CHAPTER 19
Wayne unlocked the door and shoved her inside. He closed it behind her and flipped the lock.
She looked up the steps leading to her living room and couldn’t help but notice the symbolism, that he would end her life in the one place she’d once considered her sanctuary.
He towered over her with an evil grin spread across his face. “I’ve been watching and the police haven’t been by here since the day you called to report the break-in.”
Her mouth fell open and she knew she probably looked like a fish out of water. She shouldn’t have been surprised he’d been stalking her, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike.
He grabbed her by the back of the neck and pulled her against him, then licked a trailed up her cheek. “For years I sat in that filthy cell, planning my revenge. All you had to do was keep your mouth shut and leave if you didn’t want me touching you. But no, you had to go to the fucking police.” His grip tightened, his fingers biting into her skin. “You caused your mama all sorts of stress having to face her friends and neighbors.”
“No, you caused her the stress. I did nothing wrong,” Brooke spat.
His eyes flared with anger and he leaned in closer until she could smell the cocktail of alcohol and stale cigarettes on his breath. “You little bitch, you lead me on with all your short skirts and tight shorts and then you have the nerve to blame me? Don’t you think it’s time to stop denying you wanted everything you got?”
Fury flared deep inside her and she pushed against him, prepared to fight back. “You ruined my life, you bastard.”
She never saw him raise his hand, but felt the impact of his fist against her cheekbone. An explosion of pain ripped a scream from her as she lost her balance and tumbled into the steps.
“You could’ve continued living your life, Brooke, but you had to agree to testify against me and embarrass your mother and your entire family.”
“I knew you’d rape again if I didn’t stop you. My conscience wouldn’t let me stand by and do nothing.”
“I didn’t rape you, you little dick tease. For years you’d come on to me. I just gave you what you were asking for.” He snared her by the arm, yanked her to her feet and dragged her up the remaining steps into the apartment.
He paused and glanced toward the door leading to the bedroom, and Brooke couldn’t stop the shiver that claimed her body. It wasn’t death she feared as much as the torture she was going to face first.
His ranting broke through her thoughts and pulled her back into the moment. “Lucky for me, you’re still all close and shit with your brother. If your mother hadn’t found your address when she went to visit Brent, then I’d have had no idea where to look for you.”
He laughed, and Brooke absently wondered if that was what the devil sounded like.
“Guess you could say it was the love for your brother that would eventually lead to your own death.”
“Even if you kill me, the police will find you. You’ll get the death penalty for what you’re doing.” Her words were barely out of her mouth before she felt his wrath a second time against the side of her face.
“Shut up. I’m not interested in your opinions. The only things I want to hear out of your mouth are the sweet sounds of you begging for mercy.”
She struggled with her balance, trying desperately to fight back. He continued to hold onto her, absorbing her blows like a sponge as he dragged her toward the bedroom. For a split second, she thought about screaming, but knew the chances of somebody actually hearing her were slim. The pastry shop was closed and her elderly landlord had probably taken his hearing aids out to go to bed. If there were any chance of escape, she’d have to make it happen herself.
“I want them to find your body. I want the cops to know I snuffed you out. Let them stew over the fact I won and they’ll never catch me.”
She closed her eyes and tried to steady her ragged breathing. Despite her best efforts, a whimper escaped from somewhere deep inside, while an internal war brewed between fear and anger. Anger won. If she was going to die, by God, she was going down fighting. Managing a kick, she struck him squarely in the back of the knee, forcing one of his legs to buckle. Roaring in pain, his grip tightened until she was sure he’d simply snap her arm like a twig.
“Don’t make this harder on yourself than need be, Brooke.”
“No way am I going to let you rape me again. You’ll have to kill me first.” Despite the pain, she twisted away from him, using her body and forward motion as leverage to pull him off balance. The trick nearly worked, except for the fact he promptly let go, allowing her to crash face first into the entertainment center. Stars exploded behind her eyes, sending her into a crumpled pile on the floor. Then he was on her, and jagged flashes of pain bombarded her senses, one right after another as the sound of him beating her rent the air.
