by Whitley Cox
Her gaze fell on a brass candlestick on her mantel, and she snatched it, stowing it behind her as she crept toward the dining room.
She hadn’t been hearing things, had she? That was Todd’s voice. She’d recognize it anywhere. The question was: Was it real, or was she going crazy and only imagining her ex-husband’s voice?
Her mind immediately went to the nanny cam she had in the kitchen, and the other one in the living room. If she got out of this alive, at least they would have video evidence of him entering her home and violating his restraining order. If she didn’t get out of this alive, they’d have her murder on tape.
If she got out of this alive …
Her murder on tape …
God, no woman should ever have to think like that.
Gathering every last bit of bravery she had inside her, she entered the kitchen to find Todd in a sleek black suit, blue tie and white shirt, leaning against the counter. His arms were crossed in front of his chest, a look of not only impatience on his face but barely harnessed rage. “There’s the fucking slut.”
Clenching her molars so her chin didn’t tremble, she kept herself tucked tight against the wall, making sure that she wasn’t in any corner and had at least two exits.
“Y-you need to leave, Todd. You shouldn’t … you can’t be here. I have a restraining order, remember?”
He rolled his eyes. “And I have a business to run, but you’re doing a damn good job fucking that up, aren’t you?”
She shook her head. “Scott and I met before we were neighbors. We didn’t know he was your client. This is all a big coincidence.”
“But you’re fucking him.”
“We’re divorced, Todd. You’re not my husband anymore. I am free to be friends with whomever I choose, to date whomever I choose.” She needed to keep him talking. If Liam had called the cops, she needed to give them time to get there.
Todd pushed off the counter and took a couple of long strides toward her, the fury on his face letting her know he was even closer to losing it. Her back was already to the wall. She couldn’t retreat any farther. Turning her body sideways, she slid away from him, the candlestick still behind her.
“Stay away from me, Todd. I filed a restraining order for a reason.”
His mouth turned up into a sneer that made the hair on her arms lift up and her blood turn frosty in her veins. “I never laid a hand on you until you gave me reason to.”
“You fucking raped me,” she blurted out, her jaw wobbling with each word. The candlestick behind her scraped against the wall, and she tightened her grip on it.
Todd rolled his eyes. “A husband can’t rape his wife.”
“You’re wrong.” Her heart hammered in her chest. The sound of her pulse was like a drum in her ears, which made it tough to tune in to other sounds around her—like the slam of a cop car’s door or voices of rescue outside.
Where were the police? Where was her surveillance team?
He took another step toward her, cutting off one of her exits, so she was now forced to sidestep into the kitchen nook, which left her cornered and without an exit.
She whipped the candleholder out from behind her back, brandishing it in front of her like a sword. “Don’t come any closer, Todd.” Every word was said with a quaver. Her grip on the candlestick began to slip as her palms grew sweatier and her knees threatened to buckle.
It was if the devil himself were staring back at her.
She didn’t even see it coming, his hand. But when it landed across her face with a harsh crack and sent the candlestick flying one way and Eva flying the other, the first thought that entered her mind was I’m going to die.
“You fucking slut,” he roared, attacking her where she kneeled on the kitchen floor, cupping her cheek. She was beneath him in seconds, his hands around her throat, his weight on top of her. “Trying to ruin my business, everything I’ve worked for. Kip called me. You had me followed! That fucking lawyer is trying to get me arrested.”
Bright lights and black spots clouded her vision the more she struggled against him, the more he cut off her airway. Her legs thrashed beneath him. Her hands scrabbled and scratched at his arms as the desperation to live, to not let him win seeped into every cell of her body.
This was not how her story was supposed to end. Not this way. Not like this. Not after she’d finally found the courage to leave Todd, to make a better life for her and her sons.
His thumbs pressed down harder on her throat. He was going to crush her windpipe.
Her head tossed back and forth on the harsh, unforgiving kitchen floor, hair covering her face and eyes, getting stuck to her cheeks from the spit flying out of his mouth and dropping on her.
