by J. Nathan
He grabbed the chair and yanked it free from my hands.
I had nothing to protect me but my bare hands. And for the first time in my life, I was ready to use them. Ready to inflict pain on the man who tried to rid this world of the woman I loved most.
The click of the door opening sent Wayne’s head twisting over his shoulder.
Jordan stepped into the room with a huge smile on his face. Everything in his face changed as his eyes jumped between Wayne grasping the chair and me looking terrified. Jordan flew forward, his fists connecting with Wayne’s face until he brought him to the ground. Jordan wailed on him. First a right hook, then a left. They came fast and furious and difficult to discern. Wayne tried to fight back, but Jordan was too strong. Too angry. Too lethal.
I ran to my phone. My hands shook as I dialed 9-1-1. I lifted the phone to my ear while watching Jordan’s relentless pursuit to exact revenge. Wayne wasn’t fighting back; he was covering his face. Blood had splattered. Wayne’s blood. I didn’t want Jordan to go easy on the man who’d hurt my mother, but I hated the rage in his eyes that Wayne brought out of him. This was the culmination of years of hatred. This was retribution for what Wayne had done to us.
“We need help,” I explained to the operator, rattling off our location and what was happening in more of a scream than a composed response. She wanted me to stay on the line, but I needed to make Jordan stop. Wayne no longer covered his face. He lay unmoving.
Had he passed out?
Been knocked out?
“Jordan, stop!” I yelled.
He didn’t. His fists had minds of their own.
“Jordan, stop! He’s unconscious.”
Jordan finally stopped, his head shaking slightly as if fighting off the rage jockeying for control of his brain. He straightened up, his eyes never wavering from Wayne on the floor.
“Is he breathing?” I asked.
“Unfortunately,” Jordan said as he moved to me, wrapping his arms around me but never taking his eyes off Wayne. “When I walked in here…” he began.
“I know.”
“I was so fucking scared.”
“I know.”
He looked to me. Blood stained his face and shirt. “Did he touch you?”
“He slapped and shoved me. But that was it.”
His gaze dropped, looking me over. “Promise me nothing else happened.”
“I promise.”
He tugged me back against his chest and held me so tightly I could barely breathe. “I saw red. I saw what he did to your mom. I knew what he did to her over the years. What you had to see. I wanted to hurt him. I wanted him dead.”
“We’re okay. The police are on their way. He’ll get what he’s got coming.”
Footsteps in the hallway drew our attention to the door. Jordan hadn’t closed it when he walked in on Wayne and me, so two police officers entered the room with hands on the guns in their hip holsters. They spotted Wayne on the floor, unconscious.
“He armed?” the tall officer in front asked.
“I don’t know,” I said.
He moved toward Wayne, lowering to the floor. He pinched Wayne’s wrist, feeling for a pulse.
“What happened?” the shorter officer standing behind him asked, his eyes on Jordan’s bloody fists and blood-splattered face and shirt.
“Wayne attacked me,” I explained. “Jordan showed up and protected me.”
“You know the guy?” the officer at Wayne’s side asked as he searched for a weapon on Wayne.
“He was my stepfather.”
“Her abusive stepfather,” Jordan growled through clenched teeth.
“There’s a warrant out for his arrest,” I explained.
“Did you invite him here?” the short one asked as he assessed my room.
“What the fuck?” Jordan released me and straightened himself defensively. “Of course she didn’t. The lunatic beat up her mother and put her in the hospital. He must’ve followed Emery here after she left the hospital.”
“He did,” I said. “He pretty much told me that’s how he found me.”
“Are you hurt?” the shorter officer asked me.
I wrapped my arms around myself. “He slapped me…pushed me around. But mostly, I’m a little shaken up.”
“He tried to kill her mother. Left her for dead,” Jordan reiterated.
“Did he attack you?” the kneeling officer asked Jordan.
Jordan shook his head. “He didn’t have time. As soon as I found him here, I pounced.”
“That’s when I called 9-1-1,” I said.
EMTs walked through the door with a gurney, instantly attending to Wayne, all bloody and battered. We watched as they waved something under his nose. It took no more than a couple seconds and he stirred.
My body stiffened. Jordan held me, tucking me into his chest.
Wayne’s eyes shot around the room, ultimately landing on Jordan. “He attacked me,” Wayne said, low and menacing.
“What were you doing here?” one of the officers asked Wayne.
“Where am I?” Wayne asked, his eyes flashing around my room, as if he hadn’t come to my room on his own accord.
I could feel Jordan tense. “Don’t,” I whispered, holding on tightly and trying to help reel in his anger.
“He’s full of shit,” Jordan growled.
The shorter officer, aware that Jordan could snap at any moment and attack Wayne again, moved between us and Wayne. “Don’t make me cuff you,” he warned Jordan.
“You better be cuffing him,” Jordan spat.
“You don’t need to tell us how to do our jobs,” the officer said.
I pulled back from Jordan, holding my hands to his chest. “Jordan. They’re here now. It’s over.”
