Fix You, Bash and Olivia Book One
Page 8
“I thought I was your boyfriend, but apparently one of us didn’t take that commitment very seriously.”
He was off the deep end now. Totally delusional. Blaming me for his one-way trip to crazy town.
“You’re insane. We both knew it was over before you left. You were abusive and, and now you’ve decided to start stalking me.”
“Not stalking, babe, catching. I knew you stayed behind so you could fuck that guy. And if you want to act like a piece of trash, I don’t know why you’re surprised when I treat you like one.”
“Get out.” My hands were shaking but my voice was steady. “Go!” I said, louder this time when he didn’t respond. I gripped my keys and pointed one outward for a strike if need be.
Andy held my gaze for a long time before nodding. I nearly slumped with relief as he made his way to the door. Until he turned to face me, one hand on the knob.
“Oh, and by the way? Getting your boyfriend his job back won’t do him much good. He won’t be needing it.”
My fingers went numb and my keys dropped to the floor, landing with a jingle. “What are you talking about?”
He lifted his arm with a flourish and peered down at his watch. “Good old Bash McDaniels is about to be picked up by Boston’s finest so he can serve his time in the penitentiary for assault and battery.” He opened the door and stepped through, calling behind him, “You should hurry up if you want to catch the show. I know I’m going to.”
His words rained down on me like arrows.
Bash was going to jail because of me. The horror of it was nearly paralyzing.
Tears sprang to my eyes and I dropped to the floor, searching blindly for my keys. There had to be a way to stop this. It couldn’t be too late. I closed my fingers over the key ring and then sprinted to the door.
By the time I got to the dorm parking lot, Andy was gone. I yanked my cell phone from my pocket and dialed Bash while I ran to my car. “Please answer, please answer,” I muttered under my breath. I’d just swung open the driver’s side door when the ringing stopped and a recorded voice came on.
“Bash McDaniels. Leave a number.”
“Goddamn it!” I slid into the seat and slammed my palm against the steering wheel before disconnecting. I had no way to warn him but I could at least go there and try to change Andy’s mind.
The five-minute drive felt like an eternity. When I pulled into the small parking lot of the gym I had left no more than an hour ago, there were only two spaces left. The others were taken by Bash’s car, and black-and-white cars with sirens flashing.
Heart pounding, I yanked the keys out of the ignition and shoved open the car door. Surely it wasn’t too late for Andy to retract the charges? As I scurried toward the grimy glass door, I racked my brain for bargaining chips. What did Andy want? Revenge? To salvage his pride?
I was still a half dozen yards away when the door swung open. A cop dressed in uniform led the way, followed by a smug-looking Andy.
“Sir, I understand you have a vested interest in this case, but I’m going to suggest you head on home now.” The officer’s voice was low but firm. I lost track of the rest of their conversation as two more policemen came through with Bash sandwiched between them in handcuffs.
“Oh my God, please,” I begged, closing the distance between us. “Please, this is all a mistake. Don’t do this. He was just protecting me from that guy.” I pointed to Andy just as the policemen slowed and moved to flank Bash. He stared straight ahead looking…dead inside. Resigned to his fate. The sight was more awful than if he’d been in tears. The super impenetrable Bash mask was firmly back in place, and I wanted to howl in despair.
“Miss,” the young blond cop on Bash’s right said quietly, “I understand you’re upset, but we need you to go. You can contact the station once his paperwork is filed for more information. If you have a complaint to file, or have a statement to offer, you’re free to do so at that time.”
I turned to Andy, who was still watching the scene play out as he strolled toward his own vehicle, taking his sweet time.
I could file charges against him, but I had no proof besides my word and the word of the guy who was on his way to jail. “Is this what you really want? To ruin someone’s life over nothing?” I shouted, rage making my voice shake.
“It’s not nothing, Olivia. He attacked me.” But we both knew that hadn’t been the real crime. Bash had tried to take what belonged to him and it had sent Andy into a rage. So how to soften the blow?
