A Forever Kind of Love by Nora Roberts

Chapter 11

Freddie considered going home after delivering Marla and her family to the abuse shelter. God knew she was drained, as emotionally and physically exhausted as she’d ever been in her life. She’d gone no farther than the entryway of the shelter herself, but she’d been relieved that it didn’t seem like an institution.

Nick had done his research well.

There’d been children’s drawings tacked up on the wall, and a small sitting room off to the side, where the furnishings were spare, but comforting.

The woman who greeted them had seemed weary, yet her voice had been soothing. Freddie’s last glimpse of Marla had been watching her being led up the stairs, with the woman murmuring to her.

So she didn’t go home, despite Nick’s insistence, but went back to wait for him.

“Figured you’d be back,” Rio said when she stepped into the kitchen. “You got Marla and the kids away okay?”

“Yes.” She sat, let her shoulders sag against the chair. “It seemed like a good place. A safe one. I don’t think she even realized where she was. She just followed along, like the children.”

“You’ve done all you can do.” Rio set a plate in front of her. “You eat something now. No arguments.”

“I won’t give you any.” Freddie picked up her fork and dipped into the chicken and rice. “Who is she, Rio?”

“A girl Nick used to know. He didn’t see much of her for a while, after he got settled down here with Zack and Rachel. When she got pregnant with the boy, Carlo, her family booted her out.”

“Heartless,” Freddie murmured. “How can people be so heartless? What about the father?”

“Wasn’t interested, I guess.” Rio shrugged, caught himself and turned to her. “The boy isn’t Nick’s.”

“You don’t have to tell me that, Rio. He’d never have left them to fend for themselves.” Setting her fork aside, she rubbed her hands over her face. “This man, the one who did this to her. He isn’t Carlo’s father?”

“Nope. She didn’t get tangled up with him until about four years ago. He was doing time when the boy was born.”

“A real prince.”

“Oh, Reece is a royal bastard, all right.” Rather than the coffee she’d expected, Rio set a cup of herbal tea in front of her. “I guess the name isn’t ringing any bells with you.”

“No.” She frowned, sniffed the tea. Chamomile. It almost made her smile. “Should it?”

“He nearly killed Nick.” Rio’s dark eyes went grim. “A little over ten years ago, he broke in here with a couple of his Cobra slime buddies, juiced up and armed to the teeth. Figured on robbing the place. He was going to shoot Zack.”

The blood drained out of her face. “I remember. Oh, God, I remember. Nick pushed Zack away.”

“And took the bullet,” Rio finished. “I thought we were going to lose him. But he’s tough. Nick’s always been tough.”

Very slowly, as if her bones might shatter from the movement, she rose. “Where is he, Rio? Where’s Nick?”

He could have lied to her. But he chose to tell her straight. “I gotta figure he went looking for Reece. And I gotta figure he found him.”

She had to fight to get the air out of her lungs, to pull it back again. “We have to tell Zack. We have to—”

“Zack’s out looking right now. So’s Alex.” He set a huge and gentle hand on her shoulder. “There’s nothing to do but wait, honey.”

So she waited, eventually going upstairs to pace Nick’s apartment. Every sound on the street, from the bar below, had her holding her breath. Every wail of a siren had her trembling.

He’s tough. Nick’s always been tough.

She didn’t give a damn how tough he was. She wanted him home, whole and safe.

Tormented by the images rolling through her brain, she kept her hands busy. She began to tidy the room, then to dust, then to scrub.

When she heard footsteps on the stairs, she was down on her knees washing the kitchen floor. She scrambled up, raced toward the door.

“Nick. Oh, God, Nick.” All but shattered with relief, she threw her arms around him.

He let her cling for a moment, though the pressure had the aches in his body singing. When he found the energy, he peeled her away.

“I told you to go home, Fred.”

“I don’t care what you told me, I was—Oh, you’re hurt.”

Her eyes went huge as relief jerked into shock. His face was bloody, one eye nearly swollen shut. His clothes were torn and stained with more blood.

“You need to go to the hospital.”

“I don’t need a damn hospital.” He lurched away from her, gave in to his weakened legs and sank into a chair. And prayed to any god that might be listening that he wouldn’t be sick. “Don’t start on me. I’ve already been through this with Zack. Go away, Fred.”

