Pax was leaning against the wall, his lips lifted in a knowing smile. “I waited for you,” he whispered.
“Asshole.” AJ knocked on the door, light and easy, not wanting to make her think he was demanding to be let in. “Teresa? Can we talk to you?”
No answer for a minute or so. AJ was about to knock again.
“It’s not locked anymore. You can come in.”
He cringed at the softness in her voice, sensed her reluctance. He didn’t want to do this, but Pax was right—they needed to know if there was something they’d done wrong. AJ turned the knob and pushed the door. It opened. The room was dark. Teresa sat in the window seat, the moonlight casting a silver glow over her. Her knees were drawn to her chest, her arms wrapped around them.
“It is okay if Pax and I come in?”
She nodded, still looking out the window. AJ came into the room, Pax behind him. He circled around the bed but stopped there, not wanting to make her feel cornered.
“Five years ago I was riding my bike home after I closed down the bar. It was . . . two-thirty, three A.M., something like that,” she said, not looking at them. Obviously she was ready to talk, though. AJ took a seat on the corner of the mattress. Pax leaned against the wall.
“Front tire went down midway home. I tried calling Joey, but didn’t get an answer. He was out riding, so he didn’t get the call. I didn’t want to leave the bike on a deserted stretch of road, but I didn’t have much choice. I called for a taxi and waited. Meanwhile, a couple of bikers came by. I was hoping it was some of the Thorns. It wasn’t.”
AJ wanted to ask questions, wanted to say something, but this was Teresa’s story to tell.
“I don’t know who they were. They wore full face helmets with dark face shields and were dressed all in black. They pulled over and I told them my tire was shot.”
Her face had gone a pale silver, and he knew what it cost her to tell this story. He also knew he wasn’t going to like what he was going to hear next.
“They didn’t care about the bike, or my tire, or about helping me. They didn’t want to hear the word ‘no.’”
“Son of a bitch,” Pax mumbled from the darkened corner of the room. AJ agreed. It took every ounce of willpower he had not to go to Teresa and fold her in his arms.
“I prayed the taxi would show up, but you know how it is in this town. And it was a game night. Every taxi was in the city. I knew it was going to be a long wait. I told the guys someone was on the way to pick me up, but they didn’t listen . . . didn’t care. And I had broken down near this deserted shopping center, lots of nooks and crannies and places to hide ...”
She sucked in a shuddering breath, then continued. “They dragged me over there, behind the buildings, threw me on the ground. They tied a foul-smelling rag around my eyes so I couldn’t see. One held me down while the other pulled off my jeans and boots, tore my panties . . .”
Her lips trembled and silvery tears slid down her cheeks. “I kept saying no. Over and over again, I said no. They never responded, never said a word. They took turns violating me.” She pulled her legs tighter to her chest. “At least it was over fast. Then they left me lying there, half-naked and sobbing.”
She finally turned her tear-streaked gaze to AJ. “I said no. I pleaded with them. But they didn’t stop.”
Rage tore at AJ. He wanted someone dead for hurting her. But now wasn’t the time for that emotion. And it wasn’t the time for her to feel alone. He went to her, pulled her off the window seat and wrapped his arms around her.
Then Pax was there, too, on the other side of her, holding her, caressing her hair.
“We’re not going to hurt you, Teresa,” he said. “Not like that. Not ever.”
She buried her face against his chest and shuddered. “I know that. Logically, I know that. Getting my psyche to understand it is something different.”
“We aren’t going to hurt you,” Pax reiterated. “You have a right to say no. Every woman does.”
AJ drew her back and cupped her face in his hands. “Did you go to the police?”
She nodded. “Of course. It did no good. Whoever did it, they wore condoms. Never took their helmets off. Their bikes were nondescript and I didn’t get license tag numbers. I have no idea who they were. Still don’t.”
“Christ, Teresa. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry this happened to you.”
She managed a smile. “I’m angry it happened to me. I’m furious at them for thinking it was okay to take what wasn’t offered to them.”
“So the case is still open?”
She shrugged. “Not that it does much good. They’ll never be caught. No DNA. No repeat rapes before or after mine. It was an isolated incident. Cops said maybe they were drunk or high and it was just a one-time thing.”
“So no one pays for that crime except you,” Pax said.
Teresa’s gaze lifted to his.
“You’ve been in a kind of prison, haven’t you?” he asked.
She leaned against him. “Yes. I guess I still am. You saw that tonight.” She pushed past him and sat on the window seat again, lifted her gaze to him. “I’m not . . . normal anymore.”
Pax took a seat in the chair next to her. “It could take a long time. Have you had counseling?”
“Plenty. And it helped me a lot, especially in the beginning. But it can only help me so much. At some point I have to let a man, or men, touch me again.”
“The right man. Or men,” AJ said. “Ones who’ll be patient with you. Ones who’ll understand what you’ve been through, who know you need time to take this slow. Baby steps, Teresa.”
She tilted her head to the side. “You understand.”
“That you were violated? That your body still rebels against being touched?” AJ nodded. “Yeah, we understand. We may be guys, but we’re not dense, Teresa. Any man should understand that what you need most is time, patience and TLC. You have to do this on your own timetable, and in your own way.”
“I want to be whole again,” she said. “You have no idea how much I want that. But the guys around here . . . they know what happened and treat me differently because of it. They think I’m some china doll who’s going to break if touched. They give me a wide berth. They’re afraid, which in turn makes me feel damaged.”