Second Goal

by Seabrook, C. M.

  Broken. That’s what he’s done to her.

  No. What I did to her.

  “Amy.” I hesitate before going to her and wrapping my arms around her fragile frame. She’s so thin. Too thin. It’s been two years since I’ve seen her, but she looks like she’s aged ten.

  Fear tightens her expression when she pulls back and glances at Cruz.

  “Come with me,” I whisper. “Right now, Amy. I won’t let him hurt you. I promise we can—”

  “Enough.” Cruz pulls us apart, shoving me away and wrapping a large arm around her so that her back is against his chest, and one hand cups her face roughly. “You’ve seen her. Now give me the money.”

  “Let her go,” I say.

  “Why?” The corner of his lips pull up in a vicious smile. “You really think she’ll go with you? Is that your plan?” He chuckles, taking a pull of his cigarette, then flicking it away. His fingers tighten around her face and she winces in pain. “You want that, darlin’?” he asks, twisting her face so that she’s looking at him. “You want to leave me and go with that bitch?”

  Amy doesn’t look at me when she whispers, “No. I love you.”

  He kisses her hard, then pushes her away from him.

  “Amy, please,” I beg.

  “Just give us the money,” she says, words slurred, broken. “Don’t make him have to hurt you.”

  Cruz smiles at me viciously, and I know he’d like nothing more than to do just that. New fear builds inside me. He bangs on the door, and when it opens, Cruz pushes Amy toward the man who stands there.

  “Amy, wait—”

  She looks at me then, but there’s no emotion in her eyes, just emptiness.

  Broken.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, but the door closes before I get the words out fully. Tears burn my eyes, my throat tightening, my belly aching. I failed. Again. I’m lost in my own self-pity, which is why I don’t sense Cruz approaching until his hands are wrapped around my throat.

  “Give me the money.” He’s so close, his forehead touches mine.

  “Can’t... breathe,” I choke out.

  His fingers loosen, but only slightly. “The money, bitch. Or I go to the police. Tell them everything.”

  “Do it.”

  He slams me back against a metal garbage dump and my head bangs off it, making my eyes water.

  “I’m not playing a fucking game.” When he slams me back a second time, my vision starts to go dark.

  His hands are on me, patting me down until he finds the cash and the gun.

  Shit.

  He chuckles, pointing the weapon at my temple. “Did you plan on coming here and killing me?”

  I glare at him. “You deserve worse than death for what you’ve done to her.”

  He strikes my temple with the handle of the gun and I collapse, vomit rising in my throat as pain seers through my head.

  “What the fuck is this?” He growls out, crouching beside me and flipping through the bills. “There’s only about two grand here.”

  “That’s...” Nausea rolls in my stomach. “It’s all I have.”

  His lips pull back over his teeth and he grabs my hair, pulling me up to my feet. There’s murder in his eyes. I’ve only seen that look once before, the night I killed Ezra. And I know if I don’t fight back, he won’t let me leave this alley alive.

  My head is spinning, but I use what little strength I have and knee him between the legs. When he leans forward in pain, I rake my fingers over his face, gouging his eyes. He lets out a shriek of pain, dropping the cash and the gun.

  I scurry for it, my hands shaky as I turn the gun on him, pointing it at his head. It may be empty, but he doesn’t know that.

  He’s still groaning, one hand cupping his groin, the other his bleeding face. “I’ll fucking kill you—” He stops when he sees the gun.

  “I’ll shoot you. Take one more step and I’ll pull the trigger.”

  “Crazy bitch.” He stumbles backward and bangs on the door. “You’re going to regret this. I promise you. I’m going to destroy you.”

  Stars dance in front of my eyes and it takes all my strength not to collapse. “You won’t get another penny from me.”

  “You’re finished,” he says as the door opens, and he stumbles through.

  The second he’s gone, I drop to my knees and try to take in a deep breath. But I can’t. It feels like my windpipe has been crushed. And my vision is going dark. I try to stand, but I can’t. So I crawl, knowing I need to get away before Cruz comes after me with back-up.

