My head whips back as he slaps me hard, and my vision blurs out for a few seconds.
“You fucking dare to report me to social services?” He slaps me again, and I force myself to focus, blinking my eyes repeatedly, refusing to give in to the darkness beckoning me. A ripping sound echoes through the air, and a light breeze blows across my legs.
Terror punches me in the gut as I stare at my torn dress.
“I had a choice,” he continues, standing as he glares at me, bloody and bruised at his feet. “I thought of taking it out on your sister. I knew that would inflict the most pain, but it hardly seemed fair.” He unbuckles his belt, and my stomach lurches as fear ransacks my body, heightening my senses and invoking my fight-or-flight response. “It seems you need a reminder of what’s at stake.”
The sound of his zipper spurs me into action. I sit forward, push his pant leg up, and bury my teeth in his shin, biting down hard.
He roars, and the unexpected pain has him stumbling back. I seize the opportunity, staggering to my feet. Ignoring the rush of blood to my head and the pain searing through my body, I grab the first thing my hand lands on. I swing the skillet at him, but he ducks down in time, so it only glances off the side of his head.
He roars again, lunging at me.
I shriek, darting around the other side of the counter, racing toward the door as he chases me. “Help!” I scream although I know it’s futile. Unless someone happens to be passing by on the sidewalk, there is no one to hear my pleas.
His hand clasps my ankle, and I go down, landing hard on my face. The skillet skates across the floor out of my reach. Pain charges through my body, and I whimper as I’m flipped over. Weight presses down on my hips as he sits on me. I’m fighting to maintain consciousness while he tears the rest of my dress off, leaving me exposed to him in my underwear. “Help!” I scream again, but my voice is weaker.
“Scream all you like.” He shoves his pants and boxers down, freeing his disgusting cock. “There is no one to hear you.”
My eyes dart manically around, and although my vision is still a little blurry, I spot one of my shoes lying off to the side. I reach for it, my fingers curling around the soft velvet material. He’s too busy stroking his cock and salivating over my body to notice until it’s too late. This time, I get a good hit in, slamming my wedge heel into the side of his head.
What a pity I hadn’t worn stilettos tonight.
He shouts out as he falls sideward, clutching his head while he crashes into the small lamp table. The lamp wobbles before falling, smashing into a gazillion pieces on the floor.
A pounding at the door downstairs pricks my ears. “Nessa!”
“Jackson! Help!” I scream, crawling toward the door to my apartment.
A foot presses on my spine, flattening me to the floor, holding me in place. I cry out, screaming at Jackson to hurry.
“You tell him anything, and I will rape her repeatedly until I’m fully acquainted with her pretty little body. Then, I’ll let my friends take turns,” he warns in my ear. His finger presses against the crack in my ass, penetrating me through my lace panties. Tears pour from my eyes, and I silently urge Jackson to hurry up. “Interfere again, and your sister will pay the price next time.”
A loud crash echoes from downstairs as he tugs on my hair. He slams my head down into the floor, and my world turns dark.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Jackson
“HERE.” HUNT HANDS me a cup of ass masquerading as coffee when he reenters the private hospital room.
“Thanks. I think.” I take a sip, grimacing.
“Whoever did this worked her over good.” Hunt sinks into the chair beside me, glancing at Nessa.
She’s still out cold. Hooked up to a machine with a drip in her arm. I stare at the cuts and bruises covering her gorgeous face with a massive lump in my throat. “I want to rip the fucker limb from limb.”
“Thank fuck you went back.”
I dread to think what would’ve happened if I hadn’t changed my mind and returned.
“Why did you?” Hunt asks, eyeballing me with curiosity.
Things have been better between us these past couple weeks. We agreed to call a truce for the wedding, because neither of us wanted to draw attention to the fact we’ve been arguing or the reason why. We have kept our friends out of my revenge plan for a reason. The truce helped to ease the tension. As did my promise to break things off with Nessa when I returned.
