Cocky Flyboy by Susan Horsnell
MELISSA
My eyes raked over Tim’s body as he padded away from where I lay on the couch. Dressed in his pilot’s uniform, he was mouth-wateringly handsome, but in gym gear, with muscles on full display, he was downright droolworthy.
Muscles bunched and relaxed as he moved. A small towel was draped around his broad shoulders. After looking my fill, I stood and folded the blanket, leaving it and the pillow at one end of the couch, before heading through to my suite.
After relieving the insistent pressure on my bladder, I brushed my hair and twisted it into a knot on my head. Not wanting to eat dinner dressed the way I was, I stripped and dressed in a pretty lemon and white sundress before sliding white sandals onto my feet. A quick spritz of lavender perfume and the kitchen was my next destination.
Tim was nowhere to be found, so taking his advice, I began opening and closing cupboards and drawers in search of what I needed to set the table. Once everything was set in place, the tantalizing aromas filling the room got the better of me, and I caved to the urge to see what was inside the oven.
Lowering the oven door, I peeked inside. My mouth watered at the sight of plump chicken breasts crisscrossed with a creamy sauce, sprigs of broccoli, sliced potato, and bright green baby peas.
“Are you cheating?”
The deep voice from behind me caused me to jump in fright. The oven door slammed shut and I leaped to my feet.
“Sorry. I didn’t…”
I started to shake in fear. This is Tim, not Lincoln. No matter how many times I reminded myself of the fact, it seemed my head refused to believe I was safe.
Tim must have noticed my fear and moved forward quickly. The motion had me stepping back until I found myself pressed up against the kitchen counter with nowhere to go. I was trapped, scared. When I cowered and lifted my hands to protect my face, Tim came to an abrupt stop. A look of shock crossed his face, and he spoke quietly.
“Melissa, honey, come here.” He held his hands out toward me, and softness glazed his eyes.
Tentatively, I stepped forward, placing a hand in one of Tim’s. He drew me closer and wrapped me in his arms before placing a kiss on the top of my head. When his hand traced soothingly over my back, I began to relax.
“Melissa, I give you my word; I will never hurt you or raise a hand in anger.”
When I remained quiet, he continued.
“I was joking with you, honey, because you were sneaking a peek at our dinner. You got to see what smelled so good before I did.”
“I’m sorry,” I mumbled into his chest.
Tim stepped back, placed a finger beneath my chin, and tilted my head until my eyes met his.
“You have nothing to be sorry about.” After kissing my forehead, he pulled me close for a hug, and I breathed in his delicious scent. Disappointment skated over me when he stepped back.
“Take a seat at the table and I’ll get our meals. What would you like to drink? I have soda, still and sparkling water, juice, red or white wine.”
“Juice, please. I have medication to take and was given explicit instructions there was to be no alcohol.”
I pulled out a chair and sat at the table while Tim poured our drinks. Juice for me, red wine for him. After placing the glasses on the table, he retrieved the package of antibiotics I’d been given and set them beside my glass. I popped out one of the capsules and swallowed it down with a mouthful of juice before Tim set our dinner on the table and sat opposite. The meals looked even better than what I’d glimpsed in the oven.
I was starving after having had next to nothing for lunch, but I quickly discovered my dilemma.
Tim began shoveling his food into his mouth but stopped when he noticed I wasn’t eating. He set down his knife and fork, giving me a concerned look. “Is something wrong with your meal?”
I held up my broken arm. I was able to accomplish many tasks but was unable to apply enough pressure to cut up a meal.
Tears welled in my eyes. I hated feeling so helpless. Tim was out of his chair in a flash and by my side. He placed a hand over mine and crouched down to my level.
“Please don’t upset yourself. Would you like me to cut it up for you?”
“Yes, please. I feel so useless.”
He dabbed at my eyes with a napkin. “You are a long way from useless, and if you think that way, you let him win.”
Tim stood and carved my meal into small bite-sized pieces before resuming his seat. As we ate, he regaled me with his adventures overseas. Most included Carter as his partner in crime. He admitted their reputations for being cocky where women were concerned was accurate but rapidly coming to an end.
While Kendall had changed Carter’s outlook, Tim said he was tired of playing the field and thinking seriously about settling down. I felt a pang of jealousy on thinking about him being intimately involved with another woman but had no idea why. I had absolutely no interest in becoming involved with a man, and I’d made it clear to Tim, we could be no more than friends. So why the hell did I have feelings of want, jealousy, and lust when it came to the handsome pilot? To say I was confused would be an understatement.
Once we’d eaten our meal and savored the home-baked apple pie and ice cream, I helped Tim to clean up and stack the dishwasher. It was all very domestic.
Once done, I returned to the couch while Tim made coffee. He placed two mugs on the coffee table, dropped down beside me, and snatched up the remote for the television.
“Anything you’d like to watch?”
“I haven’t watched much television, I wasn’t allowed, so whatever you like is fine.”
Tim raised an eyebrow at my confession but didn’t ask for an explanation.
