“You put your gloves back on,” Jeremiah said quietly, tracing over her fingers lightly where they lay on his chest.
“I have to wear them. If I don’t, I get too much energy off of everything I touch,” Rikki explained, rubbing her cheek against his bare chest. She loved the way the hair on it tickled her skin.
“I don’t understand.”
Of course, he didn’t. She knew he was aware of some of their gifts, but not all of them. RARE kept that information as tightly under wraps as possible. If it got out, it would be dangerous to all of them.
“When I touch things — mostly objects — I get images. Visions. It could be of the past, present, or future. Sometimes, it’s hard to figure out which one it is.” She waited for him to say something, but when he didn’t, she went on, “When I was young, it was hard to control. In one of the foster homes I was in when I was about eight, I touched a beer bottle my foster dad wanted me to throw in the trash. I got this flash of him using his fists on one of the children there. I told the social worker when she came a couple of days later, but he denied it and so did the boy. The next day, I was removed from the home.”
“The boy?”
“Killed a year later by that same man.”
“You checked on him at that age?”
Rikki shook her head. “No, but I looked into all of them when I was around sixteen.”
“All of them?”
Glancing up at him, seeing his frown of confusion, Rikki whispered, “That wasn’t the first time something like that happened, and it wasn’t the last.”
Jeremiah swore softly, running a hand gently down her hair. “How many?”
Rikki bit her lip, her eyes misting over with tears as the pain of the past engulfed her. “Fifteen. I tried to help them, but it was as if they didn’t want to be helped. Except for one.”
“The last one?”
“Yes,” she whispered, laying her head back on his chest. “How did you know?”
“There had to be a good reason you chose to live on the streets at such a young age instead of living in a home where you were being fed and clothed.”
He was right. She’d left the foster care system at the age of fifteen, running from all of the pain and betrayal associated with it. Pain she suffered through knowing what was happening to several of the kids who wouldn’t speak up. Betrayal from the social workers who wouldn’t look into anything further, taking the foster parent’s word, along with the child’s who was too terrified to come forward with the truth.
“What happened?”
Rikki’s breath caught in her throat as she remembered the reason she’d decided it was better to live on the streets in the bitter cold one winter than stay in the home she’d called her own at the time. “Every time I was moved to a new home, I prayed things would be different. That whoever my foster parent was, they would have a kind soul this time, instead of a dark one. And every single time, I was disappointed. Until the last one.”
Jeremiah pulled her up his body until she was lying across him and her face was buried in his neck. Stroking a hand gently over her back, he muttered, “Why do I feel like I’m gonna want to kill someone?”
Rikki slid her arms up and over his shoulders, slipping her fingers into his hair. Running her tongue slowly up the side of his neck, she bit down gently on his earlobe before snuggling close. She smiled when she heard the hiss of breath that passed his lips, loving how she made him feel.
Dragging her thoughts back to the darkness of her past, she sighed. “I was put in a home with a single woman and three other foster children. Eric was seventeen, Jimmy fourteen, and little Annie just turned twelve.” Rikki smiled, remembering those days. “It was so nice, at first. Perfect. Mama Kenna was the real deal. Wonderful to all of us, treating us as if we really were her own. She helped us with our homework, encouraged us to go out for extracurricular activities, and came to every single thing we were in. Eric was a track star. I’ve never seen anyone so fast. Well, any human, anyway.” She chuckled. “Jimmy was a true nerd. Chess club and all. Mama Kenna never missed a chess match of his. Annie loved to dance. I remember, she had a solo in her dance recital that year. I was never really any good at anything, because I was so afraid to touch something; terrified I would get a vision. Especially then. I didn’t want to see something bad that would ruin the happy life I finally had. I did fumble my way through choir for a year. I couldn’t carry a tune to save my life, but Mama Kenna was always there, clapping for me, her face full of pride.” Rikki’s voice broke, and she whispered, “I should have known it was too good to be true. Should have known it would all come crashing down around me at some point.”
“What happened?”
It was a low, protective growl and Rikki smiled, tilting her head up to kiss him softly on the hard curve of his jaw. This was what she’d wanted for so long. What she craved. Jeremiah. Protective, giving a damn about what happened to her, wanting to kill anyone who hurt her. She felt loved, cherished, finally. “Mama Kenna’s son moved back home after being away for four years in college. She had raised him on her own after her husband died and was so proud of him. Marty graduated top of his class in high school, earning a full ride to college with a football scholarship. He got a business degree, and had a job waiting for him when he got back. What Mama Kenna didn’t know about was the darkness he hid deep down inside.”
“But you knew.”
Rikki nodded, her hold on him tightening. “Yes, I knew. I felt it when I met him. Something was telling me to stay far away from him. But Annie didn’t feel the same. She was drawn in by his good looks and charm.”
“She was twelve,” Jeremiah growled, his body stiffening as if he knew what was coming next.
“Yes, she was,” Rikki agreed quietly. “So young and innocent. Until he went to her room one night.” A tear slipped free as she whispered, “She never told a soul. Just withdrew into herself; the pain and humiliation too much to bear.”
“I want that bastard’s name,” Jeremiah demanded. “I don’t care how long ago this was, he won’t get away with what he’s done.”
Her heart filled with love for her big, gruff mate. Rikki ran a hand gently over his chest, trying to calm him. “It’s too late,” she whispered. “He’s already in hell, where he belongs.”
Jeremiah’s hand slid into her hair, and he tilted her head up. “Tell me.”
Her heart constricting, Rikki whispered, “I touched Annie’s backpack one day. I saw it all. It was horrible, vile. Something that never should have happened to someone so sweet and innocent.” Her eyes filling with tears, she went on, “I confronted her about it, and at first, she refused to admit it to me. Finally, a few days later, she did, and I convinced her to come forward. To tell Mama Kenna and the social worker who was assigned to her at the time.”
“They didn’t believe her,” he guessed.
“No.” Rikki’s jaw tightened at the memory, angry at the injustice of it all. “The social worker thought she was seeking attention, and Mama Kenna couldn’t admit to herself that her perfect baby boy may not be so perfect after all.”
“They didn’t even take her to the fucking doctor to have her looked at?” Jeremiah exploded, mad as hell.
Rikki shook her head, a tear slipping free. “No. Poor little Annie slipped through the cracks. Three days later, she cut her wrists in the bathroom. I was the one who found her.”
“Ah, baby, I’m so sorry.”
More tears streamed down her face as she whispered, “That was when I knew I couldn’t stay in foster care anymore. The system was too flawed. I didn’t trust it. Didn’t trust anyone. So, I left. I lived on the streets for a few years. It was cold and lonely, but still better than what I’d been through before. When I was eighteen, I got my GED and then enlisted in the army. I served two years, and when I got out, I went back to the place where little Annie took her own life. To that place of misery and suffering.” Holding Jeremiah’s gaze, she admitted something she had never told anyone before. “I went hunting. That bastard ate one of my bullets, and I don’t regret it at all. I would do it again in a heartbeat.”
“Good,” he growled, pressing a hard kiss on her mouth. “Good.”