Instead, she said nothing, walked into the bathroom and gathered up every first aid supply she could find. Armed with antiseptic, bandages and dampened cloths, she came back to find him sitting as she’d left him.

He took one look, would have scowled if his face hadn’t felt as though it would crack open at the movement. “I don’t want you nursing me.”

“Just be quiet.” Her hands were a great deal steadier than her voice when she dabbed at the blood. “I imagine I’m supposed to ask how the other guy looks. You had no business going after him.”

“It is my business. She meant something to me once.” He hissed, then settled, when she pressed the cool cloth to his swollen eye. “And even if I’d never seen her before, any man who knocks a woman around, tosses kids around, deserves a beating.”

“I don’t disagree with the sentiment,” she murmured. “Only with your method. This is going to sting some.”

More than some, he discovered, and swore ripely. “I wish to hell you’d go away.”

“Well, I’m not.” She tried to comfort herself with the thought that the cuts on his face weren’t deep enough for stitches. Then she saw his hands. White-hot fury erupted inside her. “Your hands. Look what you’ve done to your hands. You idiot. Why can’t you use your head instead of your glands?”

She could have wept with grief. His beautiful, talented artist’s hands were torn and bleeding. Dark, ugly bruises had already formed, marring them, swelling them.

“They ran into his teeth a few times.”

“Isn’t that just like you? Isn’t that just typical? Nicholas LeBeck’s first rule of order. If you can’t solve the problem, batter it down.” She was wrapping cold cloths around his hands as she spoke. “You could have called Alex.”

“Don’t hassle me, Fred. You heard her. She isn’t going to file charges.”

“She’s in the shelter, isn’t she? She and the children?”

“And he just walks? Not this time.” Experimentally Nick flexed his fingers. They were stiff and painful, but it was the torso Freddie had yet to see that was agonizing. “He tried to kill my brother once, and did less than six years for it. The system says he’s rehabilitated, so he gets out and starts hammering on Marla. So, screw the system. My way works.”

“He nearly killed you before.” Her lips trembled as she rose. “He could have done it again.”

“He didn’t, did he? Now back off.”

He dragged himself to his feet and limped into the kitchen. He managed to locate the aspirin quickly enough, but with his injured hands he found he couldn’t pry off the lid.

Her own movements stiff from a different kind of pain, Freddie took the bottle from him. She opened it, set it on the counter for him, then poured him a glass of water.

“How far, Nick?” Her voice was controlled, too controlled. “How far do you want me to back off?”

He didn’t turn, only stayed where he was, his hands braced on the counter, his body throbbing with a thousand hurts. “I can’t talk about this now. If you want to do something for me, you’ll go home. Leave me alone. I don’t want you here.”

“Fine. I should have remembered, the lone wolf prefers to slink off on his own to lick his wounds. I’ll just leave you to it.” As wounded as he now, she spun on her heel. She was halfway across the living room when Zack came in. Brushing an impatient hand over her damp cheek, she kept walking. “Be careful,” she warned. “I think he’s rabid.”

“Freddie—” But she was moving fast, her heels already clattering on the stairs. Zack marched into the kitchen. “What did you do to make her cry?”

Nick only swore and dumped four aspirin on the counter. “Stay out of it.” He winced as the water he swallowed burned his abused throat. “I’m not in the mood for company, Zack.”

“You aren’t getting company. Sit down, damn it, before you keel over.”

That, at least, seemed like a reasonable idea. With careful movements, Nick lowered himself into a kitchen chair.

Standing back, Zack took a survey. Freddie had done some good, he supposed, but his brother still looked like the wrong end of a punching bag. “Did a number on you, didn’t he?”

“He got in a few.”

“Let’s get what’s left of that shirt off and take a look.”

“I’m not much interested in seeing.” But he couldn’t drum up the energy to object as Zack began removing the torn material. Zack’s slow, vicious oaths confirmed the worst. “That bad?”

“He got in more than a few. Damn it, Nick, did you have to go looking for trouble?”

“I didn’t have to look far, did I?” He looked up then, met Zack’s eyes coolly. “It was a long time coming. Now it’s done.”

Zack merely nodded, began to open cupboards. “Is that liniment still around here?”

“Someplace. Under the sink, maybe.”

Once he located it, Zack came back to finish what Freddie had started. “You’re going to feel worse tomorrow.”

“Thanks, just what I needed to hear. Got a cigarette on you? I lost mine.”