“I was coming back to tell her I’d changed my mind. That I didn’t want to break up. That I would try the long-distance shit.”
Hunt frowns, but it lacks malice. “Why?”
That’s the million-dollar question. I fucked everything up tonight. Kissing her before breaking it off was cruel, and it only tortured both of us. But I let my emotions get to me. The truth is, when it came to crunch time, I didn’t want to end things. The thought of not seeing her, not holding her or touching her, has me tied into knots.
It’s official—I’m a hot mess.
My feelings are an epic clusterfuck when it comes to this girl, and that was not supposed to happen. I have a goal. I need to avenge Dani’s death. Falling for Nessa wasn’t part of the plan.
These thoughts were bouncing through my brain, but I forced myself to stick with the program, and I ended things with her. I felt like the biggest prick leaving her apartment. Picturing her heartbroken face with the pain of my rejection clearly shimmering in her eyes gutted me, and I was already second-guessing myself.
Then, I had a light bulb moment that changed the entire course of events.
“I realized something as I pulled away from her place,” I tell Hunt, running a hand over my prickly jaw. This is the only part of the truth I’m prepared to admit. “Someone is watching her.”
Hunt’s eyes widen, encouraging me to continue.
“I’ve spotted a silver Honda Accord outside her place before. I didn’t pay it much attention, assuming it belonged to someone who worked in the area. I noticed it again when I was leaving her place earlier, and it triggered a memory. I saw that same car in The Hamptons. It followed us when we left East Avenue. I wasn’t focused enough to make the connection then, but it clicked for me today.”
“You think it’s Christian?”
I nod. “Who else could it be?”
He leans forward on his elbows. “It could be someone her stepdad employed to keep tabs on her, or it could be any elite member. If others know she is Christian Montgomery’s only surviving heir, they could be after her. We can’t jump to conclusions and assume it’s that bastard.”
I hate he could be right. “Whoever it is, it means this isn’t over.” I pick her hand up, lacing my fingers through hers, feeling a surge of remorse and protectiveness I’m struggling to contain.
“I agree,” Hunt says, surprising me. “But for different reasons.”
“I want to keep her safe too.” I reply to the unspoken part of his statement. “I meant it when I said I cared for her. I felt like shit hurting her earlier.” The whole time Nessa and I were talking, I was tempted to backtrack, but I stuck to the script because it was what I’d promised Hunt and I believed she wasn’t my connection to Christian.
If he has someone watching her that changes everything.
“Could he be responsible for this?” I ask the question that’s been playing on my mind.
Hunt exhales heavily. “We both know what he’s capable of, but if he’s watching her, it means he wants to keep her safe. And if he isn’t the one watching her, I struggle to see how he’d benefit from attacking her.”
“He could use it to manipulate her,” I say, thinking aloud. “You’re not safe there. I can protect you etcetera. And then, he gets her wherever he needs her to be, makes her feel indebted to him, so she does what he wants her to do.”
“There are a lot of anomalies,” Hunt supplies. “And we could be completely wrong.”
“Whoever it is, why the fuck didn’t he do anything?”
I drag my free hand through my hair. “He was sitting right outside her apartment while she was being attacked. I know because the car was there and I was tempted to accost the fucker, but I thought better of it. We don’t want to scare him off. He could be our only lead to Montgomery.”
“I agree, and unless he’s bugging her place, he probably wasn’t aware she was being attacked,” Hunt surmises. “I’ll go over tomorrow and run a check,” he adds.
I pause for a second before voicing my suggestion because I know Hunt won’t like it, and I know it’s crossing a line. “We should install a bug in her place.”
His nose scrunches up while he contemplates it. “Ordinarily, I’d say no, but I think it’s warranted now. You didn’t remove that tracker from her cell, right?”
“I didn’t, and the bug is our best option. We can make sure she’s safe and watch out for contact from that asshole.” So far, there is zip. No email or cell contact, and I scoured her apartment and searched her bag for a burner cell, finding none.
