"Put him in the garage." Mike's grip tightened and she moaned; there would be bruises on her shoulder. "Put him in the garage!" he repeated, his voice husky, grating in her ear.
She did as he commanded, taking the dog by the collar, and pulling him toward the door at the end of the kitchen, Mike still pressed against her back, walking in step with her.
She couldn't believe this was happening. She couldn't believe this was Mike. Her Mike.
No, this was not her Mike. This was someone else. You are not my Mike, she screamed in silence. Opening the door to the garage, she pushed the dog out. "It's okay, baby. It's okay." Her voice was high and tight, her throat locked in the grip of her terror.
Where is Victor? The dog fought fiercely, desperate to stay inside with his mistress, until Mike kicked him in the side, slamming the door as Bob thumped up against the front of Juliette's car.
"Bob!" She cried out, straining to break away as Mike pulled her back across the room, switching the light off as they turned into the short hallway. He stopped, out of breath, and leaned a shoulder against the wall. "Lucy," he said quietly, his voice taking on a nasal quality that sounded nothing like Ricky Ricardo's. "I'm home!" He grinned down at her, a caricature of himself. "No wait. Here's a line you haven't used in a while. 'Take me to bed or lose me forever.' Name the movie, Julie. It's one of your favorites."
When she didn't answer he chuckled. "Do you remember my line? Come on, Julie. Just like old times. Show me the way home, honey." He bent down to kiss her again, this time more gently, a hint of tenderness in the way he held her. She fought hard, making Mike grunt with the effort to hang on to her.
Suddenly he stiffened and let out a low groan, then dropped his forehead to her shoulder. Surprise made her pause long enough to hear the breath hissing between his clenched teeth. He sounded like he was hurting; maybe she'd landed a well-aimed knee after all. She felt dampness on her neck; was he crying?
"Let me go," she begged him. "Please, Mike, we can talk about all this tomorrow, I promise." Her voice caught in her throat as he brought his head up suddenly, his eyes glazed as he stared at her in the faint glow from the bathroom night-light spilling into the hall beside them. His jaw clenched, he shook his head, moving once again toward the bedroom.
"Not tomorrow. Now. We need to...talk." He was gasping the words out, short of breath and trembling. "Julie, don't be afraid, please, baby. I didn't mean to scare you. I just want to talk. I...I need to sit down for...a...minute." He wasn't making any sense. He pushed open the bedroom door and dragged her into the room. The lamp on her bedside table was on—she always left it on when she was away at night. She'd never quite gotten over her irrational fear of the boogie man from childhood. She looked up at him as he kicked the door closed behind them and her eyes widened in shock. He looked even worse; his face was pasty, and his lips pulled tight across his teeth, just two thin lines pressed together. She could see beads of sweat on his forehead, pooling in the creases around his eyes, dotting the curve of his cheekbones, his upper lip.
"Are...are you okay?" She couldn't believe she was asking him that question, but in a moment of clarity, she realized something was terribly wrong, something much worse than an aggressive ex-boyfriend. Fear for herself was suddenly overshadowed by fear for Mike.
"Juliette!" Victor. Her body went limp, her legs nearly giving out as relief washed over her.
Mike, who'd been leaning into her, stumbled and went down to his knees, taking her with him. He grunted as the weight of her body fell against him, and when he toppled over, she cried out. But Mike's hand clamped down over her mouth.
"Don't...shhh. Don't let him in. Please. He won't understand. I...just want to...talk." He stared at her with terrible eyes and she nodded. He pulled himself back up to his knees and stopped to catch his breath.
Juliette watched him struggle. "Mike, you need help. Let me call an ambulance."
"No! I just need to catch...my...breath." He was grimacing again but managed to stand on his own two feet. "You're quite the little fighter, you know that?" Then another groan emanated from deep inside him and he started to sway. She leapt to her feet and tried to steady him, but he was too heavy, already falling, going down like a rock. He slumped against her bedside table sending the lamp crashing to the floor, and the light went out. As she groped for him in the dark, his head fell forward, colliding with her mouth.