Zack took one out, lighted it, placed it between Nick’s swollen fingers. “I hope he looks as bad as you.”

“Oh, worse.” The sour grin hurt. “A lot worse.”

“That’s something, then. I’m surprised you had the energy left to fight with Freddie.”

“I wasn’t fighting with her. I just wanted her out. She shouldn’t have been around this. Any of it.”

“Maybe not. But I’d say she can handle herself.”

She was sure of it. It seemed clear after two days that Nick was determined to avoid her. Still licking his wounds, she imagined as she walked back from Nick’s apartment yet again.

Still, she hadn’t expected the locked door. Her only consolation was that Zack had assured her Nick was healing.

She was tired of worrying about him, she decided. And since work wasn’t an option until his hands were better, she’d found other ways to fill her time.

She’d enjoyed taking toys over to the shelter more than anything else. Marla still seemed nervous and strained, but the children were already relaxing. The highlight of Freddie’s day had been when the solemn-eyed Carlo smiled at her.

Time, she thought. They only needed time and care.

And what, she wondered, did Nick need? Apparently he didn’t think it was Freddie Kimball. At least not at the moment. So she’d give him the distance he wanted right now. But sooner or later, she was going to get sick of standing back and waiting.

Love shouldn’t be so complicated. She brooded, looking down at the sidewalk. It all had seemed so simple when she left home to come to New York. Everything she’d planned and hoped for had slowly come to be.

Now, because of some blip from his past, it was falling apart on her.

With a sigh, she opened the security door of her building. The sudden jab from behind had her stumbling. She would have fallen, if an arm hadn’t come around her, jerking her back.

“Keep walking,” the voice ordered. “And keep quiet. Feel that? It’s a knife. You don’t want me to use it.”

Calm,she ordered herself. Don’t panic. It was broad daylight. “There’s money in my purse. You can have it.”

“We’ll talk about that. Open the elevator.”

The idea of being closed in with him, with the knife, had her struggling. She bit back a cry when the blade pierced.

“Open the elevator or I’ll cut you open right here.”

Fighting to keep part of her mind cool, free from the panic that had her body shuddering, she obeyed. Once they were inside and moving, he shifted her, and she could see him.

The thin face, the glazed eyes. It was the man Nick had called Jack.

“You’re a friend of Nick’s.” She managed to keep her voice level. “I was with him the night he gave you money. If you need more, I’ll give it to you.”

“You’re going to give me more than money.” Jack lifted the knife, running the flat of the blade over her cheek. “It’s a matter of honor, baby.”

“I don’t understand.” Her wild hope of rushing out ahead of him, screaming, when they reached her floor was smashed when he twisted her arm behind her back.

“Not a peep,” he warned. “We’re going to walk straight to your place, and I know which one it is. I’ve seen your light come on. Then you’re going to unlock the door, and we’ll go inside.”

“Nick wouldn’t want you to hurt me.”

“Too bad about Nick. You pull anything out of that bag but your keys, baby, and you’ll be bleeding.”

She took out her keys, her movements deliberately sluggish. If she stalled long enough, someone would see. Someone would help.

“Move it.” Jack yanked her arm higher, so that she whimpered when the last lock opened. He was sweating when he shoved her inside. “Now then, it’s just you and me.” He pushed her into a chair. “Nick shouldn’t have gone after Reece. Once a Cobra, always a Cobra.”

“Reece put you up to this.” A new glimmer of hope tormented her. “Jack, you don’t have to do this. Reece is just using you.”

“Reece is my friend, my bro.” His eyes began to glitter. “Lots of the others, they forgot what it was like in the old days. But not Reece. He keeps the faith.”

Freddie might have felt pity—for surely the man was pitiful—if fear hadn’t had its bony fingers clutched around her throat. “If you hurt me, you’ll be the one to pay. Not Reece.”

“Let me worry about that. Now take off your clothes.”

Now the fear screamed in her eyes. Seeing it, Jack grinned. He was flying now. He’d used the money Reece had given him for a nice solid hit of coke.

“We might as well have a little fun first. Strip, baby. I’ve got a feeling Nick’s picked himself another winner.”

He would rape her, she thought, and as hideous as that was, she felt she could survive it. But she knew, in some cold corner of her brain, that he couldn’t intend for her to survive. He would rape her, then he would kill her.

