Page 17 of Speechless
He gave a triumphanthahwhen he found a lone toothbrush still in the wrapper buried beneath a small mountain of disposable razors he hadn’t used in…well, hell, since he bought his new electric shaver. Brandishing it, he straightened, using his hip to close the drawer, and wiggled it toward Jenna.
It took an extraordinary amount of willpower to keep his mouth from hitting the floor.
Looking so innocent, so fucking shy despite the fact he’d seen her naked more times in their short acquaintance than he guessed she’d like, Jenna stood on wobbly legs, the T-shirt bunched defensively over her small breasts so she wasn’t fully exposed.
With a smile of acknowledgement for her courage, Connor set the brush beside the sink and wandered to the tub to test the water. Lukewarm, edging toward the hot side. Pleased, he shut the taps off and held his hand out to her. “Come on, baby. This won’t take long.”
There were only a few feet between them, and she tottered unsteadily toward him. He kept his eyes on hers, not wanting to make her feel uncomfortable under an assessing gaze. She reached him, sounding a little breathless. “Can you get in yourself?”
The T-shirt fumbled in her grip as she went to drop it, then clutched it back to her chest. A dark flush of embarrassment rose from just above the material, creeping up her neck into her too-thin face.
“You can take it in with you if you like.” Connor frowned, unsure why she was so hesitant.
Things became a little clearer when Jenna shook her head slowly and lovingly folded the garment with the utmost care. Her fingers stroked the material nervously a moment before she offered it to him with a mournful look in her eyes.
Connor’s eyebrow shot up. “Do you think I’m taking it away from you, baby?”
Her misery was clear in the minute nod.
The shirt was nothing special. One he liked wearing, sure, but it was just a souvenir shirt he’d picked up years ago from a rodeo after watching the bull riding. It held memories of a good night with his brothers and their joint circle of friends, a keg of beer and flirting with a pretty young thing nearly a decade his junior.
He took the shirt reverently from her trembling hands, placing it on the counter next to the toothbrush. She huddled into herself when he walked back to her and cupped her face in his big hands, tanned flesh against deathly white. He thought of the shitty piece of cloth she’d been wearing when she stumbled into the bar and nearly snarled.
“The bastard didn’t let you have clothes, did he?” Keeping the rage out of his voice took infinite control. Reading her body language was becoming easier, and he didn’t like the way she cringed. “Did you take that dirty shirt when you ran away, Jenna, or was that all you had?”
Tears shimmered, spilled. Connor heard the sharp intake of breath, saw her struggle to control the sob that followed. He didn’t let her pull away when she tried, just picked her up and sat on the toilet lid.
Her legs wrapped around his waist, her arms around his neck, and he pressed her face into the curve between his neck and shoulder as he used his free hand to ever so gently stroke her scored back.
“Okay, baby. Cry it out. We’re gonna get all that shit festering inside you into the open and you’ll feel so much better. No more guilt, no more fear. Never again will you go through any of it, Jenna. Caleb’s gonna find that fucker and slam the cage door behind him.” Connor spoke nothing but the truth. Their relationship may be strained, but Connor had absolute faith in his older brother’s capabilities as sheriff.
And if the law failed Jenna…well, Cain had a nifty nine-millimeter that would put a permanent end to the motherfucker responsible for the state of the young woman weeping in Connor’s arms.
Connor would happily pull the fucking trigger himself.
Realizing his thoughts were growing dark, he yanked his mind away from revenge—justified or not—and redirected his attention back to Jenna. It was disconcerting to have a woman crying on his lap without her making a single whimper.
Her tears soaked into his shirt, her ragged breaths heating his skin beneath the soft cotton. He hated feeling the bumps of her spine beneath his hand, the protrusion of her ribs.
For some strange reason, it made him feel guilty for enjoying his life while she suffered at the hands of a stranger he didn’t know, despite the fact he hadn’t known she existed.
Tension slipped from her body, her arms growing limp around his neck as her breathing slowed. Hand cupping the back of her head, Connor eased her away from his shoulder, smiled a little as dopey green eyes blinked in an effort to stay open.
“Go to sleep, baby,” he urged softly, rising in a smooth motion and carrying her to the tub. She squirmed as he set her into the water, her hands latching onto his. “Easy, Jenna. I’m right here.”
Barely awake as he washed her, her grip on his left hand remained.
Connor made quick work of the bath, pulling the plug and lifting her out in under ten minutes. After drying her off, he stood behind her at the sink and guided the toothbrush into her mouth, wincing when she spat blood-tinged foam.
That dentist’s visit needed to come sooner than later.
Wasn’t that going to be a pleasant afternoon, he thought with an inner grimace. Maybe he’d just keep that to himself for a few days.
While Jenna sleepily brushed her teeth for the first time in God knew how long, Connor inspected the wounds on her back. A seed of unease settled in his gut as he carefully prodded around a couple of the deeper lashes, apologizing when she jerked in pain.
Fuck. Making comforting sounds in his throat, he studied the tapestry of abuse with a clinical eye and formulated a plan for the following day. Four wounds were worse than he originally thought. Even though he’d cleaned and treated them, they were viciously red and on the verge of leaking pus. While the lesser wounds were already starting to show minimal signs of improvement, those four were tenacious.
Jenna’s captor had struck her with a ridiculous amount of force to inflict such nasty gashes, and Connor closed his eyes against the fury pulsing through him.