Rush (Hector & Millie) (Seaside Valleria #1)

by Marianne Knightly

  She screamed instead.

  Two men beat her, kicked her, and bloodied her, while a third rifled through her things. One of the men started breaking apart her containers, beads and bindings, earring backs and necklace clasps flying everywhere. Another man threw down the jewelry in his hands, and it fell on top of her.

  More pain.

  FIGHT!

  It was all she could do to stay conscious. Yet, when one man came close, she lifted her right arm to scratch out his eyes and tried to scream some more.

  One of the men smashed her right arm down, and she let out a silent scream as she heard a sickening crunch.

  They broke her.

  She screamed as loud as she could, despite the massive aching of her ribs.

  A kick landed on her head. “Shut up, you dumb bitch.”

  Oh my God. The voice was familiar, but she couldn’t place it…

  One eye seemed to shut on its own. She strained to see through the other, trying to identify who else was there. Something about one of them was familiar, but she couldn’t figure out what.

  She tried to reach out, tried to fight some more.

  Another kick and she groaned.

  Would it stop? Would it ever stop?

  “Help!” she screamed, her voice thick and scratchy, and they kicked her again.

  One of them grabbed her money box and wrestled it open.

  Hundreds in cash, gone. For her, that was rent and food. It meant surviving another goddamn day.

  Goddammit, she needed that money.

  “No.” She tried to shake her head, to move, to fight. There was so much pain.

  “Shit, she’s a whiner. You sure she’s your daughter?” one of the men said.

  His words lanced her, as if she’d been stabbed.

  Her father was there? Her father had hurt her? It must have been over twenty-five years since she’d seen him.

  It took every last bit of energy inside her, but she managed to scream. “Help!”

  “Hey! What the hell are you doing?” a new voice shouted.

  In the fog of pain, she barely made sense of what happened next.

  The men around her started scrambling. One of her displays was thrown at her face, and she whimpered again as it hit her bruised eye. They jumped over her and she heard the pounding of their feet as they ran away.

  “Good God.” A man stopped by her side.

  She whimpered again.

  “I’m not going to harm you. I promise. Try not to move.” He pulled out a phone. “Emergency? Yes, I’m at the county fair. A woman’s been attacked. We’re at the pavilion…”

  Black. It was coming. Her open eye was shifting in and out of focus, blinking slowly. She saw the white of her tablecloth. White was good for jewelry. It made the colors pop.

  The last thing she saw before she passed out was her blood marring the pristine white.

  Chapter Eleven

  Millie was groggy when she first woke. Disoriented, she couldn’t make sense of where she was. Her entire body felt heavy, and tiny pricks of pain were attacking her everywhere. The only thing she knew was that she didn’t want to wake up.

  What purpose would that serve? She’d just feel more pain. More and more until she couldn’t take anymore. How much more could she take? How much more was she supposed to take?

  Her body, unrelentingly awake, forced her eye open. One eye was covered in something, and she didn’t have the strength to lift her arm to move it. She saw a figure standing nearby. When her glasses-less eye squinted—causing her headache to worsen—she saw it was a man.

  She gasped and tried to move, her body barely shifting.

  The man held up his hands. “You’re safe. I’m a doctor. You’re in a hospital near where you were robbed and attacked a few hours ago.”

  Robbed.

  Her money gone, her jewelry destroyed.

  Attacked.

  Shut up, you dumb bitch.

  When her attacker’s voice slithered through her brain, she cried out and tried to move again.

  “Take a slow breath. Not a deep one, a slow one. If you try to move too much right now, you’ll be in significant pain.”

  She already was; what did more pain matter? How much worse could it get?

  She blinked. Doctor. Hospital.

  She couldn’t afford either of those, plus whatever else they’d done to her, even with health insurance. Although, since she could barely move at the moment, staying put seemed like a good idea. Maybe she could pick up some extra shifts to pay this off.

