by Jenika Snow
Aside from his satisfied smile that had only slipped slightly when she told him she wasn’t going anywhere with him, Cameron looked like the professional everyone paid a lot of money to unload their problems on.
“That’s where you’re wrong, Brea.” He knelt beside her, the nauseating scent of his cologne causing bile to rise in her throat. “I’m going to have fun breaking you.” He turned his back to her and started putting his shirt on. “This time away has made you forget who’s in charge. All of that will change, though. I’ll make you remember.”
She turned her head and spat, seeing the saliva-and-blood mixture splatter onto the floor. She’d prayed every night that she’d never be in this situation again.
“How did you find me?” It really didn’t matter at this point, but if she could buy a little bit of time, she might be able to think of some way to get herself out of this.
He didn’t turn around to speak to her. “Aside from the sleazy private investigator I hired to keep tabs on you, you’d be surprised how far money goes.”
She thought about the guy she’d seen, spoken to when she’d been with Adrian at the seaside café. The greasy guy asking about recommendations for him and his wife.
All lies.
He’d been watching her, stalking her for Cameron.
And that had been solidified when he’d just dropped off a duffel, his beady, dark eyes staring at her as she was secured to the chair, this sick satisfaction and pleasure washing over his face.
Cameron turned around then, his gaze on her as he buttoned his shirt. “Your landlord was also pretty forthcoming in letting your ‘brother’ in when he was told it would be a happy reunion after he’d been gone for so long.” He grinned, eyeing her body, the sick need in his expression a reminder of how he was. “You know, you still look so beautiful when you sleep.”
Oh God.
The bile that she’d successfully kept down rose to the surface with so much force she couldn’t hold it back. When the contents of her stomach were out, she cried out in pain when he grabbed her chin, angling it up to him. He stared at her, maybe wanting to say something but instead looking enraged.
He shoved her head away and went back to buttoning his shirt. “You’ve inconvenienced me, Brea. You’ve made me look like a fool in front of everyone I know. I will not stand for that any longer.” His voice was hard and cold.
The very thought that Cameron had been in her house, watching her sleep, being that close to her, made the ability to stop crying impossible. Actually hearing him admit he had someone following her, watching her and Adrian’s every move and reporting the information back, had her skin tightening in fear and disgust. Just thinking about how the scumbag Cameron had hired to do his dirty work had spoken to her left a bad taste in her mouth.
He would go to any length to destroy her life.
Cameron bent down when his clothes were in place and unzipped the duffel bag said stalking asshole had dropped off before he left. She couldn’t see what he’d gotten out, but she heard the sound of a gun chamber being opened and then closed a second later.
Her heart stopped.
He turned around, her father’s Colt .45 in his hand. Her gaze danced between the gun and his face. She knew he wouldn’t kill her, not yet anyway, but he did like to maim.
“When I found your little getaway bag, I was surprised to find this little beauty tucked in there. You even had the chamber fully loaded. I have to say, love”—he lifted his gaze to her and lifted the gun, his brow rising at the same time—“I find it a turn-on that you were actually going to use this on me.” He tossed the gun back in the bag and then stalked toward her. “Although I’d love to finish what we started right here, I find this atmosphere unattractive.” He scowled and started untying her hands and feet.
He hauled her up by the arms just as the front door splintered open.
The sound of the alarm going off because of it.
The shouts.
This animalistic-sounding growl.
It was all a blur of action and motion, sounds and reality.
Cameron let go of her with a curse, and she sank to her hands and knees, her body too weak to stay standing. The shrill noise from the alarm sounding was dull compared to the curses and shouts that rang out around her. God, the alarm. The police would be here soon. They’d get notified, come to help them … take Cameron away.
Her wrists were raw and bloody, but she braced her hands on the floor and pushed herself up.
The first thing she noticed when she was upright was the front door hanging by its hinges. The second thing was Adrian standing on the threshold, his hand gripping Cameron’s spy by the neck. The guy was beaten up, his lips, mouth, and nose bloody and both his eyes already starting to swell shut.
“You motherfucker.” Adrian’s voice was low and deadly calm. “I’m going to make you pay for everything you put Brea through. I’m going to fucking break every part of you until you’re nothing but a broken mess on the ground by my feet.” Adrian tossed the man aside, and as soon as he hit the floor, he scrambled up and darted out through the broken door.
Adrian didn’t look like himself, like the man she’d fallen in love with. He looked enraged, savage. He looked like a man wanting death covering his hands.
It was just the three of them, and the tension was thick. So very thick.
Her left eye was partially swollen shut and she tasted the tangy flavor of blood, and vomit in her mouth, but the strength had suddenly surged within her. She looked between Adrian and Cameron, saw Adrian look at her for a split second before his full attention was back on Cameron. A muscle ticked in his jaw, and his knuckles were white with the force of how tightly his hands were clenched.
Cameron laughed, the same one he used when she’d begged him to stop. “There isn’t anyone, most of all the man who used her for a quick fuck, that can stop me from taking what’s mine.” He took a step toward her, and she took one away.
“Brea, baby, come over here.” Adrian sounded so calm, so sure of the situation.
