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It was the wrong thing to say. She wasn’t sure there had been a right thing. Her dad moved toward her again, his hands reaching for her, probably to shove her out the door. She couldn’t go yet, though. Ducking to the side, she tried to get past him, looking around even more frantically for the cat.
Fingers grabbed her arm in a painful grip, digging in, and she cried out as her father spun her around. He slapped her across the face with enough force, her head snapped back.
“Fucking little liar. Get the fuck out, you ungrateful bitch.” He swung her toward the door, and she managed to get her hands up in time to keep from fully slamming into it. She cried out again, tears sliding down her cheeks from both the pain and her terrified panic.
The kitten!
She couldn’t fight her father. She couldn’t even stop him from shoving her out the door, where she went sprawling. Mrs. Martine’s trailer was dark, and she was relieved. The older woman could get hurt if she tried to get involved.
Mr. Elliott. I need to get Mr. Elliott.
He’d helped with the kitten before. He’d said to come to him if she ever needed anything. Emily jumped to her feet and ran down the street, hearing her dad slam the door behind her, locking the kitten in the trailer with him.
17
Saving the Cat
Damian
Was it cliché for a car shop owner to unwind at the end of the day by watching tv shows about cars? Probably, but it was what he enjoyed. Some shows he enjoyed more than others, of course. A lot of the time, he was able to sit and let his mind wander while the tv played. Sometimes, he’d end up sketching some ideas for paint jobs he wanted to do.
Today, he was having trouble focusing on any of that, though. The tv was going, and he had his sketchbook out, but when his mind wandered, it always wandered to one place.
Emily.
When he blinked and looked at the sketch he’d been working on, it was no longer of a paint job. It was Emily, spread out on the hood of a car, gloriously naked, exactly the way he remembered her.
Fuck.
Ripping the page out of the pad, he quickly crumpled it. No, wait, maybe he should shred it. Just in case it fell out of his trash or something. Hello, paranoia. But he really didn’t like the idea of anyone else seeing Emily naked. Not even a sketch of her naked.
It was better to be safe than sorry.
A sudden pounding on his door made him jump up.
“Mr. Elliott! Help!”
“Emily!” He dropped the crumpled paper on the couch and bounded for the door of his trailer, jerking it open. She was on the other side, wild-eyed, one side of her face red and slightly swollen. Fuck! He grabbed her, pulling her in so he could see her better. “Who the fuck did this to you?”
“My dad… he…” Tears sheened her eyes, and she gulped, obviously trying to catch her breath. She must have run all the way over from her trailer from the way she was panting.
“Come in?—”
“No! My dad…” She choked, coughing, probably dried out. Damian jumped into action, leaving her standing just inside the door while he grabbed a glass and filled it with water. She was still coughing slightly when he handed it to her.
“Take a sip, Sunshine, and breathe,” he said, rubbing her back. “Then tell me where he is.”
Her father fucking hit her.
He was going to kill the man—as soon as he found him.
Emily choked slightly on the water, trying to gulp it too fast. When she pulled the cup away from her lips, some of the water sprayed because she moved it too fast, not that she noticed. She looked up at Damian, meeting his gaze with a kind of terrified hopelessness.
“My trailer. He came back. He kicked me out.” More tears filled her eyes. “I had to leave the kitten! Please?—”
She didn’t have to finish the sentence. Damian was already moving, turning to put her behind him while he went and took care of Don.
“Stay here.”
