Reformat_of_Art_of_Submission_5-16-14-3

by Michelle

  “It was a combination of worry, dehydration, and hormones. I’ll be more careful now that I know what my body is doing.”

  Chapter 24

  Steve insisted he follow her home from the hospital and waited while she pulled into her garage. Kellie waved at him when she hit the button to lower the door and he left, probably heading back to the hospital to sit with Dena.

  It was well past midnight and her body ached like she’d run through an obstacle course while being chased by rabid dogs. She needed food, sleep, and a warm body to cuddle up to.

  The only real choice was sleep. Kellie sent a quick text to her boss and left her cell on the kitchen table before finding her bed.

  ***

  The doorbell chimed. It pulled her attention away from the chill in her body, but she stayed in bed. Filtered sunlight splashed across the floor and onto the bed. She’d slept past noon. No one she needed to see. No one she wanted to talk to.

  Would Mark ever look at her again without disgust?

  The chime played again, followed by the thud of a fist pounding on her door. Maybe he wanted to yell at her some more, or punish her. She sat up and pushed the covers off, sure that seeing him would hurt like hell but she’d take the pain if she could just look at him one more time.

  Halfway to the front door, she gave up on the idea. She was a mess, inside and out, and seeing him even for a few minutes wouldn’t help her reconcile what she’d done. Another loud thump on the door echoed and she remembered George and his helpful attitude. Maybe he’d rescued her work clothes from Mark’s trash bin.

  A look through the peephole showed the shadow of a large man surrounded by the sun’s halo. Too tall to be Mark, so it must be George. “Just leave it on the porch, thanks,” she told him. “I’ll bring it in later.” Meaning after he left. No need for him to see her tears.

  She gathered the natty fleece robe around her and tied it loosely at her waist and waited for him to leave.

  He knocked harder, louder, and Kellie remembered Dena in the hospital. Maybe something had gone wrong.

  She turned the lock and before she could pull it open, a hand gripped the edge and shoved hard. She stumbled backward but managed to keep her feet under her.

  The face revealed by the swinging door had ice forming in her chest. Blond hair professionally styled to look like a collegiate beach bum didn’t quite cover the thin scar above his right ear.

  The scar she’d given him eighteen months and four days ago. The last time she’d seen him there’d been two stitches in his head and the judge was advising Dale’s father the senator to keep his son out of trouble.

  For her part, she’d had two cracked ribs, a black eye and way more stitches than she cared to count. The judge hadn’t asked her any questions but had signed the protective order and suggested Dale find a college outside of Texas.

  “Miss me, Kellie?”

  He was in her house, the door swinging closed behind him and his cold blue eyes fixed on her.

  “You need to leave.”

  She kept her hands buried in the fabric of her robe and tried like hell to act calm while her body did its freak thing. Seeing him was the very last thing she needed today and showing fear would make him happy. And quite possibly deadly.

  What the hell, she thought, after the last twenty-four hours, dead wouldn’t be a bad place.

  Dena’s glowing expression from the hospital flashed into her head followed by Mark’s, and her body made a quick choice. She pivoted and ran to the kitchen while Dale’s laugh followed. A game for him, one she knew he loved. Today, she was prepared.

  Once there, she grabbed the marble rolling pin she’d kept on the counter since the last time she’d seen the man. It wouldn’t be enough but it was a start. Switching it to her left hand, she let it dangle behind her left thigh.

  She fumbled for another weapon and jerked a drawer open to retrieve the long barbeque fork as a backup, hoping to inflict enough pain to give her time to run. Setting it on the counter, she grabbed her phone, praying she had enough of a charge to call for help.

  Then he was there, in the doorway. “Why you running, baby?”

  “Get out of my house. I still have that restraining order.”

  “Aw, you missed me, huh?” Dale leaned in close and snatched her phone. “Who you calling? Harrison?”

  With a flick of his wrist, her phone crashed into the wall over the stove and shattered.

  “Oops. Maybe, if you’re really good, I’ll buy you a new one tomorrow.”

