His eyes roam over my body, and I’m immediately very aware I’m standing in nothing but a towel. I hold it a bit tighter to my chest and watch helplessly as his eyes narrow in on the mark covering my neck.
“What the fuck?” he yells as he lunges forward.
I sprint backward, grabbing the edge of the door, trying to push it closed as he slams his weight against it. I struggle to push back, using every ounce of strength I can muster, but my bare feet won’t find a purchase on the damp tile floor.
“Neil, please!” I cry out. “Please, Neil, can we talk? You’re scaring me.” My cell phone is only a few feet away, but I know there is no way for me to hold the door and grab for the phone. So I push harder, trying my best to keep him at bay.
Neil stands just over six feet tall and outweighs me by a good eighty pounds of angry muscle pushing against the door. My feet slip, and I fall to my knees, my hands still planted against the door, desperately trying to keep him out.
With one last shove forward, he’s in the room, hate and fury burning in his eyes as he reaches out, grabbing me by the hair, forcing me to my feet.
I scream out with everything I have in me, pain radiating through my skull as he drags me out of my would-be haven. When he tosses me down on the floor, I’m a crying heap while he paces around the room. I haven’t been here long and the few personal touches I have, he’s found.
The picture of me graduating from college.
The collage of me atop the Space Needle and around Seattle hanging on the wall.
He rips them all down and throws them violently toward me, narrowly missing my head.
There's something off about his entire demeanor when I dare to take a harder look at him. He’s disheveled and confused. He mumbles incoherent words while glaring down at me. The man I once loved is gone. The Neil I knew would never lay a hand on me, or any other woman, regardless of how angry he was.
Clutching my towel, I pull my legs into my chest and tuck my head, self-preservation taking over. A made-for-television movie suddenly comes to mind about a woman beaten by her husband. I know there’s no way I can fight him physically and escape. So I do the only thing I can. I make myself a smaller target for him to hit.
“Who are you fucking?” he yells. I can feel him standing over me. He nudges my shaking body with the tip of his toe. “Look at me when I’m talking to you.”
My reaction must be too slow for his liking. The next thing I feel are his fingers lacing into my wet hair as he forces my head up to look at him.
The tears that I was trying to suppress now stream uncontrollably down my cheeks. Neil shakes my head, and I swear I can feel my brain rattling around inside my skull.
“Who are you fucking?” He pulls me forward, my hands wrapping around his wrist as I fight the forward momentum, trying to free myself from his grip.
He’s dragging me by the hair back toward the bathroom, and my heart is racing. I’m screaming and crying, begging him to stop as I clumsily make it to my feet.
“Is it your goddamn boss, or maybe that bartender you’ve been so friendly with?”
He spots my cell phone and shoves me hard, back into the bathroom. I stumble and fall, hitting my head against the corner of the sink. Pain spreads through my head as I fall to the floor. Reaching up, I can feel the egg-sized lump beginning to form at my temple. When I pull my hand away, blood covers my fingers, and I feel wetness seeping down my face.
I watch helplessly as Neil grabs my cellphone from the sink and opens the screen. Fear not for me, but for Jaxon now courses through my body. I don’t know what he’ll do to Jaxon in this state, but the last thing Jaxon’s company needs is negative press in the form of Neil.
I know by his expression that he’s reading the text feed between Jaxon and myself. He turns, shoving the phone in front of my face. I don’t have time to see what's on the screen before he smashes it down against the corner of the sink shattering it. Broken glass and electronics crumble to the floor.
“You’re fucking Jaxon,” he snarls at me. His voice almost sounds hurt as he turns and walks calmly back into my bedroom, leaving me shaking and bloody on the floor.
With my hands trembling nearly to the point of uselessness, I try to clean up the shattered remains of my phone. But when my nerves don't subside, I cover the glass and plastic bits with a hand towel.