“I’m not at home very often, but when I am, I like documentaries.”
I supposed he was usually out at a bar or club, scouting out women who might be available. Again, there was another pang of jealousy. I scolded my ridiculous feeling.
“You don’t have to babysit me, you know. I’m grateful to be here and I’ll be fine if you want to go out.”
Tim spoke while checking out what was available on the streaming network. “I’m happy to stay here with you.”
He shut off the television, turned side-on, and tucked one foot beneath him. I mirrored his action; it was obvious he wanted to talk.
“What’s going on, Melissa? Talk to me, please.”
I had a feeling Tim wasn’t going to stop asking until he got some answers. This was a man who had taken a stranger into his home, I figured I owed him an explanation and could do so without naming names.
“Over eight years ago, at the age of sixteen, I ran away from my foster home due to being assaulted by the couple’s twenty-year-old son. I was living on the streets, stealing food, and showering in gas station bathrooms. I was young, naïve, and stupid. When a man old enough to be my father offered to help me and said he had somewhere safe where I could stay, I accepted. Anything to get off the streets. He took me to an apartment, where I met his friend, and I was told that was where I’d be staying. I thought it was strange but stayed anyway. I thought anything was better than the streets. How wrong I was.
The first week I was with the man was good. He was kind, caring, and I enjoyed keeping house, cooking, and helping out. When he insisted on taking me to bed, everything changed. I told him I’d be leaving. My dream was to go to Chicago and train to be a flight crew member, and somehow I was going to make it happen. He became angry, screamed at me that I was being ungrateful, and had everything I needed without having to work. I argued he couldn’t force me to be his prisoner and the following day I’d be moving out.”
“I’m guessing that didn’t go down too well?”
“You have no idea. It was the first time he beat me to the point I was unable to move for almost a week. He apologized, insisted he cared about me very much and begged me to wait six months before leaving. I agreed. I didn’t have a choice. I was locked inside the apartment with no electronic devices or telephone. There was no one I could have called for help anyway, so it didn’t make much difference. As soon as I was healed, he began demanding I… service him.”
Tears pricked my eyes as I thought back to how he demanded my body whenever it suited him. It hadn’t taken me long to understand that what he demanded in the way of ‘sexual encounters’ wasn’t normal. Sex with him was demeaning and humiliating.
“He spent a fair bit of time away… on business, or so he said. The only fresh air and sunshine I got was on the balcony. We were on the twenty-fifth floor and I wasn’t quite desperate enough to throw myself off.”
Tim gathered my hands; pity filled his eyes.
“About six months after I’d moved in, I broached the subject of flight school again. It earned me another beating and left me unable to walk for almost two weeks. I resigned myself to the fact I was trapped. More than seven years passed, and the beatings became more frequent and for no reason. He’d come home from a trip in a bad mood, and I’d be on the receiving end of his anger. Then, one night he had the news on his computer when I came from the bedroom to ask a question. That was when I found out who he really was and that he was married with three children. I was disgusted and flew into a rage. That earned me the worst beating I’d ever had. I was unconscious for three days. When I came to, I started making plans to escape.”
I paused to take a deep breath.
“It took another nine months before I finally got my opportunity. One of his men came to the apartment to fetch papers he wanted and forgot to lock up after he left. I couldn’t believe my luck. I turned the apartment upside down and managed to gather together around four thousand dollars in cash. I left immediately, not bothering to take anything with me, and hitchhiked to Chicago, where I stayed in seedy motels, never staying more than a few days in one place. With the help of a guy I met at one of the motels, I managed to get a forged identification card under a new name, a new social security number, and a tax identification number. Once I had those, I was able to apply to National. I kept moving from motel to motel and made sure I was never alone. It took him until yesterday to find me and you know how that worked out. I still can’t believe he didn’t drag me back to the apartment.”
Tim squeezed my hands, sorrow for my past showed on his face. His voice was quiet when he spoke. “Who was he, Melissa?”
“I can’t tell you, Tim. I’ve told you all I can. He’s dangerous… deadly. It would cost us our lives if he suspected I’d told you.”
“I’m so sorry for what you’ve been through and that there was no one you could turn to for help. It is obvious he preyed on you. Took advantage of your age and the fact you were homeless. With you gone, he’ll most likely find a new victim. That’s why you should go to the police.”
“No! That can’t happen. There is absolutely no way I’d be believed. “
Tim was beginning to upset me with his insistence that I confide in the police and tears burned my eyes. He drew me onto his lap, wrapped his thick arms around me, and for the first time that I could remember, I felt safe.
He ran his hand over my back as silent tears rolled over my cheeks. “Ssshh, everything will be okay. I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want.”
I brushed away the tears. “I’m tired. Do you mind if I go to bed?”
“Of course not.” Tim set me on my feet, and after saying goodnight, I headed to my bedroom.
Once I’d brushed my teeth and taken care of business, I crawled beneath the cool, crisp sheets. The bed was the softest I’d ever been in; it was like being caressed by a cloud, and it took no time at all before I slipped into darkness.