She opened her mouth to scream, only to find she couldn’t. A copper taste coated her tongue and dripped down the back of her throat causing her to gag instead. There was a sharp tug on her hair as she was dragged across the carpet. Her back burned where her shirt rode up.
Barely conscious, she fought not to black out completely as he picked her up and tossed her onto the bed. She landed face first on the bare mattress and worked to draw in even a single breath against the pain in her ribs.
He rolled her over and straddled her legs, pinning her in place. “No more running, Brooke. Finally, you get what you deserve for telling all those lies in court.” His words echoed as if he were far away talking into a tunnel.
Her stomach pitched and rolled beneath his touch. Inside, she was screaming, kicking, biting and clawing her way to safety, but her battered body refused to follow commands.
An image of Nathan sprawled across the floor popped into her head. While it broke her heart to know she’d probably never have to chance to set things right with him or to even see his beautiful face again, she’d done what she had to do to ensure his safety. Before their argument he’d said he loved her. She’d now cling to that love, draw from it to fight this battle until the bitter end. First… She closed her eyes as the world began to spin away from her, leaving behind only an eerie blackness. First, she just needed a little rest.
* * *
Nathan opened his eyes and stared at the blurry legs of his coffee table. His head hurt like hell. He pulled himself off the floor and blinked a few times, clearing the fuzziness from his eyes. What in the hell happened?
He looked toward the front door. He’d answered a knock by one of the condo facilities maintenance men. There had been a discussion about the unit above his busting a bathroom pipe, then Brooke had emerged from the bedroom and gasped.
Brooke! On his feet in an instant, he barely managed to steady himself before he began racing through the unit, stumbling around on wobbly legs. “Brooke!”
Dizzy and nauseated, Nathan limped back to the living room and dropped into the recliner. He leaned forward, elbows on knees, head in his hands and fought to get a grip on the situation. He lifted his head and stared at the coat rack next to the front door. Her coat was missing, as were her shoes.
Damn it! Anger tore through him with the speed of lightning. He’d been duped by that asshole Wayne and now, because of his own stupidity, Brooke could die. For the first time in his life, fear paralyzed him and he sat in the middle of his living room staring blankly at the front door.
There wasn’t a doubt in his mind the bastard had taken her. But where?
I left the bed intact because I need somewhere appropriate to end your life
Nathan stomped into his boots, yanked his coat off the rack and snagged his truck keys from atop the television stand. He punched 911 on his cell phone and relayed his information to the dispatcher asking her to contact Detective Morrison and send a unit to Brooke’s address, then headed out the door. Ignoring both his pounding head and the police instructions to stay put, Nathan made his way to his truck. He could only hope the bastard really had been stupi
d enough to take her back to her apartment.
Less than ten minutes later, he pulled to a stop directly in front of the old storefront building. He looked up at the second-floor windows. A faint light showed. Nathan shoved open the truck door and headed to her apartment door. He used the key Brooke had given him and unlocked the deadbolt.
He left the front door ajar and quietly started up the steps. The living room light was on, giving some illumination down the stairwell, making it easier for Nathan to see his way into the apartment. A couple of low thuds echoed through the space.
Nathan clenched his fingers into a fist. Despite wanting to race across the living room and burst in on them, he knew he needed to keep his control. It wouldn’t do either of them any good if he lost his cool.
He turned the bedroom door handle slowly, careful not to make any sounds or sudden movements. What he saw through the crack in the doorway made his stomach roll. Brooke, his Brooke, lay on the bed, unmoving. Her eyes were closed giving the appearance she was unconscious. Then he spotted the tears streaming down her cheeks and his rage nearly overpowered his common sense.