"Help!" she screamed, the shock of pain giving her a voice.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
HER FRONT DOOR STOOD open and Victor stepped into the darkness, his ears straining to pick up any sound. For a moment, all he heard was Bob's frantic barking, muffled, as though from behind closed doors. Then came the sounds of a scuffle, a grunt, Juliette's pleading voice.
All the lights were off; whether Juliette had turned them off in preparation for heading back out with him, or this Mike fellow had turned them off, he didn't know, but he didn't like the way it made him feel.
No light usually meant dark intentions.
Pausing at the doorway between the living room and kitchen, he listened again. Bob barked and howled from the door at the other end of the kitchen. Most likely the garage—the dog should be safe there for the moment, at least until Victor figured out what was going on.
Victor turned and moved quietly, swiftly, in the other direction, through the little hallway, past the bathroom and a tiny office or guest room, to what he assumed was her bedroom at the end of the hall. The door was closed, and he held his breath, listening. There was only silence.
His heart pounded and a bead of sweat trickled down his spine. Where were the police? Should he wait for them? But what if the man was hurting her? Or worse? His hand scrabbled for his holster...no gun! And his phone was in the console in his car. What was he thinking, barging in here like this, unarmed and alone? He was only putting both of them in danger. Wait for back-up, man.
That's what his head told him, but his heart wasn't complying. "Juliette?" he called through the door.
Then he heard movement again, a loud crash, and a scream. Instinct kicked in, caution exploded into fear, and he turned the handle and thrust his shoulder into the door, sending it flying open. He stepped back quickly, just in case, and paused long enough to realize the only sounds he heard now were desperate cries for help.
She was on the floor, crouched near her closet doors, her curved back reflected in the full-length mirrors. She leaned over a man who lay on his side on the floor, clutching his chest, his eyes large and anxious. A faint keening sound came from between his clenched teeth. He didn't seem to notice when Victor turned on the light, but Juliette flinched as though struck.
Victor crossed the room and knelt beside her. "Juliette." She turned frightened eyes up at him, and a pain so intense it scared him pressed in on his heart when he saw the blood dribbling unchecked from her split lip.
"Call 911," she stammered. "He needs help!"
"The paramedics are coming. Let's get you out of here." He reached for her but she pulled away.
"No! I can't leave him alone." Her voice faltered, but she placed a trembling hand on Mike's chest where his own were clenched in agony. "Mike, can you hear me? I'm here." Then she turned back to Victor, desperation making her voice high-pitched and sharp. "Don't just stand there! Call 911!
The accusation in her voice surprised him, and he spoke more harshly than he intended. "They're already on their way, Juliette." He saw her flinch and he reached out to put a hand on her arm. "But you're hurt, too."
She shrugged his hand off her arm. "I'm fine, Victor. Leave me alone."
Victor stood up and stepped backward, hating the way her words took him back to his childhood, making him feel helpless, worthless, useless. Staring down at her, he tried to get his emotions in check. She needed him to be strong right now; she was obviously not thinking clearly. He circled the man on the floor and crouched down in front of him.
"Sir? Can you hear me?"
Mike nodded. "My chest. Hur
ts." He spoke through clenched teeth, one hand lifting to grab his throat. "I can't. Breathe."
"Sir, the paramedics are on their way. They'll be here any minute now."
Mike nodded and turned his gaze back to Juliette. "Did I...do that?" His voice was tight, barely more than a whisper, and then he was crying, tears streaming from his eyes, his breathing shallow and rapid. "Oh, Julie. Did I hurt you?"
Juliette shook her head adamantly, and tried to calm him down. "No, no, Mike. Don't worry about it. I just bumped it. Shh."
He lifted one hand toward her, his palm cupping her face. "I'm so sorry, Baby-doll. I'm...so sorry." Then he grimaced, and clutched at his chest again. Juliette choked back a sob.