She’d seen Todd mad, seen him enraged, but this was a whole new level. The man was deranged. Unhinged. A true, honest to goodness psychopath.
And he was going to kill her.
“T—To—” she sputtered, her fingernails scraping down his exposed forearms. But her energy was depleting. She had no more oxygen, no more fight left in her aching limbs to continue to battle him.
He was going to kill her. He was going to win.
And then, just as fast as he’d attacked her, he was off her. His hands left her throat. His weight no longer crushed her torso. Todd was flying across the room, landing with a thud and a crash against her china hutch. A few plates fell from their stands inside.
Eva gasped for air as if she’d just come up from the bottom of the pool. Her lungs burned with each breath. Her fingers fell to her throat. It hurt to swallow.
“Eva!” Scott scooped her into his arms and cradled her boneless body in his lap, her head against his chest. “Oh God, I didn’t think we’d get here in time.”
She blinked back the tears and lifted her head to see not only Scott, but Liam standing behind him, along with what appeared to be half a dozen cops or more. Three were attending to a dazed and confused Todd, their handcuffs out and at the ready.
“Along with your call, there were four other 911 calls within the span of five minutes,” she heard one cop say behind her. He was speaking to Liam. “All the calls came from within this neighborhood. Next door, across the street. We haven’t seen a neighborhood watch program like this in a long time.”
“Where the fuck was the surveillance team I hired?” Liam asked, anger in his tone.
“Got stuck behind the pileup on Glenn and Ridgemont,” an unfamiliar, deep masculine voice rumbled. “Sorry, man. Traffic was at a standstill. We were sandwiched in.”
Liam muttered something else, but his ire seemed to have faded.
Another unfamiliar voice fell next to Eva’s ear. Still in Scott’s arms and catching her breath as she attempted to make sense of it all, she lifted her head to find a friendly-looking male police officer crouching down beside her. “Are you okay, ma’am?”
“Should get her checked out by the paramedics,” Scott said, anger lacing his tone. He cupped her chin gently, the fingers of his other hand trailing down her throat with a feather-light touch. His gaze softened until he pivoted his head around to stare at a now standing Todd, his hands behind his back, a police officer reading him his Miranda Rights. Scott’s jaw tightened iron-hard. “Get that fucker out of here before I—”
“Get him out of here,” the cop next to them said, jerking his chin at the other officers. He glanced at Scott. “Leave the law to us, Mr. Dixon.”
Scott’s lips pursed until he zeroed his baby browns back on Eva. “Do you need help up, babe?”
She shook her head, but he helped her to her feet anyway, never leaving her side or letting go of her. His touch was the reassuring boon of comfort she sorely needed at the moment.
“We’re going to need to get statements from you, Ms. Marchand,” the officer said. “You as well, Mr. Dixon. We understand Mr. Fletcher has been working with your company?”
“Let’s go next door to my place,” Scott said, his hand cupping Eva’s elbow and leading her to the front door. “We can
get her cleaned up and give statements over there.”
The officer nodded. “Paramedics are on their way. They can determine whether Ms. Marchand needs to see a doctor or not.”
Eva allowed him to lead her to the front door. She slid into the pink and purple polka-dot flip-flops she had on the shoe rack and, like a robot, followed Scott down the path; her driveway, loaded with cop cars; and around the hedge to his house. Neighbors all down the block were lined up along the sidewalks and milling around in their front yards. A few daring ones had ventured down the road and were in groups, murmuring and speculating closer to Eva’s home.
Everyone stopped and stared when she and Scott stepped out onto the sidewalk.
“Eva, darling, are you all right?” Mr. Gallagher from next door asked. “Saw that man sneak onto your deck, called the police because he seemed suspicious. You okay?”
“We’ll update you later, Mr. Gallagher,” Scott called back. “Need to get Eva checked out first.”
