by K. S. Adkins
“Are you okay?”
“Not really.”
“Rogue is out with Rafe looking for you. Would it have killed you to have checked your phone?”
“I left his house twenty minutes ago, V. Checking my phone wasn’t a priority since I’ve been home.”
“Am I a priority at all anymore?”
“It’s not like that.”
“Why don’t you go change, and when you come back you can tell me what it is like, yeah? While you do that, I’ll text Rogue and tell him to give us some time before he brings Rafe here.”
“I don’t want him here.”
“You lost that right when you destroyed his face and drew on him, now go. I’ll wait.”
Nodding, I head upstairs to change and compose myself. She’s right, I know she’s right but I still don’t want to see Jonas. An apology isn’t going to make up for what I did. Coming to terms with that is just too difficult for me right now. So while I change, I also pack a bag. Leaving is best for everyone, at least until I finish what Briggs started. Keeping those I care about safe is my priority; whether she believes that or not doesn’t really matter. Knowing I’m working against the clock, I grab my bag and head back downstairs to try and bullshit Venessa into covering for me so I can leave without drama.
“V?”
I look in the living room, but she’s not there, so the kitchen then. Dropping my packed bag next to my other bag, I make my way through the dining room when I see Venessa lying face down on the ground. Just as I rush over to her I hear his voice, and right then and there I make another decision.
Kill Briggs first, help Venessa, then leave town.
“I missed that ass.”
Before I can turn, he’s on me. He has his arm around my waist and the other wrapped around my hair. As much as it hurts, as much as I’m freaking out on the inside, I have to know she’s okay.
“What did you do to her?”
“Nothing she didn’t deserve; relax, she’s not dead yet. Whether she lives or dies depends on you, though. Nah, when I’m done with you, I’ll probably kill the bitch anyway.”
I try turning around but I can’t. He walks us backward into the living room, and when he reaches the couch he turns me to face the back of it. No, no, no! My mind is screaming. Fight you stupid bitch fight!
He takes his legs and uses them to spread mine. Bending me over the back of the couch he starts rubbing his disgusting cock over my clothed ass.
“Scream for me like you used to, baby.”
I’m so frozen I can’t say anything; I can’t even process what’s happening. My mind keeps screaming not again right along with you have got to be fucking kidding me right now!
“I’ll make you fucking scream, then,” he promises, and like always, he delivers.
Holding me down, I can hear him fidget with his jeans. Despite my struggle,
he’s holding me down with one fucking arm. I can’t see what’s happening but I know he’s gearing up to hurt me and it’s the unknown that scares me, I can’t fucking see what’s coming. He makes good on his word, cutting me from shoulder blade to shoulder blade. The slice isn’t deep but the burn is instant, followed by a deep gnawing pain, I can’t help it, I scream.
“That’s better,” he says, smearing the blood around on my back with his free hand. Knowing the wounds won’t kill me isn’t helping me focus. I just can’t believe he cut me again. Jonas would never do something like this. Why didn’t I stay? Why didn’t I take what Jonas could offer willingly and just be fucking happy?
He grabs my left breast so hard, I scream again. “Listening to me now, baby?” He laughs in my ear.
Enough is enough. I can’t do this again. He plans to kill me, I know it, he knows it. I also know he’ll kill my best friend. Regret is heavy in my stomach; I’ll never get to apologize to Jonas now. When I finish this, Venessa will be safe and she’ll tell him, I know she will. I’ll just have to accept that.
“I’m not your fucking baby.”
I squirm and struggle and get nowhere, and for a control freak like me, it’s so unfair. He’s undoing his jeans now and I know what’s coming, because this wouldn’t be the first time it’s happened. I hear Jonas’ voice in my ear, and his words that caused me hurt before now give me the strength I need to survive this.
“There’s nothing sporting about survival Macy. Do you want to get raped and killed? Is that it?”
No.
No, I do not.
“That’s right, work that ass for me. You owe me for what you fucking put me through.”