  And then I collapse.

  “Kiley.” Someone is beside me. And even though my vision is blurred, I recognize the voice, the strength of the man’s touch. “Jesus Christ.”

  “Blake?” I don’t know how he found me.

  “Who did this to you?” His hands are on me, fingers dancing across my skin, searching for injuries.

  I hiss in pain when he touches my temple.

  “I’ll kill whoever did this to you.” The look he gives me is fierce. Something primal. A ferociousness dead set on protecting me.

  Safe.

  Protected.

  His.

  In his arms, I’m all those things.

  But I know it’s time I finally tell him the truth. Because one way or another, after today, everyone is going to know soon enough.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Blake

  Fury beats inside me like a wild animal, but somehow I’ve managed to stay calm. When I’d pulled up to the alley and saw Kiley collapsed, face pale and bruised, clutching a goddamn gun, I’d nearly lost my shit.

  I’d picked her up and put her in my car, demanding we go to the hospital. I was adamant she was going to press charges on the motherfucker who did this to her. But she’d refused to say a word to the police when they questioned her, other than she’d been mugged.

  Bullshit.

  I don’t know why she’s protecting the asshole who did this. But I’m going to find out. I’ll hunt down the bastard myself if I have to, in order to make sure he never puts another finger on her, or anyone else.

  But in order for that to happen, I need her to talk to me. And this time, I’m not backing down.

  After five grueling hours in the ER, a CT scan, X-rays, and police reports, we’re finally back at my apartment.

  And she still isn’t telling me a damn thing.

  I’m a second away from going full Neanderthal on her. The only thing I’ve ever wanted to do is protect her. But how the hell am I supposed to do that when she keeps lying to me?

  “Drink this,” I tell her, placing a cup of tea on the coffee table in front of her.

  I can’t take the chance of touching her, because if I do, I know I’ll just pull her into my arms. And that won’t fix anything.

  “Thank you,” she whispers.

  I pace in front of her and pull at my hair until my scalp hurts. “Who was it?” I ask for the hundredth time, knowing even as I ask the question that she’s not going to tell me. “Was it the same guy I saw you with before? Is he the one who hurt you?”

  She glances away.

  “Goddamn it, Kiley,” I yell, finally losing my cool. Pax whimpers and Lady hides behind a chair. “I can’t keep doing this. I need you to tell me the truth or...” Or what? Can I really walk away from her?

  “You should walk away,” she says as if reading my mind. She blinks up at me. Again, those two main emotions, fear and hope warring behind her eyes.

  I exhale a frustrated breath, knowing that leaving isn’t a possibility. I crouch down in front of her and take her hand. “Just tell me who he is? Why did he hurt you? And why the fuck did you have a gun on you?”

  “It wasn’t loaded.”

  “You think that’s any better? Shit, I wish it was. You should have killed the asshole when he put his hands on you.”

  She shakes her head violently. “You think it’s that easy? To just kill someone? It’s not.”

  Something in her words has warnin
g bells blasting in my head. The way she said it, was like she’s speaking from experience.

  I lean forward and kiss her fingers. They’re ice cold. I close my eyes and ask again, “Tell me who did this. Why are you protecting him?”

  “I’m not protecting him.”

  “Then why wouldn’t you give the police his name?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “Complicated,” I mutter, dragging a hand over my face and trying to stay calm. But my thoughts and fears run wild. “Was he... is he an ex-boyfriend?”

  “No.”

  “Then what? Tell me, Kiley. Because I don’t understand any of this. Just tell me the guy’s name.”

  She sits back on the couch and wraps the blanket tighter around her shoulders. Her face is a mess of bruises, but it’s the haunted look in her eyes when she finally says his name that sends chills down my spine.

  “Cruz Moreno.” She swallows.