The officer moved to Wayne. His partner already stood at Wayne’s side as the EMTs transferred him onto the gurney. He groaned, and I hoped he had broken ribs like he’d given my mother. The shorter officer handcuffed Wayne to the gurney before the EMTs wheeled him to the door.
“Hope you get everything you deserve, you bastard!” Jordan called to Wayne as they disappeared into the hallway.
The taller officer walked over to us as the shorter one followed Wayne out. He pressed his hand to Jordan’s chest a little harder than probably necessary. “You, my friend, need to calm down. Whether or not there’s a warrant out for his arrest or not, you’re the one with blood on your hands. You’ll be lucky if he doesn’t press charges.”
“Fuck you.”
“Jordan,” I admonished.
“He attacked my girl and her mom. You have no idea what I’d be capable of if he shows up here again.”
The officer shook his head. “Comments like that don’t make you look as innocent as you’re claiming. Now I need to take you to the station—and you can react the way I think you’re gonna react—”
“I did nothing wrong,” Jordan argued.
“You attacked an unarmed man, beating him until he was unconscious. We have laws that say you can’t do that,” the officer explained.
“I want to give my statement,” I said. “Jordan did nothing wrong.”
“Ma’am. He can’t go around beating someone to a pulp. No matter what this guy did. This is gonna take some time.” He pulled his cuffs off his belt and looked to Jordan. “Make this easy on yourself. Don’t give those students in the hallway with their cell phones out something that goes viral. Come to the station willingly so I can take your statement and get you back to your girlfriend who seems to have had a pretty rough night.” The officer looked to me. “Call a lawyer for him. There’s no doubt in my mind that that guy’s going to play the victim and press charges.”
“Call my uncle,” Jordan said.
I nodded, knowing his uncle Cal was a damn good lawyer. I turned to the officer. “I assure you the police in multiple states have been looking for Wayne. He’s a bad man. No matter what he says. He’s a violent drunk who m
y mom finally had the courage to leave.” Tears began to well up in my eyes. “We changed our names and moved away four years ago, but he tracked us down. We’ve suffered enough because of him.”
The officer nodded, attaching his cuffs to his belt and taking Jordan’s arm to move him to the door.
Jordan resisted, turning to me and cupping my cheeks. “Call your mom. Tell her the good news.”
I nodded, my eyes now filled with tears.
“We’re good,” he assured me. “No matter what happens, we’re still happening, baby.”
I tried to stay strong for him, smiling through my tears as the officer led him away from me and out of my room. But the vision of him being taken away—and the knowledge that it was because of me—crushed every part of my heart.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Emery
I sat on the edge of my bed with my phone to my ear and my hand shaking wildly. I’d called Jordan’s uncle Cal who was on his way to the police station. And now I was trying to reach my mom.
“Emery?” my mom answered.
“Hi, Mama. How are you?”
“Feeling stronger every day.”
I wanted to smile, but every part of me trembled with fear for Jordan. “Are the Gradys there?”
“They’re out back having dinner.”
“Listen, Mama. I’ve got something to tell you.”
She went silent.
“Wayne showed up here.”
“What?” Fear filled her voice. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Jordan stopped him. He stopped him, Mama. And the police came and took Wayne away. You’re safe now.”
“Thank God. Where’s Jordan?”
I steadied my voice, not wanting to worry her, though I was terrified myself. “He’s at the police station.”
“Giving a statement?”
“Kind of.”
“Emery?”
“They took him to the station for attacking Wayne.”
“Did you call Cal?”
“Just got off the phone with him. He’s on his way to the station.”
She was silent. “I wish he wasn’t brought into our mess.”
“He wants to be in our mess. He told me.”
“He’s such a good boy,” my mother said.
“He is.”
“What am I gonna tell his parents?” she asked.
“Just tell them the truth. And tell them Cal is on his way there. He’s probably calling them as we speak.”
A silent moment passed between us. I wondered if she was able to breathe easily knowing Wayne was in custody. Knowing she wouldn’t need to hide anymore. Knowing she wouldn’t need to constantly look over her shoulder.
“How do you feel?” I asked.
“Is it wrong to say I feel better?”
“Of course not…Listen, I’ve gotta go, Mama. I want to be at the police station when Jordan’s released.”
“Okay, honey. I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
I hurried out of my room, stopping short when I found people milling about in the hallway. I lowered my eyes, and tried to walk past them without saying anything.
“Emery?”
Flip stood against the wall outside his room.
“Are you all right?”
“I think so.”
“How about Grady?”
“Do you really care?”
He winced.
I continued walking, desperate to get to the police station. My phone buzzed as soon as I stepped outside. I pulled it out and found a text from Raquel who’d been at her “friend’s” dorm all weekend. What the hell happened?
She gave me no time to respond. Her next text popped up. Grady’s arrest is all over the Internet.
My heart sank.
They’re saying he’ll be off the football team.
Football? I hadn’t even considered how it would affect football for him.
God dammit.
Grady
As the nephew of a renowned lawyer, I knew the drill. Let the cops play good cop, bad cop, but say nothing until your lawyer arrived. But I had nothing to hide, so I humored them with brief answers. The moment I mentioned I played football for Alabama, the atmosphere in the interrogation room changed. Both cops started treating me like some over-privileged dickhead who’d purposely beat the shit out of an innocent guy.
