Bodychecking

by Jami Davenport

  Something didn’t seem right.

  Walk with confidence and purpose, she always told her students. Yeah, and she told them a lot of other things too. Stay in well-lit, populated areas, carry Mace or bear spray, travel in pairs. Everything she had so carelessly dismissed tonight.

  “Ma’am, I need to escort you out of here.”

  “I can find my own way out.” She tried to keep her voice even, but she sounded a little too affected by his presence. His low, ominous chuckle told her he’d picked up on her tone too.

  Bella kept her eyes straight ahead, but the end of the block and the next streetlight seemed a mile away. Her mind spun with all the self-defense techniques she’d not only learned over the years but taught. She debated on taking the guy out with a quick kick to the groin or chop to the neck, but she couldn’t very well attack a security guard.

  Adrenaline pumped in her veins, and her breath sounded loud and harsh in her ears. She assessed him out of the corner of her eye. He was large, lean, and moved like a cat with athletic grace. He met her gaze, and his eyes gleamed malevolently with a coldness that chilled her to her very soul.

  Then it hit her.

  She was in deep shit. He wasn’t a security guard.

  “This is your lucky day, bitch,” he snarled.

  She should’ve attacked, grabbed the offensive, taken him out first. Instead, she froze. For all her bravado and claims of confidence, she froze. She fucking froze.

  He seemed to sense her hesitation and took advantage of her moment of indecision.

  Without further warning, he lunged, catching her off guard, as his powerful fist slammed into her cheek. Bella tried to kick, defend herself, but her movements were slow and sluggish after his almost knockout punch. She reeled and staggered. He hit her again in the gut, doubling her over, then kicked her in a way that took her legs out from under her. Her head hit the plywood walkway, rendering her paralyzed for a few short yet agonizing moments. She willed herself not to pass out.

  The truth of her predicament slammed into her harder than his fist had a moment earlier. He had training in martial arts, possibly MMA, and she had severely underestimated him. She had to fight, and fight for her life, because this guy wasn’t messing around. The iron taste of blood made her nauseous, but she refused to succumb. She was in a slow-motion nightmare and trapped like an animal.

  He slammed the hard toe of his boot into her stomach once, twice, three times. She tried to rise to her feet, despite the world spinning around her. Digging her fingernails into the ground, she reached for the side of the building. He kicked her in the ass, catapulting her face first into the deep, rancid mud piled along the deep ditch. Before she reacted, he gripped her legs and dragged her down a dirty, narrow alley littered with construction debris and dumpsters.

  The pounding of Bella’s heart mimicked the pounding of the rain. She lay on her back, unable to gather enough strength to move. Her attacker stood over her, forming an impenetrable blockade across the open end of the alley. His menacing chuckle forced her to lift her spinning head and try to get her bearings. Bella ignored the sharp pain stabbing her skull and rolled to her hands and knees as waves of nausea almost incapacitated her. She crawled away from him with the speed of a turtle.

  “Think you’re going somewhere?” He spoke from close behind her, and she imagined a smirk on his face and lust in his eyes. Bella staggered to her feet, knowing she didn’t stand a chance on the ground. He let her stand, like a cat playing with a mouse.

  As soon as he was in range she kicked, but her reflexes were too slow, and her foot connected with nothing but air. His amused laughter drowned out patter of the rain.

  He advanced on her, and she managed an off-the-target kick to his upper thigh, barely missing his nuts. The close call enraged him. He was on her like a rabid wolf after a wounded deer. Bella punched and kicked out, but he easily evaded her clumsy attempts. Her legs shook as she weaved in a futile attempt to run. He grabbed her by the hair and gave her a hard shove onto her knees. He booted her in the back, sending her sprawling onto the concrete. She managed to cushion the blow to her face with her hands. Suddenly he snapped, turning crazed, brutally kicking with the hard toe of his work boots and mercilessly pummeling her with his fists. Bella curled into a pitiful little ball, trying to protect the most vulnerable parts of her body from the worst of the blows. She heard muffled sobbing and realized it was her.

