When It Rains... He Pours

by Leah Holt

  WHEN IT RAINS

  HE POURS

  Leah Holt

  Copyright © 2018 Leah Holt

  All rights reserved. WHEN IT RAINS HE POURS is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Copyright Page

  When It Rains He Pours

  Connect with Leah!

  Also from Leah Holt:

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Epilogue

  Also from Leah Holt:

  About Leah Holt

  Connect with Leah!

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  Also from Leah Holt:

  CHAINED: A Bad Boy Romance

  HIS PRICE: A Billionaire Romance

  MY SOLDIER: A Military Romance

  BARE SKIN: A Billionaire Romance

  BODY LOCK: A Bad Boy MMA Romance

  BAD BEHAVIOR: A Dark Mafia Romance

  DIRTY BEHAVIOR: A Dark Mafia Romance

  SWEET VIRGIN

  BEG ME ANGEL: A Dark Romance

  PUSHED: A Dark Romance

  KEEP ME: A Dark Romance

  REDD: A Dark Romance

  BEAUTIFUL LIE

  ALPHA ON TOP: A Bad Boy Romance

  DEAR AUTHOR

  QUEEN OF PENTACLES (Cards Of Love)

  Chapter One

  Glory

  What the hell?

  Reaching my arm out, I touched the handle and watched the door sway. It was loose, not closed and locked up tight like I had left it the night before.

  Why is this open?

  Stepping back, I cupped my hips and looked around. The street was busy, flooded with cars and pedestrians. Spotting a woman on the curb right in front of my shop, I started towards her.

  “Excuse me,” I said, softly holding out my hand. “Did you see anyone going in here?”

  There was a chance that someone could have seen what happened, maybe a wandering eye had caught a fleeting glimpse of something—anything.

  Her eyes lifted in annoyance, as if my question had somehow caused a great nuisance to what she was doing. “No.” Tossing her head back and forth, she darted over the crosswalk and was gone before I could get another word in.

  Okay, sorry for asking.

  Stepping back to the door, I pushed it open and listened to it swing inward. But it didn't open all the way, stopping halfway through, and gently bumping against something hard on the floor.

  No, no, no, no. . . This isn't happening. It's not what it looks like.

  The hair on the back of my neck shot up, as my skin buzzed, charged with electrified pops. My breathing became ragged, chest struggling to inhale shallow gulps of air.

  Panic and confusion struck me down like a giant lightening bolt. I couldn't move, I couldn't think. It didn't make sense, nothing about this made sense. I wanted to rationalize it, pulling simple excuses out of thin air, and forcing them to fit.

  The lock broke. . .

  I didn't actually close it. . .

  The wind, yeah the wind must have blown it open.

  I tried everything I could to hold onto those thoughts and make them real. But I was wishing on falling stars, watching them drop from the sky, crashing and burning into the ground. I had to face the truth, no matter how much it hurt.

  Sealing my eyes shut instinctively, I stood still, inhaling deep breaths and trying to muster the strength to look. I couldn't, I didn't want to. I knew what I was about to see and I wasn't ready for it.

  The slow creek of the door as the rusty hinges swiveled inward, rang in my ears. The eerie silence of anticipation swelled in my chest like a hot air balloon, growing and building, turning my nerves upside down.

  Someone broke in.

  You have to look, there's no way you can't.

  Releasing the air from my lungs in one long whoosh, I opened my eyes and glanced around. Instantly, my heart sank into my stomach, chest collapsing around itself and suffocating me where I stood.

  I can't breathe.

  Oh my god, I can't breathe!

  Holding my chest, I inhaled through my nose, exhaling out my mouth, repeating the cycle over and over again. Every part of my body instantly hurt, like I had been pushed off the back of a truck and dragged for miles across rocky pavement.

  My work is gone. . . It's all gone.

  Who would do this?

  Why would they do this?

  Stepping over one broken painting after another, shards of wood speckled the floor like sharp thorns, while sheets of canvas were ripped and strewn about like horribly disfigured snowflakes.

  “Fuck.” Whispering under my breath, I spun in a circle and stared down on what used to be my gallery. Scraping distraught fingers over my scalp, I tugged at the roots of my hair, pulling it tight.

  Holy shit. . . This can't be happening!

  Why?

  Why me?

  Why like this?

  The room became blurry and warped as tears bubbled over the surface of my eyes. Blinking, a rush of water streamed down my cheeks as my arms hung lifelessly by my sides.

  Shock, that was the only word I could use to describe what I felt. Complete and total shock. Every inch of my skin was tingling, growing warmer and warmer as traumatized adrenaline purged my veins.

  My gallery had been destroyed; completely fucking ruined, brought back down to bare bones and dust.

  Standing in the midst of debris and destruction, my eyes continued to bleed with tears and my heart broke in half. I couldn't stop, no amount of wiping and sniffling could stifle the raindrops pouring off my face.

