Beautiful Surrender (The Surrender Series Book Three)

by West, Priscilla

  The sound of a punch landing on flesh and the sound of a male voice groaning in pain made me realize Marty had mounted Vincent again and was attacking him.

  I picked up the gun with shaky hands.

  “Stop it or I’ll shoot!” I screamed.

  Marty continued pounding and shouting at Vincent. He wasn’t listening.

  “I said stop!” I shook the gun in their direction, but neither of them seemed to hear me. I’d never fired a gun before but I knew how to pull a trigger.

  Fearing Marty was going to kill Vincent, I fired a round at the kitchen wall. The sound was almost deafening. The force from the recoil was stronger than I’d expected and I staggered backward, tripping over the coffee table and landing on top of it. The glass shattered under my weight. The back of my head hit something hard. Was it the ground? The broken frame of the table? I laid on a bed of broken shards, the air knocked from my lungs.

  The last thing I remembered before blacking out was that the unexpected weight of the gun combined with the shakiness of my hands made the barrel shift downward the moment I pulled the trigger.

  The gun had been aimed at Vincent and Marty.

  Chapter Eleven

  Vincent

  Six years prior

  My fist was throbbing. I successfully fought the urge to look at it, but I knew it was fucked up from how bad Jim’s face had been. Once he was awake, he was going to have some decisions to make about how to fix his features. That nose would never be the same.

  I held Giselle as she cried in the same living room our parents had once held us. Even though they were gone, it was still our home.

  “You’re going to be okay,” I said. “I’m going to take care of us.”

  “Vincent, look at your hand! I’m so sorry,” Giselle cried.

  It killed me to hear her feel guilty about what had happened to her. As much as my fist hurt, I put the pain to the side. “Stop it, Giselle. You don’t have to be sorry about anything. What that bastard did to you wasn’t your fault.”

  She shook her head. “I should have handled it myself. I should have gotten out as soon as it started. I don’t know how I let it keep happening.”

  “It’s not your fault, and it’s over now.” I squeezed her tighter as she sobbed into my shoulder. It was over. That was the only thing that mattered at that moment.

  “What if he does come back?” she choked out.

  My jaw clenched. She didn’t want to know the honest answer to that question. “He won’t. If he does, I promise you he’ll regret it for every second of the rest of his life.”

  She stopped crying for a moment and pulled back to look at me. “Vincent, you can’t always be around. You have your company to worry about.”

  “I’ll find a way. The only purpose of that company is to provide for you and any other family we ever have. If it doesn’t make the lives of the people I love better, I might as well sell the damn thing.”

  She nodded and sobbed again. Her eyes were puffy and red, and her makeup had been smudged everywhere. Seeing her so disheveled and upset made my stomach feel like a bottomless pit.

  Finally, she calmed down enough to speak. “Vincent,” she said, her voice small. “I have something to show you.”

  My eyes widened. I wasn’t sure how much more I could take. “What’s that?”

  She rolled up the sleeves of her green sweater. At first I didn’t know what I was looking for, but then I saw them: several raised pieces of scar tissue in a neat row, each in various shades of pink.

  My vision blurred as tears welled up in my eyes. “What are these?” I asked quietly.

  “Cigarettes.”

  “You don’t smoke.”

  “He did. Does. Whatever.” Tears rolled down both her cheeks.

  My heart sank as I put together the implication. “He put them out on you?”

  She nodded. “In a neat row. Once for every time I pissed him off. So I wouldn’t forget.”

  My mouth fell open at the audacity of what I was hearing. “He’s sick. I’m so sorry, Giselle. If I had any idea . . .”

  “You didn’t,” she said. “I guess I’m pretty good at covering up, but I just have to show you now so I feel like I’ve come totally clean. I’ve been hiding it for so long.

  I blinked and felt a hot tear roll down my cheek. “I’m so sorry.”

  She looked down. “He said he would kill me if I told anyone.”

  I snapped my jaw shut and flexed my still aching fist. “He said he would kill you?”