  He yanked her by her hair to her knees and grabbed her by the neck in a stranglehold, crushing the life out of her. Just before she lost consciousness, he released his hold, shoved her to the ground, and straddled her. Her nostrils filled with the overpowering scent of cheap cologne, and she caught a glimpse of monstrous, inhuman eyes. She’d never forget how they gleamed like a metal roof in the sun.

  “You fucking bastard, let go of me,” Bella screamed, calling him every obscenity her foul mouth could muster.

  “Shut the fuck up or you won’t have any teeth left, slut.” He punched her again, hard, on the side of the head.

  Stars burst behind Bella’s eyes, rendering her blind for a split second. Outraged, she opened her mouth to scream again, only to have it stuffed with a rag of some kind he’d pulled from his pocket. He wrenched her onto her side long enough to bind her hands together with zip ties. He’d come prepared for this ambush. Once her hands were bound, he pushed her down onto her back again.

  “Now the fun begins, babe.”

  No, no, no. Please, no.

  Bella struggled, but he was so much stronger than her, and his relentless attack had sapped her strength. Even worse, her head hurt like hell, making it hard for her to think straight.

  He grinned down at her. “You’re a fine bitch, and tonight you’re my bitch.”

  The man grabbed the top of her shirt in two hands and tore it down to her navel. Bella’s tears flowed freely down her cheeks. She saw a flash of silver in his hand, and this time it wasn’t a badge. He had a knife. Bile rose in her throat, and she fought the panic. If she threw up now with a gag in her mouth, she’d drown in her own vomit.

  Please, please, please. Oh, please. She begged, even though the words were garbled and unintelligible. He was getting off on her fear, gaining power from her terror. She swallowed hard and prayed to anyone who’d listen for the courage to find a way out of this or at least die with dignity.

  He slid the cold metal blade under her bra between the two cups. Bella drew a shuddering breath that vibrated through her entire battered body. He threw back his head and laughed.

  “You’re not so brave now, are you?”

  She tried to say fuck you. Despite the gag, he got the point and laughed even more.

  He sliced her bra apart and pulled it back to expose her nipples. He licked his lips. His metallic eyes glittered like two sliver stones as he stared at her heaving breasts. He ran the tip of the sharp blade across one pierced nipple to the other, leaving a thin trail of blood.

  “Nice tits,” he commented. “Really fucking nice. I like piercings.”

  He pulled his cell out of his pocket and took a picture. He held the cell to her face so she saw what she looked like. She didn’t look like badass Bella, she looked scared shitless and one-hundred-percent helpless.

  “Please,” she begged as best she could. “Let me go. Please.”

  He snorted. “Not a chance, bitch.”

  He held the knife near her throat and made a slashing motion, so close to her skin the air was displaced by the blade. She sobbed harder, her entire body shuddering with fear, almost strangled by her sobs. Sweat poured down her face, into her eyes, beading between her breasts.

  He traced the blade across one breast, pressing hard enough to cut an S into her skin, and causing a thin line of blood to outline it in red. “That’s an S for Snake. I want you to have something to remember me by.”

  Oh God. Now he was going to rape her. She saw his intention in those ice-cold eyes.

  He glared down at her. She held her breath. Taking hi
s time, he brought his fingers up to the button on his jeans and unbuttoned it. She squeezed her eyes shut and waited for the sound of the zipper.

  “Hey! What’s going on?” The voice came from far away, and Snake froze on top of her. Bella tried to make noise, but she doubted she’d be heard. A second later his weight on her was gone. She blinked and looked up into his evil eyes as he glowered down at her.

  He knelt down and grabbed her by the hair, jerking her face up to force her eyes to meet his. “Tonight is your lucky night.”

  Bella swallowed, unable to speak. Snake’s hand tightened painfully in her hair. With a quick yank, he let go. Seconds later his footsteps faded into the night.

  The old Bella would’ve leapt to her feet and chased him down, so pissed she wouldn’t have thought one moment about her own welfare.

  This wasn’t the old Bella.

  Not anymore. That Bella died the second he’d forced her into the alley.