The door creaks as an older nurse with gray hair tied up in a bun enters the room. She treads quietly across the floor, smiling softly. “She hasn’t woken yet?” she asks, and I shake my head. Removing the chart at the end of Nessa’s bed, she quickly reads over it. “She was heavily sedated when she arrived, so she won’t wake for a couple of hours yet. I’ll check back.” She walks off, pausing at the door to glance over her shoulder. “Oh, I almost forgot, the police are here. They are asking to speak to whoever found her.”
“That would be me. I’ll be right out,” I confirm.
“You want me to call your lawyer?” Hunt asks, pulling out his cell.
“Nah.” I pull Nessa’s hand to my mouth, kissing her knuckles. “It’s good. I’ll see what they want first.” Bending down over her bed, I kiss her forehead. “I’ll be right back, babe.”
Hunt eyes me curiously but says nothing, sipping his coffee as I exit the room.
I talk to the male and female detective in a small office at the end of the hallway.
“And you didn’t see the perp?” the guy asks while the woman takes notes.
“No, but I was only in her apartment for a few minutes. The guy must’ve been hiding on her balcony or in the bathroom as the rest is an open plan.”
“What made you return?” the woman asks.
“I had said some things I didn’t mean. I was coming back to apologize. I heard strange noises coming from her apartment, and then, I heard her call out for help.”
“Why didn’t you call nine-one-one then?” the man asks.
“Because I was fucking worried about my girlfriend! I wanted to get into her apartment to help her. Those were the only thoughts in my head.” I force myself to calm down, pushing my agitation aside. I fucking hate that I left her defenseless. That I didn’t suspect anything untoward.
“What did you find when you broke into her apartment?”
Pain spreads across my chest as the visual resurrects in my mind’s eye. “Nessa was unconscious on the floor, facedown. Her dress had been torn off. There were signs of struggle.”
I legit almost died when I found her like that. The fear was real. In that second, nothing else mattered but her.
“And you didn’t see the perp?”
I shake my head. “I called nine-one-one while I checked her vitals to ensure she was breathing. When I ended the call, and I confirmed she had a pulse, I noticed the door to the balcony was open. I looked out, but whoever he is, he was long gone. He must’ve used the fire escape.”
“We have a team over at Ms. Breen’s apartment now, but that is the initial conclusion our colleagues have reached,” the woman confirms.
“Can you think of anyone who would want to hurt Vanessa?” the man asks.
I shake my head even though I have theories. I wouldn’t put it past that bitch Melania to arrange something like this, but after I sent her evidence confirming I know she’s having an affair with a married man, I doubt it’s her. That scandal would ruin her reputation and her father would disown her, so I’m pretty confident she wouldn’t make a move against Nessa.
I have my suspicions about Aaron Breen, so it could’ve been him. Or it could be Christian or any of the asshole elite.
But I’m fucked if I’m admitting any of that to the police.
We’ll conduct our own investigation and exact our own punishment.
“She’s a sweetheart. I can’t think of anyone who would do this to her,” I lie.
“Very well, Mr. Lauder.” The man stands as the woman closes her notepad. “We have your contact details, and we’ll be in touch if there is anything else. We’ll return in the morning to speak with Ms. Breen.”
I get up, accepting the card he hands me. “If you think of anything else, please call me.”
“Thank you, Detective.” I almost puke at my polite bullshit.
“Well?” Hunt asks when I reenter the room. I hand him a fresh coffee from the machine in the hallway.
“Standard questioning. Nothing I couldn’t handle.” I retake my seat, claiming her hand again. “I presume there’s been no change.”
“Nope.” Hunt sips the coffee, making a face. “And the coffee’s still shit.”
Hunt is snoring softly in the chair when Nessa wakes up three hours later. It’s the middle of the night, but I haven’t been able to sleep.
She’s disorientated at first, so I call the nurse. I watch her prop Nessa up in the bed, helping her to take a few sips of water before she checks her vitals, and administers more pain medication.