Pants down, he leans in to where my neck meets my shoulder and bites down, hard. Pain rockets through my system and I can feel a pulse in the gashes in my back. He just laughs and does it again and again. Cutting me wasn’t enough? Now he’s marking me with his teeth and each time I feel my skin pop; I scream even louder. Not knowing what to do, I force myself to calm down and ignore the pain. My vision is dancing, my heart rate is too high, and panic is taking control.
Before I pass out, I snap my head back as quickly as possible. It catches him off guard, but it’s enough for me to turn around. I quickly assess my options. His pants are down, but he’s reaching to pull them up so when he does that he’s going to charge me. I need to get to my other gun, the one under the couch.
I glance to Venessa and she’s not even moving, and seeing what he did to her puts me in a different place. A place where no man can hurt me ever again and he sure as fuck doesn’t hurt the ones I love.
“The fuck are you waiting for, baby? You look good wearing my blood. But I won’t be satisfied until I’m wearing yours,” I taunt him, inching my way toward the couch.
“You know, I was going to keep you, not kill you, but now I’ve changed my mind.”
“Yeah? Then why are you over there and I’m over here?”
“Just deciding where I’m going to start.”
“Is that right? Made a decision yet?”
“That mouth of yours is first to bleed.”
He lunges for me when I lunge for the floor. His fingers are digging into my skin as he finds his way up my body. In return my fingers are digging for purchase in the carpet in an effort to reach under and grab it. When he flips me over I use my elbow to connect with his jaw. He’s stunned for a second but then zones right back in on me.
“You think I don’t know your fucking around with that detective, you little slut? How did you think that was going to go over? You think I want to hurt you? You give me no choice with that smart mouth of yours.”
Suddenly my head is lifted up and then reacquainted with the floor.
“Answer me, Macy! I actually thought I could love you and you fucking had me arrested, then you leave me for another cop!”
Again my head meets carpet. Just another three inches and I’ll have it if I can manage to stay conscious.
I’m granted a reprieve when he flips me onto my back. Now, I can breathe and use my legs, but I still can’t reach the gun.
“I don’t love you, Briggs. I’ve never loved you, could never love you.”
“Bullshit. You loved me, loved how I fucked you, loved how I made it hurt so good. You begged for that shit.”
He goes for his pants again and my legs are in a weak position because they are spread apart, but he moves to get his shirt off and I have a window so I take it. I bring both legs up to my chin and donkey kick his fucking body, sending him ass over elbows.
I scramble back blindly reaching under trying to locate my gun when he stalks toward me naked, knife in hand. Securing my gun I keep it hidden behind my back until he’s reaching for me. That’s when I pull it out and point it square at his chest. He looks down and laughs.
“When’d you learn how to fight? Take a self-defense class, baby? It’s hot, but it ain’t gonna work. You’re mine, and I take what’s mine.”
“I always knew how to fight, bitch, but unlike you, I prefer a challenge. You are not taking from me anymore, Briggs. You aren’t walking
out of here.”
The moment his name left my mouth, he moves so fucking fast I can’t deflect. Almost breaking my wrist, the gun drops with a thud, then turning me away from him, he has his knife at my throat within seconds.
That’s the same moment there is pounding on my front door.
“Princess, open up, it’s me.”
Jesus, I can’t let him get hurt, too. But I’m also smart enough to know I’m in over my head. For a split second, I am close to crying, but then anger fills its place. I want to scream at him to save me, I want to scream this shit isn’t fair, but neither of those things happen. Instead, I decide keeping him safe is the least I can do for him. He can do better than me; he deserves a woman who isn’t busted apart on the inside. He deserves someone stronger, someone who wouldn’t find herself in situations like this because she wasn’t smart enough to get out. I’m a walking victim and a goddamn train wreck, and it’s my own fault.
“Tell your boyfriend to go away, baby; or I’ll make you watch while I kill her, then kill him.”
“Now is not a good time, Rafe.”
“Macy?” He pauses. “Macy, open the door … please.”
“Rafe, please, just go away, okay? I’m tired and I don’t want any visitors.”
“Macy, Venessa is worried about you. Have you seen her?”
