by Jennie Marts
She just had to weigh the decision of whether she could handle the chaos or not—if letting herself fall in love with Colt was worth the risk of letting go of the command she had on her life. It didn’t seem that hard to decide when the alternative was not having Colt in her life at all. She could kid herself about them staying friends, but there was no way she could handle being around him now, knowing she’d blown her chance to be with him in a way that was beyond friendship.
She’d convinced herself tonight to take control, to not be the victim, and to step into the game as the coach and the one in charge. That’s how she needed to treat this relationship. Or what she hoped would be a relationship. She wasn’t a victim, so why was she letting everything happen to her? Forget the stupid crap of her dad’s that had been taking up space in her garage. This was the real thing she needed to fight for. So why was she still standing in the box, afraid to even get into the game?
Tightening the strap on her imaginary helmet, she stepped out of the box and whacked her stick on the ice, calling for the puck, ready not just to play, but to score the winning goal. The only way to win was to get in there and play, to fight for what she wanted. Fight for love. It sounded corny, but it was the truth. She’d fallen in love with Colt, and she was ready to drop the gloves and fight for a future with him.
A plan formed in her mind. She’d wanted to be daring and courageous, to act fearlessly. Well, this was her chance. And she was going to take it. She’d feed the cat and change her clothes, then drive out to the ranch and wait for him to come home. She’d sit in front of his cabin all night if she had to.
Distracted by thoughts of his reaction upon coming home and finding her there, she pulled into the garage, cut the engine, and pushed the button on her visor to shut the garage door.
As she opened her door and stepped one foot out, she caught a flash of color in the side mirror and turned in time to see Rank Johnson slip under the closing door and walk menacingly toward her.
Chapter 23
Chloe screamed and tried to pull her car door shut, but Rank was too fast. He had the element of surprise on his side, and he kicked his foot out, sending the door slamming back open. He reached into the car, grabbed a handful of her hair, and tried to drag her from the seat.
When he’d stepped under the garage door, his body must have caused the sensor to trip because the door was going back up, and a cold gust of snow blew in through the wide-open space. Sharp pain made Chloe’s eyes water, but she held on to the steering wheel, trying to get her keys out of the ignition. The sparkly can of pepper spray Sassy had given her was hanging from her key ring, and if she could get hold of it and give Rank even one squirt, it might be enough to give her a chance to get away.
He gave another yank, and Chloe’s head snapped to the side, but she’d gotten a finger through the ring, and it came out of the ignition. She let loose another scream, this one a mix of pain and frustration, as the keys and the small canister slipped from her finger and dropped to the floor of the car.
It was hard to think with the searing pain in her head, but Colt had told her to use whatever she could as a weapon—her hands, her feet, her fingernails and teeth. And she was prepared to bite and kick and scratch Rank’s eyes out if she had to.
She’d worn a pair of heavy, thick-soled boots to the game tonight, thinking they’d keep her feet warm, but they also gave her extra weight as she kicked her foot toward Rank’s legs. Her foot connected with his kneecap, and he let out a howl of pain and released his grip on her hair.
She scrambled forward, sweeping her hand across the floorboard in an effort to locate the key ring.
Got it. She closed her fingers around the canister, trying to twist the lid to the side to release the safety.
Rank grabbed her legs and hauled her out of the car. Chloe fell, going down hard and smacking her tailbone against the cement floor of the garage. Fighting the pain, she held the canister up, pointing it toward his face.
His fist shot out, but she pressed the button an instant before his hand connected with hers.
A stream of spray fired out, barely missing his eyes but still hitting him in the cheek as the canister went flying from her hand and rolled under the car. The air instantly filled with the chemical, and Chloe choked, her throat and nose stinging and her eyes tearing up. It didn’t seem to matter if she breathed it in or out; it stole her breath either way.
Rank howled in rage, swiping the back of his arm across his face. “You bitch! You’re gonna pay for that!” His eyes were red and squinted, but the pepper spray didn’t seem to have deterred him. It only fueled his fury.
