Winter Kisses

by A. C. Arthur

  “Hello?” she whispered, her voice hoarse from sleep.

  “If you want your little boyfriend to stay alive you’ll meet me on the first floor. Now.”

  The message was quick and to the point. The hang-up was rude and deliberately designed to piss her off. So as she crept slowly out of the bed she was already thinking of the choice words she would have for Mr. Hinton the minute she saw him. How dare he threaten her again? And now he was threatening Alex? That was completely unacceptable.

  Monica had slipped on some sweatpants and a shirt and had made it all the way out into the living room when something told her to be prepared. She went into the kitchen and grabbed a knife from the drawer, then looked down for a place she could conceal it.

  She’d never had to hurt anyone in her life. Except for that night a year ago when she’d clobbered that guy who’d attacked Deena. That was self-defense. And if Yates got out of hand this time, as he’d done in the past, she was going to defend herself like she never had before.

  Chapter 22

  Monica stepped off the elevator at the first-floor parking garage. She moved slowly, looking around the brightly lit cement-floored area. She saw what she normally saw when she entered this floor—cars.

  No Yates.

  Taking a few more steps, she kept her eyes and ears open. She’d stuffed the knife in the elastic band of her pants and was walking a bit stiffly so as not to stab herself in the leg. It was chilly down here and she’d neglected to put on a jacket.

  She was about to turn back and go upstairs when he grabbed her from behind.

  “Hey, Bunny,” he whispered right into her ear, his voice raspy, his breath hot.

  “Let go of me, Yates.”

  “Not yet,” he said, moaning as his arms tightened around her, his arousal pressing into her back. “I’ve been thinking about holding you again for so long, Bunny. So, so long.”

  “I’m not your bunny and I don’t want you touching me,” she said, squirming to get free of his grasp.

  “You don’t try to get away from him, do you? You let him hold you and touch you. I hate that, Bunny. You know I hate the thought of any man touching you.”

  Monica kicked back, finally catching his shin with the heel of her shoe. “Let go!” she yelled and tumbled free of his grasp when he groaned and leaned down to rub his leg.

  Yates had always been soft—why she hadn’t seen that before she didn’t know. She only wore tennis shoes, not her usual heels that may have cut into his skin if she kicked him. Yet he was bent over whining like a baby.

  “Why don’t you go back to your wife?”

  “I want you.”

  “Well, I don’t want you,” she spat.

  “Who do you want, Monica? Is it that pretty boy you’ve got sleeping in your bed? Is he loving you like I did? Is he making you feel like a woman the way I did?”

  She wanted to puke, right then and there she just wanted to vomit all over him for saying such a vile and ridiculous thing. If he thought what he’d done to her had made her feel like a woman he was more pitiful than she’d first suspected.

  “He makes me feel nothing like you did.”

  “That’s why you need to come back to me,” he said, taking a step toward her.

  Monica backed up and felt herself stopping when her backside hit a car. This looked nothing like the man she’d left in South Carolina. He looked older, sadder, if that were possible. The hair that was just barely sprinkled with gray was now full-blown salt-and-pepper and his beard was rough, not neatly cropped as he’d worn it before. But what really worried her were his eyes. They looked crazy, deranged and they almost danced around, dark excitable orbs that had her taking a deep steadying breath.

  “I’ll never come back to you, Yates. Even if I end things with Alex, I still won’t come back to you.”

  He licked his lips, his hands fisting at his sides. “You remember what I told you that night before you snuck off.”

  Oh, God, did she remember that night. Each and every day, each time the sky turned indigo and the lights in her apartment went out she remembered. That night alone had been the sole reason sleep evaded her on a regular basis.

  “That will never happen again. Never. And I don’t give a damn what you said.”

  “Oh, you remember and you do give a damn,” he said, giving her a crooked smile. “I told you what I’d do to you if I couldn’t have you, Bunny.”