“She’s out, I mean she left, I made her leave. Rogue picked her up. Rafe, I can’t do this right now, I can’t be with you, please just go.” Even as I say it my heart breaks. I don’t mean it, but he doesn’t know that.
“Okay, Macy, you win. You fucking win!” Hearing his feet pound on the steps then his truck fire up, I almost sag in Briggs’ arms. My heart is racing and my body is going into shock, I can feel it. Does he understand? He does, right? Is Rogan with him? Please let Rogan be with him.
In the end, I do sag with relief, knowing even if he didn’t get my meaning he’s out of harm’s way for now. I can save Venessa, I know I can. I just needed an opportunity, even a small one.
“He’s gone, okay? I’m all yours now.”
“No shit.”
“Now what? Gonna torture me now?”
“Nah, what I’ve been dreaming of doing since you had me locked up. Come here.”
“I’m not moving until you tell me why you’re doing this.” And to give Venessa time to wake up, I think to myself.
“You have no idea how cops are treated in lock up, do you? You know what? There’s time for that later, I’ve got someone who wants to see you and once you give him what’s in that beautiful brain of yours. Then you and I are going to have ourselves a little reunion. I can slit your throat later.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you and I don’t know what you want from me, but you are not going to get it.”
“Yes I am,” he laughs. “Where’s the safe you keep your samples in, baby?”
“I don’t have a —”
The pain that engulfs the back of my head and neck is so extreme, I fall to my hands and knees and attempt to curl up so I can cradle my head. He won’t let me suffer in peace, though; instead he drags me up by the hair, then kisses me. I try to fight back, but he brings the knife back into play by running it between my breasts. Between the pain, frustration, and waiting for a cut that never comes, I whimper.
“Stay silent like a good bitch and listen. Christ, you got an answer for everything,” he says, spitting in my face. “You think a guy like me would ever want anything to do with someone like you long term? Not fucking likely. I mean, you’re hot, but you think you’re better than me, and if I wasn’t getting paid a fuckload of money for what’s in that brain of yours, I would have bounced a long fucking time ago.”
Running his hand through the blood dripping from my shoulder blades he’s too stoned to stop fucking talking, which works for me, I need to come up with a plan anyway.
“You think I’m stupid, but I’m not stupid. I paid attention and by doing that I’m getting compensated, so even after the bullshit you pulled having that bitch turn me in, I’ll still sit large. So one last time, where’s your safe?”
“I don’t have a safe, Briggs.” I start “You know —”
He punches me square in the chest, causing me to lose my breath. Just as I start to go down, he lifts me back up.
“You keep your shit in a safe, Macy, I know you fucking do,” he says. Then you can see the wheels turning. “Fuck it, you’re coming with me, then.”
Grabbing me by my hair he attempts to drag me upstairs to where he thinks my safe is, only it isn’t. Anything to do with my research is stored in the one place no one can take it; inside my head.
Looking over at Venessa I see she’s still out, so having no other choice, I allow him to take me upstairs.
Back to my room, my room that he recently destroyed and when he couldn’t find what he was looking for, he jacked off on my 400 thread count sheets, which alone is punishable by death. I don’t have to dig deep to find the hate I feel for him. It’s right there, just below the surface. I’m so sick of being stepped on. I want the chance to be happy, I want Venessa and Rogan to be happy, and I want Jonas in my life, period. That’s all I want, all I need.
Entering the room he throws me ahead of him, and as I get my balance he’s behind me, grinding. That’s so fucking sick that I had to ask myself what I ever saw in him, then I remind myself he didn’t start out this way. Memory lane is a moot point; he isn’t getting anything tonight, which includes the two things on the menu: my data and my body.
What he is going to get is a reality check, the second I have an opening.
“Get on your knees, slut,” he whispers, licking my ear. “You know, for old times’ sake.”
“Fuck you, Briggs.” I spit at him, a direct challenge
“You call me Jacob! Jacob! Not Briggs! Jacob!” he yells, tackling me.
We collide so hard we fall off of the bed with my body landing on his, causing him to lose air, and lucky for me the knife. Before he can recover I scramble, picking it up at the same time he gains his footing.