  “Okay,” I say carefully. It’s a step in the right direction. “Why...” I close my eyes briefly before asking the next question. “Why did he hurt you?”

  “For the same reason all men like him hurt people. Because they can.”

  “That’s not an answer.”

  “He wanted money. More money than I had, and I told him I wouldn’t give him anymore.”

  “You said you didn’t owe anymore.”

  “I don’t.” She looks up at the ceiling, touching her bruised temple and wincing. “I mean... I do. In a way.” A small tremble wracks her body. “I don’t know. I just wanted to make things right. I wanted to help her, but I couldn’t. I can’t. I failed again.”

  “I’m going to need real answers, Kiley. Not riddles.”

  “I know... it’s just hard...”

  “I get that.” Still crouched in front of her, I twine our fingers together. “Is this...” I’m afraid to ask the question, but I have to. “Is this about Lucy?”

  Kiley’s face pales, her mouth parting open on a sharp breath, and I know it does. Somehow the child is key in all of this. I still don’t know who Lucy is. But my imagination has spun out of control, and I have to ask, “Is she yours? Is he… is this Cruz guy the father?”

  Her expression distorts in pain, and I know I’ve hit a nerve.

  “I’m not going to judge. I just want the truth.”

  “We didn’t know Cruz until after she was born.”

  “We?”

  “Amy and me.” Her eyes close and she doesn’t open them when she starts to speak again.

  “Who’s Amy?” Every piece of the puzzle I get, I feel like the image is getting more and more distorted.

  “A friend. We’d been paired up a couple times in different homes. I’d always been pretty introverted, not really getting close to anyone, but she kind of pushed her way in.” A small smile touches her lips and she looks at me. “Kind of like you. She was always trying to protect me. Especially in the last home we were in...”

  I try not to move or breathe, afraid that she’ll stop talking.

  “We’d been there for about eight months when the family’s older son moved back from college. He...” Her throat bobs, but her eyes remain closed.

  “Tell me.”

  “He took an interest in me.”

  I hold back the curse that rises in my throat.

  “But Amy, she’d been with guys before. And she knew what he wanted. She managed to keep his attention off me for a few months. He’d sneak into our room at night and I could hear them together. But then one night he came to my bed.”

  “Fuck. Did he…?”

  “No. I fought him. Screamed.” She pulls her hand back and starts picking at a loose string on her jeans. “Sometimes I wonder if it would have been easier to just… but, I couldn’t let him.”

  I move, sitting beside her on the couch and pull her into my arms. Her body is stiff, and she doesn’t lean into me like she usually does.

  When she starts talking again, there’s a numbness to her voice, like she’s distanced herself from the memory. “The foster parents called to have me removed from the home. They didn’t believe me. Or if they did, they didn’t want their son getting in trouble.”

  “Fuckers,” I mutter, pressing my lips to the top of her head. “It was their job to keep you safe.”

  “It was Amy who said we should run. So we did.”

  “Where did you go?”

  She shrugs, body still tense against me. “We lived on the streets for a bit. We couldn’t go to the shelters because we knew they’d just put us back in foster care, and separate us. It was a few months after we ran away when she found out she was pregnant.”

  Amy was pregnant. Not Kiley. The information sinks in and the puzzle pieces slowly form a more unified picture. One I know doesn’t have a happy ending.

  “What did you do?”

  “I panhandled a bit. But it wasn’t enough. So I started shoplifting. I’m not proud of it, but I didn’t know what else to do. I was lucky I never got caught, but I knew it was only a matter of time before I would.” She pulls away slightly, and I can feel all her walls building. “I know you’re judging me, but—”

  “I’m not, Kiley.” I cup her face, careful not to touch the bruises. My chest aches for all the things she went through, but I don’t judge. At least not her. I do judge the people who were supposed to protect her and didn’t.

  “There were worse things I could have been doing. A lot worse. But I didn’t… maybe if I had...” Kiley presses her palms to her eyes. “I owed Amy everything.”