Sitting up, I try to rationalize what just happened, and I don’t know who the man in the other room is anymore. I stand up on unsteady legs and grab my robe from the back of the door and put it on instead of the towel that has all but fallen off during our fight.
For a split second, I debate shutting and locking the bathroom door. But with no way to call for help, and no way out, I decided to go back into my room. Maybe he’s calmed enough that I can talk reason into him, or perhaps he’s gone.
When I step into the room, he hasn’t left, he’s sitting back in the chair. But instead of the cocky, entitled look he wore previously, he sits there looking distraught.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just couldn’t believe you would do this to us. I wanted to come here and surprise you. But then I saw…”
I flip the collar of my robe up to cover the hickey on my neck and pray he stays calm until I can figure out how to get out. I move slowly around the room until I’m standing next to the window. Neil doesn’t bother watching me, his head is down in remorse for his actions—or he’s plotting. I’m not sure anymore.
I'm hesitant to respond to his accusation of me doing anything to damage our previous relationship. But my pissed off side gets the best of me.
“I didn’t do anything to us, Neil. We broke up because you were fucking someone else.” I try to keep the venom out of my tone by speaking low and calm, not wanting to wake to the man that dragged me screaming into the bathroom.
I glance out the window and spot Detective Stone’s SUV still parked across the street, and a sliver of hope rises within me. But my bedroom is on the third floor. It would take a miracle for him to hear me scream his name, and another for him to reach me in time.
“Didn’t do anything!” he shouts out. I can see the moment the switch is flipped, and the change in his personality is instantaneous, as is my fear. He’s up and out of the chair before I can process my next move.
He moves so fast across the room, I don’t have time to block the hand that pushes me back against the wall. He tears the collar of my robe down, finding Jaxon’s mark.
His fingers grab my chin, painfully jerking my head to the side. “This doesn’t look like nothing.”
As he tightens his fingers, I struggle under his hold, gasping for air. Movement across the room catches the last of my attention a moment before Neil is thrown from me, tipping over the chair he was just sitting in.
I watched stunned as Detective Stone lifts him and pins him against the wall. He glances at me over his shoulder. “Maitlin, are you okay?”
Nodding my head, I stand, still shaken up, not wanting to think what Neil would have done to me if Mason hadn’t barged in. “Yes,” I whisper. “I’m okay.”
Nodding, he turns his attention back to Neil. “Go, call 911.”
I spare Mason and Neil only a glance as I run out of the room to the office down the hall, the only place that still has a landline.
When I return, Neil has cuffs around his wrists, is on his knees, head down, a little worse for wear, with Mason standing over him. I can’t even fathom how Mason knew I needed help or how he got in through the locked front door, or even why he would bother after how I treated him earlier.
I stand at the door, holding my robe tightly around myself, trying to keep the tears of this ugly reality at bay. “Thank you… so much.”
Neil looks up at me from the ground, fear in his eyes. “Mait, baby, tell this asshole who I am, who my father is.”
“You need to shut the hell up, buddy. I don’t care who you are, and I sure as shit don’t care who your father is.”
Mason grabs Neil by the c
uffs, lifting him to his feet. I hear a knock at the door downstairs moments before I see several uniformed officers making their way up the stairs. Stepping aside, I let Mason lead him past me. All I get is a glare from Neil as he passes.
“Wait here, I’ll be right back,” Mason says as he makes his way to the stairs.
When Mason returns, I’m sitting on the bed looking at the floor, replaying the events that transpired, trying to hold back tears. I don’t want to look up at him, so I focus on his black shoes.
I speak while tears flow down my cheeks. I don’t know if Mason understands anything I’m saying through my sobbing.
“I don’t even know how he got in. He was just here when I got out of the shower.”
Detective Stone is quiet, and I watch as his feet retreat into the bathroom. When he returns, he kneels in front of me with a warm towel. He’s silent as he gently cleans the blood from the side of my face.
“I should call an ambulance for you. Head wounds are nothing to mess around with.” Mason continues to clean the cut on my head.
