shower.” Because you smell, is what he hadn’t said but she heard anyway.

  “I don’t feel like it. Maybe tomorrow,” she said in the hopes of sending him on his way.

  “Today,” he repeated, going to her bathroom to start the water.

  “Go to hell,” she muttered, but there was little heat and he called her on it.

  “Say it like you mean it or don’t waste my time. Now let’s go,” he said, his stance hard and unyielding, like a drill sergeant with an unruly private. “It’s time to get back into the swing of things and that starts with a shower. We’ll work our way up from there.”

  Her eyes stung. Why wouldn’t he go away? “You’re cruel. Don’t you understand I can’t just yet?”

  If there was a softening in his gaze, it was gone in an instant. “You’re giving up. That’s not the Iris I know.”

  She closed her eyes. “That girl is gone.”

  “No. She’s just buried under the layers of stink you’re marinating in. Now, either you can get out of that bed on your own accord or I can haul you out. It’s your choice, but you’d better do it within the next three seconds or I’ll make the choice for you.”

  “Go…to…hell.” This time she added more heat as anger started to thaw the frozen tundra filling the landscape inside her.

  He offered a harsh smile. “That’s
more like it but I know you can do better. Time’s up.” He approached her and she shrieked as she surmised his intent. She kicked at him but he managed in one fluid movement to rip her sheet from her body and toss her over his shoulder. She screamed and pounded his back, tears blinding her. Panic built until it threatened to choke the air from her lungs. She inhaled a sharp, painful breath, her mouth working to produce sound but something from her blank memory of that night broke loose and strangled her vocal cords until only a soft mewling escaped her lips.

  “Don’t do this,” she gasped, kicking her feet, but he held her securely, thwarting her best efforts, that were pretty pathetic given how weak she felt from not eating or sleeping. “Sonny…please…” she whispered, tears flowing down her cheeks to land on the carpet as he carried her to the bathroom that had filled with steam. “I can’t…”

  “You can,” he disagreed, depositing her in the shower, still clothed in her sleep shirt and underwear. She gasped as the water pelted her. It was at once scalding and soothing. She sobbed, flashes of memory coming to her from that night. She’d sat on the floor of the hospital shower after Mya had examined her, watching as the water washed away the blood and dirt but could do nothing to remove the pain and degradation. She’d remained in that shower until the water ran cold but by that time she’d become numb. That’d been the last time she’d showered. She shuddered as great, racking sobs shook her body. Sundance seemed on autopilot and was unmoved by her total breakdown. He grabbed the shampoo and squirted a modest handful into her shaking hands. “Start with this,” he instructed. “I trust you can handle the rest.”

  And then he left, closing the door behind him. She stared at the green glob in her palm as if it were her enemy. But in truth, the enemy was the sentinel outside her door, demanding she put herself back together.

  Damn you, Sundance. I hate you.

  If only that were true…maybe none of this would’ve happened.

  Her breath hitching painfully in her chest, she began to scrub until her scalp ached but just as she knew that night…nothing would ever take away the stain of what had been done to her.

  Nothing.

  Chapter 3

  Sundance hands shook as he shoved them through his hair, listening as the water continued to fall in the shower. He knew he was taking a chance pushing her like that, Great Spirit help him, he’d felt each quake of her body against his as true panic had caused her to kick and scratch against his touch. Seeing her shrink into herself, trying to disappear, tore a fissure of wrath and helplessness inside him. But he couldn’t allow Iris to fade into nothingness. So if it meant being the coldhearted bastard who forced her to stay with the living, so be it.

  Releasing a short, tight breath, he surveyed the room she’d turned into her prison cell and wondered how Iris had managed to live in such conditions. The stale, closed-in air was enough to send a normal person running for the window, which was exactly what Sundance did first. Throwing open the window, not caring that it was a little brisk outside, he started pulling the blankets from the floor to take them to the washing machine. He’d been here with Mya enough times to know the layout of the house but he never imagined he’d find himself actually doing Iris’s laundry. Up until recently, he hadn’t found much use for Iris aside from her being his sister’s best friend.

  But things had changed. He wasn’t quite sure when or how but they had. Before he’d had time to deal with his feelings, Iris had been attacked.

  He made quick work of throwing everything in the washing machine and then returned to make the bed with fresh sheets. Having grown up with alcoholic parents, the responsibility of running the house had often fallen to Sundance. Well before most friends his age, he’d known how to cook, clean and drive. He’d just finished when steam escaped from the door as it opened.

  Iris emerged from the bathroom, her long blue-black hair lying limply against the deep, rich burgundy bathrobe, her stare red-rimmed and accusatory as it bounced from the freshly made bed and back to him again. “Why’d you come?” she asked, her lip quivering. She clutched the lapels of her bathrobe closer to her neck as if trying to ensure every square inch of skin was under lock and key. Her desperate movements only accentuated how she’d changed in the course of one damned, ill-fated evening.

  Iris had always been proud of her womanly curves, now she was doing everything she could to cover them.