  “Stop calling me that!” she yelled. Hearing it pushed her right back to that night, all those years ago, when he’d said it over and over again.

  “But you are my Bunny. You’ll always be my Bunny.”

  “No!” Monica closed her eyes and tried to block out the sound.

  Then he was on her, his tall body, which had gained considerable weight since the last time she’d seen him, pressed her back into the car.

  “Yates! No!” she cried out even as he groped her, whispering “Bunny” repeatedly in her ear. Just like he’d done that night.

  Monica was about to scream again, about to reach for her knife and cut his black heart out, but Yates was suddenly pulled off of her and thrown to the ground.

  “You okay?” Alex asked, standing there in just a pair of sweatpants and shoes.

  Monica had never been so happy to see someone in her life. She swallowed the tears stinging her eyes and nodded.

  But Yates wasn’t down for the count. He jumped up with an agility she’d sworn a man of his fifty-two years couldn’t have and gripped Alex in a headlock. It was then that Monica saw the gun.

  “Yates, please. Please don’t do this,” she said, remembering those same words falling from her lips years ago.

  “He won’t have you, Bunny. He can’t. He doesn’t love you like I do.”

  “But I don’t love you, Yates. I don’t.”

  “Just go, Monica. I’ll handle this. You just go,” Alex told her, his eyes glaring at her. He wasn’t fighting Yates, just staying slack in his grasp. Why wasn’t he fighting back? He could whip Yates’s ass—she knew he could. But if he wouldn’t she definitely would.

  “You will love me again. You will. Now, go down there and get in my car. I’ll take care of him and then we’ll be together again. Together, you and me, Bunny, again,” Yates continued to chant as if she and Alex were not really there.

  Monica was shaking her head. “No. No. Not this time.” Yates would not take another thing from her. Not again.

  She reached into the band of her pants just as Yates began to turn, pulling Alex with him. Monica didn’t think another minute, didn’t second-guess herself, only moved with a quickness she’d later wonder how she managed. But she brought the knife down into the back of Yates’s neck with as much power as she could manage.

  He made a sound that reminded her of an injured animal. His body went stiff and Alex slipped from his grasp, catching the gun as it began to fall from Yates’s hand. Alex immediately grabbed Monica, pulling her back from Yates’s body and pushing her behind him.

  Peering around Alex, she watched Yates fall to his knees. Still yelling, “Bunny. You’ll always be my Bunny.”

  She was crying in earnest now, gut-wrenching sobs that brought her to her knees as his voice echoed in her ears.

  Seconds later Alex heard the police sirens, saw Sam and his two men running from the elevator, guns drawn. He was on his knees lifting Monica’s limp body into his arms. She was crying and the sound she made picked at his heart like a sharp blade.

  The moment she had closed the door to the apartment he had woken up. It had taken him a few minutes to get dressed and call down to Miguel at the front desk to ask if he’d seen her leave. Miguel had told him no but that the cameras in the parking garage had picked her up stepping off the elevator. He’d gone there immediately and almost died a very slow, torturous death when he saw that man on top of Monica.

  “You two okay?” Sam asked.

  “She stabbed him” was all Alex said before walking toward the elevator, carrying Monica to safe
ty.

  The next morning Monica awoke to the smell of coffee brewing and a headache that threatened to bring her to tears one more time. She walked to the bathroom on legs that felt tired and achy. As she stood in front of the mirror after closing the door, she almost screamed of fright.

  Her face was splotchy, her eyes swollen, puffy and red. She switched on the shower to the hottest water possible, then stripped off her nightgown and climbed in. The water burned her skin and she picked up the soap and began to scrub. Memories assailed her and she scrubbed harder and harder, trying desperately to rinse away the filth, the scum that had touched her, had defiled her.

  Monica wasn’t aware that she’d started crying or that she’d begun to scream until Alex pulled back the shower curtain and glared at her.

  “What the hell are you doing?” he said, turning off the water and grabbing the soap from her hands.

