Fever (12 page)

“I know they’re too big,” Jace said as she kicked them away. He reached for her hand and pulled

her down to sit next to him. “We’ll go tomorrow and get what you need. The very first thing you’re

getting is a damn coat. It’s freezing out there and you’ve been running all over this damn city without

proper clothing. That shit stops now.”

There was steel in his tone and yet some of the deeply entrenched cold began to dissipate at the

edge of concern in his voice. He spoke like a man who genuinely cared about her well-being.

She mentally shook herself because that kind of fantasy was dangerous territory. She’d learned the

hard way that she could rely on absolutely no one but herself to take care of her. And even she had let

herself down. Just like all the others.

He leaned toward the coffee table, where a small first-aid kit rested. There was a long moment of

silence while he applied ointment to each and every scrape and then affixed gauze and tape on the

large ones and put large Band-Aids on the smaller cuts.

Before she realized his intent, he pushed her back on the couch and lifted her T-shirt.

“I don’t have any cuts there!” she cried when his hand skimmed over her belly.

His expression was murderous as he lifted his gaze to hers. “No, but you have bruises. What the

fuck happened out there, Bethany? Who did this to you?”

He sounded so pissed that she flinched from the anger in his voice. It was instinctive to withdraw.

Self-preservation.

A low hiss escaped his tight lips. “Goddamn it, Bethany, I’m not going to hurt you. I will never hurt

you. But I want to know what son of a bitch
did
.”

“Y-you s-sound so a-angry.”

“Hell yes. I’m furious! But not at you, baby.” His voice softened as he called her
baby
, and

something inside her went soft as well. “I’m pissed at the bastard who put his hands on you. And

you’re going to tell me exactly how this happened.”

She went pale and her eyes widened.

Then, when she hadn’t thought he could do anything else to surprise her, he leaned over her and

lowered his head to her ribs. He pressed a kiss to each and every bruise, his mouth so tender she

barely felt the pressure.

Dear God, how was she ever going to resist this man?

“Do you need something for pain?” he asked.

“I’m okay,” she whispered. “Just hungry.”

He immediately lifted his head, his mouth tightening once more. “How long has it been since you

ate? And don’t lie to me.”

She swallowed hard, but she didn’t lie. “Three days.”

“Son of a bitch!”

His jaw bulged and he turned away as if collecting himself before he faced her again. When he did

return his gaze, there was fire in his eyes and he still looked as if he’d explode at any second.

“You have to give me a minute,” he muttered.

He visibly inhaled and exhaled through his nose before finally rising from the couch. He put his

hand down, palm up, waiting for her to take it and get up too. When she let him help her stand, he

reached down to snag her jeans. Then he guided her hand to his arm and told her to hang on while she

put her feet through the pants legs.

After he fastened the fly, he took her hand and guided her into the kitchen. The entire apartment was

an open concept with one room flowing into the next. The dining room, or rather dining area, was in

front of the kitchen and off the living room to the side. There was an island-bar combination, which

enabled whoever was cooking to see into the dining room as well as the living room.

He lifted her onto the high-backed bar stool and then walked around to the stove top, where three

different skillets were simmering. She watched with interest while he drained pasta and then tossed it

into the skillet with the sauce. He gave it an expert twist, and added seasoning before serving two

plates. Lastly, he speared a chicken breast, which had been sautéing in the last pan and sliced it into

thin pieces before arranging it over the pasta.

“Voilà,” he pronounced as he handed it over the bar to her.

“I’m impressed,” she said sincerely. “It looks and smells wonderful. I wouldn’t have thought you

cooked.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Why not?”

She felt heat bloom in her cheeks. “I don’t see a lot of wealthy, eligible bachelors cooking for

themselves.”

He laughed. “I raised my younger sister and at the time we couldn’t afford to eat out or pay

someone else to do the cooking. I was just a poor college student trying to survive.”

“Where were your parents?”

His eyes flickered. “They were killed in a car accident when Mia was six years old.”

Bethany frowned in concentration. “You must be quite a bit older than her then if you were already

in college.”

“Fourteen years,” he confirmed. “She was an ‘oops’ baby, born when my mother was in her forties.

She had me quite young and they thought they were through.”

“It’s pretty cool that you raised your sister,” she said quietly.

He shrugged. “Not much else to do. I wasn’t going to abandon her. I’m the only family she has.”

He walked around, holding his own plate and then sat beside her on the next stool. He glanced over

to see she hadn’t even taken a bite and he frowned. “Eat, Bethany.”

She dug her fork into the succulent-looking pasta and inhaled as she raised the bite to her lips. It

smelled divine.

When it hit her tongue, she closed her eyes and sighed.

“Good?”

“Delicious,” she said.

He suddenly got up and she saw him go around and get two glasses that were out on the counter. He

placed a glass of orange juice in front of her and she went soft. He’d remembered that she’d asked for

orange juice last time.

She savored every bite, every sip until she was beyond full. Pushing the plate away, she gave a

contented sigh. “Thank you, Jace. That was wonderful.”

He stared at her for a long, silent moment. “I like the way you say my name.”

Her brows furrowed. What was she supposed to say to that?

Knowing they had a lot to talk about—she absolutely had to tell him that she wasn’t moving into his

sister’s apartment!—she wrapped her fingers nervously around each other and peeked up at Jace.

“Jace?” she said softly. “We need to talk.”

He nodded, his lips pressed firmly together. “Bet your ass we do. Let’s go back into the living

room. I have questions I
still
don’t have answers to.”