When we are alone again, I scoot my chair closer. “How are you feeling?”
“Sore, but I’m still breathing, so there’s that.”
I don’t know how she can joke at a time like this. “I’m so sorry, Nessa. I should have been there. If I had stayed, you never would’ve been attacked.”
“It’s not your fault.” She gently squeezes my hand. “He would’ve just come back.”
I brush stray strands of hair off her face. “Do you feel up to telling me about it? Do you know who did this?”
She wets her dry lips, gulping. She doesn’t say anything for a few minutes, but I wait her out. “He crept up on me and threw me across the kitchen. I hit my head and fell to the floor.” Her eyes lower to the bed, and she rubs her finger back and forth across the place where the drip is inserted in her hand. “He wanted the keys and alarm code to the diner. When I refused to tell him, he ripped my dress and started unbuckling his belt.”
Acid crawls up my throat, and I clench the hand resting on my thigh. “Did he—” She shakes her head, cutting me off mid-sentence. I almost collapse in relief. The thought of someone doing that to Nessa twists me into knots and inflames the murderous rage that lingers in my tissues.
“I bit him and got away,” she continues explaining. “I hit him with the skillet but not hard enough. I was crawling away when he grabbed me again. He was preparing to rape me when you started banging on the door. I hit him with my shoe, and then, he knocked me out. That’s all I remember.”
I lean in and kiss her cheek. “Thank fuck, you fought him.”
“He still overpowered me.” She shivers. “If you hadn’t arrived, he would’ve raped me. Maybe even murdered me.” A tear creeps out of the corner of her eye.
“Hey. I did get there in time.” I brush her tear away.
“Why did you come back?” she asks as a different form of pain materializes in her eyes.
“I came back to apologize and to take it back.”
“What?” Her eyes probe mine. “What do you mean?”
“I’ll try the long-distance thing. I don’t want to break up with you. We’ll try to make a go of it.”
A smile lights up her face, and I swallow back my self-loathing. “What changed your mind?”
“I felt like shit when I walked off, and I was already fucking missing you.” That’s not a lie, but it’s not the full truth either. “I knew I’d made a mistake.” I should try to wa
rn her though. “But you shouldn’t get your hopes up too high. You know I’m new to all this. I don’t know if I can do it, but I’ll try.”
“That’s all I ask,” she says. “I don’t want to lose you, Jackson. You’re … important to me.”
I peck her lips, offering her another truth that is only half the story. “You’re important to me too.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Vanessa
THE HOSPITAL RELEASES me into Jackson’s care the following morning after the paperwork has been completed and after I have finished speaking to the cops. Jackson stayed with me during the interview, listening as I fed them the same half-truth I’d fed him. They seemed to buy it, promising they would be in touch as the investigation progressed.
Jackson helps me into his SUV while Sawyer heads off in his car. “Where are we going?” I ask when it’s apparent we’re not going to my place.
“To the penthouse,” Jackson replies, stabbing me with a frown through the mirror. “You didn’t think I was letting you stay at home by yourself?”
“I don’t want to be a burden.” I shift position on the back seat, gritting my teeth as my stomach protests at the motion. Already, I have a large bruise forming on my belly as well as matching bruises on my back. My face is a mess, and I have a lump the size of a golf ball on my temple.
But it could’ve been a lot worse.
I almost puke as the memory of him stroking his cock returns to haunt me. There would be no coming back from it if he’d raped me again. That would be the final nail in my coffin. The point where I jumped off the ledge and drowned.
“You’re not a burden,” Jackson says, turning on to the road that leads to Hunt’s place. “You’re my girlfriend, and I want to take care of you.”
I know he’s carrying guilt for my attack. He believes if he’d stayed the attack wouldn’t have happened, but he’s only partially right. He would have staved off the attack, but there is nothing Jackson could have done to prevent it. Aaron would have attacked as soon as I was alone.
“You are not responsible for what happened to me, Jackson. Please tell me you know that.”
JACKSON Page 15
