Fight (Fate Series Book 1)

by Paige Hill

  Before I realize it, she is resting her bag on the bar. She still hasn’t noticed me, or is trying to avoid me. The latter doesn’t sit well with me. I watch the exchange like a creeper as she uses one hand to signal Wendy’s attention. Pretending to refill the olives, I move closer to eavesdrop on the conversation. I’m all ears when I hear Taryn ask who she needs to talk to about the posted waitress position.

  “Oh, that would be Greg,” Wendy confirms with a look on her face that says she ate something bad. “He’s kind of a creep, but don’t let him deter you. He’s rarely here. You came on the right day; he’s in the back. Why don’t you have a seat there and I’ll go let him know you are here.”

  Wendy saunters off in search of the biggest slime ball I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting. But, for all intents and purposes, he’s my boss and I have to tolerate him, painful as it may be.

  I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her since last week. It appears her presence has taken over all my cognitive and physical energy. In an attempt to burn off my frustration, I worked out until I could no longer stand. When I woke the next morning, she was gone. The number of times I’ve thought about this woman borders on ridiculous. It’s just Hero Complex, I tell myself. She’s a beautiful woman who’s been hurt and I have an overdeveloped need to protect her. Yeah, that’s it.

  All too soon, Greg and all his sleazy glory ambles into the room. That man makes my skin crawl. Everything from his greasy comb over to his cheap ill-fitting polyester suit, emulate just how seedy he is. Taking a seat at the booth opposite Taryn, he begins his questioning. I have drink orders up that make eavesdropping impossible, but the conversation lasts only a few minutes. Watching the exchange with far too much intensity, I release a breath I didn’t realize I was holding when she stands up, a smile firmly in place. I watch Greg with disgust as she makes her way over to Wendy, both smiling and shaking hands. As she turns and heads toward the door, she keeps her head down, eyes locked firmly on the floor. When she reaches the door, she turns slightly. The movement of her hair, the only giveaway. For a split second, our eyes make contact, and the moment coerces a predatory smile from my lips.

  “Looks like your girl is going to start working tomorrow night,” Wendy remarks, effectively pulling my eyes from the door. “Thank God! I don’t know how many more shifts I can handle by myself.”

  Looking up at the blonde, I can’t hide the grin pulling at my lips. “You’re going to have to play a little hard to get.” She laughs.

  “My girl? What makes you say that?”

  “Well, if the fact that you were eye-fucking her wasn’t enough, I saw her in here last week. You couldn’t stop staring at her, you creep.” She chuckles, throwing a cocktail olive at me.

  Wendy’s smile fades and her demeanor suddenly takes on a saddened quality.

  “She’s the girl that was attacked in the alley, isn’t she?” Her eyes look watery as the question sits in the air between us. Thinking about the moment I saw her in that situation sets my blood on fire. That sick bastard.

  “Yes.” I grit between clenched teeth.

  “Well, only having met her for a second, I think her and I are going to get along just fine.” Wendy winks with a smile, appearing to have shaken off the depressing moment.

  So, Taryn is starting work here tomorrow. Hmm. This will give me an advantage to figure out whatever it is she’s hiding.

  Hearing the door close behind me, I bend at the waist and rest my hands on my thighs, finally able to take a breath. The waitress, Wendy, wasn’t kidding. Greg was as sleazy as they come. Memories of the unwarranted appraisal of his eyes make me shiver involuntarily. I think I need a shower after that conversation. But, I have a job! This is definitely reason for celebration.

  Taking out my phone, I realize I don’t have anyone to call. I am finally free yet still as lonely as I always have been. I can’t contact Manny or Martha for fear of being caught or charged with aiding and abetting. I suppose I could tell Celeste. Looking across the street at the salon, I can tell she is busy. Through the window I can see that every chair has a body in it. My shoulders slump heavily. I am pathetic.

  In the interest of self-loathing, I can also admit that avoiding Declan wasn’t my finest moment. The man has seen me at my worst. Not once, but twice. My own stupidity got me there and the thought of facing him, seeing the look on his face, knowing how stupid I can be; I’m just not ready for it. I know I need to grow a pair and get over myself, but the humiliation is overwhelming. Shaking off the forlorn feeling, I look at the time on my phone. It’s only six in the evening, so I decide to go for a walk in the public park a few blocks away.

