Page 95 of Ridin' Free
“He never beat me hard enough to put me in the hospital. That would have been inconvenient. And somehow, even in his rage, he was always careful to hurt me in such a way that my bruises could be easily hidden. He didn’t hit me every night, and he was always so sorry. For a day or two after, he would shower me with gifts and affection—but then something else would happen that would set him off. And even though I let this go on for years, I was never quite sure what could unleash his monster, so I was always afraid. Always.”
My tears had slowed to a trickle—this part of my story being the easiest to tell.
“When I was twenty-three, I’d had enough, and I ran. But I was so desperate to get away, I didn’t think it through very well. Neither had I gone far enough. I got a job at a bar in a college town a couple hours up the road. I managed to stay there a whole two weeks before he found me. He dragged me back to Denver, beat the shit out of me, and then got off on it and raped me.
“He raped me whenever he fuckin’ felt like it for a year. Lucky for me, he liked a willing pussy every once in a while, so he brought other women home when he wanted to hear her moan for him.
“It wasn’t long after he dragged me back that I met Wesley.” My nose tingled, and I could feel another bout of tears coming on at the mere thought of him. “He was one of the bouncers at the club. He was kind and smart and he knew where all the cameras were and the best blind spots. He knew when he could talk to me and when he couldn’t.
“It was his idea to teach me self-defense. He bought me my first blade. We would meet at his gym a couple days a week. It took some time for me to catch on, but he was—he was patient.”
I choked on a sob and Benson took a step toward me. Shaking my head, I retreated a step, swallowed the knot in my throat, and continued.
“I ran again when I was twenty-four, but I had a well thought out plan. I was going to disappear, and so I did. I made it to Cheyenne. I got a job at a bar. I settled in, and I could breathe for the first time in years.
“I kept to myself, to be safe. I didn’t make friends. I didn’t date. But it didn’t matter. I was free. Or so I thought. For two years I didn’t see him. I didn’t hear from him. Nothing. Until one day—one day he walked into the bar. He pretended to be sweet. He pretended like he’d missed me, but I saw through all his bullshit.
“It was getting late and I went out back to take out the trash, and he followed me. Cornered me. He told me how amusing he thought I was for believing I ever had any privacy. He told me how it hadn’t been hard to find me, but that he assumed I’d come back when I got tired of having no money. And when I didn’t run back to him, he decided to let me have my fun for a while.”
My hands were shaking violently as that night played vividly in my mind’s eye. I closed my eyes and shook my head as I admitted for the first time in eight years, “I wasn’t going to kill him. But then he told me about Wesley—about how he’d found out about our secretrendezvous. That’s the word he used. He thought we were fucking, and in his jealousy, he put a hit out on him.
“I just sort of lost it. I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t stop it.”
Benson’s huge, warm hands were suddenly holding my face, and I snapped my eyes open with a gasp.
“It’s okay, baby,” he murmured, wiping at my wet cheeks with the pads of his thumbs.
“No!” I wrenched out of his hold, stepping out of his reach. “Don’t! Don’tabsolveme.”
He knit his eyebrows together, inching toward me slowly as he asked, “You think I’m some angel? Huh?”
I shook my head at him, continuing my journey backwards. This wasn’t tit for tat.
“You don’t understand. Youcan’tunderstand. I’m damaged goods, Ben. You call me beautiful, but that’s just hair and tits and ass. Inside,” I paused long enough to smack my open palm against my chest before I continued, “In here, I’m a monster in disguise. I am the monster they made me. Sean and Scorpion and fucking Tommy! And for a minute—fuck, for a minute I thought I could be someone else. Withyou, I thought I could be someone else…”
My tears were coming faster now, but I needed to get it all out. I needed him to know—to understand.
“I can’t be who you want me to be. Not now. Not now that you know everything.”
“Know what?” he asked, his voice gentle, his approach careful. “That you’re a monster? Baby—you’re not a monster, you’re a fuckin’ warrior.”
His wordsguttedme.
It wasn’t true.
“I’m not,” I managed on a whimper.
“You are. You’re a warrior, Ali?—”
“No. Stop,” I insisted with a shake of my head.
I took another step back, but found I’d run out of room.
Benson was close—too close—and then his hand was wrapped gently around my neck, his thumb and forefinger applying enough pressure to make me tilt my head back, until all I could see was him.
His handsome face.
His bushy beard.