  “You can’t hide in your house for the rest of your life,” he said gravely, meeting her stare for stare, though what he saw reflected in her eyes made him ache for the loss of something he’d never known he’d wanted.

  “I’m not hiding.”

  “Mya says you haven’t been to work in weeks and you never leave the house. I’d call that hiding.”

  “I’m using my vacation and sick days.” She swallowed, looking away. “I’m…regrouping.” Sundance took a step forward, compelled to reach out to her in some way but she returned the distance between them by taking a faltering step backward until her back bumped against the wall. A hard knot lodged in his chest.

  “Iris…” he started but she shook her head.

  “I’m fine. It’s fine. I just need to be alone for a little while.”

  She wasn’t fine. Any fool could see she was the opposite of the word. Mya had to see her friend was drowning. Why wasn’t she making more of an effort to draw Iris out? Surely wilting and withering away in this house wasn’t healthy. “I can’t let you do this to yourself.”

  “I’m not doing anything.”

  “Exactly. Not eating, not showering, not leaving the house. You need to snap out of it.”

  Her eyes were dry but when he met her gaze he felt waves of grief and shame rolling over him and it made him want to put his fist through the wall. “I’ll be fine,” she said, nodding.

  “Stop saying that,” he bit out. “Damn it, Iris, you’re not fine. You’re punishing yourself by barricading yourself up in this house like some kind of communicable disease. It wasn’t your fault. Whoever did this is scum, not you. Help me catch this son of a bitch before he does it to someone else.”

  “I don’t remember,” she whispered, shaking her head in a pathetic, scared little rabbit motion that tore at his heart. “I don’t remember…I can’t help anyone.” She pulled the lapels tighter around her body as she began to shudder. “There’s a big white spot in my memory and I don’t think I want to remember. What if he’s someone I know? What if he’s watching me all the time, waiting to do it again?”

  “That’s not going to happen,” he said, fighting to keep the growl from his voice. “We’re going to catch him.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I know that I won’t stop until I do.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut. “I can’t help you. I wish I could. I can’t remember. It’s safer if I stay in the house. He might know where I work. He might follow me. If I stay here…he won’t find me.”

  He wasn’t angry with her but seeing her so broken, so torn apart mentally, it awoke a rage so fierce that he wanted to break things for her sake. But he couldn’t do that, not when he needed to keep a calm head in order to catch whoever did this, not when he needed to be the one person in Iris’s life to keep her focused and moving forward so that she could get through this. He didn’t know why he knew he was the one for the job but he accepted it as he accepted all his responsibilities. He walked slowly to Iris even as she kept her eyes screwed shut. He could see her body quivering through the robe and he didn’t know if it was caused by cold or fear. He lowered himself beside her, taking care not to crowd her but close enough to let her know he was there. He’d never been one to coddle people, never been accused of being much of a nurturer. But here, now, he wished he had more of those qualities. He felt ill-equipped to deal with this kind of emotional trauma but he couldn’t leave her this way either. They sat in silence for a long while until Sundance recalled a memory from their childhood in the hopes of distracting her.

  “Remember that time you
hid a dead crawdad in my room and I couldn’t find it for weeks?” He smiled at the memory, remembering how bad his room had smelled before he’d found it tucked under his bed. “I’d known it was you even though you denied it. Even swore on your mother’s life that it wasn’t you. I wanted to kill you for that one.” But Mya had pointed out that if he hadn’t embarrassed Iris by snapping her bra in front of everyone during lunch recess, she wouldn’t have felt compelled to seek revenge. He’d grudgingly let that one slide. But there were countless other times when Iris had been the aggressor, the one who’d purposefully gone out of her way to make his life miserable for the simple pleasure of watching his blood pressure rise. He never thought he’d miss that Iris. But sitting here with that woman’s shell was almost too difficult to bear.

  “Why are you here?” she whispered.

  “Because someone has to be.” He looked her over with a clinical eye. There was no hiding the fatigue that bracketed her eyes, the sallow skin that usually glowed with health and vitality. “When was the last time you slept?”

  The minute shake of her head told him she couldn’t remember. “He’s out there. Every time I close my eyes he’s there, watching me. Waiting.”

  “I’m here.” No one was going to touch her. He’d make sure of it. He felt pressure against his biceps as she tentatively laid her head against him. “No one’s going to touch you.”

  “So scared…” she admitted in a tight, barely audible voice. “So tired…”

  “Then sleep,” he instructed softly.

  She settled and, after a moment, her breathing became deep and he knew she’d fallen asleep. Pure exhaustion had won out.

  Rising carefully, he maneuvered her into his arms and lifted her to the bed. With her eyes closed in sleep, lush lashes resting against her cheeks, and a full mouth that, until recently, he’d always teased her about, calling her fish lips, he found her features familiar yet foreign. Her hair, still wet from the shower, hung down his arm in a fall of black waves that shone like the liquid surface of a lake under the moon’s glow. He placed her on the bed and carefully pulled the blankets over her. Satisfied she was warm enough, he went to the window and closed it, not wanting her to catch a chill for the sake of fresh air.