by S. R. Jones
God, he’s a total pro at the acting and lying stuff. How am I meant to trust a damn word he says?
Liam pays for the night then takes my hand as we leave and go back to the car.
We unload the bags and Boo, who Liam keeps under his jacket so he can’t be seen and then we’re in the room.
Liam stows our bags on the dresser and then turns to me with annoyance crawling all over his face. “Are you trying to get us killed?” he demands.
“Sorry?”
“Way to go making us stand out.”
“We wouldn’t have stood out if you’d simply let me rent the room next door for the night.” God, he drives me crazy.
“Yeah, because what I need if someone else comes after you, is two locked doors and a concrete wall between us.” He shakes his head. “And to think I believed you were smart.”
Ouch. He’s hitting below the belt right now after our deep and meaningful conversation about how I felt stupid for not getting any further education.
I blink back my tears at his words and if he notices he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he starts to pull some bits out of bag and heads into the bathroom. “I’m taking a quick shower, then you can take one, okay.” It isn’t a question but an order. I nod and don’t make a fuss about going first because I want him out of the way so I can call Jay.
I sit on the bed and wait and as soon as I hear the water running, I open the door and sneak out into the parking lot. I don’t go far as I only want to talk to Jay without being overheard.
Jabbing his landline number in, I bite my nail as I wait for the call to go through. I can’t wait to hear his voice, or to get his advice on what I should do.
Footsteps to my right make me jump and I turn to see four men walking up behind me. My heart picks up speed, but they pass by me without a glance. I’m so fucking paranoid and need to get a grip. As the phone rings I begin to think Jay must be out, which sucks big time. I’ve wandered a little way as I pace to ease my nerves and realize I’ve reached the end of the building. I turn to go back when my bag jerks hard on my shoulder making me drop the phone with a cry of surprise.
My flesh burns where the strap is digging into the skin. There’s another tug, and I turn to see a man in a hooded top, and he’s looming over me, yanking at my bag. I should let him have it, but the USB port is in there. Instead of letting go, I pull back.
“Give me the purse, bitch,” he says in a low, threatening rumble.
“She looks good for more than just the purse.” I spin to see a second guy peel away from the shadows against the wall.
The one with a hold on my bag strap grins and pulls me farther into the darkness around the side of the building.
A third man joins us, melting out of the gloom like some ghoul. I’m terrified now. I know these guys aren’t anything to do with Nick, and they aren’t here for me in that sense, but they have hold of me and they stink of booze. One of them is twitchy as hell and I wonder if they are on drugs, too.
“You can have the b-b-bag,” I stammer.
“What if we want more than the b-b-bag?” the biggest one mimics. He’s tall, broad, and has a protruding belly sticking out of his sweater. All three have hoods hiding their faces, but I can see enough to figure they’re all white and middle aged. “You going to give us a taste, sweetness?” he leers.
Ugh. I need to get out of here. I pull away, letting the bag slip down my arm, but the big one is on me immediately, pushing me against the hard wall. His rank breath skitters across my mouth and cheek making me gag.
“Oh, look at this. She thinks she’s too precious for the likes of us,” he sneers at me.
A thick hand goes to my legs, and I let out a cry as he pinches my thigh hard. “Spread them, sweetie. Let me have a feel, I bet you’re all wet and hot for it.”
As if! I’d have to be blind and have lost my sense of smell to be able to stand him anywhere near me. I don’t voice these thoughts as my brain tries to think of a way to get out of this.
“You’d be a lot hotter if you grew your hair and wore some make up,” he tells me as he leans in to smell me, like the freak he is.
“Oh, I don’t know. I kind of like her hair as is.”
I jump at the familiar voice, and dickhead or not, I’m so relieved to see Liam my knees weaken.
“Fuck off, motherfucker,” one of the men growls.
“Don’t think I will. You three, on the other hand, need to leave. Now.”
His voice is clipped, terse, and with an undercurrent of deep menace.