Mr. Gallagher nodded, then conferred with the three people he was standing with on the sidewalk.
“Hope you’re okay, honey,” Mrs. Sandham from across the street said, hunched over her walker, with her little shih tzu, Yudi, sniffing the grass next to her.
Eva merely glanced back and nodded before turning her head forward again and following Scott and the police officer toward Scott’s house.
They were just climbing the steps to the front door when an ambulance pulled into Scott’s driveway and two paramedics jumped out.
“Come on, babe,” Scott murmured into her ear, his grip on her elbow tightening. “Let’s head inside. Get you checked out.”
Eva sighed, turned to head inside, but was distracted once more by the cop car pulling out of her driveway and heading down the road. Todd was in the back seat, and the glower on his face as he stared out the car window at her was murderous.
Would she ever truly be free of the man?
“He can’t hurt you anymore,” Scott said, his hands moving to her waist, the heat of his palms a salve to soothe her damaged soul. “We’ll make sure of it. Come inside where it’s safe. Where I am.”
Her eyes squeezed closed and she nodded, following him inside.
“I’ve been on the phone with the district attorney,” Liam said, pacing back and forth in front of the hearth of Scott’s living room. “He’s going for the maximum sentence. After he violated the restraining order, the breaking and entering into Eva’s house, the attempted murder—which we got on tape—he figures we’ve got a pretty good case. Not to mention all the illegal stuff going on with Fletcher’s business dealings. The DA is going to continue to work with McGregor and see how deep everything in Fletcher Holdings really goes. Sweep the leg and then geld him as Richelle likes to say. They’ve also arrested Officer Croy for tipping Todd off.”
Scott exhaled a sigh of relief as he sat back down on his couch next to Eva and handed her the cup of tea he’d brewed her. The cops were gone, as were the paramedics. Eva’s injuries, although terrible looking, were superficial. Her throat was already mottled with dark purple bruises, and there was a cut on her cheek from where he’d slapped her. Otherwise, she was deemed fine—at least physically.
He worried about her psychologically though. Emotionally.
She had been awfully quiet since the cops left. Even when the cops were there, she answered their questions but barely spoke otherwise.
They’d called Celeste to apprise her of the situation, and although her sister was obviously shaken up, she agreed that it was probably best if she kept the boys away from Eva until their mother was in a better mental state.
“I’m going to run,” Liam said, checking his watch. “Let me know if you need anything, okay, Eva?”
She nodded and thanked him, but her gaze remained fixed on the shaggy faux fur rug at the foot of Scott’s hearth.
Scott saw his brother out, then immediately returned to her side. His knuckle came up beneath her chin, and he lifted her head up gently until her gaze pivoted to his. “God, babe, I’m so sorry I didn’t get here sooner.”
She didn’t say anything, but her eyes blinked several times, moisture gathering and causing the lashes to spike.
The look on her face gutted him.
Pressing his forehead to hers, he spoke soft and slow, as one might speak when dealing with a spooked horse. “Talk to me.”
Her lashes fluttered closed and she shook her head, dislodging his knuckle from her chin. “I don’t think I’ll ever be rid of him,” she croaked, her natural rasp even stronger. “Not really. Not unless he’s dead.”
Pulling his forehead away, he took her hands in his. He needed the physical connection probably as much as she did. Seeing her there on the floor with Todd’s hands wrapped around her throat had been a nightmare come to life. The way her legs twitched as he slowly, determinedly squeezed the life out of her. That image would haunt him for a long time.
“The trial will be hard, yes,” he said. “But hopefully, between all of us and the DA, we can put him away for as long as humanly possible. Until the boys are adults and able to think for themselves. I promise you, Eva, I will do everything I can to not let Todd Fletcher hurt you or your kids ever again. You have my word.”
Green eyes glassy with unshed tears lifted to his face. “I’m scared.”
