“Exactly,” he said and pulled her close for one last comforting hug. Torri clung to him, her small, curvy body pressed against his larger, harder form for a long moment.
Impulsively, Vic tilted her chin back and gently kissed her wet eyelids.
“You’re beautiful and wonderful and warm and caring,” he murmured, stroking her cheek as he looked down into her eyes. “You don’t deserve what he tried to do to you, sweetheart.”
“Th-thank you.” Her heart rate had sped up and she was looking at him in a new way—a way that made Vic’s own heart start beating faster, for some reason.
But there was no time for the attraction between them now. They had to get back to his ship before the human authorities started pursuing them. Even now, they might be looking for the vehicle they had stolen. Also, he had a job to do—the Scourge were coming and the Mother Ship must be alerted.
Reluctantly, Vic let Torri go.
They had to hurry if they were going to get the Kindred here in time, before the Earth was overrun.
Twenty-Seven
Torri dug through the closet—which was full of Amanda’s clothes—and eventually found a few cardboard boxes in the back. Someone had written “Goodwill” on them in sharpie marker. When she opened them up, she finally found out what had become of her clothes.
“I guess it’s a good thing they didn’t get around to dropping these off yet,” she said dryly, as she picked through her discarded belongings. She got out some sweaters and jeans, some underwear and bras, and some shoes and socks. She also found a nightgown to sleep in. All the clothes were jumbled in together—not even folded. Clearly Amanda and Chuck had just crammed everything of hers into boxes and jammed them in the back of the closet so Amanda could have the space.
They probably did it the very first night I was at St. Elizabeth’s, she thought grimly. She doubted the predatory Amanda would have been willing to wait any longer. Especially since Chuck had apparently had an agreement with Dr. Burrows right from the start to keep her there.
Well, she was out now and she’d be damned if she was ever going back! Even if the Seeing Dreams came back and started tormenting her again, she was never going to allow herself to be locked up in any kind of facility where she lost her free will, ever again.
After packing her clothes in an old duffel bag, which was also at the back of the closet, she felt almost ready to go.
“I just need a quick wash and I’ll be done,” she told Vic. “Um, do you want me to see if I can find some old things of Chuck’s you could wear?”
She wasn’t sure if her husband’s—no, make that ex-husband’s—clothes would fit him, but Vic still had on the boring beige scrubs and the soft-soled slip-on shoes that were issued to the patients at St. Elizabeth’s.
He shook his head.
“I am fine as I am. I have a spare uniform in my ship.”
“All right then, I’ll just be a minute.”
Torri slipped into the bathroom to wash up and change. She had wiped most of Tanya’s blood off her mouth once Vic had freed her from the restraints, but it still felt good to wash her face in hot water.
Amanda hadn’t gotten around to redecorating the bathroom yet, though she had dumped all of Torri’s personal items into a bottom drawer under the sink vanity. Torri picked through the drawer and found a brush, a toothbrush and toothpaste, and a little bit of makeup, which she decided she would use later to make herself more presentable to meet the Kindred.
She also found an old bottle of Nair, a hair-removing lotion she often used on her legs. On impulse, she dumped the contents into the half-full bottle of shampoo in the shower stall. It might be a mean and petty gesture, but then, so was Chuck planning to steal her inheritance and keep her locked up in a mental institution for the rest of her life!
The last thing she did was open the small linen cupboard beside the shower stall. Standing on her tiptoes, she reached far to the back of the top shelf, praying she would find what she was looking for.
To her relief, she found it far back in the dusty corner, behind as stack of old face cloths. It was a little round china pot with cherubs painted on its curving sides.
Nana had given it to her as a secret wedding present, right before she left on her honeymoon.
“Now, I know you and Chuck want to have one of those marriages where you share everything and put all your money in one account,” she’d said to Torri. “But I have always believed that it’s good for a girl to have a little extra put by, just for herself in case of emergencies. So I want you to keep this a secret, just between you and me.”
Upon opening the little china pot, Torri had been shocked to see a roll of hundred-dollar bills and another, larger roll of twenties. Nana and Grandpa Pete had always lived simply, (another reason why her inheritance from them was such a surprise.) She had tried to give the money back, but Nana had steadfastly refused.
“I’ll be fine,” she had told Torri. “This is your secret stash—just for you in case of emergencies. Promise me you won’t tell—promise me now!”
Torri had promised and she had kept the promise, never telling Chuck about her “secret Nana stash.” Now she was glad she had. She tucked the cash away in her duffle bag, sending a thought of thanks to her grandmother. She supposed Nana probably hadn’t revealed that she was leaving her a small fortune because she wasn’t sure about Chuck—she never had quite warmed up to him.
Nana always knew best about men—I should have listened to her, Torri thought ruefully. She bet that her grandmother would have liked Vic—she wouldn’t even have minded that he was an alien cyborg.
Come to think of it, Torri didn’t mind that herself. It was too bad more human men weren’t like him, she thought. Though he was so big and strong, the big Kindred scout was incredibly gentle. She couldn’t help thinking of the way he had held her in the closet while she cried…the way he had stroked her hair and soothed her and kissed away her tears…
But you’re married, whispered the guilty little voice in the back of her head.
Not anymore! Torri told it firmly.
If Chuck wanted a divorce, he could damn well have one. And since he had already moved on from their relationship—about three years before it ended, as it happened—she could too.
From now on, she wasn’t going to feel a bit guilty about thinking that Vic was handsome or enjoying the way his touch made her feel. From this minute forward, she decided, she was officially divorced.
Lifting her chin, she looked at herself in the bathroom mirror. A determined looking woman stared back at her. She had a mark on her cheek where O’Toole had slapped her and her bottom lip was a little puffy, but other than that she looked much better than she had in the past three months.
She was wearing normal clothes again instead of those awful scrubs—a pair of jeans and a wine-colored sweater that looked good with her black hair and amber-brown eyes. Her hair was brushed and neat and her face was clean, if devoid of make-up.
“Not bad, considering I just broke out of a mental hospital,” she told her reflection. She was surprised to find that she felt lighter than she had in months. Not only was she free of St. Elizabeth’s, she was also free of Chuck and a marriage that had been in a rut for a long time. For years she had been trying to get around the wall that had grown up between herserlf and her husband and wondering what had happened to their intimacy—now she knew and she was done with him.