  Sitting in a rusted swing on the playground, I pull the framed sonogram from my purse. The chain creaks under my weight and the salty evening air chills the tears that immediately burn my eyes as I take in the first images of life. A life I created. A life never lived. A life he took from me. I used to be such a strong woman, but it seems all I do these days is cry. That man took every last thing of value I had. My pride, my personality, my life, my child. All of it. Gone. I pull the frame to my chest and allow the hurt to pour from my eyes. The pain in my heart, one born from loss, is a feeling I’m not sure I can survive.

  Things with Mark had been getting better in the past few months. We had just purchased a beautiful home, much too large for the two of us. I’d become the doting wife he always wanted. I was putting the finishing touches on the special dinner I had prepared since he’d been working so hard, when out of nowhere, the smell of chicken marsala made my stomach churn. I bolted for the bathroom, narrowly making it in time to heave into the toilet bowl.

  No, no, no!

  Panic started to take over as I realized my period was late. Late, late. Having a baby was not in Mark’s five-year plan. Glancing at the rose gold watch on my wrist, I noticed that Mark was half an hour late for dinner. After cleaning myself up, I tried to call him, but it went straight to voicemail. Shit. I needed answers. Grabbing my keys, I headed for the nearest pharmacy.

  Hiding in a public bathroom stall was probably not the place most women wanted to discover they were pregnant, but the longer I sat there with the stick in my hand, the happier I became. I was afraid of what Mark might say, but there was no way anyone could think of this child as less than a blessing. Wiping the tears from my eyes, I smiled and gathered myself.

  Once I was settled in my car, I tried Mark again, but I got voicemail once again. I let out a heavy sigh. I didn’t think I could wait until he came home. The excitement was too much. Resolved to bring dinner to him at the office, I started my silver Mercedes.

  In the lobby of Mark’s building I greeted the security guard by name.

  “Hello Mrs. Langford. How are you this evening?” the gray-haired gentleman asked.

  “I’m doing well Martin, how’s your wife?”

  “Good, she’s doing good. Really good. The chemo was rough, but they think they got it all.” He smiled, his wrinkled face shining with hope.

  “That’s great! Give Susan my love!” I exclaimed getting into the elevators.

  “Will do, Mrs. Langford. Have a good night,” he said as the elevator doors close.

  The ride to Mark’s floor seemed to take forever. My nerves had me so amped up that I was nearly vibrating. I stepped off the elevator and headed toward Mark’s office like I had hundreds of times before. The lobby is dark, the only light shining in from Mark’s office. Poor Mark, he’s always the last one to leave the office.

  The closer I got, I heard voices. Before my ears clearly registered the sounds, my eyes take in the complete betrayal of my marriage. Mark’s secretary was bent over his desk, Mark pounding into her from behind. My eyes welled with tears and my muscles went lax, causing me to drop the heavy bag of food I was holding. The movement created enough noise that both look up at the sound, Mark making eye contact with me. He didn’t even pause his actions as he moaned out his release, eyes still on me. Turning to run, I made it as far as
the reception desk before I heaved the remaining contents of my stomach into the waste basket by the desk.

  Oops.

  I gathered myself as quickly as I could, intent on getting the hell out of there. Once I was standing again, that bitch came striding by me with a victorious smile plastered on her plastic face. I was furious, and the need to manually adjust her nose job had my feet moving faster than I expected. Before she reached the elevator, I grabbed her arm, forcing her to face me. That disguising smile still in place, I reared back, swung, and felt a satisfying crunch as my fist connected with her nose.

  “You fucking bitch!” she screamed in a nasally voice through her hands that were belatedly covering her face. I was about to pounce on her again before someone had me by the hair and yanked me back roughly.

  “Mandy, get the fuck out of here. I have to deal with my wife,” Mark said in an eerily calm voice. My chest was heaving with rage. I wasn’t pissed at just her. No, she’s not the one that betrayed our vows, he was. Trying to rip myself away from him, I cried out in pain as his grip on my hair tightened.

