Fortune's Angel (Fates Aligned Book 2)

by Christi Whitson

  They were both ashen-faced and slack-jawed, but they each managed a silent nod. I grabbed my check from Mom’s hand and shoved it back into my pocket, deciding to cut out the middleman and make my donation directly to the city’s three homeless shelters. I glared at them both as I turned to leave, not even remotely mollified by my mother’s expression of remorse. I could see the apology in her eyes, but I didn’t want to hear it.

  I tried to calm myself down as I left the room in search of Charlotte. Fuck, I just want to get the hell out of here, I thought. I wanted to take my girlfriend home and make her come until she tapped out. To soothe my anger with her warmth, her smell, her taste…

  I returned to the ballroom and said a quick goodbye to everyone else, keeping my eyes peeled for Charlotte as I headed for the front lobby. But she wasn’t there. Maybe she had to wait in line for the ladies’ room... Women seemed to have that problem a lot.

  But something felt off, and I didn’t think it was my lingering frustration that had me on edge. I retraced my steps, taking a long scan of the ballroom before heading back toward the restrooms. A woman was coming out as I approached.

  “Excuse me, I’m sorry. I can’t seem to find my girlfriend, and I was wondering if she might be in the restroom. She’s petite with black hair, wearing a red dress…”

  “No, I’m sorry,” she replied, shaking her head. “There was only one other person in there. An older woman.”

  I thanked her distractedly, my confusion and concern growing stronger by the second. Where could she have gone? As I turned to head back to the entryway where she’d promised to meet me, my eye was caught by the glowing exit sign hanging above an exterior door. Maybe she’d just stepped out to get some air…

  I was relieved when opening the door didn’t trigger any sort of alarm, and I stepped out onto the sidewalk, frowning when I saw that it was empty in both directions. As I pulled my phone from my pocket to try calling her, I heard an odd commotion coming from the rear of the building.

  A woman’s scream pierced the darkness, and a man was shouting over her, his angry words tripping over one another as they echoed off the surrounding buildings. My feet moved toward the sound on pure instinct, and I realized the voices were coming from an alley. I moved faster, my heart thundering in my chest as I began to run toward the voices and the sickening sound of flesh hitting flesh.

  Twenty-Eight

  Charlotte

  A cold flood of adrenaline coursed through my body, freezing my limbs as effectively as ice in my veins. My paralysis lasted only a moment, but it was long enough for Brent to release my hair and slide his arm around my waist, hauling me against him and moving toward the back of the building. His other hand still gripped my face, covering my mouth and nose, and the scream I’d been about to summon died in my throat.

  My muscles unlocked, and I kicked wildly, my heels scuffling against the sidewalk. I clawed at his hand, already dizzy from the lack of oxygen, but his hold didn’t falter. Brent was stronger than I’d given him credit for, and in the months since I’d last seen him in person, I’d forgotten how big he was. I tried to get enough momentum to slam my head back into his face, but it was futile. He had my jaw in a vice-like grip, keeping to the shadows as he dragged me around the corner of the building and into an alley. My eyes searched our surroundings in vain, and another wave of dread saturated my brain when I realized no one had seen us.

  “That miserable prick never lets you out of his sight, does he?” Brent growled into my ear. His voice was quiet but full of rage. “Never lets you go anywhere alone.”

  He released me abruptly, spinning me about and shoving me against the wall. My head knocked painfully against the bricks, dazing me long enough to make me miss my opportunity to scream for help. In the next instant, his forearm was against my throat, pressing hard into my windpipe, and his face swam before me. I gasped desperately as my fists flew, hitting and scratching any part of him I could reach, but the pressure on my throat only increased, giving me an overwhelming urge to cough. No sound came from my lips.

  “He’s right to keep you locked away, but I’m a patient man. Not like I have anything better to do with my time now. Since it’s your fault I can’t get a fucking job anywhere in this town.”

