Damaged and the Knight (Damaged #2)

Damaged and the Knight (Damaged #2)

Bijou Hunter



Dedication


To Freckles, Tigger, Pooh, Roo, and Owl To Miranda and Tina Nicole To Eusebia, Selena, Jennifer, Katelyn, Arnie, Matt, Josh, Gail, and the rest of the awesome Denny’s crew

Other Bijou Hunter Books

Damaged and the Beast (April ‘13) Damaged and the Cobra: A Novella (Late Summer ‘13) Damaged and the Outlaw (Autumn ‘13)




Chapter One


Different girls have different dreams. My sister Farah wanted to be a teacher and live a safe life with a safe man. She wanted average. My only dream was not to die violently.

When I was ten, a nice lady at the motel we lived at would often give me candy. As I grew older, I suspected the reason Melody's kids didn't live with her was because she was a prostitute and the mean man she lived with was her pimp. Back then, I only knew she had a sweet smile and a pretty laugh. I wanted to laugh pretty like Melody, but my dad said I had a donkey laugh.

As I hid in the motel room years later, I thought back to her sweet smile. When the paramedics took Melody away, her face was a bloody mess and I couldn't even see where her eyes and nose were anymore. A victim of violence at the hands of her boyfriend/pimp, her beautiful face was gone forever. Days later, I heard from the ladies who worked with Melody how she hadn’t made it.

Every night afterwards, I prayed to die quickly like in a car accident. I just didn’t want to die from having my face pounded in.

This fear kept me from leaving the motel room long after I ran out of food. I refused to die at the hands of the strange men messing with the door. Knocking and laughing, they often peeked in the window. They were still playing, but soon their games would end.

I wasn’t a religious type and didn’t grow up learning about God. I just knew some people had darkness inside them. While good people could do bad things, bad people were simply bad and there was no fixing them.

My dad was bad, but he wasn’t obviously evil. He had a handsome face and a really great smile. People loved that smile and so did I. When he smiled, I knew I was safe. When he wasn’t smiling, I worried. Since Farah left for college, I worried a lot.

Now, I waited.

A few times, I imagined climbing out of the window and running away until I found a good person or the police. I pictured escaping, but reality took hold and I imagined what those men next door would do if they caught me. No matter how hungry I became, I feared their hands on me more than starvation.

Leaving through the door wasn’t possible since I’d pushed a dresser against it. Too weak and exhausted to move it now, I waited with a knife in my hand. Whether I used it on them or me, the blade was the way the end would come.

I knew the men next door were bad because only bad people stayed in this motel on the lonely highway. This was why Dad hid us there.

Under a death sentence, Dad had borrowed money from bad guys to pay off other bad guys then stole money from nice people to pay back the second bad guys. Eventually, both the police and bad guys were on his tail.

Those last few days, I learned to hate my dad. Whining about needing Farah back, he left me to die. Sometimes, I imagined using the knife on him if he returned. Kill him and end his pointless life. Not only could I stop him from hurting people, I might finally leave this awful motel.

The knock sounded loud in my head and I prayed my father had returned. As much as I hated him, I needed to leave this place. If he took me anywhere with normal people, I would find my way back to Farah.

Someone was at the window. Though my father was a decently built man, he wouldn’t shadow everything with his size like the man outside. I hid out of view as the man peered through the crack in the curtains.

“Tawny Smith.”

His voice wasn’t loud, but it held an edge. Not angry, yet willing to cause me pain if I didn’t answer. Yet, I remained silent because it was safer to let him come get me. If I hid in the corner and looked as afraid as I felt, he wouldn't think I was a threat. He might get close enough for me to cut him before he hurt me. After I cut him, I would suffer, but that would happen anyway.

“Cooper Johansson sent me.”

Instead of his words, my mind focused on the blade in my hand. After working at the door again, he peeked in the window. I nearly felt his frustration as my mind returned to the name Cooper Johansson.

Cooper loved Farah. She was his girl. He said she was more beautiful the more she showed to him. Cooper was sending someone to bring me to Farah.

Standing, I walked cautiously towards the window. Outside, a dark haired man frowned at me. His blue eyes were beautiful, but cold.

“Tawny Smith,” he said, officially losing his temper.

“Yes.”

“Your sister’s boyfriend sent me. Open the door.”