“I choked her, kicked her and spit on her.”

Janna winced, he felt it pierce his heart, the pain was excruciating, stealing his breath, then she cleared her expression and pressed even closer.

The woman pressed even closer.

“Be a better man,” she whispered.

It was that easy for her.

Because she saw in him not who he was, but who he wanted to be.

So . . .

Right.

That was what she wanted?

That was what he’d do.

Starting now.

“Tell me about your dream.”

She shut down, completely, to the point she tried to shove off him.

So he rolled them again, trapping her under him.

A better man would do this.

A better man would take this from her so she didn’t have to live with it, whatever it was.

And he’d do that even if she didn’t want to give it.

“Janna,” he warned.

“Beck, I—”

“Talk,” he ordered.

She shook her head. “I don’t think—”

He got in her face. “Tell me.”

She stared in his eyes.

Then she said fast, “Okay, you can’t be mad.”

Oh fuck.

“What?”

“And you can’t . . . do anything about it.”

Fuck.

“What?” he clipped.

“Okay, right well . . .”

She trailed off and said nothing.

“Janna,” he growled.

“Okay,” she breathed, got it together and began. “I had a friend. A girl. A girlfriend. She was sweet,” she said swiftly. “She was messed up, but she was sweet. I knew it. I . . . she was like you. Like me. She was somewhere she didn’t belong doing things she shouldn’t be doing. A misfit.”

“Keep goin’,” he kept growling when she stopped.

“I was like, you know, trying to help her.”

“Help her what?” he pushed.

“Help her get clean. Help her get back to the life she should be leading.”

Jesus Christ.

Janna and her misfits.

“Janna—”

“There was word . . .” Back to talking fast. “She was seeing two guys. This wasn’t good. They were . . . if they found out about each other, it would not go well. Everyone was talking about it. They were like, not good guys. Both of them old enough to be her father.”

Beck felt a weird sensation prickling at the back of his neck.

“They said . . .” She shook her head but kept going. “I could tell she was tweaking more than she normally tweaked. Even when she was high, she was upset about something. I went to her house when it was late and I thought she’d be home because she partied a lot. She was there but she was really gone. She was stoned, but it was more. She was acting super funny. I tried to talk to her, but she just wanted me to go. I should have known something was up because she was kind of . . . frantic about me going. We fought. I didn’t want to give up on her and she was mad I just wouldn’t go. But, I had a feeling. I had a feeling with the way she was acting that something had to give. And soon.”

Yep.

Janna and her misfits, not giving up.

“And then someone knocked on the door,” she said.

Fuck.

Shit.

Fuck.

Shit.

Fuck.

“That’s when she lost it, pushed me in the closet and told me not to make a noise. Told me whatever I saw, whatever I heard, just sit there and be quiet and do not move.”

His girl.

In a closet.

He knew what came next.

“Jesus, fuck, Janna,” he ground out.

“I know.” She nodded like she couldn’t stop doing it.

Then she looked like she was going to start crying.

She got control and kept talking.

“He came in. He knew about the other guy. They fought, Beck, right away. It was bad. Like . . .”

Her voice broke.

He slid off her, took them to their sides, gathered her close, twisted his fingers light in her hair and held her tight around the waist with his other arm.

“But she wouldn’t talk about that with him,” she continued. “All she wanted was drugs, you know, before they started. He said he didn’t have any. That was when she got angry. Got into his face. Said things to him, really ugly things, worked him up.”

“All right,” he said gently.

“But I . . . it was getting bad. He was really mad at first. Then suddenly, he wanted to get things started. You know, have sex. It was creepy, I can’t explain it. But, it was not right, not normal any way you looked at it. She wanted drugs before they did it, he was single-minded about just doing it. He got over the other guy like it was nothing. And I wondered if that was their, you know . . . thing. How they, well . . . played. Not even having a drink first, or I don’t know . . . something. They just fought and then . . . did it.”

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he whispered.

“It was weird, and wrong and so incredibly ugly,” she said. “And it made me sad for her because I don’t think that was her. I just think that was what she’d do to get her fix.”

“Yeah, baby.” He kept whispering.

“I had my phone,” she told him. “She had this friend. I’d met her once, briefly. So briefly, I probably wouldn’t even have remembered her name, but it was unusual. She was not in the life. She was trying to pull her out too. I found her number. Looked up the directory on my phone in the closet. I called her. I . . . I didn’t want her to know who I was, but I wanted to, I don’t know, maybe scare her into doing something. I was scared, Beck. It wasn’t like anything I’d ever experienced. I was in a closet. And it just didn’t feel right.”

“Safe now, baby,” he murmured gently. “Keep goin’.”

“I . . . I don’t know. I couldn’t really tell. The way she was. She was . . . dressed up for him. Ready for something. In, you know, schoolgirl clothes.”

Jesus.

“But I . . . Beck, I think in the end he actually was mad about this guy and I think he . . . he might have raped her.”

Shit.

Fuck.

Shit.

Fuck.

Shit.

“I listened. So weak. I listened and did nothing. I was terrified. At first he was shouting. Destroying the house. But they stayed in the living room. I couldn’t get out without being seen. And she told me not to move, not to make a noise, and I wondered if she thought he might hurt me and was trying to protect me. Then they were doing it and I couldn’t tell. It didn’t sound right. It was rough. But she didn’t shout ‘no’ or anything. It was just not . . . not . . . not like it should be.”

“Why didn’t you call the cops, sweetheart?”

“I didn’t know if this was their normal thing,” she cried, her voice going higher. “And she would . . . she would . . . she would hate me. I’d never get through to her if I called the cops. She would cut me out. This guy gave her drugs. If he got in trouble and he couldn’t do that . . .” She let that lie but kept talking. “Her friend seemed really together. She knew her before she got hooked on drugs. I thought, if she came, she could intervene. She wouldn’t be scared. Not like me.” Her eyes got haunted. “It was all loud and ugly and then,” her voice got throaty, “nothing. Nothing, Beck.”

He fucking knew it.

Jesus Christ.

Janna.

“He killed her,” he guessed.

She nodded, then shoved her face in his chest and sobbed, “He took off and I came out and she was . . . oh God, it was so hideous. And I sat in that closet and did nothing!”

She pushed into him, her body overtaken, shaking violently with her sobs.

He leaned into her, giving her his weight and warmth . . . and time.

But they didn’t have a lot of that last.

Because she was talking about a drug addict in the porn scene.

He needed her to get it together so he could take care of her.

And he could take care of business.

Digger was out on a limb, no one at his back.

Who knew what that fucking guy would do.

“What’d you do then?” he asked.