  I clawed at his forearm again, certain my fingernails must be drawing blood by now. I felt one of them bend backwards from the quick, but my mind couldn’t seem to process the pain on top of everything else. I kicked blindly, managing to catch his shin, but although he gave a grunt of pain, he didn’t release me. When my next kick nearly made contact with his groin, however, he backed away from me just enough to slap me hard across the face. The world went momentarily silent, and the pain was a flash-burn through my brain.

  Fuck.

  I’d taken a hit to the face only once before. It was back in high school when some psycho bitch had taken offense to an innocent comment I’d made. That chick had always gotten into fights, and she’d had a hair trigger. At the time, I’d felt more shock than pain, because the girl had given me almost no warning.

  But there was a big difference between being popped in the mouth by a skinny teenage girl and being backhanded by a fully grown man. I was stunned as my ears rang, and my vision went gray for a moment.

  The fact that I’d already been on the defensive, even expecting it, somehow made it worse. After the initial impact, the place where Brent’s hand had made contact didn’t hurt as much as I would’ve expected. In fact, the skin there felt almost numb somehow, as though my adrenaline-soaked brain sensed that I wasn’t up to feeling the full effects of the trauma. But the ache in my skull more than made up for it. Adrenaline couldn’t stop that.

  Before I could recover, he pressed against me with his whole body, squeezing me against the brick and making it hard to breathe again.

  “Please,” I whimpered, my lungs burning. He brought his face within inches of mine and sneered.

  “That’s right, beg. Beg like the whore you are. That’s why you wouldn’t give me the time of day, huh? I wasn’t rich enough? You were holding out for a fucking millionaire.”

  He twisted one hand into my hair again, holding my aching head in place while the other groped me clumsily. I heard the fabric of my dress rip and felt the cold air hit my bare chest as my breasts spilled out. He squeezed them ruthlessly, and I cried out, squirming in revulsion as I tried to get away from him. My attempts to escape must have seemed pitiful to him, maybe even humorous. He had no trouble restraining me no matter how much I fought.

  “You know, I followed you to the bathroom at work once, not long before you got me fired. Thought I’d catch you alone. Imagine my surprise when I found you playing fucking tonsil hockey with a customer,” Brent snarled.

  His hand moved away from my breasts, yanking my skirt up roughly. I squeezed my eyes shut, desperate to escape in any way I could. Oh, God...

  “That was when I knew you were just playing hard to get. That you wanted me to up my game. So, I did. But then, you cried rape,” he practically spat the word as he grabbed me hard between the legs, clenching my flesh much harder than he had that night outside the restaurant. I’d have bruises for sure this time. “And you got me fired. And West believed you because you were fucking his brother-in-law. Stupid fucking whore.”

  “Please,” I sobbed. “You’re hurting me. Just stop. I’m sorry…”

  It was like he didn’t even hear me. Or maybe he did, but he enjoyed my pain. I smacked at him again, aiming my claws at his face this time. But he dodged me easily and grabbed my wrists, pinning them above my head with one of his thick hands. It should’ve hurt more than it did. I could feel him twisting the joints and crushing them into the brick wall, and I wondered how much more I’d feel after it was all over.

  Would it be like waking up after a night of drinking with injuries I didn’t feel until I was sober? Or would there even be an opportunity for that? What if he just decided to end it right here in this alley? No witnesses. No cameras.

/>   “I doubt your rich boyfriend will want you anymore after I’m done with you,” he taunted, attempting to rip through my panties. My eyes shot open.

  NO!

  Something inside me snapped as I felt my underwear give way to his strength, and I screamed as loudly as my sore throat would allow. Brent had stooped slightly in order to get his hands beneath my dress, and I stretched forward savagely, sinking my teeth into his cheek. I tasted blood and felt him release me, staggering backward as he shouted in pain.

  “Fucking bitch! Think you’re too good for me? You stupid—”

  His fist slammed into my cheek, knocking my head into the wall again. I could see nothing for a moment, my vision darkening even as I struggled to stay conscious and upright. This can’t be how it ends... I cringed against the bricks, bracing myself for the next blow.

  But it didn’t come.

