by Erin Bevan
“What’s wrong?” She dreaded asking.
“Turns out, Murphy’s re-running for Sheriff after all.”
His campaign. Of course.
“Floyd Murphy? I thought he decided not to run for a second term.”
“He did. At least, that’s what he told my father. Turns out the bastard changed his mind.”
Gently, she placed her purse on the kitchen counter. His prescription bottle still sat full near the sink. He hadn’t taken his medicine in months.
Tread carefully.
Keeping her voice soft, she said, “That’s okay. I’m sure you’ll still win.”
“Of course, I’ll win. This just means I’ll have to work harder, but I can’t campaign full time while working as Chief of Police. I need to start a committee, immediately.” He stood and paced in front of the couch. “And as my future wife, you’ll lead it. You’ll stop working at the diner so much. I don’t like you there all the time anyway. There are too many men that come in and out of there.”
Men. No. Had someone said something?
Before she could comment, he blurted, “How much money did you make today?”
“Seventy-five dollars.”
He stopped and stared at her. “That’s twenty dollars more than yesterday. You flirted with someone, didn’t you?”
Please not this. Not the accusations.
Keeping the tiger at bay wasn’t something she had the energy for tonight. Her heart raced as she shook her head and took in a deep breath. “No. Of course not.” She didn’t have a death wish.
If Brayden talked to him about waiting on Tank, no matter what she said, Duke wouldn’t believe her, especially if anyone else mentioned seeing the big biker in the diner throughout the week. Duke would instantly think the guy was flirting. Though, she wasn’t sure if the man offering her a place to stay would be considered flirting or downright crazy.
Duke stomped toward her, and his eyes changed from stormy to wild.
Her heart sped at the animalistic gaze. She braced herself for a blow, but instead, he yanked her arm, pulling her beside him on the couch. Pain seared up her week-old bruises and to her shoulder. If he didn’t stop pulling her arm so hard, she would have to quit the diner altogether from injury instead of just cutting back her hours.
“Duke, baby, you’re hurting me.” She did her best to keep the panic out of her voice. If she remained calm, he might back off.
Just stay calm.
He eased his grip and gently placed the backside of his hand to her cheek. “Oh, Annie, I just love you so much.” His voice was nearly a whisper. “You’re so beautiful. It’s no wonder you made more money in tips today. All those men, they are flirting with you, and I can’t stand the thought.” He reached behind her head and pulled the band, releasing her ponytail. “I love it when you wear your hair down. You should do it more often.”
“Okay,” she said, scared of the look in his eyes. If she did whatever he said, kept him happy, they might still have a good night. She could get some sleep.
He played with a lock of her hair. “You need me, you know that? Before me, you were barely surviving. I’ve given you a house, clothes, and food. Soon, you will have my name. Do you know how lucky you are?”
Yeah, lucky.
Keep him happy.
“I do.” At one time, she believed herself lucky landing a guy like Duke. He’d charmed his way in her heart and her bed. But now, times like this, when the medicine was no longer in his system, she feared the worst from him.
“I’m so lucky I found you, and I need you, too, Annie. God, you’re my everything. But…”
The grip on her hair tightened, straining the roots at her scalp. She gasped more from fear than agony.
“If I were to find out you’ve been flirting with someone, I don’t know what I’d do.”
He snaked his other hand to her face, cupping her chin. The pressure from his fingers pressed into her cheeks, causing her lips to pucker. She turned her head, tried to wiggle free. No use.
The pounding in her chest increased as he leaned closer, his mouth an inch from her ear. An uncontrollable shake took over her body.
“You’re mine,” he whispered, his breath touching her cheek. “Do you understand that?”
Unable to speak from his hand clenching her mouth shut, she nodded.
He released his hold. “I knew you would, baby. And that’s one of the reasons I love you so much. You’re so understanding.” Placing a quick kiss on her forehead, he sat back as if nothing had happened. “Now, how much closer are we to paying for the wedding? We’ve got to set a date, and soon. Mother is getting anxious, and she’s annoying the hell out of me.”
He popped the top of another beer can, which did nothing to help her racing heart.
“And my father…pressuring me to ‘have a wife on the campaign trail.’” His last words were emphasized with air quotes. “Jesus Christ, they get on my nerves.” He took a swig. “So, how much closer?”
She rubbed her jaw and glanced at the crushed beer cans on the end table. Six. Working on seven. She had to choose her words wisely. The added stress of his campaign, his family, and the wedding were enough to set him over the edge. Without his anti-anxiety medication to keep him on an even level, he was a ticking time bomb.
“We’re getting much closer.”
“How much closer.”
“Well, the guest list is pretty long. We still need about six thousand more dollars to reserve the services your mother wants.”
“Six thousand? Just to reserve. Jeez, Annie.” He slammed his beer can against the wall. Gold fizz sprayed in the air, covering the living room curtains and the floor.
She jumped and pushed back in her seat, her back rigid against the sofa. He stood and began to pace, his hands balled into fists at his sides.
Running wasn’t an option—he stood between her and the door. She had to calm him down. Her body couldn’t handle another strike. Not today.
