by Chrys Fey
Deciding to give him time to think about it, she looked over her wedding checklist. The big day was getting closer, and there were still a lot of things she had to do, like pick up her dress and their marriage license. Bringing the spoon of granola to her mouth, she fantasized about their wedding. She knew what Donovan’s suit looked like, but her imagination lacked the twinkle in his violet eyes, the strong lines of his limbs beneath the fabric of his jacket, and the way his hair would be combed across his forehead. Picturing him standing in front of her as she walked toward him made her stomach flutter like hummingbird wings.
Halfway through the bowl, her cell phone buzzed. Thorn. Her finger hovered over the green icon as she considered whether answering would be considered cheating on Donovan, especially since he had been so angry after Thorn’s visit.
Nonsense! Thorn’s our friend.
She answered the call before it could roll to voicemail. “Hey, Thorn.”
“Hey, Beth.” He exhaled. “I’m sorry if my visit last night caused a fight. Are the two of you still engaged?”
Beth smiled. “Yes.”
“Is the wedding still on?”
“Yes, and you’re still the best man.”
“But the two of you fought, didn’t you?”
“Of course we did.” She picked up her bowl and carried it into the kitchen. “He said he’d think about it, if he could be there, disguised as one of your team members. Would that complicate things?”
There was silence as Thorn mulled it over.
“It’s doable,” he finally said. “As long as he doesn’t do something stupid, like storm across the street to deliver an ass-kicking if the guy lays a finger on you.”
“That would be bad.” Beth turned from the sink to see Donovan studying her a few feet away. Tingles snaked up her body at the power of his stare. “I think he’ll behave himself.”
“That’s easy for you to say,” Thorn said.
Beth moved toward Donovan. She stopped in front of him. “No, it’s not. I know what he’s like.”
Donovan quirked a brow.
“Thorn, is there another reason for this call other than to apologize for ruining my marriage before it could start?”
Donovan tilted his head. Worry flitted across his face.
“He’s standing right there, isn’t he? Well, put me on speaker. This is for him, too.”
Beth hit the speaker icon. “Okay, Thorn, we’re ready.”
“I want the two of you to come to the hospital at noon today. I want you to talk to the latest victim of the man I’m trying to capture.”
Beth peered at Donovan and hoped her eyes showed how much she wanted to talk to the woman, if she could do nothing else.
Donovan took the phone from her hand. “We’ll be there,” he said and ended the call. He set the phone on the counter. “Our marriage ended last night?”
Silent panic reflected in his eyes. Seeing that reaction made her panic, too; she hadn’t meant to cause that. She laid a hand on his chest, hoping to ease his stress. “No, but Thorn thought it might have come close.” She looped her arms around his neck. “The only reason I would ever leave you is if you cheated on me or hit me.”
Donovan framed her face with his hands and peered deep into her eyes. “I would never do those things.”
She nodded. “I know. You’re a good man, a thousand times better than the men I dated before you.”
“You wouldn’t happen to have a list of those other men, would you? I’d like to have a word with each of them.”
Beth squinted at him. She recalled how he latched onto her ex-fiancé’s name like a dog after a juicy bone. As far as she knew, nothing came out of that, but that didn’t mean she would reveal her old boyfriends’ identities for Donovan’s amusement.
“Not happening,” she said. “And you don’t have to worry about any of them anyway. You’re the only man in my life.” She put her arms around his waist. “Well, other than Thorn.”
Donovan pinched her butt, making her jump. “One of these days, I’m going to punch him.”
She laughed. “No, you’re not.” She leaned back. “What about me?”
He frowned. “What about you?”
“I see how women look at you. You’re six feet of delicious man flesh. Women drool after you in the produce section, and you told me you had a bunch of girls in your past.”
“I didn’t say it like that.”
“No, you said you took them all over Michigan to get into their pants. My point is…you’re not getting a list of my ex-boyfriends unless you give me a list in return.” She patted his arm and sashayed out of the kitchen.