And he’d enjoy both.

“Please, don’t hurt me.” She let the terror ring in her voice. She would use it, to fight back.

“You do what I tell you, you’re nice to me, nobody has to get hurt.” He licked his lips. “Stand up and strip, or I’ll have to start cutting you.”

“Don’t hurt me,” she said again. She braced herself. She would need momentum, and a great deal of luck. If she didn’t follow through, she wouldn’t get a second chance. “I’ll do anything you want. Anything.”

“I’ll bet. Now get up.”

He gestured with the knife, grinned. She let her eyes slide toward the bedroom door, go wide. Jack was just stupid enough to follow her glance.

And she sprang.

The keys he hadn’t bothered to take away from her were clamped between her tensed knuckles like daggers. Without a moment’s hesitation or regret, she went straight for the eyes.

He screamed. She’d never heard a man scream like that, high and wild. With one hand clutching his eyes, he swung out blindly with the knife. With every ounce of her strength, Freddie struck him over the head with her prized art deco lamp.

The blade clattered to the floor as he crumpled. Breathing hard, she stared down at him for several seconds. As if in a dream, she walked to the phone.

“Uncle Alex? I need help.”

She didn’t faint. She’d been terrified she would, but she managed to follow Alex’s instructions and leave the apartment. She was outside, swaying at the curb, when the first cop car pulled up.

Alex was thirty seconds behind it.

“You’re all right? You’re okay?” His arms came around her hard, and the veteran cop buried his face in her hair. “Did he hurt you, baby?”

“No. I don’t think. I’m dizzy.”

“Sit down, honey. Sit right here.” He helped her to the building’s stoop. “Head between the knees, that’s a girl. Take it slow. Get upstairs,” he ordered the uniform. “Get that lowlife out of my niece’s apartment. Book him on assault with a deadly, attempted rape. I want the knife measured. If it’s over the legal limit, slap him with that, too.”

“He said Reece told him to,” Freddie said dully.

“Don’t worry, we’ll take care of it. I’ll take you to the hospital. I won’t leave you alone there.”

“I don’t need the hospital.” She lifted her head again. The wavering dizziness had passed, but she still felt oddly light-headed. “He cut me a little, I think.” Testing, she brushed her fingers over her side, stared dumbly at the smear of red.

In a flash, she was cradled in Alex’s arms. “The hospital,” he said again.

“No, please. It’s not deep. It stings some, but it’s almost stopped bleeding. It just needs a bandage.”

At the moment, he would have indulged her in anything. Still holding her, he looked up as two of his men carried out a limp and bleeding Jack.

He couldn’t take her back upstairs, Alex thought. And he wanted her away from the perp and the crime scene. “Okay, honey. The bar’s close by. I’ll take you there, and we’ll have a look. If I don’t like what I see, your next stop’s the ER.”

“All right.” She let her head rest on his shoulder, discovering that all she really wanted to do was sleep.

“This creep needs a doctor,” one of the officers told Alex. “He needs one bad.”

“Take him in, then, see that he gets fixed up. I want him in shape when I lock him in a cell.”

All Freddie remembered from the short trip to Lower the Boom was Alex’s soothing voice. It reminded her of being rocked when she was a child and had the chicken pox.

“I didn’t let him hurt me, Uncle Alex.”

“No, baby, you took care of yourself. Just let me take over now.”

Rio let out a shout of alarm when Alex pushed the kitchen door open. “Sit her down, sit her down right here! Who hurt my baby? Who hurt my sweetheart? Nick!” He bellowed it out before either Alex or Freddie could answer. “Get your ass down here, now!” Moving like a bulldozer, he shoved open the door between the kitchen and bar. “Muldoon, I want the good brandy in here, pronto. You just sit easy, honey,” he continued, in a voice that had lowered by several decibels and softened like silk.

“I’m all right, Rio. Really.” Already soothed, she turned her face into the wide paw he’d laid on her cheek.

“Looks shallow.” Alex sighed with relief. He’d expected the worst when he tugged Freddie’s blouse out of her waistband to examine the cut. “We’ll patch it up for you.”

“What the hell’s all the commotion?” Obviously annoyed by the shouted orders, Zack came in, holding a bottle of brandy. One look at Freddie had him darting over and crouching in a position that mirrored Alex’s.