Wayne hovered above her, gun in one hand. His incoherent mumbling was a telltale sign of just how insane the man actually was. He paused and raised his free hand, striking her across her all ready bruised and bloodied cheek. The sound of flesh hitting flesh rent the air and sent a chill up Nathan’s spine.
“Open your eyes. I want you to see the last moments of your life. Just think it about it. My face, not your pretty boy boyfriend’s, will be the last one you ever see.”
Her eyes slowly flicked open, and Nathan’s heart broke a little more. He wanted more than anything to barrel into the room and take down the son-of-a-bitch, but with Wayne still holding the gun, he’d be putting Brooke in even more danger. What he needed was a distraction, something to get Wayne away from her.
Nathan glanced around the room, searching for anything he could use. His gaze fell on the small bookshelf set against the wall between the bedroom and bathroom doors. He reached out and knocked the items off the top shelf, sending books, picture frames and trinkets flying in all directions. The items spilled off the shelf and scattered, making various noises as they hit the floor. He raced to hide behind the open bathroom door.
“What in the hell was that?” Wayne’s voice echoed in the empty space. Within seconds, he opened the bedroom door and inched his way into the living room. Waving the gun in front of him, he stepped toward the bathroom. Nathan seized the moment and swung the door, hitting Wayne in the face. He stumbled backwards and the gun discharged, lodging a bullet in the ceiling. Plaster rained down from above, landing on Wayne, confusing him further. Nathan raced from behind the door and swung. Still off balance, Wayne took several steps back, attempting to right himself.
Nathan swung out, clipping Wayne on the chin and he tumbled backward through the bedroom door. Not wanting the man to get too far away and have time to regroup, Nathan followed. Prepared to strike him again, Nathan grabbed Wayne by the forearm and spun him around, only before he could strike, Wayne reared back and butted Nathan in the head.
With the probable concussion he was already nursing, the effect was enough to knock Nathan backwards. He stumbled a few steps and struggled to rid himself of the ringing in his ears and the throbbing behind his eyes that threatened to push him back into darkness.
Blindly he swung out, satisfied when he made contact. The whoosh of foul air that followed led Nathan to believe he’d caught Wayne in the diaphragm, hopefully buying him a couple of minutes to regroup. Slow, unsteady footsteps echoed through the silence, moving away from where Nathan battled the haze still threatening to take him under. What was Wayne planning? As Nathan’s vision cleared, his heart jumped in his throat at the sight of Wayne pointing the gun at Brooke. No way would he let it end like this.
From behind, Nathan snagged Wayne by the arm, banging his wrist against Nathan’s knee. The gun popped from Wayne’s grip, skidded across the old wooden floor and ricocheted off the nightstand legs. He leaped to retrieve it, only to have Nathan lunge for him. The two men hit the floor with a thud. Wayne pulled back and swung, making contact with Nathan’s cheek. Nathan punched back, nailing Wayne in the jaw.
Wayne yelped and rolled off Nathan. He once again headed for the gun, but turned back when Nathan made it to his feet. Wayne had pulled back to hit Nathan again when a shot rang through the air. Wayne’s entire body stiffened and he pivoted on his heel toward the bed. A second shot assaulted Nathan’s ears. Only then did he see Brooke standing at the far edge of the bed pointing the gun at Wayne. Anger and determination mixed with the blood and bruises peppering her face.
A circle of blood appeared on Wayne’s shirt and began to flower. He stood transfixed for a moment before his knees buckled and he collapsed, falling to one side. Still, Brooke remained riveted in place, pointing the weapon down at him, ready to shoot again if he moved.
Nathan inched forward, reached down and placed a hand on Wayne’s neck. Not feeling a pulse, he quickly moved away from Wayne and stepped toward Brooke.
“Baby, he’s dead. He can’t hurt you anymore. Please put the gun down.”