Two can play this game.
****
At noon, Beth and Donovan arrived at the hospital where Thorn’s witness had been admitted last night. Beth glanced around the waiting room. Mothers tried to soothe their children. Elderly scooted around with walkers, and teenagers were plugged into their devices. People filled out forms, got coffee, and asked nurses how much longer they’d have to wait. One man held an icepack to his head.
Thorn stood near the front desk with his back against the wall and his arms and legs crossed. He pushed himself off the wall and walked over to them. “I’m glad you came.” His gaze connected with Donovan.
Beth watched them have a non-verbal conversation. She imagined it consisted of manly grunts and chest bumping. When it was over, Thorn nodded and led them to the elevators.
Beth kept her laughter at bay. Men. They really are their own species.
She followed Thorn onto the fourth floor, down a corridor, and to a room. Outside the door, he faced them. “Her name is April Sanchez. I have to warn you…she’s badly beaten. She was brought in yesterday morning. She has a broken arm and sutures on her cheek.”
Beth nodded.
Thorn opened the door, and she followed him. A white curtain shielded half of the room. Beth stepped around it and froze. Thorn was wrong. The woman laid out on the hospital bed hadn’t been beaten; she had been pulverized. Her face was puffed to the size of a volleyball. Her eyes were purple. Stitches cinched together a three-inch gash on her left cheek in the shape of a crescent moon. Bruises dotted her neck, an indication someone had choked her. Her black hair lay flat against her scalp, and her arm was in a cast and sling.
Beth had visited her students in the hospital after violent situations numerous times. She had even seen her own reflection with hideous injuries staring back at her, but nothing quite as horrific as this. Her breath fled from her lungs. Shock rippled through her.
Beth felt Donovan’s hand on her back. A question was behind the touch. Are you okay? She took a step toward the hospital bed as Thorn put his hand on the woman’s right shoulder. The woman jumped and tried to flail in defense.
He lifted his hand. “I’m sorry, April. It’s Detective Thorn.”
She was breathing fast when she stared at him through slits in her eyelids. “Hi,” she rasped.
“I have a couple here who want to know what happened. They’re not cops, but they may assist in capturing Ramirez.”
From beneath thick, dark eyelids, April’s eyes shifted to them.
“I’m Beth, and this is Donovan,” she said.
“Hi.” April’s voice was so soft it tore Beth’s heart.
“We’re deeply sorry about what happened to you. We won’t be here long as we know you need to rest.”
Thorn moved a chair next to the bed and indicated for Beth to sit. “April, tell them what you remember about the other day.”
“And please take your time,” Beth said.
April licked her inflated lips. “It was a slow day. I was tired and already ate through the mini bag of corn chips I keep in my purse. My feet were killing me, too.” She pointed a finger at the six-inch heels sitting on the table in the corner. White fuzz lined the toes. The heels were transparent, and the strap around the ankle glittered.
Beth nodded. “Yeah, those will do it.”
April’s lips twitc
hed with a smile that was too painful to journey to its full length. “I was about to leave when a big ass, tricked-out Hummer pulled up to me. It was all black and chrome with sweet rims and tinted windows. If you’re like me, you look at the vehicles and what the men are wearing to determine if they have money or not. And this guy oozed money. He was wearing a Rolex, a silver chain, and he had diamonds the size of M&Ms in his ears. It was clear he had money, and I felt like I found a diamond mine.” She shifted and winced. “When I got in the Hummer, he asked me if I had any toys in my bag. I told him I had fuzzy handcuffs, oils, and nipple clamps. That made him happy, because he smiled.” She shivered at the memory. “He took me to a crappy motel. I was disappointed, but so often I’m taken to one of those joints that I got over it. The moment he locked the door, he spun around and punched me. I tried to fight back, but he was too strong. I must’ve gone unconscious because the next thing I knew I was handcuffed to the bed.”
