Midnight Ranger

by Kris Norris

  He placed his hand over his chest. “That wasn’t nice, darling.”

  “Don’t you darling me, you traitor. I just hope you think this is all still funny when neither of us gets any sleep for the next week. Because I’ll be seeing these freaking apparitions whenever I close my eyes for days.”

  “Guess it’s a good thing I’m just a few feet away, then.”

  “Means I won’t miss when I launch things at your head.”

  He laughed, and she threw more popcorn at him before purposely turning toward the television. She jumped a moment later, cursing under her breath as she drew the edge of the blanket up to her chin.

  Sam glanced away, trying hard not to smile. Just a few more minutes, and he’d end her torture. He turned back to the screen just as one of the creepy ghosts picked up a knife and headed down a long hallway—the creature’s progress marked by a series of light flashes from the flickering lamps. He had a bad feeling this kill was going to be even bloodier than the last.

  He sighed when a door flung open on its own, the blood-curling scream of the woman trapped in the bathroom echoing around them. No sense putting Bridgette through another gory scene. “Okay, Bridg. You’ve been more than game. I’ll change…”

  His voice trailed off as he looked over at her. All the color had drained from her face as her chest heaved—the wheezy sound too fast to be effective. The beautiful blue hue of her eyes had been overshadowed by white, and her hands shook as she held the blanket just below her nose, the fluffy material knotted amidst her fists.

  He leaned over. “Bridgette? Are you okay?”

  His answer was another series of gasping pants.

  He reached for her hand, the brief caress making her scream. She scrambled to her feet, dropping the blanket in a pool of gray around her ankles before taking a few stumbling steps back. One of her heels kicked a leg of the coffee table, tumbling her onto her ass. But she managed to bolt up, again, retreating to the wall on the far side of the room, all the while staring at Sam as if she’d never seen him before.

  He stopped the movie then stood, keeping his movements slow. She flinched when he took a step toward her, before she raised her hands into her boxing stance.

  “Easy. I’m not going to attack you.”

  She glanced at the television then back to him, hands still held up in front of her.

  “Bridgette. Whatever it is you think you see isn’t real. It’s just you and me, here. And you know in your heart, I’d never hurt her. Just try to slow your breathing. Break through those other images and find your way back.”

  He inched forward, stopping for a few minutes whenever she reacted to his motion. It took a while, but he finally got to within arm’s length of her. A blue tinge colored her lips, her frantic breath still sounding around them.

  “Slow your breathing. You’re not getting enough oxygen. I don’t want you to pass out.”

  Tears glistened in her eyes, a few slipping free before she closed them, then dropped her head until she could palm her face. Her shoulders shook, but she managed to slow her breath a bit.

  “That’s it. In and out. Nice and even.”

  He closed the distance, tugging her into his arms. She stiffened, pushing against his hold as she shouted mumbled words at him. But he stood his ground, grunting when she landed a few strikes to his ribs before her muscles eased. A hushed sob tightened his chest, the warm evidence of her tears seeping through his shirt and against his skin.

  He gathered her closer, letting one hand fall to the small of her back as the other carded through the hairs on the back of her neck. He pressed her head against his shoulder then waited.

  Time faded into the sound of her breath and the feel of her chest heaving against his. He didn’t move, didn’t speak, just stood there holding her until most of the trembling had subsided and she wasn’t gasping for air.

  He gave her a small smile, tucking some hair behind her ear when she finally pulled back, alternating her gaze between him and some spot off to her right. “Better?”

  She snorted, clenching her jaw as a few more tears dotted her cheeks. “Not unless the floor decides to open up and swallow me.”

  “Hey. It wasn’t that bad.”

  “Says the guy who didn’t just have a meltdown in front of someone.”

  “I’m not someone. You’ve known me since you were twelve. And that wasn’t a meltdown.”