“Don’t you find it the least bit ironic this guy would show up on a college campus when security there is so tight?” Bad Cop asked.
I cocked my head. “If it were so tight, how’d he get in?”
They exchanged a pissed-off look.
“You said your girlfriend’s mom was in the hospital?” Good Cop asked.
I huffed, wanting to get the hell outta there to see Emery and make sure she was okay after everything that went down in her room. I looked from one officer to the other. “You can talk to your superiors. They’ve been in constant contact with my parents. And you can talk to campus security. They knew Emery was to be checked in on and they knew there was a warrant out for Wayne’s arrest.”
“We’re trying to figure out how this guy shows up at your girlfriend’s dorm room when—from what you’re telling us—multiple police forces are out looking for him to no avail,” Bad Cop said. “And then, you beat the hell out of him when you’re clearly bigger and he was unarmed.”
“Because the unarmed man broke into my girlfriend’s room and had her cornered. All of this after putting her mother in the hospital. Did you want me to wait for him to pull out a weapon? Maybe sit down and invite him to have dinner with us first?”
Bad Cop slammed his hands down on the table, pushing himself up and leaning into my face. “It’s that smug mouth of yours that’s gonna bring me pleasure to lock you up.”
I shook my head. “I’m tired. And I’m done. My lawyer should be—”
And just like in the movies, my uncle Cal walked in all chill in his charcoal gray suit and green tie. “Don’t say another word,” he ordered.
I nodded.
He glared at the cops. “If what’s been leaked all over the Internet is any indication of how this police department does business, I’ll slap you with so many lawsuits your heads will spin.”
After some angry phone calls to judges and the district attorney, I was released to my uncle. His hope was Wayne’s assault charge against me wouldn’t stick. And if it somehow did, because every citizen—even accused felons—had rights, we’d reach an agreement. He had little doubt that this whole fucked-up situation would blow over and be a thing of the past.
“What about Wayne?” I asked Uncle Cal as his driver drove us to my parents’ house.
“With a million-dollar bail, he’s not going anywhere.”
“Thank you,” I said, though it didn’t seem like enough since he kicked ass back there for me.
“Did you really need to knock the guy out? Your mother’s a wreck.”
I scrubbed my hands over my face. “When I saw him in there with Emery, something triggered inside me. I snapped. I wanted him dead.”
“Maybe so, but you can’t verbalize that, especially in front of the police.” Uncle Cal’s phone rang. He checked the screen and looked to me. “I’ve gotta take this.” He lifted it to his ear. “Grady here…” He listened to the caller, his face flushing. “You better tell them we’ll sue them for wrongful suspension. We’ll create a shit-storm so big they’ll be dealing with the aftermath for years.”
“What?” I whispered as he unsnapped the briefcase in his lap and shuffled through the papers inside it.
He waved me off and continued his conversation. “I’ve got the athlete discipline policy right in front of me. I’ve read it from front to back and there’s nothing about an arrest due to self-defense against a wanted man. It’s not our fault inaccurate information was leaked to the press before we could self-disclose.” He listened to the person on the other end before spewing back,
“The teams’ PR team needs to do damage control on their end. On our end, he’s innocent of any wrongdoing. If they try to bench him, they better believe we’re appealing it.” He disconnected the call and stewed in the seat beside me. I’d never seen him so fired up. He was known for being calm, cool, and collected. I guess that changed when his nephew was on the chopping block.
“Will I be able to play Saturday against Louisville?”
“I need a minute to process and decide how we’ll proceed.” He held out his opened palm. “Give me your phone.”
“Come on, Uncle Cal.”
He leveled me with his courtroom eyes. “You want nothing out there that could be misconstrued or used against you. And the way you kids post everything, I’m not taking any chances.”
I placed my phone in his hand, knowing he had my best interest in mind. And regardless of the backlash I received in the press or the misinformation being spread about me, I would have attacked that monster again in a heartbeat if it meant protecting Emery and her mom from him.
It’s what I should have done a long time ago.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Grady
I pounded on Emery’s door, probably attracting more attention than I needed. But she didn’t answer. Neither did her roommate. Where the hell was she? I didn’t want her alone, especially in the room where she’d been attacked. If my uncle hadn’t confiscated my phone, I would’ve already known exactly where she was.
I ran downstairs and hopped in my truck. It had been parked outside her dorm since before I’d been arrested. I drove home, needing a shower to remove the blood still staining my hands.
Dammit.
Reporters, with fucking cameras, lined the sidewalk.
I pulled into the driveway and immediately their lights switched on and the cameras were pointed in my face as I hurried to the door.
“Jordan, can you comment on the attack?” one reporter shouted.
“They’re saying your football career’s over,” another said, trying to get a reaction out of me.
“You think you can handle jail?” another asked as I climbed the front steps and pushed my way inside.
I slammed the door behind me and sat down on the sofa. I sank back into the cushions and covered my head with my arms. “Shit!” I yelled.