She stopped there. When she spoke again, her voice was a whisper. “He raped me.” Her gaze flipped to Beth, pinning her in place with that four-letter word. “I was screaming for help, but no one came.” Tears squeezed from under her thick eyelids. “After he finished, he cut my cheek and told me I was his. Then he beat me some more. Thorn said a cleaning woman found me. Now here I am.” She didn’t have to say more, because the evidence of that beating was painted all over her body in hideous red and purple marks.
Beth put her hand over April’s. “Guys…” She looked from Donovan to Thorn. “Can you give us a minute?”
They closed the door behind them.
“I wanted the guys out of the room so we could talk privately.” She paused, waiting for April to meet her gaze. “I’m not judging you, or what you do, but I’m a self-defense instructor. If you decide to stay in this line of work, I want you to come to my classes, so I can teach you how to defend yourself from other men who think they can take advantage of you.”
“I can’t afford it. I hooked so I could pay my rent and buy food.”
Beth shook her head. “All your lessons will be free.”
“You’d do that for me?”
“Yes.”
April blinked at her. “Why?”
“Because I made a vow to help women find their inner strength after my high school friend was raped and murdered. It can happen to any one of us, regardless of our professions. And I see a fighter in you. Don’t let this monster stifle that fighter. Saying he owns you is a fear tactic. Don’t listen to it. You own yourself. Even when you sell sex, no one owns you. Remember that.”
April’s hand flexed on Beth’s a fraction of a second before falling limp. “Thank you.”
Beth pulled out one of her business cards. “When your arm heals, please come see me. And…” Beth hesitated. She didn’t want to say anything to offend April, but she wanted to help her out of this situation. “My best friend’s name is Leighton. She owns a fashion boutique, and she might be looking for some help.” She scribbled Leighton’s name and number on the back of her card and slipped it into April’s hand. “You can give her a call if you want.”
“Okay.” April’s response was reluctant.
“Take care.”
Beth softly closed the door. She couldn’t be sure if April would come to her studio for lessons or call Leighton for a job, but she hoped the woman would and that’s all she could do. It was in April’s hands now.
As she walked down the hall, her mind whirled with a dozen thoughts.
He raped her, branded her, beat her.
Hummer, Rolex, diamonds.
Crescent moon cut…stitches…scar.
Scarred forever; a reminder of his cruelty.
Hookers are his prizes, his toys, his trash.
The sound of her name being called out didn’t stop her racing feet.
“Babe, where are you going?” Donovan’s voice.
“Beth, are you okay?” Thorn’s voice.
Her knees shook. She caught the windowsill to keep herself from falling.
“Beth?”
The sound of two pairs of shoes running toward her beat against her eardrums as images flashed in her mind—puffy eyes, purple bruises, strangulation marks. Dried blood and cut flesh. The red, irritated, bloody slit in April’s check with the black stitches. The way the cut stretched as April talked made her stomach roll. She clamped a hand over her mouth.
Supportive arms looped around her. “Beth, talk to me.”
She focused on breathing while letting the two male figures flanking her bring her strength. “I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not,” Donovan said.
“If this was too much for you, I’m sorry,” Thorn said.
She took a deep breath and tried to clear the morbid display from her vision. “No, you’re not, Thorn. You wanted us to have a reaction so we’d agree to help.”
“Not like this.” Thorn’s hand touched her arm. “Are you okay?”
“Fine.”
Feeling more stable, she turned to Thorn. Worry reflected in his green eyes. She knew he’d never intentionally hurt her, but he wanted her to be affected by April, a victim. And she was.
“The man who did that is a sick son-of-a-bitch.” She looked him in the eye. “You better catch him.”
****
When it was time for her first class, Beth was ready to blow off some steam. She wore gray cotton pants and a teal workout top with her hair in a ponytail. All the equipment was out, and she was looking forward to pummeling her assistant, who would be fully protected, of course, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t enjoy it. She would.