  “You’re right. It was far worse.” She wiped her cheeks. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

  He cupped her chin, waiting until she looked directly up at him. “Stop. You don’t have anything to be sorry about. Or ashamed of. I shouldn’t have picked that stupid movie. It was supposed to be a joke. Had I known it would trigger something…”

  She shook her head, easing free of his arms then backing up until she could brace her ass against the wall. “Trust me. This isn’t your fault. And I’ve watched plenty of stupid movies like that and been just fine. I’m not sure why that scene triggered me the way it did.”

  “Maybe because you’ve been getting death threats, and you’re so damn stressed it’s taking all your strength just to get through each day. You can only deal with so much at a time before something’s gotta give.” He moved closer, relieved that she didn’t try to back away from him. “I assume this has something to do with the guy you dated who was a bit of a dick?”

  “You could say that.”

  “Was he more than just a bit?”

  “He was an abusive son of a bitch, is what he was, but…” She blew out an exasperated breath, staring up at him. “Don’t look at me like that. I wasn’t blinded by love. I didn’t stay in some fucked-up relationship, believing a bunch of empty promises that it wouldn’t ever happen, again. It only happened once.”

  “I never assumed that you had, and the only look I gave you was one of concern. Because I get the feeling that the one time was exceedingly bad.”

  She closed her eyes and let her chin drop to her chest.

  Fuck. He’d known something had happened to push her down a different path. Had suspected some asshole had hurt more than just her heart, but standing there, watching her retreat into herself, spiked fear in his gut he hadn’t felt since he’d been trapped on the side of that cliff.

  “Bridgette. Please talk to me.”

  She shook her head, bouncing her hair wildly about her shoulders. “I… I can’t—”

  “Keep running from this. Keep burying it on the hopes it’ll fade because it never does. It festers until it explodes when you least expect it. I promise, I won’t judge you.”

  Her head snapped up. “Judge me? I’m not afraid you’ll judge me. I already judge myself. For not seeing the signs for what they were. For putting myself in that position. For letting it happen… God.”

  He inched closer then reached for one of her hands, holding it in both of his. “Nothing you say is going to shock me. I knew a few female soldiers who were abused by their commanding officers. It’s unthinkable, and no one should have to face it. And, if it makes it any easier to talk about, this isn’t news to me. I knew someone had hurt you from the first day.”

  Her mouth gaped open, but all she did was stare at him.

  He gave her hand a squeeze. “Your body language. The way you shied away from any contact. Landing a few punches before you realized it was me. Your drastic change in career. You can talk to me. Trust me.”

  Her eyes narrowed before she looked away, again.

  “Shit. It all comes back to that night, doesn’t it? Prom. Fine. Let’s talk about Jenny Stinson.”

  He took a deep breath. “Condensed version—I didn’t sleep with her that night. Not saying I never did. I’m not exactly proud of those teenage years, but I’ve never cheated. And I stopped having sex with her the moment you agreed to go out with me. True, it was pretty shitty of me to use her like that then drop her because I finally got you to notice me. And a douche-move not to tell you I’d been fucking her for a few months. But… Shit, you were my d
ream girlfriend, Bridg. I can’t believe you thought I’d screwed around on you.”

  He pressed a finger across her lips, preventing her from interrupting. “It turns out that Jenny started seeing Brad Porter after me.”

  She frowned, waiting until he’d removed his finger. “Wasn’t he your good friend?”

  “Good and friend are subjective, and it turned out he was neither. But…that night, Brad came racing up to me in the gym and said he had an emergency. That a mutual friend was hurt, and he needed my help. You were in the washroom, so I darted out, thinking I’d only be a moment or two. It was Jenny. She was writhing on the ground with blood dripping down her legs. That’s when Brad informed me she was pregnant and had tried to terminate the pregnancy by herself.”

  “Damn.”

