Avenging Christa: Irresistibly Mine Duet Book 2 Read online

  I watched as she crossed over to the kitchen. This was definitely having an impact on her. Every interaction with Atwood stole a little more of her resolve, and being without Max tore her up. I had to find a way to end this, and quickly.

  19

  Christa

  “Thank you so much for seeing us, Mr. Pearson.” I shook his outstretched hand, as did Dayton.

  “You’re welcome, my dear. Come on through to the kitchen. My wife has been baking cookies all morning.” He lowered his voice. “They’re not very tasty, but don’t tell her I said that.”

  I grinned and followed him down a long, narrow hallway. Pictures adorned the walls of a fair-haired girl in various poses, but in each one, her smile was the first thing I noticed. Wide, bright, the kind that reached her eyes and made those she shared it with feel special.

  “Is this Sunny?” I asked.

  He nodded, pausing to scan the pictures. “Always smiling, that one. I swear she came out of her mom with a grin on her face.” He winced. “She’d be twenty-eight now. Maybe married with a kiddo or two of her own.”

  “She looks so happy in these photos. We’re terribly sorry, Mr. Pearson,” Dayton said gently.

  He nodded, then patted Dayton’s arm. “Thank you, son.”

  We entered a large, airy kitchen with a big rustic table at the center. Mrs. Pearson was at the stove. She turned around, wiped her hands down her apron, and came toward us.

  “You must be Dayton and Christa.” We both received a warm hug. “Please have a seat. Would you like something to drink? I’ve baked cookies.”

  I caught Mr. Pearson’s eye, and he put his finger to his lips and winked. God, these were such good people. They didn’t deserve what had happened to them. My thoughts turned to Max, how it would break me to lose him. How difficult I’d find it to carry on if I couldn’t hold my child in my arms, smell him, kiss him, shower him with love. How the Pearson’s hadn’t fractured under the death of their daughter humbled me. I would not allow Sunny’s death to be in vain. Somehow, I’d find a way to take Sutton Atwood down.

  “Coffee would be lovely, Mrs. Pearson,” Dayton said.

  Seemingly happy to have someone to fuss over, Mrs. Pearson bustled about the kitchen, pouring drinks and setting a large plate of cookies in the middle of the table. “There’s plenty more where they came from, so don’t be shy. Help yourselves.”

  I reached out and took a cookie, still warm from the oven. I nibbled on it. Contrary to Mr. Pearson’s warning, they were pretty good, if a bit lacking in flavor.

  “Delicious,” I said, nudging Dayton.

  He got my message and picked one up. He broke a piece off and ate it. I gathered it wasn’t to his taste because he set the remainder next to his cup of coffee.

  “Would you tell us what happened?” Dayton asked gently. “To Sunny.”

  Mrs. Pearson took a deep breath and reached out to clasp her husband’s hand. Even after all this time, their pain and suffering was still very much present. Time hadn’t eroded the agony of losing their only child.

  “She was so excited about going off to college. The first in our family,” Mr. Pearson said proudly. “Me and my brothers, we don’t come from much, you see, but as soon as Sunny was born, we put away every cent we could for her future. And she didn’t let us down, did she, love?”

  Mrs. Pearson smiled. “No. She was a clever girl.”

  “What was she studying?” I asked.

  “Psychology. She wanted to work with kids who’d suffered abuse.” Mrs. Pearson stared off into space. “She was such a caring person, with a big heart.”

  Silence descended, each of them lost to their memories. Dayton opened his mouth to speak, but I shot him a look. The least we owed these people—who’d agreed to open old wounds for our benefit—was our patience.

  Eventually, Mr. Pearson heaved a sigh. “She loved her first year. She’d call us every Sunday evening to tell us all her news, so excited at times, we couldn’t even understand her. She came home for the summer and took a job at our local gas station. Then in the fall, she went back to Seattle.”

  He paused. I squeezed his arm. “Take your time.”

  “Four weeks before her nineteenth birthday, she turned up on our doorstep. I can still remember the shock when I opened the door. Her face was covered in bruises, and her eyes had this wildness about them. She threw herself at me, sobbing uncontrollably. It took three, no four, days until she told us what happened.”