  “You felt responsible for her?”

  “I was responsible for her. She protected me. And I... I failed her.”

  I don’t argue, because I know if I do, she’ll stop talking, and I need to know the whole story.

  “What happened next?”

  “Amy met Cruz.”

  I inhale a deep breath and wait for her to continue.

  “At first he was nice. He and his brother Ezra had a place and they let us crash there. It was only supposed to be temporary, but we had nowhere else to go.” Her eyes lock on mine, and there’s a need there, like she needs me to hear this truth. “I should have known that there was a cost.”

  “What kind of cost?”

  “Amy started sleeping with Cruz. I don’t know if she really liked him, or she just needed him, but once they started sleeping together...” She looks away. “Ezra... he kept pushing me to do things.”

  I can fill in her unspoken words, and more anger rises inside me.

  “I wanted to go, but Amy... I couldn’t leave her. And after Lucy was born, it just got worse.”

  “How?”

  “I didn’t know Amy was using until a few months after we moved in. I should have seen the signs. Gotten her out of there. Gotten us both out of there. But she was terrified someone would take Lucy away if we were back on the streets.” Her voice lowers to a whisper when she says, “I should have made her leave. If I had, maybe...” Her breath hitches.

  “What happened to Lucy?” I ask softly.

  “She was so tiny. So fragile. But she cried all the time.” She looks at me, blue eyes haunted. “You really want to know me? To see me? To know all the evil things I’ve done?”

  I can’t breathe, but I manage to nod.

  She moves away slightly, only about an inch, but it feels like she’s put a giant crater between us.

  “Amy got really depressed after Lucy was born. There were days when she didn’t get out of bed, and when she did, she’d get high with Cruz. She wanted to be a good mom. I know she did, but right away, Lucy connected to me. She’d only settle if I was holding her. But I think in a way, I used her.”

  “How?”

  “As a shield. Ezra wouldn’t come near me when I had her. At least not at first.” She blinks up at me. “He threatened to hurt her one night if I didn’t...”

  Tears roll down her cheek and I wipe them away with my thumb.

  “That was the first time I went to see Kane. I thought that
if he could help me, that maybe Amy would come with me.”

  God, I remember how she’d looked then. Frail. Eyes too big for her head. She was still practically a child herself.

  I take her hand and her fingers tighten around mine. “I’m sorry I didn’t help you then.”

  She shakes her head. “It’s not your fault. And it’s not Kane’s. It was my job to protect them. So I went back. I had to try and get them out of there.”

  She went back to a place of abuse to try and help her friend.

  “I wish you’d told me.”

  “I didn’t know you, or Kane. And I know you would have judged me. My brother already did. I saw the way he looked at me, and I knew I’d never be part of your world.”

  “You are now.”

  Her lips tug down. “I can’t be. Not with everything I’ve done. You don’t know... I...”

  “Whatever you tell me, nothing will change. I promise.”

  “You’re wrong. But I can’t keep this secret anymore.”

  “What secret?”

  “I killed him.”

  I try not to react, but it’s hard not to. “Who?”

  “Ezra. He’d started threatening Lucy. Handling her too rough. Amy was too afraid of him to say anything.” She swipes at the tears on her cheek. “And I understood the fear. He terrified me. There was something dark, vicious in him. Like he enjoyed inflicting pain on people.”

  Every muscle in my body is stretched with tension, listening to her.

  “Lucy wouldn’t stop crying that night. I think she was coming down with a cold, and I couldn’t get her to calm down.” She looks at me, her eyes haunted. “He grabbed her from me and threatened to put a bag over her head to shut her up.”

  “Jesus.”

  “He would have. I know he would have.” Her eyes go unfocused and her breath becomes shallow.

  “What happened?” I ask her, gently tugging her chin so that she looks at me.

  “I fought him.” She swallows. “Hit him so his anger turned on me. He started...” She shakes her head. “Amy grabbed Lucy, and I begged her to leave. To run.”