  She nodded.

  My heart was pounding in my chest as I breathed heavily in and out. Could I kill someone who had threatened to kill my sister? How would I get away with it?

  “Don’t even think about killing him first,” she said, as if reading my mind.

  I snapped out of my plotting. She was staring at me with a very serious expression etched into her features.

  “I’m not letting my brother become a murderer.”

  “But if it’s him or you—” I started.

  “It won’t be. It can’t be,” she said.

  I sighed and took her by the shoulders.

  “Fine. But know this: you’re the only family I have, and I’m going to protect you no matter what. Even if it costs me my life.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Kristen

  The world was fuzzy. Hues of brown and white swirled like cream being stirred into coffee. I couldn’t make out any details in the forms that swirled in front of me. What had happened to my vision?

  My ears were ringing. My body felt like it was being poked by a thousand needles. It hurt to move. I remembered a gun in my hands going off. How long had I been out?

  A shadow shifted into view. It grew larger and more defined. The outline was a figure. Someone was approaching me.

  I blinked. The picture became sharper. I blinked again then a few more times. I was staring at the ceiling, the fan spinning.

  There was a face in the picture. It was still. Eerily still. Staring at me from above. Who was it?

  Blue eyes. Brown hair. Thick spectacles.

  Marty.

  My hearing slowly returned, but Marty vanished from my vision almost as soon as he appeared. I sat up and saw that Vincent was still fighting with him. Vincent barreled into Marty with his shoulder, pushing him back until Marty was cornered against the wall.

  Vincent pummeled Marty with his mangled hands but it was clear that Vincent was at a disadvantage. I looked around for the gun but it was nowhere to be found, it must have gotten tossed somewhere around the room in the confusion.

  I saw a small hole on the kitchen wall inches from where they had been. I didn’t hit anyone.

  When I looked over at them again, Marty was kneeling on top of Vincent, straddling him and repeatedly punching him in the face. “Take that you piece of shit!”

  “No, Marty! Stop . . . please stop Marty . . .” I pleaded, tears streaming uncontrollably down my face. He was going to kill Vincent, the man who loved me, the man that I loved.

  Marty ignored me, continuing to hit Vincent. Vincent had his broken hands up, trying to defend his face. He seemed so helpless in that position that it sent another knife of sorrow into me.

  “Stop Marty! Please stop!” I sobbed.

  Marty looked up at me, chest heaving, fists covered in Vincent’s blood. “Stop? Stop?! It’s too late to stop Kristen. You made me do this! This is your fault! Look at what you’ve done!”

  This was my fault. My fault. None of this would have happened if Vincent had never met me. I felt sorrow so intense I wanted to vomit. It was because of me that this monster was hurting Vincent. Killing him.

  Marty finally got up from Vincent and walked over to the kitchen counter.

  I crawled towards Vincent, the room blurry in my vision. When I got to him, I sat down and cradled his head in my lap. He was still breathing. His breath was heavy and ragged but he was still alive.

  “Kristen . . .” Vincent groaned.

  �
��It’s okay Vincent. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I love you Vincent. I love you so much.” I chanted, rocking back and forth. Wet droplets fell from my eyes and splashed onto Vincent, leaving streaks in the dried blood caking his face.

  When I looked up again, Marty had found the gun. He had it pointed at us.

  We were going to die here tonight.

  “You brought this on yourself Kristen . . . you didn’t even give me a chance . . .”

  Vincent was drifting in and out of consciousness. He stirred, pushing himself up until he was sitting upright, putting his body between me and the gun. Even in this state, with his eyes swollen shut, his hands battered and his face bleeding from cuts and swollen from fractures, he wanted to protect me. Vincent wanted to protect me with his last breath even after I had brought this monster into his life.

  “I’m sorry Vincent, I’m sorry about the baby, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you early. I’m sorry for Marty. I’m sorry for everything.”

  I wrapped my arms around Vincent, crying onto the back of his shoulder.

