Keeping his mouth shut, he let his eyes travel over her. Her face was heart-shaped and soft. The black hair, high cheekbones, and a pointed chin she’d inherited from her Greek mother gave her a slightly exotic look. And she enhanced the almond shape of her eyes with black eyeliner and played up the plumpness of her mouth with lipstick the color of a dusty rose.
She was tall for a woman. Five eight or five nine would be his guess. And her figure was trim and efficient. Nothing extra, but nothing missing either.
Simply put, Eliza was one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen.Classicallybeautiful. Like an old black-and-white photograph that’d been digitally enhanced and filled with color.
The fire in her eyes when he returned his gaze to her face was something he hadn’t seen before, however. It begged the question, “Have ya…” He stopped and reworded. “Did someone hurt ya, Eliza?”
Her nostrils flared. When her chin trembled, he only stopped himself from pulling her into his arms because he wasn’t sure she’d welcome his embrace.
“No.” She swallowed loudly and the wave of relief that washed over him was shocking in its size. “But my best friend…”
She turned her face to the side and worried her locket between her fingers. When she blinked three times in rapid succession, he knew she was fighting back tears.
Again, the urge to pull her into a hug was so strong he had to shove his hands into his pockets to keep from reaching for her.
“Aveline and I were roommates the last four years of boarding school,” she whispered. “Aveline was a runner. She had legs like a gazelle and could go for hours. And one morning…” She trailed off again. It was as if she couldn’t speak the awful words aloud and had to skip forward in the story. “Anyway, when she dragged herself back to the dormitory, she was so bloody and bruised I thought she’d been hit by a car.”
“Fuck,” he cursed, feeling the muscle in his jaw start twitching again.
“I held her on the ride to the hospital,” she admitted hoarsely. “I held her when she was forced to strip naked so a nurse could take pictures of her injuries. And I held her hand as they took the samples for the rape kit. She never cried. Not once.”
She turned back to him then and her brown eyes were swimming with unshed tears. “But once we got back to the dormitory, she didn’tstopcrying for three days.”
“I’m so sorry, Liza.” It was the first time he’d used her nickname. But it sounded right in that moment. Itfeltright in his mouth. “Did they ever catch the guy?”
Her hands were shaky when she wiped away the tears that slipped over her lower lids. “Yes. But sometimes I wish they hadn’t. Sometimes I think it would’ve been better for Aveline if he’d just remained some faceless, nameless stranger.”
When Fisher frowned, she explained. “She had to go through the horror of a trial. She had to get on that witness stand while that bastard of a defense attorney painted her as the school slut because she’d had a boyfriend she’d been intimate with. That lawyer even had the audacity to mention how short her running shorts were that morning. And even though he didn’t say the words, everyone in that courtroom could read between the lines. He implied she’d beenaskingfor it.”
“Jesus.” Fisher’s stomach churned with revulsion.
“And you know what’s worse?” Color rode high in her cheeks. “That fat, old, misogynistic judge bought it. He bought the sob story the defense painted of a rich frat boy whose parents had spoiled and coddled him and who hadn’t taught him the difference between right and wrong. That judge said Aveline’s rapistdeserved a second chance to make something of himself.” She made air quotes. “And so he gave the twenty-two-year-oldmanwho beat and brutalized and raped my friend time-served, community service, and probation.Probationfor dragging her into an alleyway, punching her in the head until she was nearly unconscious, and then shoving his cock inside her while she struggled and bled onto the dirty ground.”
Tears streamed unchecked down her cheeks now. But they weren’t tears of sorrow. They were tears of rage.
He understood them.
He’d cried plenty of tears just like them in the days and weeks following his mother’s murder.
“If I’d had a knife the day of the sentencing, I would’ve used it to carve up that sonofabitch,” she snarled. “And more than that, I would’veenjoyedit. So no.” She shook her head. “I don’t think what you did down in Colombia was wrong. In fact, I’m not sure you could’ve done anything more right.”
It was as if a weight was lifted from his shoulders. “Ya don’t think it makes me a monster?”
She used the backs of her hands to wipe away more tears. “Fisher, I think you’re a tomcat and a player and a terrible tea maker. But a monster you arenot.”
He’d only made her tea once. The time she and Sam had come down with the stomach flu together.
“What’s wrong with the way I make tea?” he demanded. She was attempting to lighten the mood and he happily followed her direction.
“You have to let the tea bagsteepfor three to five minutes. Otherwise you just get colored hot water.”
“Oh…” He scratched the stubble on his cheek. “I thought you just bobbed the bag up and down a couple of times.” He made a face. “It’s the thought that counts though, right? I still get brownie points for tryin’?”
“Mmm.” She shook her head and sniffled. But there was a small smile playing at the corner of her mouth. “I suppose.”
He chuckled and then sobered when he realized it was the first time they’d had a conversation that hadn’t ended with one of them insulting the other. “Look at us. Bein’ all friendly.” When a snippet of a poem blossomed in his head, he recited it aloud. “‘Friends will think of ways to make you smile. So you can be happy for a while.’”
She cocked her head. “So we’re friends now, are we?”