Tears streamed down her cheeks and her face twisted with long pent-up emotions. The gun dropped from Brooke’s grip and clattered to the floor. She raised her hands to her face, muffling a sob and sank to the bed. Nathan climbed across the mattress and gathered her into his embrace, hugging her tight to his chest. He pressed his lips against her hair and cradled her head, while trying to steady his own nerves. She shook against him with gut-wrenching sobs that wracked her entire body.
“Shhh, it’s okay, baby. It’s all over now.”
She lifted her head and looked at him, through dark and swollen eyes. “He said if I went with him he’d let you live. I knew what he was going to do, but I couldn’t let him hurt you. I love you.”
Her words ripped his heart into tiny pieces. She’d not only been willing to give her own life for his, but did it knowing she would suffer first. “I love you too, baby. More than you’ll ever know.”
Shouts and the sounds of feet running up the stairs filled the room and within seconds, Detective Morrison and his crew entered the room.
“I want the paramedics up here now,” he shouted over his shoulder as he hurried toward the bed. “Emergency services will be here in a second.”
* * *
Through bruised and swollen eyes, Brooke stared at the stark white ceiling and watched the shadows from the hallway light twist and move while she listened to the steady breathing coming from the bed next to hers. Considering everything that had happened to her in the last few hours, she should have been exhausted and already drifted off into dreamland. The adrenaline rush from earlier in the evening hadn’t worn off yet, though, leaving her more restless than sleepy. Tonight she’d taken a life. That fact alone weighed heavy on her. To know firsthand how fragile life is and how quickly it can be snuffed out was downright frightening.
For the last few silent hours, she’d searched her conscience, looking for any remnants of guilt or remorse. There weren’t any. Wayne had been a sick, evil man who’d have killed them both if she hadn’t stopped him.
She turned her head slightly, ignoring the ache in her neck, and smiled at the sight of Nathan sleeping in the bed mere feet away. Safe. For the first time in ten years she was safe and tomorrow, when they were both released from the hospital, they would start over, this time on even ground.
The severity of his concussion dictated he stay overnight for observation. Even now, she still couldn’t understand how he’d managed to drive from his place to hers without wrecking, or how he’d managed to fight Wayne off as he did. She was only thankful he had.
Her gazed raked over him and she noted the darkening bruises along his jaw and around his eye. Nobody had ever fought for her before. He’d taken blows defending her and risked losing his life to protect her. He loved her.
A lump formed in her throat as she p
ushed off the bed to stand. Bruised ribs screamed in protest even as her aching head threatened to spin the room once again. Grabbing the side of the bed, she paused until she could get her bearings.
The time they’d spent in the emergency room seemed like an eternity, especially when they whisked Nathan away for a CT scan and other tests. It seemed as though hours had passed before she’d heard him making noise in the room next to hers again. He’d thrown a fit over being separated from Brooke, then another one about the doctors wanting to keep him overnight for observation.
The ruckus he’d caused when they tried to put them in separate rooms had been enough to wake the dead. She could still hear the yelling and threats he’d uttered, until desperate to regain control and end the chaos, the nurses had agreed to allow him and Brooke to share a room.
She smiled, which stretched the skin over her swollen lip, and she winced in pain. She hadn’t realized exactly how much punishment she’d endured at Wayne’s hands before he’d gotten his.
She made her way to Nathan’s bed and eased down onto the mattress. He opened his eyes, smiled and inched back to make room for her. Curling into him beneath the covers she relished the feel of him against her battered body. The wounds would eventually heal, fading into the past to join her memories.
“I don’t think I ever had a chance to apologize for being such an ass earlier.”
She closed her eyes, savoring the secure warmth he provided. “I think you more than made up for it. Just answer me one question.”
“What’s that?”
“Who told Danny and Michael?”
“Promise you won’t yell?”
“I promise.”
“Willow. She was still upset after we left her house the day you found the picture in the mail. Danny came over for dinner and she told him. He, of course, told Michael and Michael confronted me about it.”
“I wish someone had told me they knew, but I think I understand why she did it.”
Northern Lights Page 17
