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I LEAVE MALLORY UPSTAIRS to shower and get cleaned up. Grabbing my phone from the counter, I call Olivia as I feed Bella.
“Hey there. What’s up?” She answers on the first ring. I can hear my nieces in the background playing.
“Hi. I need a favor. Can I borrow some clothes from you?”
Olivia hesitates, “You’re bigger than Gabriel. I don’t think they’d fit.”
“Not his clothes. Yours.”
“They will definitely not fit.” She laughs. “What’s going on?”
I take a deep breath, realizing she has no clue what I’m talking about. I’m still ramped up after hearing what Mallory told the Detective about what she went through in the last twenty-four hours. “I’m sorry. Let me explain.” I tell her about what happened and that Mallory is upstairs with no personal belongings.
“Oh! Of course. Let me grab a few things and I’ll run them over. Give me five minutes.”
“Thanks, Olivia. I appreciate it.”
“Always.” She hangs up and I survey what I have in the kitchen to make for us to eat. I settle on simple and pull out the ingredients to make grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup.
Olivia drops off the clothes in a small duffel bag, but doesn’t stay. She left the girls alone at the house. I thank her profusely and then return to the soup on the stove.
Food is done, so I place it in the warming drawer and bring the duffel bag Olivia brought over upstairs to Mallory. I knock on the door.
“Come in.”
Opening the door, what I find makes me lose my breath. Mallory is standing across the room in nothing but a small towel that ends at the top of her thighs. Her long red hair is wet and hanging down her back and her skin is creamy white. But what gets me the most is the bright blue eyes that stand out. She’s beautiful and I can’t take my eyes off of her.
It’s a few moments before I can speak. We both just stand there looking at each other. Mallory speaks first. “Is that for me?” She’s holding the small towel with a death grip to keep it closed, but nods to the duffel bag in my hand.
I look down at it, “Oh. Yes. My sister-in-law brought over some things you can wear. I didn’t go through it. I’m not sure what’s in here, but I’m sure you’ll find something.” I raise the duffel bag.
Mallory walks to me to take the duffel bag. She looks up at me. “I wanted to say thank you for all you’re doing for me. It means the world to me that you’re helping me.”
She’s about a foot shorter than I am, so I’m looking down into her pools of blue. She smells like fresh soap; like the beach. I swallow hard. “You’re welcome. Dinner is ready downstairs whenever you’re ready.”
Smiling a small smile, she turns to put the duffel bag on the bed and that’s when I get a glimpse of the back of her legs. From the back of her knees to under the towel are U-shaped red marks going in all different directions. Her creamy white skin is bright red in some spots and in other spots her skin is turning black and blue. I storm up to her, “WHAT. THE. FUCK. DID. HE. DO?!” I grit through my teeth. It takes every muscle in my body from touching her.
Mallory spins around as if she’d forgotten about the markings. “I’m fine, Owen. Really. It’s nothing. I’m fine.”
“You are not fine, Mallory. Turn around. Let me look.”
“Owen. No. I’m fine. I’ll be sore for a day or two, but it’ll heal. Nothing to worry about.” She tries to scoot past me, but I have her cornered between me, the bed, and the nightstand.
“Mallory. If you won’t let me look, at least let me call my sister-in-law, Olivia, over to take a look. She’s a paramedic. I don’t want what he did to you to scar or get infected. Please. It will make me feel better.” My eyes are bouncing between her eyes. I want to force her to let me take care of it, but she’s been forced enough by others. She doesn’t need my dominant ass contributing to her distress. “Please.” I plead.
She looks away from me. “If I show you, can you please not judge me?”
I finally touch her under her chin to turn her to me. “I’d never judge you. That fucker hurt you and I’m going to kill him when I find him. But judge you... never.” I drop my hand because her skin is making mine feel like fire.
Mallory nods and I back up to give her some room. She lowers the towel as she turns her back to me, and what I see on her back is ten times worse than what is on her thighs. Then she drops the towel to below her butt and she’s bleeding from some wounds.
I turn away from Mallory, towards the wall, and slam my fist through the drywall three times. “FUCKER! I WILL KILL YOU!”