  She heard footsteps again and braced herself for his return. Instead a man knelt down before her. By his clothes and his smell, he was a street person, but he was her angel. His eyes were kind as he gazed down at her. She smelled whiskey on his breath.

  He said nothing, but cut the zip ties binding her hands. Without another word, he disappeared into the blackness. Pulling the disgusting rag from her mouth, Bella curled into a ball and lay shivering in the darkness as sob after sob ripped through her. Finally, her survival instincts kicked in. Snake might change his mind and come back to take care of unfinished business.

  Mustering a reserve of energy she’d thought long spent, she sat up and waited for the dizziness to stop enough for her to stand. She clutched her hoodie around her. Her pocketbook lay several feet away. She crawled over to it. The contents were spilt on the ground. Her license and her phone were missing. He had her address. A cold chill ran through her. She turned her head and immediately retched, dry heaving for several draining minutes.

  Her dry heaves finally subsided, and she grabbed ahold of a dumpster and hauled herself to her feet. On shaking legs, Bella waited until the alley stopped spinning. She grabbed her pocketbook and held it in front of her like a shield. Somehow she managed to stagger the several blocks to her car, grateful to find the keys still in her pocket.

  Bella should go to one of her sisters, but even in her traumatized state, she couldn’t bear the thought of an I-told-you-so lecture once they ascertained she was relatively okay. She should go to the police but forgot where the police station was.

  Instead she drove her piece of shit car like an old granny to Cedric’s house, barely able to see through the tears.

  * * * *

  Cedric came home from the charity auction and resisted the urge to stalk Bella. She’d texted him earlier that she was staying in tonight. A fact which gave him immeasurable relief, not that Bella had ever been one-hundred-percent reliable.

  He wondered if she’d be interested in a little late night liaison. He sure as hell was, but then, he was a guy. Guys were like that. Sex solved everything. Got a hangnail? Solution—have sex. Got a headache? Forget the aspirin, have sex. Hungry? Who needs food? Have sex.

  From his point of view, guys were uncomplicated. Give them sex and plenty of it, throw them some food and alcohol once in a while, keep the drama to a minimum, and don’t take away their remotes. Those were his simple keys to a happy relationship. Women mucked it up with all this other crap, like talking about feelings and getting to know each other. Thank God Bella wasn’t like that.

  He picked up his phone to text her. It was after midnight, but she was the consummate night owl. He quickly texted, What’s up?

  He waited.

  Crickets. Hordes of chirping crickets filled the deafening silence, but no Bella.

  Nada. Nothing. Zilch. Tystnad.

  His sixth sense when it came to Bella raised alarms and the hair along the back of his neck.

  He paced the floor, feeling helpless, a little nuts, and a lot worried. Bella almost always texted back within a half hour. On that one point, she was solidly reliable. Her phone was an appendage, and she never went anywhere without it.

  He had to make sure she was okay, because his gut said she wasn’t. He knew her haunts. First he’d check her apartment and check out all the other possibilities, if for no other reason than his own peace of mind.

  Stalker.

  He shook his head. He wasn’t being a stalker, just a concerned friend.

  Yeah, right—a jealous, concerned friend who wanted to be more than a friend and occasional fuck buddy.

  Cedric rummaged through the hall closet of his condo and grabbed a raincoat and his keys. He yanked open the front door only to have Bella fall against him into the entry way, slide down his body, and collapse in a hysterical, blubbering heap at his feet.

  Fuck.

  Paralyzed with shock, he stared down at her, his mouth agape, and attempted to process the scene before him. Bella didn’t blubber. She didn’t collapse. She was the strongest woman he knew. She was also the consummate actress. This performance had to be just that—a performance, he assured himself, an attention-getting scheme or some kind of weird joke. She’d pop up in a minute, laughing, and tell him what a sucker he was to fall for her act.

  Only she didn’t.

  His stalled brain registered her ripped clothing and dirty, bruised appearance.

  Double fuck.

  Cedric dropped to his knees on the slate floor, maneuvering her enough to shut the door. His nosy next-door neighbor didn’t need to see Bella like this. No one did but him.