Chloe scrambled backward, blinking away the tears, her tailbone stinging, the freezing cement cold against her hands as she tried to gain purchase. Her gaze whipped around the garage, looking for a weapon or a way out. The garage door stood wide open, but a very pissed-off Rank remained between her and that escape. The pepper spray was under the car, but it hadn’t seemed to stop him anyway. She needed a weapon, something to disable him just long enough to give her a chance to escape.
Her dad’s tools were in the drawers on the back wall next to the workbench, if she could just get there.
The drawers! She’d forgotten that’s where she’d stashed Colt’s gun. He’d said it wasn’t loaded, but Rank didn’t know that, and so far the man was strong but hadn’t proven himself to be very formidable in the brains department. Chloe rolled over, trying to crawl away and get her legs under her at the same time. If she could just get to the drawers, just get to the gun…
A meaty hand landed on her calf and yanked her backward. Terror ripped through her chest. She couldn’t let him get her. Letting out another scream, she kicked her legs, hearing a grunt from Rank as her foot connected with his chest.
But she was no match for his anger and rage, and he hauled her up and jerked her against him. She could smell the sweat and body odor on his clothes, and the sound of her racing heartbeat thrashed in her ears.
His arm cut across her chest, and she tried to fight, to kick and punch, but her hits were ineffectual against the hard mass of angry man. His breath smelled like sour booze and tooth decay as he scratched his rough-whiskered cheek along hers. “You stuck your snooty nose in where it didn’t belong, and now you’re gonna pay.”
Black spots danced in front of her eyes as his forearm pressed into her windpipe. She clawed at his skin, digging her nails into his flesh, but nothing she did had any effect.
“You are nothing. A nobody. Just a stupid schoolteacher that no one will even miss.” His cigarette-scarred voice rasped menacingly against her ear, and shivers of terror surged through her blood as sweat formed on her back and her bladder threatened to let loose.
She’d been fighting so hard, but his words burrowed into her brain and threatened to immobilize her. The intimidating words and threatening tone he used mingled with the memory of her dad’s voice, and she blinked, tears from the spray and the pain coursing down her cheeks as she tried to discern this man from the abusive one who’d raised her. She sagged against him, her chest throbbing as she tried to breathe, unable to find the strength to keep fighting.
As she sagged back, she remembered Colt’s instructions about using her body weight. But Rank was so strong. He could toss her across the room with one hard throw. How could she do anything to match his strength?
The image of Max at the game tonight came rushing back to her. He’d escaped a bully so much bigger than him, and he hadn’t used his brawn. He’d used his brain and simple physics. Courage welled in her. If an eight-year-old could find the strength to do this, so could she.
She wasn’t the scared little girl she’d been in the past. She wasn’t even the timid schoolteacher she’d been last week. She’d changed so much, done so much more than she’d imagined she was capable of.
She’d just made the decision to fight for Colt. Now she needed to fight for
herself—to defeat the memories, to face the demons of her past, of her father. She couldn’t fight this by controlling the situation. The only way she could win was to let go, to give in to the fight.
She bent her knees, letting the full weight of her body pull her down. At the same time, she dug her chin into Rank’s arm and twisted her body toward him.
Gagging on the scent of him, she kept twisting, knowing she had to stare him in the eyes, to defeat him by actually facing him. All her fears, her insecurities, her past abuse had culminated in the worn and leathered face of Rank Johnson. If she could face him, stare him in the eye, and fight, she could face anything. If she could find the strength to fight this solid mass of a true monster, then she could surely defeat the fictional creatures that fought to gain purchase in her mind.
Rotating her head another inch, she met his eye, his pupils huge and his cheeks swollen and red from the pepper spray. He stared at her with all the fury and rage of a mythical beast, but she didn’t back down, didn’t wither and wilt or curl into a ball. She pulled on her armor and drew her sword and, with a primal scream, drove into battle as she sank her teeth into the skin of his arm and bit down as hard as she could.