  “How could you!” I seethed, vaguely hearing the tramp enter the elevator.

  “Don’t look so surprised sweetheart.” I hated it when he called me that. “You should have known what was going on. As a matter of fact, I thought you did. You’ve proven you can’t give me what I need, and Mandy here is willing to give me anything I want. You should be grateful for her. This is the price for being married to a high-profile man. Even Clinton was caught,” he explained like it’s all supposed to make perfect fucking sense.

  “Fuck you Mark. This isn’t what I signed up for. I thought I was one half of a loving marriage. You clearly can’t give me that,” I spat as soon as he released my hair. Looking back, I knew that revealing my secret was the worst thing I could have done, but I wanted him to hurt. Hurt like he had hurt me. Looking over my shoulder I said what I had come to say.

  “Congratulations Mark. You’re going to be a father,” I stated over my shoulder as I walked away. I was done with this. Done with him. I got no further than the elevator doors before he had me by both arms, yanking me back toward his office.

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” he asked, looking me in the eyes, making me see the man as he truly is.

  “I’m pregnant,” I stated, trying not to sound defeated. Those words set off a fury of emotion on his face that I wasn’t prepared for.

  “You fucking whore!” he spat, backhanding me hard across my face. The sting is excruciating, and I could feel warm blood beginning to trickle down my lip. “For your sake, you better hope that kid is mine.” He’s so angry he’s shaking. “Get your ass home now. We will finish this discussion later.” His tone was final. Knowing it was wiser, I simply nodded my head and moved toward the exit. I knew he would hurt me if I didn’t do as I was told. Gently placing a hand on my stomach, I knew I had more to protect than myself.

  Half an hour later, I was cramming the last of what I could grab into my car. The tears hadn’t slowed down, but I knew one thing; I needed to get the hell out of there. Reaching for the door handle, Mark shoved me hard into the car door.

  “Where the fuck do you think you’re going, you little whore?” He panted against my ear. Fear spread throughout my body and the fight or flight instinct kicked in. I reared my head back, connecting with Mark’s nose. He howled in pain, stepping back enough giving me a chance to reach the phone in my pocket. I quickly dialed nine-one-one, fearing where this was heading. I didn’t get a chance to respond to the dispatcher before the phone was torn from my hand and clattered across the garage floor.

  Taking the only chance I had, I pulled my knee back and thrusted it between Mark’s legs as hard as I could. He fell to his knees, dry heaving. Reaching for my ankle, he pulled me to the ground as I scrambled for the closest item to use as a weapon. I was sprawled out on my stomach desperately kicking and trying to crawl away.

  Tightening my hands around the tire iron, I swung back, missing Mark as he climbed to his feet. I followed suit and we simply stared at each other in a sort of standoff. The air sat heavy between us, both trying to gage the other’s reaction. Suddenly, the door to the main house busted open and the room was swarming with cops.

  That night, I learned life’s biggest lesson. Trust no one, even the police.

  Refusing to hear my side and caring nothing about the truth, I was arrested and booked for assault. Because I was the one wielding a weapon. The DA had everyone in his pocket.

  The following day, I was released to Mark’s custody. The moment we were alone, Mark more than threatened me with his first statement.

  “Pull that shit again, Teagan, and I will kill you. Mark my words, sweetheart.”

  That was the end of the conversation and neither of us spoke of it again.

  As the months passed, I thought more and more about how I was going to make my escape. There was no way I could raise a child in this house. I wanted nothing more than for my child to live in a safe and loving home, regardless if she had only one parent in her life. Every child deserves that, and I was confident that Mark wasn’t capable of actual love.

  I planned and prepared and the day finally came. Lying in bed awake, I looked at the alarm clock glowing across the room. Three AM. Finally! Quietly, I moved from the bed as gently as my swollen belly would allow. My heart raced as Mark stirred in bed. Once he was still again, I continued on with my mission. I quietly closed the door to the master bedroom before opening the door to the nursery across the hall. Double checking my stashed purse for the cash I’d hoarded and the bus ticket out of hell, I made my way toward the door. I had no idea what I was going to do, but staying here was not optional. I could figure the rest out later.