  It's all gone. . . All of it. What the hell am I going to do?

  Years of hard work had been erased in an instant. Every single painting, every single image that I created with the stroke of a brush had been torn apart as if they meant nothing.

  But they meant something to me. . . They meant everything to me.

  I can't believe this is happening.

  My brain scrambled with a million thoughts, all of them running and scattering out like tiny bugs from under a rock.

  Dropping my bag to the floor, I crouched down, and braided my fingers together. I couldn't stand anymore as my legs shook, weakening beneath me, and causing the room to sway.

  The walls appeared to bow out, the ground felt like a rolling wave, raising up high and crashing hard, dragging me into the depths with the undertow.

  Clutching my stomach, vomit sat in the back of my throat, threatening to mix with the scattered canvases and broken frames. Digging the tips of my fingers into the floor, I tried to steady the spinning world around me.

&
nbsp; All my paintings are gone.

  The thought caused my breath to hitch and my lungs to ache. The air became too thick and painful to swallow. Gripping my chest, small hiccups of oxygen wriggled down my throat.

  What now? What the fuck do I do now?

  Who would do something like this?

  Where the hell was I supposed to begin? How the fuck was I supposed to process the fact that yesterday I was floating and today I was drowning?

  This was my everything, it was my passion. And now—now it was nothing more than oil colored tinder.

  Picking up a thin strip of wood, I stared at the splintered ends, softly thumbing the jagged edge. Blood pumped through my ears, forcing the world around me into silence. This was one of the worst pains I had ever felt. I was numb, fixated on the shard between my fingertips, blankly aware of the splinters pricking my skin.

  A fleeting echo tapped behind me, and I chose to ignore it. Because nothing else was important. Everything that held significance in my life was sawdust at my feet. This place, this was what I had been striving to build—and now it was nothing.

  How the hell am I going to rebuild all this?

  In one quick swoop, a large hand clasped over my mouth. A faint gasp tumbled from my lips, as an icy shiver ran over my body from head to toe.

  I shouldn't have ignored that sound. If I had been more alert, if I hadn't been so lost in my own head, then maybe I could have defended myself.

  On instinct, my hands flew up, latching around the thick wrists capturing my body. I held onto them, unsure of what else I could do. I couldn't scream, I couldn't wriggle away. So I held on with a death grip as if my touch would signal the distress I felt and the man behind me would let me go.

  He didn't let go.

  “Don't try a fucking thing.” His voice whispered in my ear, thick and heavy. Firm fingers cradled my cheeks and nose, making it hard to inhale. “If I pull my hand away, you need to stay quiet. Understand?”

  Nodding yes, I could smell the scent of his sweaty hands as his fingertips dug into the soft flesh of my cheek. It was sour, tainted in twisted anger.

  “Good.” Sliding his hand down off my mouth, the sharp edge of his nails dug into my neck, keeping me frozen in place.

  Oh my god. . . What does this guy want? Why is he doing this?

  Sucking in a huge gulp of air, tears started to fall swift and painfully as my heart beat fast and hard.

  The stiff nubs of his fingers teased the pulsing artery under my skin, playing with my life. “Do you like it? Do you like what I did for you? It should make this easier, with it all gone, you have nothing else to lose.”

  What? What the hell is he talking about?

  My brain fired off in every direction, looking for an escape, trying to find a way to stop him before he did anything else, before it went any further.

  “I. . . I can give you money—”

  “Shut your fucking mouth. I didn't come here for your money.”

  Then what does he—

  Tumbling nerves twisted my stomach, as a painful heat seared my insides, turning me raw. This man had other plans.

  I didn't want to be right, I wanted to be wrong, it was easier to be wrong. Unsure of how to respond to such a horrid truth, I asked, “Then what do you want?” The words squeaked out, built on nothing but air.

  Please, tell me I'm wrong.

  The man let out a devious chuckle, dancing the tips of his fingers back and forth over the lump in my throat. “You really don't know?” Lowering his lips to the shell of my ear, his tone darkened. “You can't tell? Are you really that fucking stupid?”

  No. No, no, no.

  He can't! I won't let him!

  My throat was horse and dry, making my voice crack. “You don't have to do this.”

  Twisting me on my heels, a dark shadow covered his face as he walked me backwards. My feet clung to the ground, trying desperately to stay in that place. I didn't want to be guided away, further and further into the depths of my gallery. Further and further away from the outside world and the safety I could hear passing by like thunder in a cloud.

  There were so many people outside, but none of them were aware of what was happening in here, hidden behind the walls.

  “Please, just let me go.” The hard wall slammed into my shoulder blades, forcing all the air out of my lungs.

  “You're not going anywhere, not until I'm finished.” The white of his eyes glowed against the black silhouette. “Not until we're seeing eye to eye.”

  “Don't do this, you don't have to do this.” Holding up my arms, palms facing out, I hoped whatever humanity he had left inside would make its voice heard.