  He glanced at his wife, and a silent conversation passed between them. Mrs. Pearson took over.

  “She told us she’d been… raped.” She squeezed her eyes closed, and a tear fell onto her cheek. “She’d taken herself to the hospital, but when they called the police, she checked herself out, got on a plane, and came home.”

  “She never reported it?” Dayton asked.

  Mrs. Pearson shook her head. “I tried to persuade her, told her the man who’d done such a terrible thing shouldn’t be allowed to get away with it, but she was adamant.” Her watery gaze met mine. “She was terrified. Said he was a powerful man, and he’d threatened to kill her if she told anyone. I know my daughter, and she believed that threat one hundred percent.

  “After that, she was never the same. She refused to go back to college. Instead, she locked herself in her room, rarely coming out. Then, a year to the day after he… after he…” Mrs. Pearson blew out a long, slow breath, her cheeks puffing out.

  “You don’t have to say it.”

  She glanced helplessly at her husband. He put his arm around her shoulders, hugging her to him.

  “I went upstairs to ask her if she wanted something to eat,” Mr. Pearson said. “It was a daily struggle, you know, getting food in her. Anyway, when she didn’t answer, I opened the door and went inside. And I found her.” He stared out of the window, his eyes taking on a distant look as though he was right back there, in that very moment, living the horror as it unfolded.

  “I got her down, gave her CPR, but it was too late. She was gone.”

  He buried his face in his wife’s hair, and the two of them began to quietly sob. I stared helplessly at Dayton who clutched my hand. After a few moments, they seemed to recover.

  “When the man, Draven—he’s a giant, isn’t he? Sorry, I digress. When he came here and told us about you, miss, well I couldn’t believe it, truth be told. I mean, a man like that… How does he get away with it?”

  “He won’t get away with it for much longer,” Dayton growled. “Not if we have anything to do with it.”

  “Do you have a picture of Sunny? One you’d be willing to let me have?” I asked, an idea forming.

  “Of course, love.” Mr. Pearson got to his feet. He went over to the kitchen windowsill and picked up a photo frame. He removed the photograph and brought it over to me. It was of Sunny wearing a big floppy hat and a yellow sun dress, smiling into the camera. “I took that the summer she came home. That’s how I like to remember her, not the shell of a girl she was at the end.”

  I slipped the photograph in my purse, taking care not to crease it. “Thank you so much. I’ll make sure I return it.”

  “No need, love. I have it on my computer. I can easily print out another one.”

  Dayton and I stood, and I couldn’t help going over to Mr. and Mrs. Pearson and giving them a hug. “Thank you so much for talking to us. I can’t imagine how difficult that must have been.”

  Mr. Pearson patted my shoulder. “You take care of yourself, love. I hope we’ve helped.”

  “You have,” Dayton said.

  Mrs. Pearson insisted on wrapping up some cookies for us, and I didn’t have the heart to stop her. Besides, it didn’t do any harm to take them if it made her feel needed. Mr. Pearson saw us to the door.

  “There’s a trash can at the end of the street,” he said, pointing his chin at the cookies.

  I chuckled. “You’re a little devil, aren’t you, Mr. Pearson?”

  He grinned. “You take care of this on
e now, son,” he said to Dayton. “You hear me?”

  “Yes, sir,” Dayton replied. “She’s safe with me.”

  Dayton settled me in the car then got in the driver’s side. We waved to Mr. Pearson as Dayton pulled away from the curb.

  “Why did you want the photograph?” he asked.

  “Because we’re going back to Seattle,” I said. “I want to talk to Kathy.”

  Dayton glanced sideways at me before refocusing on the road. “You think what happened to Sunny will change her mind?”

  I shrugged. “Only one way to find out.”

  20

  Dayton

  We landed in Seattle at three in the afternoon local time. It had already been a long day, and I worried about Christa. It had been less than two weeks since her surgery, and she’d had a lot to deal with during that time. A second weekend without Max, my father’s funeral, flying around the country, her complete and utter refusal to take time off work. All of it had to be taking its toll, although to look at her, so strong, so determined, so beautiful, no one would guess there was any turmoil going on inside her. She’d crash at some point, and when she did, I’d be there to catch her. I’d never let her fall.