  I’d almost reached the stairs when Mark’s arm tightly wrapped around my neck, cutting off my air supply. I kicked my legs wildly into the air, trying anything to loosen his grip. My movement was only serving to tighten his hold. I fisted my hand, drew it up, and swung back with as much force as I could muster. My vision was starting to go when my fist connected with his groin. He shoved me forward and I staggered, losing my balance, and began my violent tumble down the stairs. Excruciating pain radiated from my pelvis and I could feel wetness between my legs. Looking back at the top of the stairs, Mark uttered four words I will never forget.

  “This was your fault.”

  Realizing I’m blubbering in the middle of a public park, I kiss the picture one last time and put it safely in my purse. I start work tomorrow and need to find a place to clean up and park my car for the night.

  I stepped off the bus, excited to share the news with mom. I couldn’t believe I made the wrestling team! Maybe we would have dinner at Joe’s to celebrate. With thoughts of the glory that is a bacon cheeseburger, I burst through the front door.

  “Mom! I’m home. You’re never going to believe-“ were the only words I got out before I take in the horrific scene in front of me. I instantly saw red as I leapt on the man hovering over my mother’s naked, lifeless body. His pants were still around his ankles when I pummeled him to the ground. My fists pounded his face with such fury I didn’t think I could stop until he’s dead.

  I don’t know how much time passed as my arms flew. I couldn’t see or hear anything other than my own breathing and the crimson puddle pooling on the floor beneath me. I barely noticed when strong arms wrap around my torso, pulling me away from the limp body. The officer holding me back pulled me into his chest, attempting to shield me from the scene no child should ever see. He patted my back with a gentle hand, chanting as softly as a man of his size can.

  “Mi hjio, you’re safe now.”

  When I saw the other officer cover my mother’s body with a sheet, I lost it.

  “NO! MOM! Please don’t leave me!”

  My body jerks and I bolt upright in bed. Sweat covers my entire body as my naked chest heaves in an effort to calm my breathing. The pounding of my heart is deafening. I haven’t had a nightmare i
n a long time. As much as I don’t want to admit it, I know Taryn’s presence in my life has brought back the memories I’ve worked so hard to forget. Seeing the marks on her skin have awoken a rage I struggle to control.

  She’s hiding something big and I intend to figure it out.

  Knowing I won’t be able to go back to sleep, I climb out of bed and stretch my tense muscles. Hopefully a steamy shower will help loosen the tension I’m housing in my shoulders.

  Shedding my boxer briefs, I step into the warm spray, allowing it to wash away the darkness shadowing me. As usual, I attempt to use this time to assess my progress with the case; however, I fight a losing battle as my thoughts drift to those of a certain fiery spirit. She is still a mystery and it’s intriguing. Everything about her fuels a fire deep inside of me.

  I close my eyes, imagining the way her full hips sway as she walks, the way she bites her plump lip when she’s nervous, the swell of her—I shut those thoughts down and turn the water off quickly before I allow myself to think about her and step out, reaching for a fresh towel.

  I need sustenance. And caffeine.

  Working into the early hours of the morning means I don’t get up until nearly noon. For someone who’s always been a morning person, getting up at the crack of noon really sucks.

  Fully dressed, I fire up my Jeep and point it the direction of the Corner Café. The drive is short and doesn’t allow me much time with my thoughts, for which I am thankful. To my surprise, the place isn’t packed, and I manage to find a decent spot to park. Opening the door, the familiar and comforting scent of fried food assaults my senses and I find myself longing for my childhood family. Shaking the forlorn thoughts, I glance around the contemporary but comfortable lobby area, looking for a table in the back. Only a few patrons remain from the lunch crowd, and to my surprise, Taryn is seated in a booth at the back, nursing a cup of coffee. I can’t help but invite myself to join her. She is so startled by my presence that she nearly knocks her cup over, managing to only splash a few brown drops onto the table top.