  Dale planted his hip on the counter, blocking the door and pissing her off. He was too comfortable in her home and too far to reach with the only weapons she had.

  “Heard you’ve been hanging out at Private Delights.” His words rumbled across her kitchen like a storm warning. When they were dating, she’d silently labeled this tone as the precursor to the fight. And the last fight she had with him had nothing to do with words and plenty to do with hospital time. “Strange, since you made such a big deal about me and my weird sexual appetites.”

  “I’m doing research.” Placate. Submit. Redirect. Sometimes it worked.

  “I’m working on my degree, writing a paper on human sexual behavior. I’m not participating.”

  “Don’t lie to me, Kellie. I know you went to Corpus with Harrison.”

  His tone dropped a little lower in the register. She squeezed the rolling pin’s handle and tried to think. To plan. She took a slow step back and snatched up the long fork just as he lunged for her. The damn thing wasn’t as sharp as she’d hoped, the pointed tines skipping across his chest and tangling in the fabric.

  But it was a distraction.

  She let it go while he cursed about his torn shirt and brought up the rolling pin. Using both hands, she slammed the thing into his knee and heard a crack as it connected.

  His curses went into overdrive and she swung again. This time he was ready. Not completely, but enough that the blow to the head she’d hoped for clipped his chin and grazed his forehead when he ducked.

  The handle slipped out of her hand and she ran past him hoping the door was still open. He was faster, his arms wrapping around her and lifting her off her feet. She kicked into his legs and tried to scratch him with the one arm she had free. His curses mingled with laughter.

  “Let me go. I already triggered the alarm.”

  Liar. But he couldn’t know one way or another.

  “Not a problem, baby. I’m not afraid of the cops.”

  “I’ll press charges. You can’t always slide by with daddy’s name.”

  He hummed something in her ear and his wet tongue left a trail of saliva across her skin. Fighting the wave of nausea, she kicked again and he slapped her across the thigh where her robe had separated.

  “I’m wondering. Yeah. Wondering why you won’t let me tie you up and fuck you six ways to Sunday but you’ll spend three days with Harrison and give him full access.”

  He started walking, heading to the bedroom and she doubled the flailing that already wasn’t working and started babbling. Anything to distract or dissuade him from the bedroom.

  “I didn’t.” Knees shaking, she tried to think of something to say that might make him stop.

  “Don’t shit a shitter, Kellie. I bet you gave him everything, even that tight ass you wouldn’t let me touch.”

  “It wasn’t like that Dale. We didn’t—we talked. He explained things. Now I know more about what you wanted.” She kept her voice as calm and flat as she could, considering his mood and proximity.

  “Sure. And he locked this million dollar collar around your skinny neck because he liked the way you talk. Bull. Shit.”

  He dropped her face down on her bed and stripped the tie of her robe out of its loops before straddling her. Pressed into the mattress, the air in her lungs burned. Hope withered while he tied her feet together.

  He’d come close to killing her when they were dating and he’d never been this intense. Today would be her last. She had to
o many regrets to list and not enough air to keep her brain working for long.

  ***

  Mark hit the end button and barely managed to slide the phone into his pocket. The urge to fling it against the wall wasn’t new, but he thought it’d been put to rest when he locked that collar around Kellie’s little neck. She was everything he wanted in a woman. Every characteristic but one.

  Deceit wasn’t easy to overlook.

  Steve stuck his head in the door. “Got a minute?”

  “Fuck. What now?” he asked.

  “Just got word from a friend at the Police Department. “Both Connors took deferred adjudication and left the courthouse about an hour ago. I made sure the old man’s access codes here have been deleted and the receptionist is on notice to call security if she sees either man.”

  “Good.”

  “I notified the owners of the other clubs in the area. All three were happy to hear it. Seems they’ve all been looking for a reason to get rid of him.” Steve sprawled in the chair in front of the desk. “Just checked on Dena. She’s got her feet up on the couch watching some sappy movie.”