“Why the hell is your mother such a bum, huh?” He slicked his fingers through the sides of his hair. “Why can’t she help?”
There he went again. “I’m sorry. She’s disabled, you know that.”
He paced in front of her some more. “Disabled. Is that what you call crazy? Disabled.”
His words set an inferno ablaze inside of her. Her mother was no crazier than he was sane at this moment. “My mother is not crazy. Don’t call her that.”
He stopped and stared. “Did you just command me not to do something?”
She glanced up at him with hooded eyes. “Duke, baby, we could have a wedding tomorrow if your mother didn’t want to invite the entire county. Five hundred people is a lot to feed.”
“So, not only are you talking back to me, but now you’re blaming my mother for your shitty pedigree.”
She should have kept her mouth shut. Maybe she did have a death wish.
“Duke, I’m…I’m sorry.”
He stormed toward her, his hands balled in tight fists at his sides, and his teeth clenched. “You’re damn right you’re sorry.”
Holding her palms up in a stopping motion, she stammered, “I didn’t mean to upset you, but I think you need to take your medicine, baby. You think better when you take your pills.” She glanced from his angered eyes to the door. If she ducked quickly enough, could she get past him?
“I don’t need my medicine.”
A searing pain blasted through her skull as flashes of light popped before her eyes. In her haste to search for an exit, she hadn’t even seen his hand rise. She held her cheek and blinked several times, willing the haze in her vision to go away, and the sting from his blow to subside. In all his hatred, he’d never hit her in the face before.
“That was for your own good. Never talk to me like that again. A good wife never back talks her husband.”
As she regained her focus, the throbbing in her cheek caused tears to well in her eyes, starting the blurriness all over again. Warm blood trickled down her face
and into her palm as more blood whooshed in her ears. The pounding in her head matched that of her racing heart.
“Now look what you’ve made me do. You call in sick tomorrow and every day after until that cut goes away, do you hear me?”
The bright red tinge staining her palm held her focus. Something inside of her snapped as she glanced from her hand then back to the angry man before her.
Her life would never get better. Not with Duke.
The shaking in her limbs intensified as a rush of adrenaline took over. “Why?” She gripped the arm of the sofa for balance and pushed to stand. “Because that’s what a good wife would do, or because someone would realize their dearly beloved Chief of Police is nothing more than an abuser. No better than the scum he picks up every day off the streets.”
As soon as the hasty words flew out, she regretted them.
He grabbed her by her shirt, her locket getting caught in his grasp as he pulled her head toward him. She just knew the chain would snap as it dug into her neck.
A traitorous whimper escaped her. “Duke, please...” she pleaded, more for her locket than for herself. One of the few possessions she had to remind her of her father. Why didn’t she keep her damn mouth shut? She’d never spoke to him like that before.
He leaned his face over hers; his hot beer breath hit her nose, and the pungent smell insulted her senses.
“You will never talk to me like that again. Do you understand?”
She understood.
Finally.
After months of abuse, everything began to click. What the biker woman had told her was true. No matter how good she was, how much she tried, Duke would never stop beating her. Her spine stiffened. So what if she continued to talk back? What did she have to lose? Her life?
How wonderful that’s turned out to be.
At least she’d get to be with her dad again.
“Why can’t I talk to you like that? It’s the way you talk to me. Afraid you might hit me again, or worse?” she strained to ask against the pain pulling in her neck as she stared into his crazed eyes. Eyes somehow, someway, she had to get away from.
Fire flashed in his pupils.
He reached to his side, pulled out his pistol, and pointed the barrel straight to her head. The cold steel grazed her hairline. She stood there helpless as the man who claimed to love her threatened to kill her.
Fear rolled through her stomach, and her breaths came out quick and shallow.
“Don’t push me, Annie.” He thrust the barrel deeper into her skin. “There are other pretty women out there. Others who will keep their mouths shut and look better than you standing beside me when I become Sherriff.”
His hand shook. The pistol wavered slightly against her head, as his finger hovered over the trigger. All it would take was one pull. One pull, and she would be dead. She heard the safety click and prayed for the bullet to do the job quickly. The thought of dying scared her, but the thought of living a life with Duke, this life forever, terrified her even more. Some things were worse than death.
“Well, go find one.” She closed her eyes and began to recite the Lord’s Prayer in her mind.
To her surprise, instead of hearing the blow of the bullet, the tension holding her neck released. She opened her eyes; the butt of the gun came into her peripheral vision before a loud crack against her temple pounded in her ears. Shades of blurriness engulfed her vision, the light and dark coming in and out like a kaleidoscope. As if weightless and in slow motion, she tumbled downward. Her side hit something hard, causing her breath to rush from her lungs, and she suffocated the cry that tried to escape. Her body made contact with the carpet, the world around her a medley of haze and light.
She would be still. So still. If he thought she’d passed out, perhaps he would leave her alone.
God, how she prayed this could all end.
Chapter Five
Tank pushed the barbell back on the rack and turned his music down. The thumping of the bass distracted him. He needed silence and sweat to clear his muddled mind.
Thunder from outside boomed around his cabin as lightning lit up the night sky. The noise of the rain soothed him, but nothing helped his brain.