  He wrapped his arms around her, and she curled into him, making herself really small. Heart-wrenching sobs shuddered through her body. He held her tightly, kissing her hair, murmuring to her, and taking stock of her injuries as best he could without being too obvious.

  Red-hot anger sliced through him. Who the fuck had done this to her? He’d kill the bastard, and they’d never find the body. Never. Cedric had connections—or his father did. Despite how he felt about the man whose DNA he shared, he’d make an exception to avenge Bella.

  He didn’t ask any questions, not yet. He let her get it all out as he sat on the floor with her in his lap, clinging to him like a terrified cat who’d climbed a tree to get away from a pack of dogs. Hours seemed to tick by, yet probably only minutes had passed before her body stilled. She became quiet and limp in his arms, and he realized she’d fallen into a fitful sleep.

  Doing his best not to wake her, Cedric extracted himself from her embrace and lifted her into his arms. Only then did he see the bruises on her face, the black eye, the torn tank top and cut bra, which fell open to reveal more bruises.

  He sucked in a breath when he saw the S carved on her left breast.

  An anger he’d never known surged through his veins as he silently swore to hunt down the bastard and kill him with his bare hands, yet fear froze his ability to think coherently beyond finding out if Bella had any injuries that might require a trip to the emergency room. Maybe he should take her there regardless.

  Laying her on his bed, he stripped off her clothes while she dozed. Kneeling, he examined her wounds, which appeared to be mostly bruises from a brutal beating. He saw the marks on her hands indicating she’d been tied. Had she been raped?

  She was damn lucky she wasn’t dead. She could’ve been murdered and her body never found. Somehow she’d managed to escape, and she’d run straight to him.

  His obsession with true crime TV gave his imagination plenty of fodder as his alarmed brain ran through the possibilities, each one worse than the one before it. But she was alive, blubbering in his arms, broken like he’d never seen her, but alive. Everything else he could deal with as long as he still had her.

  Thinking about all the fates she could’ve suffered sent his stomach into a fit of nausea. Cedric ran for the bathroom and lost his dinner.

  * * * *

  There wasn’t one cell in Bella’s body that didn’t ache with pain. She moved slightly, and the
aches ignited her nerve endings with an agony so fierce, she fought to stay conscious. Her head throbbed, making it hard to think, yet bits and pieces of her memory returned like vivid video clips that had gone viral inside her own brain.

  A warm body lay next to her, strong arms were wrapped around her, and she was dressed in an oversized T-shirt and sweats. She didn’t remember getting into this bed or sleeping with this person. She opened one eye and managed to make out the familiar tousled blond hair and strong chin.

  But he was annoying her, shaking her gently, insisting she wake up. She wanted to close her eyes, shut out the pain, and fall into a comforting, endless sleep.

  “Bells, are you okay?”

  Cedric.

  She relaxed and a small smile tickled her cracked lips stretching them tight and making her wince. She felt as if she’d done several rounds in a boxing ring. Whatever had happened, she was safe now. Cedric would never hurt her or allow anyone else to do so.

  “Bella.”

  “Mmmmm,” she muttered, right where she wanted to be. She closed her eyes, ignoring the insane throbbing behind her temples as she burrowed her head into his bare chest. The momentary peace she’d embraced began to disintegrate. The memories seeped into her head until the entire horrifying evening solidified, and she recalled every terrifying, helpless millisecond.

  “Noooo,” she whispered and opened her eyes again to find vivid blue ones staring back at her, filled with concern and loads of questions.

  “Are you okay?” His voice cracked at the end, and he tenderly brushed several strands of hair from her face. His gaze searched hers for answers.

  She nodded, carefully, so as not to rattle whatever might have been jarred loose during the attack. “I’ve been better, but I’ll live,” she croaked, not sounding at all like his Bella.

  “You should go to the hospital.”

  “No.” She put some power behind that one word. She was not going to any fucking hospital. She hated hospitals. People died in hospitals.

  “Bella.” Cedric’s voice rasped as he pleaded with her.

  “No.” The strength she put behind her words actually made her head hurt. “Nothing’s broken. They’ll just patch me up and send me home.”