  Shift. She was supposed to open the next morning. Even if she got discharged today, she wasn’t sure she could make it in to work the next day.

  Damn it. She’d have to miss at least one shift she couldn’t afford to miss.

  “Phone.” Her voice croaked, apparently sounding as bad as it felt.

  “You shouldn’t really talk.”

  “Phone. Call. Work.”

  “Oh, I see. A nurse will call them for you.”

  She shook her head. “No, no, no.” She didn’t want anyone to know, at least not yet.

  “All right. Take another slow breath.”

  She blinked her one eye. “Phone.”

  “I’ll see if it was brought in with your personal things. First, let me give you a quick exam.”

  He checked her reflexes, which were total shit. He checked her open eye—which managed to follow his finger as it moved, though she felt slightly dizzy afterward. She had two bruised ribs and one cracked one, and a broken arm and wrist that had already been fitted in a cast. No concussion, but her head was tender and throbbing. She’d been ‘lucky’, according to the doctor.

  “I’ll be right back, and I’ll ask a nurse to come in. They’ve given you an IV, which is basically just some nutrients and vitamins. Have you had anything to eat today?”

  She winced as she shook her head; she never had gotten around to eating.

  The doctor continued. “Well, the IV should help. I should tell you, the police are also here to take your statement, though I’ve told them you won’t be able to speak very well. I think they’d still like a word.”

  She nodded, and he left. A female nurse came in to check her vitals, lifting her hand or arm when she couldn’t lift it herself. Though her body wouldn’t move much, her brain seemed to be running at warp speed.

  Her business was destroyed. Her money—not just today’s take, but the little extra she kept to make change for customers—that was all gone, too. Her car might also be gone, if those men and her father—her father!—had managed to steal it, or if it had been towed from the fairgrounds. Her jewelry and cases had all been destroyed. Her clean, white tablecloth spattered with blood.

  God only knew what else could have happened to her if someone hadn’t come by at the right time.

  Tears welled up. It seems she wasn’t strong enough to hold them back this time.

  “I know you’re in pain, honey,” the nurse said. “But I just need another second to put this IV in, okay?”

  She glanced down, her throat hurting even at that movement, and saw the nurse at her elbow. She hadn’t felt it. She couldn’t feel it. She couldn’t feel anything.

  Yet, at the same time, she felt everything. Everything.

  It all came rushing back, the entire day.

  Men ruining her life, yet again.

  Her father nearby, letting men ruin her life.

  Her mother, dying in a nursing home.

  Her mother! She glanced around wildly for a clock. “Time?” she croaked.

  “It’s just after seven.”

  Shit! She should have been at the nursing home at least an hour ago. She should try to call them and explain that she couldn’t get there until the next morning, or whenever she could finally go home.

  She sighed, the small movement sending a ripple of pain through her body. Who knew so many muscles were involved in a simple sigh?

  “I know you’re probably hungry. You can’t eat anything, but the cafet
eria is fixing you up a smoothie. It’ll be full of lots of good stuff and supplement the IV. You’ll still have to drink it pretty slow, but it’s not half bad.”

  “There was no phone in your personal belongings,” the doctor said as he came back in.

  Shit! She’d forgotten she’d left her phone at home.

  “I’m afraid the nurse will need to make any calls for you, all right? Who’d you like us to call?”

  The first person she thought of was Hector. If he really liked her, he wouldn’t mind if she called or what she looked like, right? The fear of him rejecting her was tingling underneath the surface, but she had to call him, let him know.

  Part of her was telling her to keep everything to herself, that he might reject her.

  Yet, his words and actions filtered through her mind, telling her to ignore the doubt.

  You’re safe with me.

  You can trust me.

  Ugh. Her brain was not up to this level of decision. She’d wait until she got home and talk to him in person. She was in too much pain to worry about it now.

  The nurse touched her shoulder. “Who can I call for you?”