“She knows her place is by my side.” Cameron’s mocking voice filled the room. “Come here.”
“No.”
The air dropped ten degrees. Cameron turned toward her, the ice in his stare glacial. “Brea.” The way he said her name, as if it were a command she needed to follow, had her resolve growing a foot. “Come. Here. Brea.”
“No, Cameron.”
“I’ll overlook your disobedience this once if you come here now.” He was fully facing her now, the anger radiating off him.
“Don’t talk to her that way, or I’ll make sure you can never say another word again.”
Cameron slowly turned back toward Adrian. “This coming from a man who treats women as if they’re nothing more than a hole to fuck.”
Adrian practically seethed with anger. Cameron was baiting him.
Like a flash of lightning, Adrian charged toward Cameron. The two of them fell to the ground, and a cry tore from Brea’s mouth. She couldn’t let Adrian get hurt. There was no denying he was a fierce fighter and could handle himself, but Cameron was evil incarnate.
The things he was capable of…
23
The sound of glass breaking, wood splintering, the alarm sounding, and fists meeting flesh filled the small room. Everything was happening so quickly with a whirlwind of activity that Brea grew dizzy. She knew what she had to do, and that was get to her gun.
There was no doubt in her mind about it.
The bag was close. So very close. She raced forward and dropped to her knees in front of it. Fingers shaking terribly, she grabbed the gun and pointed it at Cameron, but he and Adrian were rolling around on the ground, trying to top the other. If she missed, she could very easily shoot Adrian.
Although Adrian was a fighter, big and strong, Cameron was also muscular, strong in his own right with this almost insane strength when he let it out. She knew all about the power he held when he came after her, when he’d abused her.<
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Her purse and all its contents were scattered just a few feet away. Racing toward it, she fell to her knees and grabbed what had caught her eye and shoved it in her pocket.
She turned toward them, and a heartbeat passed before she found the opening she needed, but before she could pull the trigger, Cameron reached out and grabbed a lamp sitting on an end table, slamming it into the side of Adrian’s head before he’d been able to see it, let alone block it.
Adrian stumbled back, shards of ceramic falling to the floor from the impact, blood dripping down Adrian’s temple from the gash the pieces left behind. She almost lost her grip on the gun, the need to rush over to Adrian and make sure he was okay running strong inside of her.
No, she couldn’t be weak, not now. Raising her arms and pointing the gun at Cameron, she tried to steady her breathing, tried to remember her training.
Adrian looked dazed as he blinked several times, the blood and sweat running into his eyes as he shook his head, clearly trying to regain his control.
Cameron stared at her, chest rising and falling from the fight with Adrian. “You’re not going to shoot me. Deep down you care for me, love.”
A lump formed in her throat, and she tried she swallow past it. “You know what?” The only sign of his distress was the cut above his eye, the shadow of a bruise on his cheek, and the steady trickle of blood coming from his nose. “I’ve always hated you calling me that, and I’ve always hated you.” She pulled the trigger, making sure the barrel was pointing directly at his chest.
The world stopped around her as she stared at Cameron, the smirk on his face triumphant. She pulled the trigger again and again, yet nothing happened.
Nothing. Happened.
A sob tore through her at the same time the gun slipped from her hand, tumbling to the ground.
“I told you you’re not going to shoot me.” He reached into his pocket and held his closed hand up to her. She knew what he had before he opened his palm. The bullets fell and bounced off the hardwood floor as if mocking her. “Now.” His smile vanished, and the evil she knew all too well hit her like a punch to the chest. “I’m going to use you harder than ever. I’m going to make you wish I’d never found you.” He stepped closer until he stood right in front of her.
Brea wanted to move, she really did, but he petrified her and she couldn’t do anything but stand there, staring up at him.
When she looked over at Adrian, it was clear that he was disorientated. He tried to tried push past whatever he felt in that moment. She could see it in the way he blinked continuously, how he rubbed the blood from his eyes, the redness smearing along his face. He shook his head, tried to step forward.
How she wished things could have been different.
Cameron picked up the gun and held it up. “Did you actually think I would leave a loaded weapon where you could reach it?” He tsked and held the barrel between her eyes. There were no bullets in it, but it didn’t matter because even if there were, she would have welcomed death.
She closed her eyes, refusing to show fear to him. He got off on it. He murmured things to her, things she blocked out because the ringing in her ears was too loud. Her pocket, she had it in her pocket.
The pepper spray was in her hands within a second, and she placed her finger on the trigger. This was it; once she sprayed him in the eyes, she needed to get her and Adrian out of the house, needed to call the cops. She needed to use those precious few moments to her advantage.
She opened her eyes, stared into the bottomless depths of Cameron’s, and then heard a sound that had her heart beating again. It was like the world was in slow motion around her. She looked back at Adrian. His face was pale, so very pale. He reached a hand to her and then closed his eyes, his other hand going up and cradling his head. There was movement at her side, but she didn’t tear her gaze away from Adrian’s.