  “Yeah. So, I loaded her in my truck and took her to the hospital. Brad gave some bullshit story about why he couldn’t come, so I told him to tell you there had been an emergency, and that I’d make it up to you. Of course, he decided to tell you I’d run off to sleep with Jenny, instead. By the time I clued in to what had gone down…well, no one was talking to me.”

  She frowned. “Why didn’t you try to explain all of this, instead of just disappearing?”

  “Like you would have believed my version back then.”

  “God, I was right before. You really don’t understand women at all, do you? They should teach you guys a bit about that between all the weapon and hand-to-hand combat classes.”

  “So, you’re saying you would have listened to me?”

  “I was in love with you, Sam. And I was eighteen. Yes, I would have believed you. I kept waiting for some kind of explanation. Then, you left, and I figured it was because everything was true, and you didn’t want to face me.”

  Shit. All this time, and he’d left for the wrong reasons.

  He sighed. “You’re right about not wanting to face you, and while I’m sorry I hurt you, I can’t change the past. Probably wouldn’t even if I could because that one act is why I ended up in that recruitment center. Why I signed on to have a chance at the Army Rangers, and it made me a far better man than I would have been otherwise. So… Now that we have that straightened out, I’d like to know how bad that asshole hurt you.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest in a clearly defensive stance as she continued to kick at the floor.

  “Bridgette.”

  “He put me in the hospital, okay? Almost killed me.”

  “Do you think you could start closer to the beginning?”

  She scrubbed her hands down her face, her fingers still trembling, before finally meeting his gaze. “It was near the beginning of my third year at college. We’d gone out to our favorite pub to celebrate our one-year anniversary. Up until that night, Brock had been the perfect boyfriend. He didn’t yell. We’d never really fought. I’d noticed that he got…possessive at times. Especially if other men talked to me. And there had been a few instances when he hadn’t passed on messages because he didn’t want me to go out without him.”

  She nodded. “I know. Those were huge red flags, and I should have listened to the voice in my head telling me he wasn’t all that he seemed. But all my girlfriends kept insisting it was a good thing. That I was so lucky to have found someone so invested in me. Someone who worshipped me.”

  She huffed. “Satanic worship, maybe. Because it turned out that he wasn’t invested in me. He thought he owned me. That he could control every aspect of my life. That night, a friend came over to talk to me while Brock was off getting us drinks. He went crazy when he got back, practically starting a fight. I told him I wanted him to take me home. That I was done with him acting like a child.”

  Sam nodded. “What happened next?”

  “He didn’t speak to me the entire ride home. I was convinced it was over. Then, he said he wouldn’t feel right if he didn’t see me to the door. That it was his duty to make sure I stayed safe, and that he was sorry. I should have just gotten out of his car and gone up on my own. But it was dark, and I didn’t exactly live in the best neighborhood, so I agreed. I said goodbye on the porch and told him we could talk about it the next day. But, as soon as I opened the door…”

  Sam clenched his fists, images of her story playing out in his mind. And he had no trouble picturing how it ended. “He hit you.”

  She pursed her lips, giving him a shaky nod. “He’s big, like you, and that one punch knocked me into the wall. I hit my head on a shelf then fell on the floor. That’s the last clear memory I have. The rest are just flashes, like when lightning gives you a glimpse of a room. He was yelling. Something about me being a slut. That I wasn’t worthy of him. I remember him kicking me a few times, then…”

  She closed her eyes as shivers shook through her, beading her skin with bumps. Another round of tears washed down her face, falling silently to the floor.

  Sam brushed his thumb across one cheek, wiping away the moisture before lifting her chin enough to make eye contact “He can’t hurt you, now. Anyone who tries to has to go through me, first. And I promise you, they won’t make it.”

  She swallowed, nodding too fast to be believable. “I remember looking up and seeing a knife. He was still screaming at me, then there was this burning pain in my side. I must have blacked out for a bit before waking, again. I saw all the blood, and I managed to crawl over to my phone—call for help. There were sirens and disjointed voices, then I woke up in the hospital a few days later.”