Usually, physical activity did the trick. Made things he didn’t understand clear. Tonight, not so much. With every chest press, his body grew weary, his mind heavier. He had to get Annie to listen to him, and see the truth—her soon-to-be husband would never stop abusing her.
“Why won’t the woman listen, huh?” he asked Alfred. The dog cocked his head to the side and gave him a blank stare. “I know, buddy. I can’t figure it out either.”
A loud banging thrashed against his front door, followed by another roll of thunder. The banging grew louder and faster. Al ran down the hall, barking and wagging his tail.
What the hell?
He raced through the house and peeked out the living room window. A car sat in the grass. Al clawed the front door, anxious to greet the person on the other side.
“Down, boy.” Tank pulled the door open.
Annie stood just outside the threshold, her hair slick against her face, her cheek colored a deep shade of blue, and her left eye nearly swollen shut.
“Annie?”
Seeing her standing there on the other side of the door freshly battered and bruised, looking like a lost puppy, sent a tremor down his spine and gave him an immediate knot in his stomach.
The bastard had done it again.
“Can I c-come in?” Her lower lip trembled. From pain or the cool of the rain, he didn’t know which.
He pushed the door open wider. “Of course.” Alfred jumped on his back legs, front paws in the air. “Down, boy,” he commanded and shooed his dog out of the way as she walked inside. “Were you followed?” The thickness of the storm made it hard to see as he glanced out the door.
“I don’t think so. I took extra turns just in case.” She stood on the floor mat in his living room, shivering. Her hair dripped water down her back and onto the floor. Blood droplets covered the left shoulder sleeve of her diner shirt, and a cut grazed her cheek, dried blood keeping the wound closed. A red line covered the side of her neck.
“Your neck?” He pointed as he shut and locked the front door.
She reached for the back of her neck. “My locket.” Her eyes widened as she moved her hand to her throat. “The chain must have broken.”
“Do you think it fell off outside?” He hooked a thumb toward the door.
“No.” She shook her head. “I don’t.” Fresh tears began to well in her good eye.
He fought the urge to wipe them away. “Let me get you a towel. Do you need to go to the hospital?” He rushed toward his bathroom.
“No, I’ll be fine,” she called from the living room.
Fine? She was anything but fine. This situation was anything but fine.
Rummaging through his cabinet, he grabbed the biggest towel and headed back to her. “Here.” Unfolding the cloth, he placed it over her shoulders. “Did you bring anything else with you?”
“Just my purse. I got out of there as quick as I could, and I guess I didn’t notice my locket had fallen off.” She reached for her bare collarbone then dropped her hand. “Duke is on the night shift tonight. When I woke up, he was gone.” Her eyes gazed to the floor as if in a trance. Another rumble of thunder shook outside, and she gave a jerk. “I… I noticed the time when I got up.” She focused back on him, her words tumbling from her mouth. “His shift had just begun, so he should have been at the station clocking in and getting a detailed report of anything that happened earlier today. Oh, God, what if…what if he was already done at the station? What if he followed me here?”
“Annie.” He held a hand up. “Calm down. I just looked outside. Remember? No one is out there.”
“Right.” She nodded, her hands clearly shaking as she gripped the towel on her shoulders.
“You said you woke up. Did you fall asleep?”
“No. Well, yes, I guess
I did, after…” Annie pointed to her face.
He gazed over her bruises again, his stomach churning at the agony she had to be in. “What the hell did he do to you? Did he knock you out?”
“No. He just knocked me down. I faked the blackout part, but then I actually fell asleep. I guess my body needed to recover from all the pain.”
“Damn it.” That son of a bitch. A tense yearning to pound his fist into the door tried to take over, but he controlled his temper. If he acted too harshly, she would think he wasn’t any better than the man she ran from. He didn’t want her running.
He just wished he’d been there to prevent it.
The weight of his stare must have made her uncomfortable, because she turned her face away to glance down at Alfred.
The dog licked her hand.
“He likes you,” he said to lighten the mood, if such a mood could be lightened.
“He seems to.” She knelt down, placed her bag on the floor, and rubbed his ears. Almost as quick as she bent down, she shot up, her face contorting from the hasty movement.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes. God.” She sucked in a breath. “I’m sorry. What am I doing?” The towel fell to the ground as she grabbed her bag, and slowly lifted the strap back over her shoulder. “I shouldn’t have come here. When Duke gets home, he’s going to be so angry I left. You’re not safe with me here. I-I’m sorry.” She turned and grabbed the door handle.
Tank placed his palm flat on the door and pushed the wood closed, blocking her with his body. She tensed her shoulders and jerked her hand back to her side. Fight or flight ready to take over.
“Listen, Annie.” He kept his voice controlled, low. “I’m not going to tell you what to do. You’re a grown woman, but if you go back there, if you go back to him, what will happen next time? Will he break something? Will you be hospitalized? Worse?” He didn’t want to say what that worse would be.
Her eyes flashed a pain he, too, had long ago experienced, and he fought for control not to raise his voice, scare her even more in his desperation to make her understand. He would never gain her trust by frightening her. Her fiancé proved that.