Corissa, the young woman who manned the front desk, wasn’t there yet, so Beth stared at the wall in the back of the studio. The wall was white, while the rest were purple, with black signatures of all the people who had ever set foot on the blue mat. She recalled when the wall was a clean slate with only her signature in the middle. After five years, there were countless signatures. Would April’s be the next one on it? Beth hoped so.
The phone at the front desk rang, drawing Beth away from the wall. She answered it. “Good afternoon. You’ve reached The Fighting Chance. This is Beth speaking. How may I help you?”
There was a pause on the other end, and then, “Did you think we forgot about you, Beth?” The man’s chuckle was menacing. “We didn’t.”
Chapter Three
While Donovan practiced stunts in his monster truck, he had missed a call from Beth. He checked his voicemail. She had tried to sound nonchalant when she asked him to come to her studio before she locked up for the night, but he detected a little shake in her voice. Since she had purchased her older, used compact sedan, Donovan retired from his duty of dropping her off and picking her up from work. He was curious as to why she wanted him there when she was capable of driving home, and he wanted to know why she sounded frazzled. He called back, but Corissa said she was in the middle of her class, so he rushed over.
Twenty minutes to closing, he parked in front of The Fighting Chance. The sun glared off the windows, sending spears of light into his eyes. He hopped onto the sidewalk and ducked inside.
Corissa sat at the front desk with her head buried in a psychology book. She grasped a highlighter in her hand; a stack of flashcards sat at her elbow. Donovan folded his arms over the white counter between two purple orchids. “How’s it going, Corissa?”
She looked at him with exhausted eyes. “Mid-terms are coming.” Her words made mid-terms sound like a horde of flesh-eating zombies.
“You’ll do great,” he assured her. “And when you become a psychologist, I’ll be your first patient.” He winked at her.
She laughed. “Donovan, you and I both know you’re not in this book.” She tapped her finger on the page she had been reading.
Donovan grinned. “Maybe not.” He turned toward the blue mat where Beth talked to a few of her students. “How was Beth when you came in this morning?”
Corissa glanced toward her boss. “You didn’t hear thi
s from me,” she whispered, “but she was jumpy. I tried to ask her if something was wrong, but she shook my question off as if I hadn’t spoken. Whatever was bugging her, I think she took it out on Dave. She wailed on him, poor guy.”
Donovan fought hard not to smirk at that. Dave liked to flirt with Beth, and Donovan had wanted to teach him a lesson on several occasions.
I hope he’s limping.
As Beth’s students left, her gaze connected with his. The smile she gave him was one of relief. Her shoulders lowered as she exhaled.
“Corissa, we’ll close the shop,” Beth called out. “Go home and study.”
“Fine by me.” Corissa slapped her psychology book shut and hefted her backpack off the floor. A gentle jingle sounded when she left.
Donovan whisked the deadbolt, locking the door. He went to Beth and stopped her on her way back from the supply closet. “How were your classes?”
“Good. I’ll put this stuff away, and then we can leave.” She walked past him as if he was nothing more than an obstacle. She picked up an armful of boxing gloves and headgear and was moving past him again when he blocked her path. He took the equipment from her arms.
“Donovan, I have to put that away.”
“And you will.” He deposited them on the floor. “After.”
She crossed her arms, obviously irritated.
Is she mad at me for not letting her go undercover? After what I saw that guy did to April, how could I agree?
Corissa’s words came back to him.
If she’s looking for someone to fight, it might as well be me. He went to the storage closet, found two helmets, the black and neon green gloves Beth gave to him for Christmas, and the purple pair Beth preferred.
Beth was still standing where he left her. He held her gloves out to her. “Now’s your chance to hit me.”
Beth considered him. Then she snatched the gloves from him and stuffed her hands into them.
His lips quirked. At the edge of the mat, he kicked off his shoes and removed his shirt. In the middle of the mat, Beth waited with her hands on her hips. He stopped a couple of feet from her. “Are you ready?”