I cover his hand with mine. “No, that’s not necessary. I’m sure it looks worse than it is.”
He gives me a nod. “Well, you shouldn’t be alone. Let me call your roommate or,” he pauses, searching for the right words, “perhaps Jaxon.”
I shake my head. I want Jaxon, but after my conversation this morning with Mason, I don’t want him involved in this too. “Shellie.” My voice squeaks as I speak her name.
Mason is treating me as if I’m a wounded animal. His voice is calm and quiet as he speaks. “Okay, I’ll call her. What's her number?”
That simple question brings on another bout of tears, remembering how Neil smashed my phone against the sink. I’ve never been a victim of any violence before, and seeing that side of someone I once loved has me questioning how well I ever knew him. “I don’t know. He smashed my phone.”
“That’s okay,” he whispers. “Do you know where she is?”
I nod. “She’s waiting for me at Senn, on Amsterdam.”
“You okay to sit here for a minute while I call?”
“Yeah, I’m good. I’m going to change and wash up.”
“Okay. Come downstairs when you’re ready. I’ll call Shellie now. I’m not leaving. All you have to do is yell if you need me.”
He's so kind, this man who up until yesterday was a stranger. I’m still astonished how he was able to burst in just in time, but I’m so glad he did.
“Thank you.”
I jump in the shower again to relax my body and wash off the violence Neil brought into my life. I watch the reddish-brown water spin down the drain as the blood washes from my hair. My mind goes to the unthinkable—what if Mason hadn’t come, would Neil have killed me?
I want to tell myself no, but the look in his eyes as he squeezed my neck makes me wonder. He didn’t look like the Neil I know. His outward appearance was the same, but inside, he was different.
I put on a pair of shorts and a tank top. Tying my hair up in a ponytail, I see the egg on the side of my temple already a lovely shade of purple.
When I go downstairs, I can hear the hushed voices of Shellie and Mason speaking in the kitchen. I stand outside the door for a moment, trying to listen to their conversation. But in a heartbeat, they stop talking, and Mason calls my name.
“Maitlin.”
The moment I walk in, Shellie rushes to me, throwing her arms around me. “Oh my God, Mait. I’m so glad you’re okay.” She pushes back to look at me, brushing her hand gently over my bruised temple. “Are you okay? Should we take you to the hospital?”
“I’m fine,” I look over at Mason sitting at the kitchen island. “Thanks to Mason.”
We all sit, and I go over every detail for Detective Stone for the official police report. Shellie listens intently, gasping, and covering her mouth as I tell my story. I can see her eyes go glassy, and tears begin to fall when I explain I thought he was going to choke me to death.
After he writes down everything, Mason walks the house, checking for any sign of forced entry, but he finds nothing except some dirt on the counter next to the kitchen window. He suspects the same as we do, that was how Neil got in, probably sometime before he arrived last night.
Mason promises to check on me later in the day and assures me that Neil will be in jail at least overnight. By the time he leaves, making sure that the apartment is more than secure, I’m exhausted, mentally and physically.
Shellie and I decide that we’re going to relax the rest of the day, binge-watching Netflix and ordering take out.
JAXON
The buzzing of my phone wakes me from the erotic dreams I am having involving Maitlin naked, bent over my desk with my cock buried in her while I fuck her from behind.
I don’t recognize the number, and the time is just after four in the afternoon. No one I know would call me this early. Hitting ignore, I try to go back to the only dream I’ve had in close to a millennium that doesn’t involve my fall from grace or the nightmare of Marra’s death.
As soon as I close my eyes, the constant buzzing is replaced by the ding of text messages coming in at an alarming rate. Picking my phone up, I glance at the screen. All are from Kap, with several voice messages from an unknown number.
Kap: Call me.
Kap: NOW.
I dial Kap’s number, and she picks up just after the first ring and is immediately speaking so fast I can barely understand her. I can hear the fear and panic laced through her voice despite her best effort to keep calm. Fear, panic, and anxiety are not words or emotions I ever associate with this strong woman.