Two of the guys falter, seeming to pick up on the threat in Liam’s tone. The one with his hands on me merely chuckles. “Trust me, she’s not worth dying for. Three to one.”
Liam doesn’t say anything else. For a moment he doesn’t move, then he whirls around and grabs dude one, kicking his legs out from under him and shoving him into dude two. The pair go down hard in a tangle of limbs and Liam is advancing on the guy holding me.
Stinky Breath lets go of me and pivots to face Liam. He puts his hands up and grins the truly insane grin of the high. “Come on, you English fuck.”
“I’m actually Irish by birth,” Liam says conversationally.
I store the nugget of information away like one of the little treasures I used to hoard as a kid. A Barbie doll, a pack of cards, some chewing gum. Ordinary things to most children, but precious beyond belief to me.
“Don’t give a fuck,” Stinky Breath sneers.
I see one of the men behind Liam get up onto his forearms, pushing himself up and I point to him, but Liam doesn’t take his eyes off the guy next to me.
“Walk away now and I won’t fuck you up,” Liam growls.
The man still stands there, arms raised, bouncing on his toes as if he’s some sort of high as a kite boxer.
Liam sighs and pulls something from behind his back. I expect to see the gun again, and my stomach lurches at the thought of more dead bodies. But instead there’s a big, dark knife.
With a move so quick I can barely follow it, Liam slashes it across Stinky Breath’s raised right arm. The man gives an indignant howl of pain and grabs his arm, cradling it to his chest.
The other two men are staggering to their feet, but they don’t seem up for a fight. Instead, they hold their arms up, palms out, as if to say, we don’t want any bother.
“You fucking cut me,” Stinky Breath whines.
“Yeah, and you don’t leave right now, the three of you, I’ll kill you.”
Liam’s voice is so cold, and weirdly flat, it gives me the chills, never mind them. There’s no heat to it. No anger. No nerves or fear. Not a tremor. Nothing but deadly calm.
The guys seem to come to the same conclusion at once, and they turn and begin to leave. Two of them jogging away, Stinky Breath walking, glancing back every now and again. About to say thank you to Liam, I gasp when strong fingers grasp my upper arm in a painful hold and I’m dragged behind him back into the room.
The door slams shut and I’m pushed against the wall. His body against mine doesn’t feel good, not in this context. He’s breathing hard and when he pulls back to look into my eyes, I see everything he covered up out there. Rage. Fear. Dismay. It’s all there and he’s breathing hard.
He brings his palm up to my chest and his hand snakes around my throat, holding me in place. Not hurting me at all, no pressure, simply resting there, holding me still.
“Fuck, Abi.” The words are ground out as if made of broken glass, and he presses his forehead against mine.
“You are such a stupid, stupid, woman. Do you want to get yourself killed?”
His words make me livid because he’s right, I’ve been foolish, but because they also echo so many of the things Nick told me about myself. The names he called me. Stupid, thick, idiotic, useless, pathetic. It pushes all my buttons what Liam says, even though he’s every right to be angry.
“I simply stepped out to make a phone call,” I retort.
“What?” His anger doesn’t d
ial down as I expect, but climbs higher. He pulls away from me and steps back, his hand not moving. “Who the fuck did you call?”
“Jay. Doesn’t matter, he didn’t answer.”
“Thank fuck for Jay, he didn’t. What if Nick knows about him, you calling could have put him in danger.”
“Nick doesn’t know about him,” I fire back.
“I’m sure there’s a lot about Nick you don’t have a clue about.” Liam sneers at me, as if I’m just some dumb bitch just like Nick says.
All the adrenalin from outside comes surging back. The relief I am okay that had turned me to a wet rag now surges with a newly formed anger. So much anger. I am sick of men fucking with me.
“Take your hand off my throat.” I push at Liam’s hand, and to my surprise he drops it immediately. Letting me move from where he had me held.
“You’re such an asshole,” I spit out.