She blinked and then drew her brows together. Before she could tell him that she was the one

planning to do the talking, he urged her up from her chair and put a firm hand on her back to guide her

into the living room.

After parking her on the couch, he turned on the fireplace. She sighed as the flames licked upward.

It gave the room such a homey feel, and then she shook her head at the absurdity of that thought. What

would she know about a home? Home was what you made it, and she and Jack had made home out of

some pretty barren places.

Bleakly, she thought back to the places, or rather nooks, they’d made home over the years. In a few

cases, she’d been fortunate to land a job for an extended period and they’d actually gotten to live in a

shabby efficiency motel. It hadn’t been much, but she’d been delighted to have a permanent residence

and not one they had to move in and out of based on occupancy.

“What are you shaking your head about?” Jace asked with a frown.

She looked up to see that he’d slid onto the couch beside her. He was close—within touching

distance—and his heat and scent wrapped around her, warming her from the inside out.

Without thinking of the consequences, she was instinctively honest.

“I thought the fire made the room seem so homey, and then I realized how ridiculous the thought

was since I know nothing about what makes a home.”

She heard the sadness in her voice before she realized it was there. Instantly she bit her lip,

knowing she shouldn’t have said anything at all.

Jace looked as though someone had punched him in the face. Then he bit out another swear. It was

long and vicious and it sent a chill skittering up her spine.

She flinched when he reached out to touch her cheek and then he dropped his hand down to her

waist, where the shirt covered the bruises. He found the spot that ached the most, however, and

cupped his palm over it.

“Who did this to you, Bethany? What the fuck happened out there? And don’t lie to me. I want the

whole bloody truth.”

She sucked in her breath, her eyes wide. She couldn’t tell him. How could she? He’d toss her out

so fast her head would spin. But wasn’t that what she wanted? To be able to go? He couldn’t very

well keep her. But even as she thought it, she had doubts. He seemed so . . . determined.

Jace was staring hard at her, silent and expectant. He wasn’t going to let her out of this.

“I can’t tell you that,” she said in a choked voice. “Please don’t ask me, Jace.”

His lips thinned even further and anger glittered in his eyes.

“Let’s get a few things straight, okay? I already know a lot about you. You’re homeless. You have a

prior drug possession charge. You haven’t eaten in three days. You have no money. No place to sleep

and someone out there put their
fucking hands on
you
.”

All the blood drained out of her face. Her stomach knotted viciously and shame crawled over her

shoulders and seized her by the throat. She gave him a stricken look, her humiliation so keen that she

wanted to cry.

Jace moved his hand from her abdomen up to cup her cheek. He brushed his thumb tenderly over

her cheekbone, his gaze softening as he took in her horror.

“Bethany,” he said in a quiet voice. “I knew all this before I came for you. Doesn’t that tell you

anything?”

“I don’t know,” she whispered, unable to look at him any longer.

She dropped her gaze, closing her eyes. She felt so . . . unworthy, and she hated that feeling. Hated

it with a passion. She’d spent a lifetime feeling unworthy, unlovable. Not good enough.

“Look at me,” he said firmly.

When she hesitated, he lifted her chin with his hand until her face was directed toward him. But her

eyes were still shut.

“Open your eyes, baby.”

When she did, her vision was obscured by the sheen of tears that threatened.

“Don’t cry,” he said huskily. “What it says is that it doesn’t matter to me. I knew that about you, and

I still went to the shelter. I’ve been looking for you for two goddamn weeks. I’ve scoured every

fucking shelter I could find, hoping like hell to find you in one of them. And when I didn’t come up

with you anywhere, it made me livid because I knew you were out there on the goddamn streets, cold,

hungry and alone. Where I couldn’t protect you. Where I couldn’t make sure you had enough to eat.

Where you didn’t even have a fucking coat to keep you warm.”

Despite his command for her not to cry, a tear slipped down her cheek and collided with his hand.

He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her face and then he kissed his way upward, removing the

damp trail.

“Now, tell me who did this to you,” he said, anger vibrating in his voice. “I want to know

everything. I’m going to take care of you, Bethany, but I have to know what I’m getting into here.”

She shook her head adamantly. “You can’t. Jace, I can’t move into your sister’s apartment. You

can’t just sweep in and take over. Life doesn’t work that way. It never has.”

Impatience glittered in those dark eyes. “Life works however the hell you
make
it work. And the

hell I can’t take over. Not to hurt your feelings, baby, but you haven’t done such a great job taking

care of yourself. I’m going to change all that.”

“But why?” she burst out. “I don’t get it. I was a one-night stand for you and Ash. I can’t do that

again. You were my relapse. I can’t go back down that road. I won’t. I’ve worked too hard to get to

this place.”

She was shaking by the end of her outburst. And deeply shamed that she’d just blurted all that out.

Wasn’t it bad enough that he knew about her arrest? Now he’d think she was a whore on top of being

a drug addict.

“What place?” Jace demanded. “A place where you have no home? Nothing to eat?”

“To a place where I could gain back my self-respect,” she said quietly.

She edged backward on the couch, ready to bolt toward the door. Jace seemed to know exactly

what she was contemplating. He moved fast, before she could even blink. He was right up next to her

again, arm wrapped around her waist. Trapped. She wasn’t going anywhere.

“Start talking. Everything, Bethany. Tell me what you mean by ‘relapse.’ And then you’re going to

stop avoiding the question I’ve asked you four times already. I want to know who the fuck put their

hands on you,” he said menacingly.

Not knowing what else to do, she leaned into his chest, burying her head on his shoulder. He

seemed surprised but then he wrapped both arms solidly around her, surrounding her with his strength