  Hector was closing again but he didn’t usually keep his phone on him while working behind the bar. “Masillian pub called the Seashell.” She cleared her throat. “Ask for Hector. Tell him I got hurt at the fair and won’t be in tomorrow, but that I’ll be okay. And tell him I don’t have my phone, but I’ll call tomorrow.”

  The nurse nodded. “Anyone else?”

  “Lowood Care Facility, also in Masillia. My mother’s there. Tell the staff I got hurt and that I’m in the hospital, and that I’ll be in tomorrow to see her.”

  “I don’t know if you’ll be well enough to leave in the morning.”

  She swallowed. “I have to be.”

  What other choice did she have? She had to keep going.

  Chapter Twelve

  Millie woke, blinking as her eye focused. Or tried to. Without her glasses and with one eye covered, there wasn’t much point in trying to see around her.

  She took a deep breath and felt intense pressure and pain in her chest. Damn ribs. They’d take forever to heal.

  She felt so weak. Her arm ached, her body was sore, her throat was throbbing, and her head pounded like a bitch.

  She licked her lips and absently wondered if there was any water nearby. The nurses had left their call button near her hand…maybe she could find it.

  Her un-casted hand patted the bed, then jerked back when she felt a hand.

  “Baby? You awake?”

  Her heart stopped, then started beating furiously.

  Hector! What was he doing here? How did he find her?

  Oh God. She must look awful.

  “Amelia?”

  She turned her head to the side and winced.

  “Amelia?”

  She cleared her throat, but her voice was still a little hoarse. “What are you doing here?”

  She sensed him moving. Don’t come closer! Don’t come closer!

  “Some nurse called from this hospital and told me you were hurt. I was worried, so I drove here to find you.”

  His fingers brushed her cheek.

  Don’t touch me. I’m dirty and ugly and broken. “I’m fine.”

  “You don’t sound fine. How badly are you hurt? I managed to convince them to let me stay the night, but they wouldn’t tell me anything about your condition. Amelia, look at me.”

  She shook her head automatically. “I—I have things to do. I’ll see you later, after I’m back home.” She fumbled for the call button, but he grasped her shaky hand.

  “Amelia.”

  Please go away, she almost said.

  Please stay, she almost begged.

  Help me, she wanted to plead. Why couldn’t she ask for it? Why was it so hard for her to ask for help?

  “Amelia, goddamn it, look at me.”

  He gently turned her head to face his. “Jesus fucking Christ, baby.”

  “It’s not as bad as it looks,” she muttered the lie feebly and tried to turn away. If he believed her—which she doubted—then he’d leave her to recover alone. She didn’t want anyone near her right now. She felt so ashamed of being attacked. In her head, she knew what had happened wasn’t her fault, but rational thinking was not her forte right then.

  He kept her head still, and furious, badass ‘I-want-to-kill-someone’ vibes filled the room. He was rigid, but his voice was soft. “What the hell happened?”

  “I—I got hurt.”

  “No shit. Now, what the hell happened?”

  Her lips started to tremble. She couldn’t cry in front of him. She looked pathetic when she cried. Why wouldn’t he leave and let her cry alone?

  Tears welled in her eyes, and her voice was pleading. “Please leave.”

  He groaned. “Amelia, baby, I’m worried about you.” He stepped closer and she shrank back into the bed.

  “I’m going to take a look, baby, all right?”

  She whimpered.

  “It’s all right. Amelia, I’m not going to hurt you.”

  She gasped as his hand shifted to cup her uninjured cheek.

  “I would never hurt you. Never. Do you understand me? Not. Fucking. Ever.” He stared into her eyes for several seconds, then gently pushed her hair back.

  His face went hard as stone and she could hear his teeth grinding, he was so close.

  She knew what he probably saw: it was all black and purple and red and everything ugly.

  Her hand lifted to his chest and tried to push him away; he didn’t move.

  “No, no, no. Step back.”

  “Amelia.”

  “Step back!”