  Blurry shapes moved in the darkness in front of me, and I couldn’t make sense of it. Not until I heard his voice.

  Eli.

  “Mother,” thud, “fucking,” thump, “bastard!” Thud.

  Eli shouted expletives at Brent, and every word was punctuated with a fleshy thudding sound. A punch. Over and over until only one of the fuzzy shapes was moving.

  “Eli…” My voice was weak, and his name slipped out between sobs of pain and fear. “Eli… Stop.”

  I couldn’t let him kill Brent. Not that I would’ve mourned the fucker. But Eli was better than that. Brent wasn’t worth the consequences Eli would pay for killing him.

  I slid to the ground on trembling legs, and my vision began to clear as my adrenaline levels plummeted. The pain was intensifying, and everything felt stiff and achy. Suddenly, Eli was in front of me, his fingers trailing lightly over my battered face.

  “You’re safe now, Angel. You’re okay. Oh, God, baby… I’m so sorry,” he groaned, and I realized he was crying.

  I wanted to tell him it wasn’t his fault, but my mouth wouldn’t cooperate, unable to form the words through the haze of pain. Fuck, this hurts. I felt the supple fabric of his leather jacket around me, and I hugged it gratefully, closing my eyes in relief. It hurt more to keep them open, and I knew Eli wouldn’t let anything else happen to me.

  His voice penetrated the fog in my brain again, but he didn’t seem to be speaking to me this time. I struggled to listen as my whole body began to shake, realizing he was talking to someone on the phone.

  “Call 9-1-1 and get the cops here. And a couple of ambulances. We’re in the alley behind the building... Yeah. Bring Gabe with you.”

  I felt his hands rest gingerly against my cheek again and opened my eyes to see his heartbroken expression.

  “Donovan’s on his way.”

  “Okay…” I responded vaguely, looking down at my torn dress. I tried to close the fabric, but too many of the buttons had been ripped away. Eli stilled my hands gently and helped to zip the jacket. “I want to get up,” I mumbled, desperate to get off the ground.

  “Just hold on, okay? I want to make sure the fucker stays down and doesn’t get any bright ideas about laying another hand on you.”

  “Is he breathing?” I whispered tremulously, peeking around him to where Brent lay unconscious on the pavement.

  “He’ll live. Which is more than he deserves.”

  Rapid footsteps approached us from the mouth of the alley, and I winced as I turned my head a little too quickly. Donovan had his cell phone to his ear.

  “Cops and paramedics are on their way,” he announced, his gaze darting between us and Brent’s comatose body. “What the fuck happened to Charlotte?”

  “He did,” Eli growled, glaring behind him at Brent.

  “What happened to him?” Gabe asked.

  “I did. Check and make sure he’s breathing.”

  Gabe moved forward to check Brent for a pulse while Donovan crouched in front of me with wide eyes.

  “Can you hear me, hon? See me?”

  “Yeah,” I replied, speaking as loudly as my aching throat would allow. “My throat hurts. And my head. My ears are ringing a little.”

  I didn’t dare tell them that my groin area was hurting a lot too. That was best left for later when the cops were around to keep them from going after Brent as a team.

  “He’s still breathing,” Gabe announced. “Looks like he might be missing a couple teeth, though. How’s your hand?”

  “Fine,” Eli muttered, still hovering over me like a sentinel. I could see the guilt and anger in every line of his face. His knuckles were bleeding, but he didn’t seem to notice.

  The alleyway was suddenly illuminated with flashing red and blue lights, and I squeezed my eyes shut as the throbbing in my head intensified. A moan of pain escaped by chest, and Eli put his arm around me carefully, murmuring soothing words into my ear.

  Fuck, I just want to go home… I wanted a shower, my man, and our bed. I wanted the image of Brent being cuffed to a gurney and loaded into an ambulance to be the last time I ever laid eyes on him. I wanted the cops to be able to prosecute him without having to ask their endless questions. I wanted the paramedics to stop prodding at my aching head and just let me fucking sleep.