  “The fucker stabbed you?”

  “Sam—”

  “Please tell me you put his ass in jail for the next twenty-five years.”

  “I tried. I know the knife was still in my side when they took me to the hospital, but it disappeared from evidence. And, when the cops went to question him, suddenly, he had all these guys swear we’d gone to his house, and I’d left alone.”

  Sam leaned in close. “What’s Brock’s last name?”

  “Worthington.”

  Pieces fell into place as he hissed out his next breath. “As in Senator Dwayne Worthington’s son?”

  “That was the day I learned that money could buy you any version of the truth you wanted. Without the knife, it was my word against his. The smattering of other evidence wasn’t enough to attempt to prosecute someone with his connections. I was basically told I could pursue a civil suit if I wanted, but my time and money would be better spent on therapy.”

  “That’s why you became a lawyer.”

  “The courses I’d taken hadn’t prepared me for anything like that. So, I switched gears. I worked even harder, studied for the LSAT, passed it, and applied to a few law programs. I guess it paid off because I got accepted that year. After that, I never looked back, and I swore I wouldn’t let anyone else feel helpless the way I had. All those years as a public defender was a desperate attempt to give that singular moment some sort of meaning. Then, I realized that I could go after bigger assholes if I joined the US Attorney’s office. And now…now, I’m back to hiding because there’re monsters under my bed, again.”

  “Hey.” He shook his head. “We’re not hiding. We’re making wise choices based on the information we have.”

  “Feels the same from where I’m standing.”

  “That’s because you’re too hard on yourself. You seem to think you have something to prove. Which you don’t. Though, I will be taking a good long look into Mr. Brock Worthington.”

  “There’s no reason for him to come after me. He won.”

  “So far. But we both know that situations change over time. Maybe something changed that’s got him worried.”

  “They did just extend the time to press charges for attempted murder up to ten years in Washington state, so theoretically, he’s liable, again, for a few years should I want to try and make a case against him.”

  “Bingo.”

  “Having a few more years doesn’t do me any good if I don’t have new evidence to make a case.”

  Her shoulders slumped, and she braced more
of her weight against the wall. Another round of shivers rose more goosebumps along her skin, and she released his hand to rub hers along her arms. If he’d thought he’d felt protective of her before, seeing her vulnerability exposed like this escalated his feelings to a new level.

  He moved slowly, watching for any sign he was crowding her as he gently reached for her hands, again, and cupped them in his. “Come on. I have an idea.”

  She furrowed her brow but followed him back to the couch. He motioned for her to sit then took his place beside her. He found an old movie he knew they’d both watched before and put it on then turned to face her, lifting his arm so she could tuck herself against his side. Bridgette stared at the space, eyes wide.

  He sighed. “I know it’s hard to trust. But I swear I’d never hurt you like that.”

  The creases over her nose deepened. “What if I made you angry? Really, really angry?”

  “Violence doesn’t belong in a relationship. Ever. There’s nothing you could do to make me raise a hand to you. What happened wasn’t because of anything you did. It was all him.”

  She nodded, though he suspected a part of her didn’t quite believe him. Not that he was surprised. It took more than pretty words to vanquish that kind of trauma. And it was obvious she hadn’t come close to putting those demons to rest.

  “Come on. You’re exhausted, and I know it would be too much to have me hold you on the bed so…snuggle in. We’ll watch an old movie, and if you fall asleep, then we’ll just stay here. Where you hopefully won’t feel trapped. Okay?”

  She didn’t move for a few moments, still staring at his side, then inched closer. He smiled as he laid his arm behind her shoulders and drew her against him, reclining both of them until her head was tucked into his shoulder while her body was next to his.

  He dropped a kiss on her forehead, giving her a light squeeze. “Comfortable?”

  Brilliant blue eyes looked up at him. “Yeah. Are you sure this is okay?”