Victor put a hand on Mike's shoulder, trying desperately to keep his thoughts and feelings in check. Sorry? The man on the floor was an animal. Anyone who could hurt a woman one minute, then apologize for it in tears the next, had no soul. "Sir, you need to focus on me. Pay attention to me, please." He waited until Mike's eyes met his. "Mike, right? I want you to think about your breathing. We need to calm down a little, okay? Slow it down. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Breathe with me, okay?" He didn't know who would benefit more from the exercise; him or Mike. "In through the nose, out through the mouth."
It seemed to be helping. Mike relaxed his jaw a little but there was still fear in his eyes. "I feel like I'm falling," he gasped. "Like...everything is shifting." He reached out and grabbed Victor's hand, clutching it so hard the bones ground against one another.
Victor glance at Juliette. Her tears trickled down her face into the gash at the corner of her mouth, making the blood thin and flow again. Her sleeve was smeared where she'd used it to dab at the worst of it; the front of her pale blue shirt was streaked where blood had first fallen unchecked. He felt himself splintering into two people; the one who hated, and the one who helped anyway. "Hold on to me, Mike. Help is coming. Try to relax, okay? We're here."
Without looking at her again, he asked, "Are you hurt anywhere besides your mouth, Juliette?"
"No." It came out a whimper, then she said it more firmly. "No."
"Where's your phone?"
"In my purse on the kitchen counter."
"Go get it for me. Now." She needed commands; he could see it in her eyes. Fear was driving her, and he needed to be louder and stronger.
She stood up and scurried out of the room, returning shortly. "Dial Gia's number for me, then give me the phone."
While the phone rang, he studied her, watching as her fingers tenderly smoothed the hair back from Mike's face. His heart ached to see her so distraught. She obviously cared deeply for this man, but why? How? How could she love someone who treated her so badly? Why did women love men like this? As far as he was concerned, a heart attack, if that's what Mike was having, seemed just desserts.
Gia answered, her voice small and frightened. He reassured her as quickly as he could, then barked a few instructions for her, hung up, and waited, his eyes on Mike's face again. He was unable to bear what he saw in Juliette's eyes anymore.
A few minutes later, Gia slipped into the room, bringing with her a bag of frozen vegetables wrapped in a damp kitchen towel. She knelt down and offered it to Juliette, who took it wordlessly and pressed it to her mouth. There were tears in Gia's eyes, too, and Victor didn't think he could tolerate one more woman weeping over the man on the floor.
"Gia, will you go out front and wait for the paramedics?" he asked. "They should be here any minute. In fact, I think I hear sirens."
She returned shortly with a whole team of emergency staff, and Victor stepped back, letting the experts have access to both patients. He was familiar with most of them, and he didn't miss the curious looks on their faces as they went about their business. A female officer pulled Juliette aside while a medic did a quick evaluation of her condition. He knew the procedure; they'd be asking her some very personal questions about what had gone on between her and Mike before they arrived. He kept his distance, giving her privacy.
When they seemed satisfied she was okay, they rejoined the cluster around Mike, leaving her alone in the corner of the room, her back to the wall, a new disposable ice-pack pressed to her face.
Victor took a step toward her, then faltered, seeing the way she watched her ex-boyfriend, how she put aside her own suffering for his. He saw how badly she was hurting because Mike was hurting.
It tore a hole in his gut as memories washed over him. His mother holding an icepack to her eye—one he'd made for her with a bag of frozen peas and a pillowcase—crying and apologizing to another man for whatever it was she'd done wrong. Bruises on Sasha's arm, fingerprints clearly defined, and the sick pleasure she took from forcing him to put his small hand over the marks, teasing him that his hands weren't yet big enough to leave bruises like that. Memories of tears in the night, his own, wishing he was man enough to offer his protection, but too afraid to get his ten-year-old body out from under the bed to stand between the blows and the women he loved.
At that moment, Juliette's head came up, her gaze searching the room until she found him. Her face crumpled and she dropped the ice pack as she slid down the wall to the floor, her arms hanging limply at her sides, her eyes never leaving his face.