  We taxied to a halt, and Christa unclipped her seat belt. “Let’s do this,” she said, rising to her feet.

  “Hang on.” I caught her hips and tugged her close. I skimmed my hand up her side, brushing my thumb over the curve of her breast, cupping her jaw. I bent my head and kissed her. It felt like forever since we’d connected sensually, and I missed her. I missed the feel of her soft lips on mine, the taste of her, the way she gasped when I pushed inside, our hot bodies sliding against one another. There’d been too much stress, too little time for us, and I didn’t want to lose the closeness we’d created.

  “Your timing sucks,” she said, fisting my shirt as I drew back. “Hold that thought, okay? Because on the flight back, we’re making use of the damned bedroom on this fancy plane of yours.”

  No, we wouldn’t, not in the way she intimated, not until she was fully healed. But a little heavy petting, yep, that I would allow. “Fancy plane of ours,” I said.

  She rolled her eyes as she always did when I corrected her on the whole ‘what’s mine is yours’ thing.

  “Whatever. Now let’s go and hope we can persuade Kathy to go to the police.” She bit her lip. “I just hope we’ve got enough time. We have to be back for Max at six tomorrow.”

  “There’s time,” I said. “And if there isn’t, we’ll fly home, fetch Max, and fly back again.”

  She stood on tiptoes and pecked my lips. “You’re pretty damned wonderful, you know that?”

  “Don’t tell my employees,” I murmured against her mouth. “I like them thinking I’m a heartless bastard.”

  She chuckled, then fluttered her eyelashes. “Whatever you say, sir.”

  I groaned, loving these moments of light, of intimacy, even if we were living in the middle of a nightmare. “Fuck, woman. Don’t do that to me.”

  She playfully bumped my shoulder, then fit her small hand inside my much larger one. “Let’s go. I just hope Kathy is on shift tonight.”

  We arrived at the restaurant where Kathy worked at five after four. The same woman, Marsha, was standing behind the podium serving a couple and their three kids. She caught my eye and raised her eyebrows in recognition.

  “This way,” she said to the family, glancing back over her shoulder. “Take a seat. I’ll be right with you.”

  We remained standing. I scanned the restaurant looking for Kathy, spotting her on the far side, taking an order. I nudged Christa, then pointed with my chin. “We’re in luck.”

  She tracked my gaze, then set off. I followed. Clearly, we weren’t waiting for Marsha to return.

  “Kathy,” Christa quietly called out as we approached her.

  Kathy’s head spun around, and her eyes widened. “Wh-what are you doing back here?” She brushed past us on her way to her station. “I can’t talk now. I’m working.”

  “You’re not the only one he attacked,” Christa said to her retreating form.

  Kathy skidded to a halt, paused, then slowly turned around, dismay etched on her face. “There’s another girl? Here?”

  “No. She’s dead,” Christa said bluntly. “She hung herself because she couldn’t live with what he’d done to her. He attacked her two years after he attacked you.”

  Kathy’s hand covered her mouth, and she paled. “Oh God,” she croaked.

  “Exactly. How many more could there be, Kathy? Are you really willing to stand by and let him get away with this?” She slipped her hand into her purse and pulled out Sunny’s picture, holding it in front of Kathy’s face. “This is her. Sunny Pearson. She was nineteen years old. She had her whole life ahead of her, but he stole it.” She closed the distance between them and touched Kathy’s arm. “He stole from her, and you, and me, and God only knows how many more. Please, Kathy. I’m begging you. Help me stop him.”

  My chest swelled with pride. What a woman. My woman.

  Kathy stared at Sunny’s picture for the longest time. Her eyes closed briefly, and her bottom lip wobbled as though she was going to cry. When she opened her eyes, they were brimful of tears and, one by one, they fell onto her cheeks.

  “I’m so scared,” she whispered.

  Christa’s arms went around her, and she held her tightly. “I know, Kathy. It’s okay.”