His eyes darken further and a muscle works in his jaw. “An asshole who has saved your life…twice,” he clarifies. “And guess what, sweet cheeks, if I need to keep being an asshole to save your life, then that’s what I am going to do. I don’t care if you like me or not. That’s not my job, and I can see it is only going to be made harder by the fact the woman I’m sitting is as dumb as a box of rocks and keeps putting herself in dangerous situations.”
I blink back tears, because I will not let this dick see me cry. “You’re as bad as him,” I whisper.
Liam thinks he’s a hero, and maybe he is, but he’s also cold and hard, and he demands as much of me as he would some guy who has been trained like him. I wonder what’s happened to him in life to erase so much of his humanity and leave him so damned closed off and harsh.
The harshness remains, but the coldness goes to reveal a blazing anger. “Excuse me?” He’s angry, but guess what? So am I. Not at him, not really, but the years of rage and fear I supressed while being with Nick are bubbling out of me and I can’t seem to stop them. I know I should, but my mouth has a mind of its own right now.
“I said you’re as bad as him. Controlling. Cold. Arrogant.”
“As bad as your piece of shit husband?” His voice raises. Not a shout. Nothing approaching it, but for him it’s loud.
“Yeah?” It’s not convincing, though. I don’t even know why I am fighting with him. I’m really fighting with Nick. With my past.
I need to stop. About to try for conciliatory, he whirls around to face me before I can speak.
His dark eyes are for once not calm and collected but heated and narrowed. “I’m nothing like him. I don’t like to hurt women. I don’t humiliate women. It’s not my bag. I don’t like to do things to women against their will, and don’t you forget that. I won’t make you kneel for me while I come all over your face with a poor prostitute forced to watch, so don’t you ever compare me to that piece of crap.”
I freeze. For a moment I’m so cold I shake, and then the heat fills me. Mortification rushes in filling all the empty, dank places inside me with a horrible, gnawing flame of shame.
My face heats, and I see the moment he realizes what he’s said. What he’s given away.
He saw.
Oh, God. If the pain of what Nick did to me was bad, this is worse. Knowing other people have seen. And Liam! He had sex with me! He screwed me after watching me get totally demeaned by my husband. I want to curl up in a ball and die. Why did I even run? You can’t outrun that kind of shame.
“Abi.” Liam’s face has fallen. He reaches for me, but I slap his hand away.
“Don’t you dare.” I turn and run to the bathroom. I slam the door and lock it, and thank God there isn’t a window in here because there’s nowhere for me to run so Liam might actually leave me alone.
And he does. I take my clothes off, shaking with mortification. I need to wash myself, wash away the shame and the filth of what Nick did to me. Of what Liam saw. Anyone but him.
I kind of hate Liam, but even as the thought flits through my mind, I know I don’t. Deep down I want him still, despite loathing myself for it. I wanted him to see the new me. Not the broken me. When we screwed one another’s brains out the other day, I felt alive. Not fragile. Not tarnished. But alive, and all new and shiny.
Now, I’m confused. Why did he even want me? He’d seen me broken. Treated like utter detritus by my husband, a man who should honor and love me. Oh God, did Liam want me because he’d enjoyed seeing me that way? I think I’m going to vomit.
Shaking, scared, and utterly unsure of who I can trust anymore in this world, I turn the shower on and step inside.
Want. Want. Want.
It’s like a slow, torturous drumbeat running through my veins. Even as I try to scrub the shame coating my skin off, my blood heats for the man in the next room. It makes no sense. None at all. It’s too fast. I think it might be because the only time I felt something other than despair and shame were those bright moments he was between my legs in the run-down little boat house.
Those precious, intense moments stand out in the gray of my life. They’re hot and bright and give me an inkling of all the other emotions out there I might feel once I’m free. Mended.
Right now, though, I’m still broken, and the man I thought saw the me underneath all of that instead witnessed my biggest mortification. Turning my face to the wall so my cries are swallowed by the cold, wet tiles, I let my hurt out.
Chapter Eleven
Liam
I pace the room, feeling like utter shit.
I hurt her.
I’d just finished telling her how I didn’t hurt women, all self-righteous and shit, and then I destroyed her with my words.