Quickly, she wraps her towel back around herself and goes to the bathroom, returning with a wet washcloth. “Now, who needs help?” She dabs my knuckles, that are now torn open.
She tends to my broken skin as I watch. “I’m sorry. I hope I didn’t scare you.”
“Not much scares me anymore.”
I take a deep breath. “Let’s find you something to wear and then I want to get some ointment on those wounds. Some are open and bleeding.” Taking the duffel bag, I dump it on the bed and find a sundress. “This is perfect.”
Mallory nods and takes the dress with her into the bathroom. “Can I ask that you not tell anyone about this? I don’t want to be judged.” I hear her ask from the bathroom. She walks out in the green sundress with shame in her eyes.
I walk up to her and meet her face to face, “I would never tell anyone anything you didn’t want me to, but you should know... no one’s going to judge you. I promise you that. Not around me. Why would you think they would?”
“It’s just that when you’re at the women’s shelter, everyone looks at you like you’re broken or that you didn’t know how to get yourself out of the situation you were in without help. I don’t want to feel like that again. I have reasons for where I’m in life that are no one’s business, but people judge others on the surface without ever trying to understand the entire situation. I don’t want people to think I’m weak.”
Fuck me, she thinks people will think she’s weak? I don’t know anyone that could withstand a beating like she’s had and still be standing. “You’re anything but weak to me, Mallory.”
She nods. “So, you have an ointment I can put on my wounds?” She puts an end to the conversation.
“Yeah. Follow me.” We exit her room and go down the hallway to the master bedroom and then into the master bathroom. I open a few cabinet drawers before I find the first aid kit. “Here we go. Do you want help?”
She shakes her head, “No. I think I’ve got it. Thank you, though.”
“Okay. I’ll be downstairs when you’re done. Dinner’s in the warming oven. I’ll go get it ready.” I back out of the bathroom and head downstairs.
I grab my phone and call Gabriel.
“Hey. How’s she doing?”
“Mallory’s okay. She’s safe, and that’s what matters. Tell me you’ve got something on this guy.”
“I’ve got a mountain of information on this guy. His name is Patrick Fusco, and he’s wanted by every agency with an acronym. What’s this girl managed to get herself into?” Gabriel asks.
I shake my head. “I don’t know. I don’t have the story yet. Was Otto able to track his movements on the traffic cams?”
“Only until he ended up on I-95. Then he lost him.”
“Fuck. I should have hunted him down two years ago.” I mumble to myself.
“Two years ago? Is this that girl you helped Ethan’s wife with? The one you took to the shelter?” Gabriel has a memory like an elephant. He forgets nothing.
“Yeah. From what I know so far, he had a bounty on her. Some guys found her, and claimed the bounty like it’s the wild west or something.”
“Then I suspect he’ll be back for her. There’s a reason he wants her, Owen. You need to find out why that is so we can get this guy and protect her at the same time.”
“I know, Gabriel. Trust me. Thanks for looking into it for me. How’s the planning for the gem show? Did Erick get everything over to you?”
“Yeah. Don’t worry about that right now. Worry about what you’re going to do with Mallory. Matt, Erick, and I have got the gem show covered.” Gabriel can be an ass sometimes, but he knows when to rein it in, like right now.
Mallory enters the kitchen, and I point to the dining table. “Gabriel, I’ve got to go. I’ll let you know when I know more information.”
“Night, brother.” Gabriel hangs up, and I put my phone on the counter.
“Hungry? I didn’t know what you eat, so I made tomato soup and grilled cheese.” I pull the plates out of the warming oven and bring them to the table. I already put two bottles of water out for us. She’s probably dehydrated as well.
Mallory smiles, but it looks like it’s the type of smile someone has when they suddenly have a good memory pop in their head. “My mom used to make this exact thing whenever I got hurt as a little girl. I was a bit of a tomboy growing up, so that was a lot.” She smiles at me. “Thank you. It smells delicious.”
For some reason, I’m ridiculously proud of myself for making this for dinner.
Get a hold of yourself, dude.