The coppery taste of blood struck her tongue, and she wanted to gag. But she didn’t. Instead she tensed, ready to escape. The muscles in his arm loosened, and she wiggled from his grasp and ran toward the drawer where she’d hidden the gun.
He screamed and lunged for her, but she eluded his grasp, feeling the tug of his fingers as they slid off the back of her coat.
Reaching the drawer, she yanked it open and fumbled for the gun. The freezing metal stung her already cold fingers, but she grasped it tightly and turned to face him, holding the revolver out in front of her.
Rank froze and held his arms out to the side. He might be stupid, but he knew the impact of a firearm, and he took a small step back. Tears still leaked from his eyes, and his lips drew out in a pressed line. “Put the gun down, teacher. We both know you don’t want to shoot me.”
She clasped the gun with both hands, extending her arms as she pointed it straight at his chest. Her hands shook, but she kept them trained on him. “I may not want to, but I will. As God is my witness, if you take one step closer, I will shoot a hole right in your chest.”
He narrowed his enflamed eyes and studied her, as if trying to decide if she really would do it.
She held her ground, never more serious about anything in her life. She only had Colt’s word for it that the gun wasn’t loaded. It could actually have a bullet in the chamber for all she knew. She’d never fired a gun, but she’d seen a lot of television and got the general idea of pointing the thing and pulling the trigger. Not knowing if the gun would go off, her biggest weapon right now was making Rank believe it would. And convincing him she’d be willing to shoot him.
She planted her feet, drawing on every ounce of courage she could muster. “I want you to leave. To leave me and Tina and the kids alone. Get out and never come back, or I will shoot you. If not this time, then the next.”
Daggers of rage shot from his eyes, but he didn’t move. “You can’t threaten me. You think you scare me?”
“I think you should be scared because I’ve never wanted anything more than to put a bullet in your chest—to shoot you right here and right now. And remember I’m a teacher, and I teach science and chemistry, so I know how to dissolve your body in acid so there won’t be a single trace of you left.” She really had no idea how to dissolve anything in acid or what kind of acid would even do that. The last science curriculum she’d taught had been about space and the solar system and learning the names of the planets, but she’d read about the acid thing in a book, and it sounded plausible and scary as heck to her. And she didn’t need to be able to do it, she reminded herself. She just had to convince him she’d be able to.
She raised the gun and took the slightest step forward. “Now. Get. The. Fuck. Out. Of. My. Garage.”
He must have detected the change in her because he backed away, slowly stepping toward the open garage door. “I’ll leave,” he sneered. “But I’ll be back.”
“Good,” she said, making her voice as hard and steely as she could. “I’ll be waiting.”
He turned and started to run just as Jesse’s battered Toyota pulled into the driveway.
The door opened, and Jesse stepped out. Rank sprinted toward him, grabbing the door and shoving the teenager back inside. He pushed Jesse over as he slid into the driver’s seat, then threw the car into reverse, spinning out of the driveway and almost sliding into a huge Dodge pickup with a snowplow implement on the front.
The pickup screeched to a halt, the passenger door opening before the truck had even fully stopped. Colt jumped out and ran toward her.
What was he doing here? Chloe couldn’t comprehend the sight of him as he ran across the snow, but she didn’t have time to think it through.
“He’s got Jesse,” she cried, falling to her knees and sweeping her arms under the car, desperately searching for the keys. Her fingers touched the key ring, and she pulled it out and slid into the car, tucking the revolver in between the seat and the console next to her.
“I saw,” Colt said, jumping into the passenger side and slamming the door. “Go!”
Chloe backed out of the driveway and tore after Jesse’s car, her car’s back end fishtailing over the slick black ice. The taillights of the Toyota were up ahead, and she stepped on the gas, trying to catch them.