  “Stop it! Give it back—I have to wash. I have to be clean again. Don’t you understand I have to be clean again? Like I was when I first came here.”

  She was still crying and still talking as Alex lifted her out of the shower and carried her into the bedroom.

  “Sit right there,” he told her before he disappeared back into the bathroom.

  Monica sat there, rocking back and forth, rubbing her hands up and down her arms, still feeling as if something was crawling all over her—as if his filthy hands and lips were all over her again.

  When Alex came back he held two towels, one he wrapped around her hair and the other he used to dry her skin. Tears continued to flow and her chest kept heaving. She hadn’t cried like this in years, hadn’t emptied everything she felt into tears in much too long.

  “Baby, it’s okay. He can’t hurt you anymore. It’s over. He’s gone.”

  “He’s gone?” She looked at him through blury eyes. “I ki-kil— I killed him?”

  “No, Queen. But he’s injured badly. He’s in surgery right now to repair his spinal cord or something like that. But as soon as he’s out of the hospital he’ll be arrested and taken to jail. He won’t hurt you again, baby. Never again.”

  “My name is Monica. Monica! Can’t you say Monica?” she yelled, lifting her hands to cover her ears.

  Calmly, Alex wrapped the towel around her and lifted her onto his lap. He pulled her hands from her ears and kissed her cheek. “I can say Monica just fine.”

  “Don’t!” she screamed. “Just don’t touch me anymore!” She was off his lap and walking across the floor in a flash. Monica tried to stand up straight but her legs wouldn’t allow it; her body was just too damn tired. She did manage a deep breath and wiped at the tears that still streaked her face. “You know, Alex, there’s a reason why I’ve been fighting you all this time. Fighting against this thing growing between us.”

  “Tell me the reason, Monica.”

  “I thought I could keep the secret. I thought I’d just tell everybody a little bit and then I could move on. But you know what?” she asked and turned to face him. “I can’t. I can’t keep going on with this on my mind. It haunts me every day. It stands between us every time you touch me, every time you look at me like you could possibly love me. It’s there.”

  “What did he do to you?” Alex asked somberly.

  Monica just stared at him. She looked at this man who worked hard for a living, who loved his family and his friends, who dealt with all her crap when a lesser man would have told her where to go and drawn a map so she could get there quickly. He looked tired, as if he hadn’t slept, either. He wore jeans and a button-down shirt and he sat on her bed, his arms resting on his lap as he waited for what, he had no idea.

  She owed him this, owed herself this one final truth.

  “He raped me,” she said slowly. She took a deep breath and repeated, “Yates Hinton raped me.”

  Monica saw the muscle twitch in his jaw, saw his hands fist and rushed to finish. “The night I left his house he came to my apartment. He’d signed a lease for me and was paying the monthly rent so we could stop meeting at the hotel and we wouldn’t be seen at the dorm. He was angry that I’d accepted his wife’s invitation to the house, angrier when I said it was over between us. He threatened to have me thrown out of school, but it was too late for that. I already had all my credits to graduate.

  “When it didn’t look like I was going to change my mind, I guess Yates just figured this was the next best thing to crushing me.”

  “Monica, you don’t have to continue,” Alex said, standing and taking a step toward her.

  “Yes, I do,” she said, holding up a hand to warn him away from her. “I have to do this for both of us. You think you know me but you don’t really, not until I tell you everything.”

  Alex slipped his hands in his pockets, she suspected because he didn’t know what else to do with them. If she’d let him approach her he would have held her, cuddled her and sworn to protect her forever. She knew that without a doubt and a part of her wanted it more than she wanted her next breath. But a bigger part of her wanted closure.

  “He grabbed me, pushed me down on the bed and when I screamed for him to stop he just laughed. He called me Bunny, told me I’d always be his Bunny no matter where I went.” Tears stung her eyes again but Monica in all her stubbornness dared them to fall. “It was the most pain I’d ever felt in my life and it wouldn’t stop. Even when I couldn’t yell anymore, when my arms couldn’t swing any harder and my legs were frozen in place, it didn’t stop. He didn’t stop. The man that swore he loved me above all else for three years inflicted this awful pain on me. Then when he was finished he stood up and said if he ever found out I was with another man he’d kill me.