“Give her room to breathe.” Though shaken, Rio snatched the bottle and poured a hefty two fingers into a tumbler. “Drink it down, Freddie.”

She would have obeyed, if Nick hadn’t come stalking down the stairs. His injured eye was more open than closed now, but a rainbow of bruises and scrapes had bloomed on his face.

When he saw her, the blood drained out of it.

“What happened? Were you in an accident? Fred, are you hurt?”

He snagged her free hand, nearly crushing the bones.

“Give her a minute,” Alex ordered. “Drink the brandy, Freddie. Take your time.”

“I’m okay.” But the jolt of brandy as it hit her system cleared the fog and brought on the trembling.

“Is that blood?” Nick stared, horrified, at the stain on her blouse. “For God’s sake, she’s bleeding!”

“We’re taking care of it.” Alex took the antiseptic Rio passed him and dabbed it on gently. “I want you to come home with me, Freddie. When you’re feeling better, I’ll take your statement.”

“I can do it now. I’d rather do it now.”

“What do you mean, statement? Were you mugged?” Nick demanded. “Damn it, Fred, how many times have I told you to be careful?”

“She wasn’t mugged,” Alex snapped out. “Your old pal, Jack, wasn’t interested in her money.”

As soon as he said it, Alex cursed himself. Pale as death, Nick dropped Freddie’s hand and stepped back.

“Jack.” As fury filled the hole shock had dug, his eyes turned to hard green slits. “Where is he?”

“In custody. What’s left of him.” Alex stroked a hand over Freddie’s hair before taking out a pad and switching into cop mode. “Tell me from the beginning, everything you remember.”

“I was going home,” she began.

Nick listened, the bitterness burning his throat, the impotence dragging at him.

Because of him, he thought. All of it. Every instant of terror she’d been through was because of him. His need to settle debts, to handle a problem his own way, could have cost Freddie her life.

“Then I called you,” Freddie finished. “I could see he was bleeding. His eyes...” She had to swallow.

“Let me worry about him,” Alex told her. “I want you to put it all out of your mind for now. I’ll go back to your place and get some things for you. You can stay with us as long as you like.”

“I appreciate that, really I do, but I need to go home.” She took his hand before he could protest. “I can’t be afraid to stay in my own home, Uncle Alex. He’d have gotten to me then, don’t you see? I’m not going to let that happen.”

“Hardhead.” He kissed her gently. “If you change your mind, it only takes a call.” He rose then, skimmed his gaze over the three men standing by. “You look after her. I’ve got to get to the station and take care of this.” In a mute apology, he laid a hand on Nick’s shoulder. “Make her rest. She’ll listen to you.”

When he left, Freddie felt three pairs of eyes on her. “I’m not going to fall apart,” she said.

Nick said nothing, simply stepped to her, scooped her off the chair.

“I don’t need to be carried.”

“Shut up. Just shut up. I’m taking her upstairs. She’s going to lie down.”

“I can lie down at home.”

Ignoring her, he started up the steps.

“You don’t want me here.” As if to complete the day, tears began to burn her eyes. “Do you think I can’t tell you don’t want me here?”

“Here’s where you’re staying.” He carried her inside and straight to the bedroom. “You’re going to rest until you get some color back in your face.”

“I don’t want to be with you.”

A quick stab in the heart made him wince. But he couldn’t blame her. “I’m going to leave you alone, don’t worry.” His voice was quiet, distant. “Don’t fight me on this, Fred. Please.”

He drew the rumpled spread over her, neglecting to take off her shoes. “I’m going downstairs.” He stepped back, dipped his hands into his pockets. “Do you want anything? Want me to call Rachel, or one of the others?”

“No.” She closed her eyes. Now that she was horizontal, she wasn’t sure she could get up again. “I don’t want anything.”

“Try to sleep for a while.” He moved over to tug down the shades on the window and plunged the room into soft gloom. “If you need anything, just call down to the bar.”

She kept her eyes closed, wishing him to leave, willing it. Even when she heard the soft click of the door closing, she didn’t open them again.

He hadn’t offered the loving compassion Alex had, or the quick, forceful concern of Rio or Zack. Oh, he’d been angry, she thought, furious over what had nearly happened to her. She knew he cared. They’d been part of each other’s lives for too long for him not to.

But he hadn’t held her. Not the way she so desperately needed him to.

She wondered if he ever would.