  Talk about sappy. Steve’s grin gave every emotion away, a first for his buddy. “Congratulations. You plan to make it legal?”

  “Hope to. We’re negotiating.” Steve sighed and stretched his big body in the chair. The look he shot Mark wasn’t fair, sarcasm and friendship blended into an atom bomb. “What about you? Going to take a chance and forgive her, or wash your hands and go back to being miserable?”

  Mark’s head thunked against the back of his chair. “Haven’t decided.”

  “I love you like a brother, man, but if you let her walk, I will call you an idiot for the rest of your goddamn life.”

  “She lied. She came into my club under false pretenses. This place is all about trust and she tossed it in the trash.”

  “She had good reason, buddy.”

  Mark let his head roll from side to side while he swiveled in his office chair. He didn’t want excuses. They were always bullshit ways to color the truth. “I don’t want to hear it.”

  “You need to.” He reached out and snagged a pen from the desk, rolling it between two fingers. “Dena filled me in on Kellie’s background.”

  “Shit. I don’t need this.” Mark stood and Steve pinned him with a don’t-fuck-with-me look. “Sit down, buddy. Dena’s sorry, by the way. She has a big heart and thought she was helping.”

  Mark sank into his chair and raised a brow. “Sure.”

  “Anyway, seems Kellie’s last boyfriend wanted to tie her up and spank her, among other things. Claimed it was all for fun, but she didn’t agree. Mentioned this place more than once. Fucker knocked her around a few times but always got off with a warning. No jail time. No record. Family in high places. Sound familiar?”

  Mark’s feet hit the floor hard as he stood. “Goddamn son of a bitch. And he just got out of jail?”

  “Knew you’d want to know the backstory,” Steve said, following his friend down the hall.

  Mark cursed again when they stepped into the elevator. “Fuck. I don’t have a car in the lot.”

  Steve handed over his key ring. “Take my truck. Be careful. And be nice. I don’t want to bail you out of jail.”

  “If that jackass touches one hair on her head, he’s dead.”

  “See? And you wanted her gone.”

  “Thanks, asshole.” The elevator doors parted and Mark darted down the hall and out into the lot. Kellie’s townhouse was a good twenty minute drive and Connor had been free for over an hour. As soon as he was on the road, he fished out his cell and dialed her phone. When it went straight to voicemail, he hit the gas hard and hoped he’d get there first.

  Even with light traffic, it took him fifteen minutes to get to her house. A car was parked in front of her place and when he approached her door, it was ajar.

  “Kellie?” he shouted, pushing further into the house. The lights were on. A dining room chair lay on its side. Shattered glass stippled the carpet next to the bottom section of a vase.

  Heart pounding as he stood in a crime scene, Mark yanked his cell from his pocket and dialed 911. It only took a minute to give dispatch the address and his name. The room was a wreck and he’d been told to stay put to preserve evidence. God, he was too late.

  The scream echoed in the relative quiet and Mark took off for the bedroom.

  More shouting, a male voice cursing and the sound of skin hitting skin led him to the bedroom and Dale Connor. The son of a bitch would need a body bag when the police arrived. Skidding to a stop in the bedroom doorway, Mark’s breath caught at what he saw. Kellie was half-tied to the bed, her hands wrapped with knotted strips of fabric tied to the bedposts. A scarf was stuffed in her mouth. Her head turned and her eyes caught his, fear and relief in her expression.

  Dale Connor had hold of her left foot, trying to slip a loop around it, and he looked up when she stopped fighting.

  “Get your hands off her,” Mark growled as he stalked into the room.

  The interruption gave Kellie an opportunity to kick at Dale again, and Mark wanted to applaud. One long look told him his Kellie was trying her best to save herself.

  Connor looked pretty damn raw. Scratches across his neck, chest, and arms seeped red and his face looked like he’d done a few rounds with a prize fighter.

  She’d landed a good one to his right cheek. It wasn’t as devastating as the damage on his left side, but Mark planned to even things out for him.