  I needed him to recognize that this wasn't right, that this would hurt us both. Because darkness wasn't a single layer, it was an endless hole. And if he kept going, it would only trap us both.

  I'd be left burning inside myself with nightmares and scattered emotions I'd never tame. And this man, he'd have to live with the memory of what he had done.

  Leave me alone!

  I won't let you do this!

  “That's not up to me.” Dropping his arms to his sides, they hung stiff. “I don't make the rules, I just follow them.”

  Is this guy fucking crazy?

  What rules?

  The man took a step forward, his shoulders pressing back, head clicking shoulder to shoulder like he was stretching his neck. We were inches apart, almost touching chest to chest.

  I didn't want him that close, I wanted him to get the hell out and leave me alone. Glancing at the floor to my side, I spotted my purse. It was arms length away, so close I could feel the phone inside.

  “If you don't get the fuck out of here, I'm calling the cops!” Jerking my body to the side, I lunged for my purse on the floor.

  The man snapped forward, forcing my muscles into overdrive. Slamming my knees on the ground, a gust of air swept past my face as he tried to grab me. He missed.

  Crawling on my hands and knees, I scrambled to my bag. It seemed so much further away than I thought, as if my eyes had played a cruel trick, and it hadn't been close to begin with.

  “Get back here!” he barked, stomping with heavy feet. His boots hit with force, each step a needless drive to regain control.

  The light off the street caught my eye, slithering over the floor in bright beams of safety. All I had to do was get there, all I needed to do was get up and run out that door.

  Go Glory! Go!

  Pushing my hands into the ground, I climbed to my feet and ran. My heels crunched over broken glass and splintered remnants of my life.

  Everything I had was gone, and I wasn't about to let this creature take one more thing from me.

  The man growled like a wild animal, his grunt filled with anger and rage. But I didn't look back to see where he was, I was too close, the door was right there, all I had to do was take a few more steps.

  Tripping over the broken paintings, I lost my footing and fell onto my knees. Short bursts of air filled my lungs as the tips of his shoes crept into my line of sight. He was standing over me, his presence weighing down on my shoulders and holding me still.

  And just like that, the safety was gone, ripped out from beneath my feet like a rug.

  “Why are you doing this to me!?” I screamed, keeping my eyes on the floor. I didn't want to look up, I couldn't. Just feeling the fear of the unknown was enough to keep me stagnant. “What the hell do you want from me?”

  “You should know,” he said, the words tearing off his tongue through clenched teeth. “You should know exactly what I want from you, I shouldn't have to explain myself.”

  Breathing in slowly through my nose, I curled the tips of my fingers into the floor. My nails raked the small divots in the hard surface as desperation and need overwhelmed me.

  You can't have it! I'm not yours to take!

  Shaking my head, I swallowed the lump in my throat, trying so damn hard to keep my composure. There had to be something else I could offer him,
something that wasn't forced use of my body.

  Because I wouldn't give him that. I would never stop fighting him if he pushed me, I would never just give in and let him do whatever the hell he wanted.

  My body stilled, his breath hot like lava, burning my skin as he spoke. “Stop pretending like this is a game. Because if you haven't noticed, we're not playing along.”

  We? Why is he saying we?

  What the fuck is he talking about?

  “I can't. . . I don't under—”

  Cutting me off, his lips turned razor thin. “If all of this isn't enough to make you see, if it does nothing to let you know that we're serious, then you're really fucking stupid.”

  My hair fell back into my face as my head tilted into my shoulder. This man was confusing the hell out of me.

  “I won't tell you that you can do this. I can't.” Hanging my head lower, I lifted my hands into my lap and nervously fiddled with the nails.

  All I wanted was for him to leave me alone. That was it. I wasn't sure how I could take any more.

  Dropping to his haunches, he ran a heavy hand across my chin. “It didn't have to come to this, but if you don't change your mind, it's only going to get worse.”

  Change my mind?! Does he really think I'll just lay back and accept it with open arms?!

  Flaring my nostrils, the pain in my chest turned sharp, piercing my heart like hot needles. “Fuck you.”

  “Ha,” he laughed out loud, dipping his head into his chest as he stroked his jaw. “No sweetheart, that's where you're wrong. All of this, it's only going to fuck you. But you already know that, at least you should now.”

  My blood began to boil, percolating under the skin like coffee. How dare he? How dare this man come into my place—into my world and try to shatter it?

  He had no right.

  Balling my fists, I cocked my head up. Veering my stare, I tried like hell to see his face. The shadow had shifted, allowing the faint light to break across his jaw. A dark stubble coated his chin, his lips were thin and cheeks sharp.

  Show me your face, Asshole!

  You're a coward—a weak, fucking coward, hiding behind that hood!

  The scream sat on the back of my tongue, but no matter how much I tried, I couldn't get it out. It was stuck, digging claws into the muscle of my mouth to stay inside.