“Someone broke into my niece's apartment, and her roommate was attacked. Some crazy ex-boyfriend. The police and one of the detectives who were here yesterday were already there and they have the boyfriend in custody, but I’m not going to allow the girls to stay there. What if this crazy ex has friends and sends them looking for her? I don’t want either one of them there.”
Niece’s apartment.
Roommate attacked.
Crazy ex-boyfriend.
I hear the words, and the moment they register in my head, a bevy of emotions surge through me, including fear. It’s an emotion that is unfamiliar to me. The first and last time I felt it was when I watched the life drain from Marra’s eyes. Not even when I stood awaiting judgment and my inevitable execution did I have fear running through my veins. But hearing the words that Maitlin was attacked makes my blood run cold with it.
“Someone attacked Maitlin?” I leap out of bed—the same bed Maitlin slept in this morning. The bed that still holds her sweet scent, and the bed she should be in now. “Where is she now? Is she okay? Is she hurt?”
“By the way, my niece is fine. Thanks for your concern, Jaxon.” Her voice drips with sarcasm, and I know I was an asshole. But she is well aware that her family is my family, and realistically, if something happened to Shellie, she would have led with that.
“I’ve sent Cole—”
I don’t even let her finish. “I’ll be right down. I’m in the Lenox apartment.”
I hang up and dial Maitlin’s number. When it goes directly to voicemail, my heart sinks a little further. “Maitlin, its Jaxon. Call me the moment you get this.” I follow the message with a text:
Jaxon: Call me immediately.
I call Maitlin’s phone three more times while getting dressed. I then follow it up with two more text messages before I hit the elevator to make my way down to the office level. She isn’t answering, and the more I think about it, the angrier I get.
I didn’t bother to mention my pursuit of Maitlin to Kap, since she refused to give me any of her information the other day. So I understand why she didn’t go into any detail about Maitlin, and I know if she were seriously hurt, or worse, Kap would have said so initially.
Still, it worries me that she isn’t answering her phone or texts, or hasn’t called me herself.
The moment I step off the elevator, my phone buzzes i
n my hand with the unknown number from earlier.
This time I decide to answer it on the off chance that Maitlin might be calling form a different number. “This is Jaxon.”
To my disappointment, a familiar male voice speaks. “Jaxon, this is Detective Stone.”
I let out a sigh. “Hello, Mason.” I look up and see Kap waiting for me outside my office, visible stress and worry marring her otherwise beautiful face. “I’d love to chat, but I’m about to head into an important meeting.”
“It’s about Maitlin.”
I stop in my tracks. Kap mentioned that one of the detectives from the other day was at her niece's apartment this morning.
“I’m listening.” Before he can speak, I ask the question I need to know. “Were you at Maitlin’s this morning?”
“I was.”
My hand tightens around my phone, recalling how she had flirted with Mason just the day before. His involvement in her attack this morning has me questioning if his motives for being there were a coincidence. I’d bet my fortune they were not.
“Well, wasn’t that convenient.”
“Listen, Jaxon, I don’t want to get into a pissing contest with you. But if I wasn’t there, this asshole would have done more than just scare her and rough her up.”
I hate the fact that he is right, Mason was there for her when she needed help. I should be thankful… should be. But the young shifter has eyes for her, that much I’m sure.
I need to know what he knows about the attack and what knowledge he has of the man responsible. I know even if I ask Maitlin outright, should she ever decide to answer her damn phone, there will be no way I’ll get the full story from her.
“Look, I’m about to head into a meeting with Kap. Can you come by my office at the Lenox in about an hour?”
“I’ll be there.”
When I get closer to Kap, I can see that she’s been crying. In all the time I’ve known her, I’ve only seen her cry once, when her sister, Shellie’s mother, was killed. And that was over twenty years ago.
Jaxon (Blood Angel Chronicles Book 1) Page 14