And then Adrian shook his head, straightened to his full height, and charged forward. He slammed his body against Cameron’s, taking the other man to the ground. The sound of a skull cracking against the floor was loud. Taking a step back, she knew there was motion around her, action that wasn’t from the fight. But when Cameron reached between them, grabbing a knife he’d had stashed in the waistband of his pants, she felt her heart jump to her throat.
Adrian was pushed off Cameron, but the rage in his eyes, the fact she knew he’d die right now to make sure she was safe, had tears forming in the corner of her eyes.
Cameron lifted the knife and charged forward and the same time Adrian did.
A gunshot rang out, and everything went still, silent.
As if the slow-motion reel sped up, there was commotion in every direction. When the haziness in her brain dissipated, she realized that her crummy living room with the broken pieces of her life scattered around was filled with men in blue uniforms. Turning back toward Cameron, she saw his lifeless body lying a few feet from her.
Blood pooled from behind his head, and she could see a single gunshot wound to his temple. His eyes were open, staring at her. Even in death he was still watching her. Police officers had their guns raised, and their mouths were moving. Although she could see that they were talking, no sound came to her. One of them stood in front of her, seeming to shout things at her, but all she could do was stare at him, the ringing growing louder.
She searched for Adrian. She had to get to Adrian.
And then he was there, in front of her, cradling her face in his big hands. Slowly, as if someone were turning the volume up, the noise filled her ears. The blaring of the alarm was now silenced, but the yelling of officers all around her filled the void.
“You’re okay. It’s okay.” Adrian kept saying those things over and over again.
Blinking, she couldn’t find her voice to say anything in response.
“I’m here. I got you, and I’m not letting you go.”
The sound of his voice sucked all the air from her lungs. He embraced her, and she didn’t hold back her tears. This time she wasn’t crying because she was scared or in pain.
This time she was crying because she was happy and right where she wanted to be. Right where she should be.
****
After they’d been cleared medically, the police had brought them to the station. The room they’d put her in was cold and as colorful as a sheet of notebook paper. The chair was uncomfortable with one of the legs uneven, causing it to rock from side to side every time Brea shifted. They’d put Adrian in another room, and even though they said it was just for routine questioning, it felt like an interrogation.
After sitting in the boxlike enclosure for over an hour and telling them every horrid and nightmarish detail of her relationship with Cameron, they were finally letting her go. She just wanted to see Adrian, wanted him to hold her and wanted to feel his warmth, to know he was okay.
When the police had come to her house because of the alarm being tripped, they’d walked in and saw Cameron coming at her. At that point she’d blocked everything else out. It had just been the two of them. Maybe she would have made it out alive, shot him, killed Cameron and ended the nightmare he caused her, but none of that had mattered.
The police had taken matters into their own hands.
Now his body was in the morgue, lifeless, just like how he’d made her feel this entire time.
And then there was the issue of the scumbag Cameron had hired to follow her and take intel on her every move. He’d been gone when the police had shown up, but they’d found him.
Mic Loughton, a piece-of-work lowlife with a criminal record who deserved to rot in a jail cell.
As if fate, or karma, looked down on her, that asshole had been pulled over for speeding, of all things. He’d caved and told them everything when they found the weapons, drugs, and cash in his back seat. With Mic’s confession, her statement, all her medical records, and that lone police report that she’d filed on Cameron, they closed the case.
Now here she sat, wanting nothing more than to pu
t all of this behind her and finally move on with her life.
This was it. The end. She could finally start living now.
24
One month later
“How are you coming with the self-defense training?”
Brea glanced up at Susan, the psychologist she’d started going to shortly after the incident with Cameron and Adrian. Although she should’ve gone to talk to somebody long before now, it felt good to get everything out, to just unload and feel that weight lift off her shoulders. She knew she’d always have lingering issues, nightmares that sometimes woke her up in a cold sweat, but with time she knew she could heal.
“It’s going well,” she said honestly and couldn’t help but smile. It had been Adrian’s idea for her going back to self-defense classes after all of this had gone down. It made her feel better, but she also knew it made Adrian feel more secure that she could handle herself when he wasn’t around.
And when she wasn’t in class, she was at his place working out, learning tricks and moves from him until she felt her strength slowly starting to grow. Over time, with that as well, she’d get stronger, not just emotionally but mentally and physically too.
“And how are you feeling with our talks? Have they been helping? Has the activity of writing in the notebook, getting your feelings and emotions down, been working out well?”
“Surprisingly—to me at least—they actually have. Although I was a little skeptical when you suggested writing what I thought and felt down in a notebook, once I really started doing it, I felt … lighter.”
Susan smiled and nodded, clearly pleased with Brea’s answer. “Good.” She started jotting something down in her own notebook, and Brea looked out the window. There were trees in sight outside, the thick branches moving back and forth as the wind picked up.
“How are things with Adrian going?”
She found herself smiling even wider and glanced down at her hands in her lap. She played with a loose string from her shirt as she thought about how far they’d come. Whenever she thought about Adrian, she felt this happiness fill her. “It’s going really well, actually. Being with him is … I feel like it’s where I should have been all along.” She glanced up at Susan and smiled. It had been so long since she was happy.
