The Stolen Wife.

Chapter fourteen.

She barely made it into the house before collapsing to her knees, hugging her own body as sons racked her frame.
She felt like she might throw up but simply didn't have the strength.

Gasping for air she allowed herself to give in to the cries breaking free, she had never been so roughly handled and treated as cheaply as she just was.
Those men didnt see her as anything but a body to use and disgaurd and had she gone into that house she was nearly positive she wouldn't have came back out.

She stayed there on the cold, white, tile floor just inside the front door for what seemed like only a few minutes but in reality must have been longer.
She saw the sunlight move across the floor as the day progressed, she heard the cheap flip phone ring four separate times and although it was in her pocket it sounded miles away.

At some point the aches in her body, the turning in her stomach faded to numbness and she fell asleep, still curled into a ball and completely exhausted on the floor.

The door opened, she heard it behind her and her eyes opened as well. Her eyes burned, raw from crying, her body ached from laying on the floor and the rough hands that had held her, her head pounding and her stomach feeling hollow.

She slowly turned her head to see the bottoms of black Jean's and black boots cross the threshold. Normally she would hate for him to see her this way, hate that he knew how weak she was but now she didnt care.

"Elizabeth," he said her name.

She didnt respons and he moved closer crouching down to look at her face, he pushed some of her tangled red hair off her wet cheek.

"I tried to call you," he said, his tone rough.

She blinked up at him but her tongue felt thick and heavy, so she still didnt reply.

He caught her under her arms like a small child and hauled her to her unsteady legs. Keeping an arm firmly around her waist he lifted her into his arms. She didn't even have it in her to protest.

He carried her to her bedroom sitting her on the edge of the bed he sat next to her.

"Walk me through it, start to finish, tell me what happened."

She took a shaky breath and turned to face him, opened her mouth to tell him. Planning to tell him exactly what happened and that it was his fault. Angry that it was because of him she was in that situation.

Instead she opened her mouth and all that came out was a pathetic sob, and then even more.

"Fuck. Okay, okay."

He pulled her close letting her bury her head against his shoulder.

When the sons subsided to small hiccups he pulled away. Going into the bathroom he turned on the shower then returned.

"My driver only said there was an altercation," he said.

She stood intending to go shower and he caught her arm.

"Show me," he said softly.

"What?" She asked finally finding her voice.

"Show me where they touched you."

She felt her heart kick up painfully in her chest and beat in her ears which she knew were turning red.
She didn't reply, she wasn't sure how.

He moved first gripping her shirt and slowly moving it up her body and over her head, tossing it behind her on the bed.
As soon as he looked it wasnt hard for him to find exactly every place the man downtown had a hand on her, her porcelain white skin showed every small scratch and fingerprint.

Her arm was badly bruised and a prominent hand print covered the sensitive skin. He lifted it carefully examining the tissue for signs of a break.

"Is that it?" He asked when he was done.

"That you can see," she admitted.

She didnt need to elaborate his eyes dropped her pants and she took a stepback, he didn't make a move to touch her pants. Standing there in jeans and a bra while he examined every visible inch of her was intimate enough she didnt need anymore embarrassment today.

"With his hands?" He asked grinding his teeth.

"With a gun," she replied.

"Go...get a shower take as long as you need."

She walked passed him to the bathroom closing the door behind her. She stopped off her shoes, socks, pants, bra and underwear then she stood in front of the mirror.
She looked at her body other than her arm none of the bruises would be visible with clothes.

She stepped into the hot shower letting it do its work over her sore muscles. Washing the grit and grime that seemed to be caked on her skin down the drain with all pain.

When she got out she wrapped her body her in softest, biggest robe. A part of her hoped Rhys was gone another part wasnt ready to be alone.

He was pacing her bedroom on the phone. Speaking angrily at someone.

"I don't give a damn, you have your orders. All of them. Make them an example."

He hung up and turned towards her and she took a timid step further into the room.

"I want you to eat something and get a good nights rest."

"I will."

"When he brings those kids back you focus on them and you shut this out. You move on."

She gave a small nod.

"Those men are pieces of shit, you're probably the closest they ever came to a real quality woman and it went to their heads. They're animals and what they did has no reflection on you."

"They made me feel.....dirty and.....cheap and worthless. Like I didn't matter."

"Don't, don't give them that much power."

"I didn't realize how dangerous the people you deal with are."

"Those weren't people I deal with. The people I deal with are more dangerous than those lowlifes but I don't do business with rapists."

He turned and started heading for the door.

"Why?" She asked before she could stop herself.

"Why what?"

"Why don't you do business with rapists?"

It seemed like a broad statement to her, someone who stole, ran drugs, killed people, and lived his life in the seedy parts of town to have one line they didn't cross.

He turned crossing the floor back to where she stood he reached out taking her chin in his hand and forcing her too look at him. He stopped closer.

"Is that what you want? Do you want me to be a rapist?" He asked.

Goosebumps broke out across her skin and she lost her breath.

"No," she choked out "of course not."

"Would it be easier for you to hate me if I was?" He asked moving closer his body inches from hers.

Despite her needs suddenly feeling shaky, her heart pounding so loud it hurt she couldn't  force herself to be afraid.

"I already hate you," she said.

"Good."

He released her and headed back to the door he stopped just before exiting and without turning to her he spoke.

"There's no money in raping women," he said easily.

He said it as if he was discussing the weather,simple, to the point. Everything for him was about money and if there wasnt money he wasnt interested. He spoke as if millions of women didn't have their lives completely shaken by the same sick bastards that did his drugs, or used his money.

He left her standing alone in her bedroom feeling every bit as dirty as she had before her shower.