  “No, Kristen.” Vincent coughed. His voice was low and raspy, barely audible. His eyes were half-lidded. His lips were trembling. He was using every ounce of strength left to talk to me.

  I leaned my ear to his mouth to hear the faint words riding his shallow breaths. “No. Don’t say that Kristen . . . Don’t ever apologize to me for those things . . . You didn’t do anything wrong . . . I love you Kristen . . . Let’s keep the baby . . . I’ve always wanted a child . . . We’ll raise the child together . . . I love you . . . I want to start a family with you.”

  My heart was shattering. Vincent was confessing to me that he wanted a family together, moments before we were going to die.

  He continued, “I’m the one that should be sorry . . . I promised I’d protect you . . . but I failed . . . I’m sorry Kristen . . . Forgive me . . . I . . . ” He was losing consciousness again.

  Marty stared at us, his eerie blue eyes filled with anger.

  I blinked back my tears and took a deep breath.

  Goodbye Riley.

  Goodbye Mom.

  Goodbye Dad.

  Goodbye Vincent.

  I’ll always love you.

  The apartment door exploded. A mist of splinters shot through the air, covering my living room.

  “POLICE! DROP THE GUN MOTHERFUCKER!”

  I blinked and half a dozen officers were fanned out on my right kneeling behind the kitchen wall and the couch, their guns drawn and aimed at Marty.

  Before I could feel any relief, I saw the look in Marty’s eyes. They were wide and panicked like the eyes of a cornered animal and he still had the gun pointed at us. He hadn’t made any motion to surrender.

  The cops were shifting around. They were getting antsy. Marty looked back and forth between us and the cops as if he was deciding what to do. I could see the desperation growing in those blue irises.

  No. No. We were so close! This wasn’t right. Marty was going to shoot Vincent anyway. We were so close. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. We were so close to being safe, to being happy.

  “DROP IT ASSHOLE! THIS IS YOUR LAST WARNING!”

  Marty didn’t care about getting shot himself. He was going to empty the clip into Vincent and at this distance, he wouldn’t miss. I could see the events playing in his mind: he would shoot Vincent then me while the cops shot him down.

  I had to try; I had to try one last time to get through to Marty.

  I wiped the wetness from my eyes and looked into Marty’s face. “No Marty, please . . . Marty you need help . . . Vincent and I . . . we love each other. You and I had something, but that was long ago. You need to get help Marty. Don’t take Vincent away from me. Don’t take my life away from me. If you ever loved me, if what you said was true about still caring about me, do the right thing. Please Marty, think about what you’re doing. You’re going to ruin all of our lives.”

  His brows narrowed. A strange expression crossed his face. Maybe it was a rare moment of lucidity for him or maybe I just imagined it, but it seemed like he suddenly realized what he had become. For a split second, I thought I saw a glimpse of the Marty that I knew years ago. Blue eyes, brown hair, boyish smile.

  His arm wavered, then went limp. The gun clattered on the floor.

  And then it was over.

  Chapter Thirteen

  When the ambulances arrived, Vincent had regained a bit of his strength. He insisted on riding to the hospital up front in the same ambulance as me, even though he was in a much worse state than me. The paramedics argued with him for a while, before letting him have his way. They must’ve figured that this way they would at least get him to the hospital, even if he refused to get there on a stretcher.

  I lay in the stretcher as the paramedics fussed over him, wrapping up his hands and flushing his eyes with water.

  “Kristen, I meant everything I said before. I love you. If you want to have the baby, I’ll be right there with you. It’s up to you Kristen, but I love you. I’ll be here for you, no matter what you decide.”

  “Is that what you want Vincent?”

  He nodded. His eyes were glistening, I’m not sure if it was from the water the paramedics were rinsing his eyes with or from tears.

  “When we were back there and Marty told you about the baby, for a moment, I thought you didn’t want the baby,” I said.

  “I’ve wanted a child for a while now, Kristen. When you told me, I was so happy. . . but I thought I was about to lose it all. I love you Kristen. If you’re ready, I want to start a family with you. Do you want that?”