  But I knew I couldn’t have any of those things. At least, not yet. The police talked to Eli for a long time, and I followed along well enough to recognize that they were deliberating whether or not to arrest him too.

  “He stopped a sexual assault,” I spoke up, my voice scratchy and weak. “You’re not seriously going to arrest him for that. Look at my face.” Morons, I tacked on silently. “He’s an upstanding member of the community who employs hundreds of people and just this evening donated thousands of dollars to the Homeless Outreach Program.” By the time I finished my little speech, my throat was on fire, and I fell into mutinous silence.

  “A sexual assault?” one of the officers echoed. I hesitated, glancing at Eli warily. His jaw was tight and his blue eyes bright with fury.

  I gave the cops a quick account of Brent’s actions, keeping the gruesome details light and requesting the option to give a more formal statement at a later date. The EMTs were tending to my injuries as I spoke, and I knew they’d insist on sending me to the hospital for x-rays. For once, I wouldn’t argue. Hospitals meant doctors, and doctors could provide some decent painkillers. The cops still looked a little uncertain about letting Eli go, and he finally lost his patience with them.

  “I’m going to the hospital with my girlfriend,” he declared. “If you’re going to arrest me, you’ll have to do it there, because I’m not letting her go alone.”

  “We can call a family member for her if—”

  “There isn’t anyone,” I interrupted. “Just Eli.”

  The two policemen glanced at each other, and the older-looking of the pair shrugged in concession. He advised us that they’d be following us to the hospital and that we should hope ‘Mr. Sullivan’s’ injuries weren’t life-threatening. I rolled my eyes as they walked away, irritated with their bureaucratic bullshit. They were on some sort of power trip, and even in my current state, I wasn’t going to stand for it.

  Even if they tried to charge Eli with something, I knew they wouldn’t be able to make it stick. The law made allowances for this sort of situation. The incident at Chance Encounters had been different, since I’d had no real proof of Brent’s actions. This time I had tons of evidence. DNA and probably photographic evidence soon too.

  As we rode in the ambulance, I kept my gaze locked with Eli’s. We didn’t speak for several long minutes, ignoring the medic on my opposite side as we communicated in our special way. Sometimes, words just weren’t necessary. All the things I needed to say were in my eyes, and all the things I needed to hear were in his. I was still trembling uncontrollably, and he kept stroking my tangled hair away from my forehead.

  “You shouldn’t worry,” I said quietly, trying not to further irritate my throat. “As long as he stays alive, you shouldn’t be in any serious trouble.”

  “I don’t give a fuck
about that right now.”

  “I know, but… There will be plenty of physical evidence this time. I know for a fact I got a little of him under my fingernails. And he should… have a little of me under his too,” I said grimly, wincing at the ache between my legs. I wasn’t looking forward to the full and very invasive exam awaiting me at the hospital.

  Eli closed his eyes and brought my hand to his lips, kissing the abrasions the brick wall had left on my knuckles. When he opened his eyes again, they burned with tears of remorse.

  “I’m so sorry, Angel. He should never have been able to get to you. I swore I’d protect you, and I failed.”

  “Stop. It’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have gone outside alone. I wasn’t think—”

  “Don’t you dare blame yourself,” he said quickly.

  “I don’t. Not really. I blame that fucking psycho. If they don’t lock his ass up, I might just let you hire that bodyguard you wanted for me.” My weak attempt at a joke was rewarded with the barest hint of a smile, but it didn’t really reach his eyes.

  “I won’t forget you said that.”

  Twenty-Nine

  Eli

  In fact, I was pretty sure I wouldn’t forget a single fucking second of this nightmare.

  I wouldn’t forget my anger with my mother and her friend over the despicable things they’d said about Charlotte. I wouldn’t forget the sickening fear that had risen up inside me when I couldn’t find her. I wouldn’t forget the rage that had flooded my veins when I’d pulled that fucker off of her and beat him to a bloody pulp. And I wouldn’t forget the shame on her bruised but beautiful face as I held her hand through the rape kit exam.