  He got behind Dale and wrapped his arm around the young man’s throat, applying pressure to cut off his air supply. “I’ve got no reason to let you live, so let go of the girl or go to hell.”

  “Fuck you.”

  Dale reached up with one hand and dug his fingers into Mark’s arm, drawing blood, but Mark refused to let go.

  “No thanks,” Mark replied, pulling his knee up tight between the man’s legs and aiming a punch to his gut.

  Dale grunted and his grip loosened long enough for Mark to pull him away from the bed. The sting in his face changed, moved to a different location, and Mark backed into an upright dresser, the force dislodging Connor.

  He spun around with fists up and Mark met him blow for blow. The punk was young and agile but no hardship for Mark’s years of practice and the dirty tricks he’d learned along the way.

  He kept Kellie out of his line of sight as much as possible, focusing on the jackass who’d hurt her. He had a long reach and a sharp jab, but the young punk didn’t have the control he should’ve at his age. With a rough laugh, Mark spun him around and popped him hard enough to make his cheekbones match. A few shrewd observations made Mark the better fighter and he was able to take the man down with two well-placed punches.

  Connor dropped to the floor and didn’t get up.

  In a few steps, Mark was in her closet fishing out a robe to drop over her. Bruises bloomed on her ribs and face, and now that the immediate threat had passed, tears welled and trickled down her face.

  Mark leaned close enough to whisper without touching her. “The police will need to see you like this. I’ll be with them. I’ll protect you as much as I can.” The look on her face, the pain in her eyes, made him want to kill Connor but it wouldn’t help Kellie right now. “Then I’m going to take you home and take care of you.”

  Tears welled along her lashes. “I’m so sorry, Mark, I—”

  “Shush, little one. We both made mistakes. We’ll work it out when you’re well.”

  Then he went to the bedroom door.

  Mark identified himself and asked, “Is there a female officer with you?”

  “Yes, sir. What’s the situation?”

  He gave the man a quick summary. “I’ve covered her with a robe, but I’d appreciate it if you let a woman question her. The man who attacked her is unconscious on the floor.”

  “Can do.” The man stepped back a few steps and radioed for paramedics. When he walked back to the bedroom doorway, he leaned in respectful
ly. “Ma’am, I need to come into the room to check the assailant and the premises and take a few pictures. I understand you’re covered with a robe. I’ll be discreet.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered, her hand firmly in Mark’s.

  The officer walked around them and bent down to check Dale. “He’s out cold but breathing. Paramedics are on the way.”

  Mark turned to the officer. “I’d like to untie her.”

  “Yes, sir. Let me get a few pictures of the scene. Sgt. Kently will be here in a moment.”

  A tall, slim woman walked into the room, a camera in one hand. “Mark Harrison. Didn’t know you were the caller. What happened?”

  “Kellie, this is Sgt. Lizette Kently. Can you tell us both what happened?” He turned his head to Sgt. Kently. “I arrived just a few minutes ago and called 911 when I found the door open.”

  “Let’s get a few quick pictures,” Kently said, lifting the camera and taking several photos from a variety of angles, including Dale’s position. Once Kellie’s arms were photographed, Mark released her, gently rubbing her arms to return circulation. If Connor lived through the night, he’d have more problems than police intervention the next time Mark met him.

  The paramedics arrived and revived him in short order. His groggy protests got him nowhere. The other officer read him his rights and cuffed him to the gurney before they wheeled him outside.

  “Miss Windsor, would you prefer to go to the hospital on your own or in an ambulance?” one of the paramedics asked as he examined the burn marks on her wrists.

  “I’ll make sure she gets there,” Mark said when Kellie objected to the hospital altogether.

  Once everyone else had left, Mark escorted Officer Kently to the bedroom.

  “I know this isn’t easy, but I need to know what happened,” Kently said. ”I’d also like to get a few more pictures of your injuries. We have several of the state of your home and I’m sure someone at the hospital will take more.”

  Kently turned her head to Mark. “I can’t help but think more is better. It’s hard to make all the evidence go away when it’s being held in several different hands.”