  I struggled to find the words.“I—I love you too Vincent, and I think I do want a family, but I don’t know yet. Things have just been so crazy, we should take some time and think about it in case either of us changes our minds.”

  He gave me his hand, wrapped in medical bandages and I latched onto it. “I won’t change my mind Kristen, but you’re right. We’ll talk about it later. All I care about right now is that you’re okay.”

  I pursed my lips. He was going to make me cry again. “I’m glad you’re okay too, Vincent. I thought I was going to lose you.”

  Vincent let out a deep breath and chuckled. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

  His expression turned serious again. “I’m sorry about all of this Kristen. This was all my fault. Earlier today, when we were interrupted in the office, it was Kurt and Bernie. They had come to tell me that they lost track of Marty. I should have realized that he was more dangerous than he seemed.”

  “No Vincent, you didn’t know. How could you have known that Marty would react that way? I didn’t even know. I thought he had changed and got the help he needed and was recovering. I was wrong about him too.”

  Vincent growled, “Guys like that don’t learn their lesson until you bury them under six feet of concrete.”

  “I wouldn’t have wanted you to do that Vincent. That wouldn’t have been right. Marty is sick.”

  He let out a long sigh, “It doesn’t matter anymore. Now you’re safe and you won’t ever have to be afraid of him ever again.”

  “If you hadn’t met me, if I hadn’t dragged you into my problems, none of this would’ve happened. Your hands . . .”

  “Don’t you dare say that Kristen. If I hadn’t met you, my life wouldn’t have been whole. I don’t regret a single moment I’ve spent with you. I’d gladly trade my thumbs, my hands or any parts of my body for you Kristen. You’re everything to me.”

  “Did you really mean it when you said you wanted to start a family?”

  “I know we haven’t been dating for that long Kristen, and I don’t know what the future holds, but I know how I feel about you.”

  “What about your company?”

  “They don’t need me there all the time. I’ll take more time off to be with you. You’re more important to me.”

  “What if . . . what if it doesn’t work out?”

  “We can’t live life ba
sed on ‘what ifs’ Kristen. We’ll make it work.”

  Vincent looked around the ambulance and then raised an eyebrow at me, it looked almost comical on his swollen face. “So . . . ‘waddles’ was your phone password huh?”

  I half-laughed half-sobbed in relief and held on more tightly to his hand. No matter what happened next, we would work through our issues together.

  Epilogue

  “Ouch.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” I said.

  “It’s fine. Just try not to put too much pressure there,” Vincent said.

  He moved his arm out from under me and I stroked it lightly. The cast had come off a month ago, but sometimes it was still sore for him. In addition to breaking his thumbs, Vincent had also fractured his forearm in the fight with Marty.

  Marty was prosecuted and locked up. Even though he needed serious help, it was because of his ill-guided actions that Vincent and I were closer together. I wasn’t happy about what happened to Marty, but I knew that he would finally be able to get the help he needed in prison.

  Sunlight drifted in through the translucent blinds, illuminating small specks of dust floating in the air. Vincent beamed at me, his eyes still squinty from sleep. We were in his New York penthouse. Though I would have preferred the tranquility of his island, Vincent insisted on being in Manhattan so that we could be close to the New York Presbyterian Hospital. He told me that it had the best neonatal care unit in the world.

  I snapped back to the present and Vincent was looking at me with a suggestive look on his face. His cock was out and he was nudging at my entrance.

  “Wait, aren’t you missing something?” I teased him.

  He nuzzled his chin against the side of my face. “Like what?”

  The light fuzz on his chin rubbing against me made it difficult not to giggle. “Like a condom. That’s how we got here in the first place.”

  Vincent had proposed to me as soon as we had gotten out of the hospital. We had many serious talks while we were both recovering. Somehow, despite it being against hospital policy, Vincent had gotten us placed in the same recovery room. After the events we had been through, it was pretty clear that we both wanted to raise a child together.