“Stop it, Liv. Just let it go,” Bash muttered. The officer tugged him toward the nearest black-and-white, and I knew I was out of time.
“Please don’t do this, Andy. I’ll do anything you want. Drop the charges and I swear, I’ll never see him again.” It killed me to say it and I nearly choked on the words, but my pain was nothing compared to what I’d put Bash through. He was probably glad for it now. I’d been like a class five tornado, tearing up everything in my path and wrecking his world since the day he laid eyes on me.
Andy shrugged and his smile was pure evil. “You won’t see him again anyway. Because he’ll be in jail.” With that and a curt nod to the police officers, he covered the rest of the distance to his Mercedes.
That was it. I had nothing left to say. Nothing to offer. Nothing to trade. I turned just in time to see Bash get into the backseat of the police car. When the door closed behind him, I caught his gaze through the window. The mask was gone. He looked wrecked, and I was wrong. It wasn’t better.
I swallowed back the nausea that rose in my throat and tried to think past the fear. This wasn’t the end. There had to be something I could do. This could ruin everything for him. He’d miss his big fight, if he was even ever allowed to fight again. His dreams of leaving Boston were crashing and burning before my very eyes.
“What’s going on?” A low voice caught my attention from the street side of the lot and tore my gaze away from Bash to see Matthias standing on the sidewalk with a tray of coffees and a white bakery bag.
“Matthias, I—”
“Jesus, it’s like a three-ring circus here,” one of the officers murmured to the other. “People, we’re really going to need your cooperation here,” he called. “If you live here, go ahead inside, and if not, please head out.”
Matthias acted like he didn’t even hear that, as he looked from me to his brother and back again. “What did you do?” He barreled toward me, tossing the tray to the ground on his way. “This is on you, right?” His green eyes blazed with fury as he skidded to a stop a few feet from where I stood. “Why couldn’t you just stay the fuck away from him?”
I didn’t bother to defend myself, because this was one attack I deserved. How could I have dragged Bash into this mess? Tears blinded me and I swiped them away. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
He swept past me with a look of hatred so strong it withered my soul, and then approached the police car. “Don’t worry, bro,” he said, laying his hand on the window that separated them. “We got this. Give me a couple days and I’ll get it all taken care of. Keep your eye on the prize.”
“Step away from the car, sir.”
Matthias complied and Bash’s face came into view. I wished I had more time. To tell him how sorry I was. To tell him I wasn’t going to give up. That I’d find a way to fix this.
But when he looked back at me, the mask was back in place and I realized something that shattered me into a thousand pieces.
Some things could never be fixed…
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About The Author
Christine Bell is the USA Bestselling Author of Adult and New Adult contemporary romance novels. She and her handsome hubby currently reside in Pennsylvania with a four-pack of t
eenage boys and their two dogs, Gimli and Pug. If she gets time off from her duties as maid, chef, chauffeur, or therapist, she can be found reading just about anything she can get her hands on, from Young Adult novels to books on poker theory. She doesn’t like root beer, clowns or bugs (except ladybugs, on account of their cute outfits), but lurrves chocolate, going to the movies, the New York Giants and playing Texas Hold 'Em.
Writing is her passion, but if she had to pick another occupation, she would be a pirate...or, like, a ninja maybe. She loves writing romance, but also hopes to one day publish something her dad can read without wanting to dig his eyes out with rusty spoons.
Christine loves to hear from readers, so please feel free to get in touch with her via her website contact page, on her Facebook page, or on Twitter@_ChristineBell
Other Works By Christine Bell
Dare Me Series
Down on her Knees
Down the Aisle
Down and Dirty
Down for the Count
For Hire Series
Guardian for Hire
Wife for Hire
Dirty Trick
White Lie Christmas (with author Riley Murphy)
The Twisted Tale of Stormy Gale
YA Books by Christine Bell writing as Christine O’Neil
Chaos
Table of Contents
Copyrights
Dedication
Acknowledgements
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
About The Author
Other Works By Christine Bell