I fucking hate myself right now. I seem to experience a lot of emotions around Abi. She’s bad for my equilibrium.
An apology is in order, but I can’t simply go barging in there. I doubt she wants to speak to me. Time drags on as I wear a hole in the crappy, faded carpet. As the minutes tick by, I start to worry. Surely the hot water will have run out by now? Another five minutes and I give in and go knock on the door. There’s no answer.
I’m torn between my need to know she’s okay, and the knowledge I should leave her alone to privately lick her wounds. Another knock, and still no answer. There’s no window in there, so she can’t have escaped, but what if… An image of her bleeding flashes into my mind. Surely, she wouldn’t? But I can’t take the risk.
“Abi, open this door or I’ll break it down.” I give her the option but there’s still no reply. Fuck.
I stand back and rush the door, slamming my shoulder into it. It opens immediately with a crack. The first thing I see is Abi slumped in the corner of the tub, which has an overhead shower attached to the end, curled in on herself in a foetal position.
She’s shaking all over and when I put my hand under the water it’s freezing cold. Tiny, huddled in the corner, and so small and vulnerable, she brings something roaring to life within me. Something she’s already stirred but now the beast is fully awakened.
I want, no, I need to protect her. I lost my shit with her because she scared me half to death when those scumbags had hold of her, but in doing so I hurt her more than they did.
Crouching down by the tub, I speak softly. “Abi. I’m sorry. I’ve been a total dick. Please get out of the shower, it’s freezing.”
She doesn’t acknowledge me. Sighing, I lean in and turn the water off, and then she seems to snap out of her daze. Looking around, she stares at me blankly. Her eyes are red-rimmed.
I grab the towel off the rack and it’s rough and thin, not the big fluffy pile of cotton I want to wrap her in. Gently I pull her up to standing and wrap the crappy towel around her shoulders, swaddling her in it.
“Come on.” I take her hand and help her step over the side of the bath.
Her legs are wobbly, and she catches her foot on the plastic and nearly goes down, but I steady her.
Once she’s stood in front of me, I take the second, smaller towel and start to dry off her hair. Thank God
it’s short as the pathetic postage stamp sized bit of cloth wouldn’t have handled her luxurious strands of before.
“I d-d-don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she stammers.
I know. Me and my fucking big mouth. I made her face up to what’s happened to her before she was probably ready.
I loathe myself in this moment. She’d spent years dealing with the abuse of her husband her way. I don’t know what that way was, but from what I saw, I think a bit part of it was compartmentalizing to an insane degree and switching off from it. By letting her know I’d seen it, it suddenly made it all too real. Brought the shame and the horror flooding in.
I’m not a psychologist, but I’d bet good money on that being sort of what was going on with her. I lead her into the bedroom and gently push her to sit on the bed. I go through my bags and find a better towel to replace the crappy one with, and not wanting to try to undress her, I put that around her like a shawl, to keep her warm as she dries.
“I’m really sorry, Abi. I had no right.”
“No right to watch me, or no right to let me know you’d seen me utterly degraded. Or, do you mean no right to fuck me after you’d watched my husband debase me and didn’t inform me of the salient fact?”
“All of the above,” I answer truthfully.
“Did it turn you on? Getting to screw the pathetic bit of trash who the mighty Nick Madison treated like shit?”
“What? Fuck, no. Abi…you’re so way off the mark.” Shit. I don’t do this. I don’t talk about feelings and crap, but I’ve got to be honest here with her, because she’s a shaking mess, and it’s my doing. I’ve no hope of anything more happening between us because I’ve screwed that up well and good, but I need her to know she does something to me. Moves me in a way no other woman has.
I swallow and make myself find the words so difficult to say. “Abi, from the first moment I saw you, something about you got to me. I don’t know what or why, but the honest truth is, I saw you come into your kitchen after being at the gym and noticed you, your eyes, and from then on, I was attracted. Nothing more, obviously I didn’t know you, but I was attracted. Way before your dick of a husband did what he did.”