  His face was twisted, as if he was being tortured, and his voice was low and desperate. “What happened?”

  She couldn’t stop the tears now, nor how small and hoarse her voice sounded. “I was attacked. At the fair. Can I get some water?”

  He rubbed a hand over his face. “Of course, baby. Sorry. Let me just call the nurse. We can talk later.” He leaned down and kissed her forehead. He looked at her long and hard for several moments, then used the call button himself.

  She squinted around for her glasses; the cops had brought her the spare pair she’d left in her car which, thankfully, hadn’t been stolen or towed. “How long have you been here?”

  He saw her reaching and handed her the glasses himself. “Only a few hours. My car’s still in the shop. Had to borrow a car from Low just to get here because the car rental places were closed.”

  She slid the glasses on, struggling with her cast-covered hand and the bandage over one eye. “Didn’t you see me when you first came in?”

  He shook his head. “No, baby. The room was dark, and I didn’t want to wake you. I saw your cast, but that was it.” He oh-so-softly brushed some loose strands of hair back from her face.

  The nurse came in, followed quickly by the doctor. Hector stepped out while they examined her, and the nurse helped her to the bathroom.

  When she finally looked in the mirror, however bad she thought she might look…the reality was much worse.

  She nearly burst out crying.

  With trembling lips, she took in her mass of tangled, frizzy, curly hair. She’d had some bleeding on her head and, while the nurses had cleaned it up, the ointment had left patches of her hair sticky and unnatural-looking. She spent a few wincing minutes trying to tame her hair, but each pull of the hospital comb was excruciating.

  Pain. So much pain.

  She decided she’d just cut it all off when she got better. She’d always loved her curly hair—despite the fact it was a temperamental beast that constantly demanded attention—but there was little point to having it so long. She only wore it down occasionally when she was home alone, anyway.

  Her face, and particularly her nose, was swollen, and her lips were chapped and tender in places. The right side of her face was the worst. Her cheek boasted several stitches. A giant bump was on her forehe
ad, near her patch-covered eye. Fortunately, the doctor had said he’d take the patch off before she left.

  She looked like a bedraggled pirate.

  Hector had seen her. Seen this…this battered, broken face and hadn’t gone running in the other direction. In fact, he’d come running to her when he thought she might be in trouble and stayed.

  She’d been on her own and alone for so long. So very long. She didn’t know what to do with someone who wanted her around, who rushed to help her, who seemed to like her, despite what she looked like.

  What was she going to do about Hector? It was so hard for her to trust that he’d stick around, but she also couldn’t bear the thought of pushing him away for good. How could anyone—much less her, with all her history of pain and abuse—ever make the leap of faith that was needed for a relationship?

  Her head throbbed, and she gingerly touched it. Apparently, her brain wasn’t keen on making big decisions like that the morning after a beating.

  She was settled back in bed, the head of it raised to a reclining position, when Hector came back. He immediately came to her side and sat down on the bed near her hips.

  “What’d the doc say?”

  “I’m going to be released.”

  His face wrinkled in disbelief. “He said it was okay to leave?”

  “I asked to leave.”

  “Babe—”

  “I need to leave.”

  He paused for a moment. “Why?”

  She looked out the window. It was very early morning now, but looming clouds rolled in over a gray sky; a storm was coming. “I want to go home.”

  “Amelia.”

  Was he going to make her say it? “I can’t afford a hospital stay, all right? I want to go home. I have stuff to do.”

  He took her un-casted hand in his, and she let him. She liked the way his hand felt. He had strong fingers, but they were always so gentle with her.

  Except for that one night when he kissed her against the lamppost. Then, they weren’t so gentle.

  Wait. That was only two nights ago.

  Damn. She was losing all track of time.

  Time! Her mother. She needed to visit her mother today.

  Her eyes darted around until they landed on a clock. Two hours until discharge…another hour, well, maybe two to drive to the home…she would still make visiting hours.