He had to get her out of here. Now. But just as he started forward, a hand on his shoulder stopped him. He turned around to face a colleague from the force.
"Vic? You got a minute?"
"It'll have to wait," Victor stated. The policeman frowned but stepped aside to let him pass. Victor's eyes went back to Juliette's crumpled form as he circled the crowd to get to her, but Gia made it there first.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
THE NOISE WAS OVERWHELMING, like clanging bells, but she knew she was overreacting. No one was panicking, no one was shouting, everything seemed to be under control. Everything except her. Mike was getting hooked up to all kinds of wires and lines and monitors, and people were moving around the room with purpose and focused intent. The icepack she'd been given seemed to have effectively numbed her whole body on the outside, but her insides felt like she'd swallowed broken glass.
Victor. He'd come for her. Her champion.
Where was he? Her eyes scanned the room—there. He stood near the opposite wall, watching her, his expression as turbulent as her thoughts. What was he doing so far away? Why wasn't he here, by her side, his arms around her? A deep, wrenching sob surged up out of her lungs, and she felt what little control she had slip away. Her legs gave out, and she slid to the floor, wordlessly begging him to rescue her from all of this.
Instead, he turned away from her to speak to the police officer who'd approached him. Forgotten, she dropped her head into her hands and closed her eyes, willing the nightmare to end.
Who was she kidding? There was no champion in her story. She was alone.
"Jules?" Gia crouched down beside her. "Come. Let's get out of the way." Gia helped her up with an arm around her waist, and they made their way out into the hallway.
"Is Mike—?"
"The paramedics are taking care of him."
"I shouldn't leave him," Juliette whispered, as she watched the man being strapped onto a gurney.
"We'll just be in their way. Come on." Gia led her into the kitchen and pulled out a chair for her. "Sit."
Juliette collapsed into the chair and let her forehead drop to her crossed arms on the table. "You should go let Mrs. Cork know I'm okay. I'm sure she's frantic."
"I'll stay with you. One of the officers can—"
The sound of frantic barking brought Juliette's head up. "Bob!" she cried, pushing up out of her chair. She pulled open the door and slipped out into the chilly darkness of the garage. She didn't turn on the lights, just went down on her knees and let Bob lean into her, nuzzle her, assure himself that she'd come to rescue him from his banishment. Gia poked her head out.
"Go." The light from the kitchen shown on Juliette's upturned face as she gave Gia her best 'big-sister's-the-boss'
look. "Bob's here. I'll be okay until you get back."
Gia hesitated just a moment longer, then pulled the heavy door closed again. The inky stillness settled around her, comforting, soothing, peaceful.
"Oh, Bob," she moaned, and sat with her back to the door, hugging the dog to her, burying her face in his coarse fur.
Bob pressed against her, panting his joy in being reunited with her.
VICTOR STOPPED A FEW feet away and watched as the two girls stumbled from the room. It was best, he told himself. Leave her be. She'd made her choice quite clear tonight. If Mike was the kind of man Juliette wanted, then Victor wanted to be as far away from her as he could possibly be. That's right, man. Don't get sucked into that woman's chaos. He heard the words in his head and spun on his heels, as she and her sister disappeared down the hall.
He scanned the room for the officer he'd spoken to earlier; he'd give whatever information they wanted from him and go home. He didn't see the man, but he'd just wait here for him. That way he wouldn't accidentally run into Juliette again.
A few minutes later the medics wheeled the more alert but still highly agitated Mike out of the room, and the majority of the crowd followed along behind the gurney. Still Victor waited until the room emptied completely, nodding at the last young man who'd slipped in to grab a mislaid clipboard before dashing back out again. Obviously, the officer had gotten whatever information he'd needed without having to question Victor.
He looked around the room, encased in the stark quiet that follows such a commotion. There were scraps of sterile equipment wrappers on the floor, a discarded glove, a plastic bag, even a length of plastic tubing that must have been dropped in the fray. Victor collected the trash, stuffed everything into the plastic bag, then dropped it into the basket by her nightstand.
Juliette and the Monday ManDates Page 25