  “For the next few days I stayed in that apartment wanting nothing more than to just die and be done with it. But then Deena called me to tell me about this modeling job she’d landed—modeling was her thing at the time. She sounded so excited and so full of life and at the end of the conversation she said, ‘I love you, Monica.’”

  The tears, damn them, fell as she said those last words and wondered why in all these years she’d forgotten that last part. She’d remembered everything about that night, every word out of Yates’s mouth, but she hadn’t remembered her baby sister telling her she loved her until this very moment.

  “I figured if Deena loved me then I could live. I could get out of that apartment and go back home and live. And that’s what I did.”

  “But you really didn’t, did you, Monica? You were afraid to live because of his threat.”

  She nodded and swallowed. “I was afraid.”

  Alex did walk to her then. He reached out and wrapped his arms around her and held on tight. “I’m so sorry this happened to you. So sorry you had to endure all this at such a young age. It’s not too late to prosecute him for the rape, you know.”

  She shook her head. “I know, but I have to think about that more.” Reluctantly she pulled out of his grasp. “Just like I have to think about us more.”

  “About us? What’s there to think about? I love you, Monica. I want to spend the rest of my life trying as hard as I can to deserve the strong, independent woman you’ve grown into.”

  “But I don’t know if I want that from you, Alex. I don’t know if I want your love and protection or if I even deserve it. I don’t know this woman you claim to love because I feel like she’s someone I pretended to be all these years. I need to know if I, if the real Monica Lakefield, loves you or even wants the type of commitment you’re talking about.”

  “What are you saying?” Alex asked, his face hardening as he waited. “Just say it, Monica. Tell me no and mean it with your heart.”

  Monica took a deep breath and did what was possibly the hardest thing she’d had to do. “No, Alex. I don’t want this with you right now. I’m saying no and meaning it with all my heart.” The last words hitched as tears flowed freely once more. Her chest constricted, her heart hammering as if it would jump right out of her chest.

  Alex nodded. He went to the closet,
grabbed his bag and threw the clothes he’d had on yesterday inside then quietly walked out the door. Out of her life.

  And Monica sat on the floor in the middle of her bedroom, wrapped only in a towel, and cried some more.

  Chapter 23

  Four weeks later

  They’d been through so much in such a short span of time. Valentine’s Day was almost over and here she was stepping off the elevator onto the twenty-third floor where the executive offices of Bennett Industries were located. Monica took a deep breath and walked with the confidence she was known for, the confidence that had been shaken a bit in the past couple of weeks, but was now back with a vengeance.

  Alex told her once that when she said no with her heart he’d walk away. And he had. Monica thought her heart could never be broken as severely as it had been years ago by Yates. Now she knew an entirely different kind of hurt. Yates hurt her mentally and physically, he took a part of her she hadn’t even learned to live with yet. He’d taken her youth, her idealism about love and relationships, and turned them into something ugly and dark. Then he’d threatened her life. Looking back it was probably more than foolish of her not to tell her family about what he’d done to her, or to tell someone so that at least she could move on with her life with some semblance of sanity.

  Luckily and finally, she’d closed that chapter of her life. Yates was a part of her past and nothing more. She’d given him too much of herself as it was. And she hadn’t given Alex enough. It was beyond humbling to realize that she’d wanted his love so much and had thrown it away under the pretense of protecting herself. Alex wanted to protect her and to love her and she’d been a fool. That’s what Deena had said and Karena had agreed when they’d been on the three-way call days after she’d pushed Alex away. Although Karena hadn’t been as vocal as Deena. It still amazed Monica that her baby sister had so much clarity and good sense when it came to relationships when all along Monica had found herself advising Deena.