He took the mug of tea from her and pulled her into his lap, holding her tight against his body to absorb her fear, absorb her anger—because there was probably a lot of that in there too—but most of all, to let her know that no matter what, he wasn’t going anywhere.
Her body shook as the sobs came on. Hot, wet tears trickled down her cheeks and fell down his V-neck. Her fingers bunched, white-knuckled, in the fabric of his shirt. He rubbed her back and murmured shushing noises, the same sounds he made when Freddie was upset after falling off the jungle gym or waking up from a bad dream.
Slowly, he wasn’t sure how long it took, the tears ebbed and the sobbing stopped. But he continued to hold her. It was a while that they sat there with nothing but understanding quiet between them and the faint tick-tock of the clock on his mantel.
She lifted her head from his shoulder, her eyes red-rimmed and unbelievably tired. “I think I love you, Scott Dixon.”
He smiled. “I know I love you, Eva Marchand.”
Her breath escaped her on a stuttered sigh, and she snuggled back into his body, her own body more relaxed now. She intertwined her fingers with his. “Where’s Freddie?”
“With your sister and the boys at Aaron’s. Figured it was the safest place.”
She nodded in understanding. “You think Todd will get convicted and go to prison for a long time?”
“We can hope,” he said, squeezing her tighter against him.
“I’m going to hope. Wish on every shooting star I see and maybe even pray,” she breathed. “Not that I really do that. But I’ll start if it will help.”
“I’ll start too.” He pecked her on the temple.
“But you know what else I’m going to hope and wish and pray for?”
“Hmm? What’s that?”
“That I never let you get away. I plan to keep you, Scott Dixon. You’re one of the good ones, and I’m not letting you go.”
His eyes met hers, and what stared back at him was not so much fear or anger anymore but resolve and determination. Hope and faith, and most definitely love. His lips hovered just above hers. “Didn’t I tell you already, babe? We’re inevitable.” Then he sealed his mouth over hers and took away the last of her pain, replacing it with nothing but hope for the future. Their future, at the moment, looked fucking brilliant.
Epilogue
One year later …
“Last of the boxes?” Scott asked as he met Eva in his driveway and took the final big box from her.
She dusted her hands off on her green yoga pants. “That’s the last box. The boys and I are officially moved in with you and Freddie.”
He wandered over to his porch and
set the box down on the steps, unable to keep the mile-wide grin from his face. When he spun around, she was right behind him.
“I’ll go into the house tomorrow and do a clean, then the carpet cleaners are scheduled to come Tuesday, electrician Wednesday.”
“And the new tenants move in Saturday?”
“That’s the plan.” She beamed up at him, lifting up onto her tiptoes and wrapping her arms around his neck. They were about to kiss when three wild, whooping and hollering little boys came careening around the corner from the backyard. “You’re sure you don’t mind giving up your home office so that each of my boys can have their own room?” The kids had now found sticks and were pretending they were magic wands, casting freeze spells and animal spells on each other.
“I don’t mind at all,” he said. “Besides, now that I’m running Dynamic Creative, I have an office five times the size of my home office, and I’m going to try to stop bringing my work home with me.”
She nuzzled her nose against his. “I like that idea.”
“And, if the house is feeling extra busy, we can always sneak next door to your salon for a walk down memory lane.” They’d decided to rent out Eva’s house but keep the basement as her salon and spa. The rental demand in Seattle was crazy, so it just made sense to invest in real estate. The boys had also been over-the-moon excited when he and Eva decided to take the plunge and move in together. The next morning, he found Kellen and Lucas on his front porch with packed backpacks and their pillows.
“Where’s memory lane?” Freddie asked, holding still because Kellen had cast a freeze spell on him.
“Anywhere you have wonderful memories,” Scott informed him.
Freddie nodded, then burst free from his spell and ran after Kellen yelling, “Icicle Superificus.”
“That reminds me,” Scott said, releasing Eva’s waist and reaching into his front pocket. “We have one more box.”
She wrinkled her nose. “No, we don’t. I checked.”