Colt had his phone out and pressed to his ear. He must have called 911, because he was relaying the situation into the phone and telling them the streets they were driving down.
They came out the back side of her neighborhood, and the Toyota sped toward the edge of town. Lights flashed in Chloe’s rearview mirror, and she realized the truck with the snowplow was also in pursuit behind her.
Rank turned onto a dirt road leading up into the mountains, but the back end of the Toyota slid out. The car spun in a complete three-sixty before sliding off the road and rolled half a turn before landing on its roof.
“Jesse,” Chloe screamed, braking to a stop and flinging open the door. She grabbed the revolver, then jumped out of her car and ran toward the Toyota upside down in the ditch.
The driver’s side window was shattered, and Rank was crawling out the open space.
Chloe planted her feet and held the gun out. “Stop! Don’t move!”
But Colt sprinted past her and grabbed Rank by the shoulders, heaving him out of the car and landing a punch directly in his face. Rank’s nose shattered, and blood splattered across the front of his jacket and ran down his face as Colt punched him again.
Flashing red and blue lights shot through the night sky as a police car pulled up and two cops jumped out and ran toward Rank. Mike, the cop Tina had called, grabbed Colt and dragged him away as the other officer snapped a set of handcuffs on Rank’s wrists. He hauled Rank up and dragged him toward the car as Colt wrenched himself away from Mike.
The other man, the one driving the truck with the snowplow, had run after Colt and flattened himself on the ground to reach into the car to pull Jesse out.
A sob escaped Chloe’s lips, and she ran toward the car as the teenager half crawled and was half pulled from the vehicle, then stood up next to it. “Jesse, are you okay?” She threw the revolver to the ground and wrapped the boy in her arms.
“I’m okay. My dad was driving crazy, so I put my seat belt on.”
Thank goodness. Chloe pulled him tightly to her. “You clever boy. That was so smart.”
Another truck pulled up, a silver one Chloe recognized as Logan’s, and Tina came flying from it, her expression a mix of terror and relief. “Jesse!”
“Mom!” The boy let Chloe go, and tears pricked her eyes as Tina reached her son and clasped him to her. The boy was taller than her, yet she held on to him as if he were still
a little boy.
Colt reached for Chloe and pulled her to him, burying his face in her hair. “Are you okay?”
She nodded against his chest, unable to speak as emotion clogged her throat.
“What the hell happened?”
She pulled back and took a shuddering breath as she pushed her bangs from her forehead. “Rank was waiting for me when I got home. He slipped under my garage door as it was closing.”
Colt’s eyes hardened, and he searched her face. “Did he hurt you? I’ll kill him myself if he hurt you.”
She shook her head. “He did, but I’m okay. I stood up to him, Colt. I fought, and I got away. I used the stuff you taught me, then I used your gun to get him to leave.”
“My gun? What gun?” His face paled as he looked to the ground where she was pointing. “Geezus, Chloe. That’s not a gun.”
“What?”
He picked it up, pointed it toward the trees, and pulled the trigger. She braced herself for the sound of a shot, but instead a flare of flame popped out of the hammer. “It used to be a gun, but now it’s a lighter. That’s why we were all laughing about it the other day. I thought you knew.”
Her knees went weak, and she sagged against him. Holy fork. She’d just fought off Rank Johnson using a few self-defense techniques, her own bravery, and a cigarette lighter.
An ambulance pulled up, and two EMTs set to work checking out her and Jesse. They had an assortment of bumps, bruises, and scrapes, but were both in surprisingly good shape considering the trauma they’d gone through. The EMTs didn’t think either of them had concussions, and there was no reason to suspect anything was broken. They were both released with the promise they would go to the doctor the next day for a more formal checkup.
Colt stayed by Chloe’s side, touching some part of her body the whole time the EMT was with her. Tina and Mike stayed by Jesse’s side, and Chloe couldn’t help but notice the tender and protective way Mike stood with Tina, either holding her arm or resting his hand on her back or shoulder.