  I went to find the manager, explained we were friends of Kathy’s and that she wasn’t well, and we were taking her home. He wasn’t happy, but I didn’t give a shit, and I told him precisely that. My body language, the glare I hit him with, and the jut of my jaw dared him to argue with me.

  He took the sensible option.

  “We’re out of here,” I said, touching Christa’s shoulder. “Come on, Kathy.”

  “M-my job—”

  “It’s fine. I’ve squared it with your manager.”

  I placed the palm of my hand on Christa’s lower back and edged her toward the door. She captured Kathy’s hand, and we left. I drove us to a nearby hotel that I knew had a quiet lobby bar, somewhere we’d be able to talk in private. Kathy shivered when we got out of the car, despite the warmth of the late afternoon sunshine. I think her chill was more to do with the dawning realization that if she’d stuck to her guns and pressed charges, Atwood might have been put away. If he’d been in prison, he wouldn’t have been able to attack Sunny.

  That wasn’t altogether a fair assumption. For all we knew, Kathy hadn’t been the first. There could be countless victims out there. I shuddered at such a horrific thought.

  I invited over the bartender and gave him our drinks order. While I waited for him to return, I stepped away to check my phone, leaving Christa to try to calm Kathy. She’d probably have more luck without me crowding them.

  I made a quick call to Draven to update him and to check on Max. With any luck, Atwood’s days were numbered, both in terms of being able to see Max, and as a free man. I wouldn’t stop looking until I’d found every single woman he’d abused, and I’d make sure the police added each one to that bastard’s rap sheet. If I had my way, that fucker would be carried out of prison in a body bag.

  I returned to our table. Christa and Kathy were deep in conversation. I slid onto my seat and picked up my whiskey, knocking it back in one go.

  “I just spoke to Draven,” I said to Christa. “Max is okay.”

  She reached across the table and squeezed my hand. “Thank you for checking.”

  I nodded. “So, how we doing?”

  Kathy met my gaze. “I want to help, Mr. Somers. Really, I do. But I’m terrified what he’ll do to me, or worse, to my daughter. He has the power to take her from me, just like he’s doing with your son. I can’t risk that. I’m so sorry, but I can’t help you.”

  Same old excuses, and I’d had enough. I was going to push this woman into doing the right thing. Yes, that made me a heartless bastard, but my main concern, my only concern w
as Christa and Max.

  I laced my fingers, then rested my hands on the table. “Here’s what’s going to happen. We’re going to finish our drinks and then Christa is going to call her friend, Detective Harris.” Kathy opened her mouth to interrupt. I shot her a stern glare that dared her to utter a single word until I’d finished. She clamped her mouth shut.

  “We’re going to make arrangements for him to take your statement about what Atwood put you through. Christa will be by your side the entire time. And after you’ve made your statement, you and your daughter are coming back to New York with us. I own another apartment in the building I live in. You can stay there, rent free, for as long as it takes to put Atwood away for good. Then, if you choose to return to Seattle, fine. If you want to stay, also fine. We’ll come to an arrangement over the apartment. While that fucker is walking the streets, I will provide you with as much protection as it takes to make you feel safe. Round the clock if that’s what you want. And when it’s all over, when you’re ready, I’ll give you a job and arrange schooling for your daughter. But I’ll tell you what isn’t going to happen.” I edged closer, my gaze locked on hers. She rapidly blinked. “You are not going to let him get away with this. You will make a statement. No arguments.”

  “Dayton,” Christa began, but I silenced her with a look, then turned my attention back to Kathy.

  “Ready?” I asked, getting to my feet.

  She swallowed and wrapped her arms around her body. Taking a deep breath, Kathy tipped her head back and slowly nodded, a determined expression on her face.

  “I’m ready.”

  21

  Christa

  I spotted Detective George Harris standing outside the police department. He gave me a bright grin and a wave. I felt the nervous tension rolling off Kathy, and her breathing came out low and shallow.

  “It’s going to be fine,” I said in what I hoped was a reassuring tone. I took hold of her hand and gave it a squeeze. “George is wonderful, and I’ll be with you the whole time.”