Now, we’re both standing, but what do you know? He isn’t charging me. Maybe it’s the blade resting in the palm of my hand now?
“Put the knife down,” he says gently. “Give me what I came for and I’ll leave, Macy. I’ll leave and you never have to see me again.”
“Sure,” I offer. “I’ll put the knife down, but first why don’t you get on your knees so I can utilize my new position, followed by my lower center of gravity when I stab you in the heart. Because Briggs, that’s where this knife is going.”
“Put the fucking knife down,” he growls. “Open the goddamn safe, bitch. I don’t have time for this.”
“I didn’t have time to bleed on your behalf either, Briggs,” I spit. “But you know, sometimes you just have to make time. Get on your fucking knees, now!”
He must have noted the seriousness of my tone because he goes to his knees. Then I instruct him lay down and to put his hands behind his head, he does. Approaching him slowly in case he plans to make a move, I use the time to plan mine. He isn’t going to stay there long, and I know the first chance he has, this tussle is going to turn into a fight to the death, and if I have my way, it will be his. Being stabbed to death is not how I intend to go out.
Coming up behind him, I feel fairly confident I have the upper hand, at least for now. And it’s going really well, too, until the cavalry comes.
Needing to kick that fucking door in was riding me hard, but it was my partner who even with his woman in that house, condition unknown, reminded me what partners were for. The fucking second she spoke, I knew. The second she called me Rafe, I fucking knew he was in there with her. So dialing it down a notch and sticking with our training we split up, each taking a side of the house, agreeing to meet in the back. He goes right, I go left, checking the windows for movement. Looking into the dining room window what I see is Briggs’ beating my woman. No, that’s not right; he’s rubbing his hands all over her bloody body wh
ile he beats her. Jesus fucking Christ, she’s dripping with blood, her own blood.
A calmness comes over me. Which is fucked up considering what’s going down right now, but there it is. The problem I face is twofold; I’m out here and she’s in there. There are two of us and one of him, and in her condition, I don’t see her lasting long, add to that we haven’t seen Venessa. So we play this shit right.
Meeting at the back door, we both get in position. While he works the lock, I have his back. Looking over him into the back door window I see Venessa on the floor, unconscious. Fuck! She’s still fucking healing, and if he hit her, there is no playing by the rules; Rogan will fucking kill him before I can. No sooner do I start my debate on how to tell him, he opens the door; we both rush in and he sees her on the floor, unmoving.
“Angel,” he whispers to himself. “No.”
Silently running, he gently looks over while I cover his back. He continues to whisper, asking her to come back, because fuck, it’s all he knows, and the only one she ever listens to is him anyway. Slowly moving away, I scan the kitchen and hall seeing neither of them. Looking back at my partner, he nods, telling me he’s got this. Just as I prepare to leave the room I hear Venessa whisper my name. Spinning around she’s sitting up leaning on his chest with him touching her to make sure she’s alive again.
“He tried to rape her, Rafe,” she tries, but her voice gives “He was cutting her up again, hitting her, and I couldn’t help her. She fought back.”
“It’s okay Angel,” says Rogan. “Rafe’s gonna get her back.”
“I could see and hear but I couldn’t move, but she fought back,” she whispers. “I’m sorry.”
At that, I decide to let him handle it. Moving to the wall to take it slow and silent, I hear her yell, “Get on your fucking knees, now!” Then I say, “Fuck this,” and two-time it up the steps. In my quest to rescue the princess, my entrance of kicking the door open does two things: first, it alerts Briggs to my presence, and second, it gives him time to grab my woman.
I kick the door in fully. Macy looks up briefly; Brigg’s looks over. Macy advances, ignoring my presence, and Briggs grabs her, pulling her down and attempting to steal the knife she’s white-knuckling. No words are spoken; seconds matter. She knows this because when she works her way into a semi-seated position across his stomach and chest, she wastes no time. She takes that knife meant for her and buries it in his chest, straight to the hilt. Instinct has him reaching for it, but instead she forces his hands away, pulls the knife back out (which sounds as disgusting as it looks), and proceeds to stab him again, and again.
