by Hazel Parker
“I knew you were a liar when I met you. You were always a little slut, begging for someone to look at you, and when I asked if you were trying to tease other men, you said no. Now look at you. Blaming me because you don’t get your way. I though you would always love me, Tamara. What happened to being by my side no matter what?”
He taunted me for years before his words turned to physical abuse.
Somehow Bryant had convinced me he hung the moon and the stars when we first met. On our wedding day, I believed I was the luckiest girl in the world. But I wasn’t. It took five years, but I realized after he beat me, broke me, scared me, isolated me and ruined me, that this man was not the man I thought I married.
Now this couple before me was starting at the same starting line I’d once crossed, and I hoped for their sake, it wouldn’t end like mine. Warren squeezed my hand as I wiped my eyes.
“You okay Red?”
I nodded. “I’ll be all right.”
That’s what I kept telling myself. Fake it ‘til you make it. I really did want to be all right.
That’s what I told myself when I made Warren take me to the motel instead of his house that night.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come with me?”
“No. I don’t want to crowd you.”
“Red, if you were crowding me, I would have told you. You know you’re always welcome.”
“I know. But I think this is best.”
He sighed. “Look, Red. I know you think you know best, but you don’t. You’re just scared. I’m scared too, though. I’ve never felt this way about anyone, but I feel full when I’m around you. I really care about you, and I think you care about me too.”
“Stop.” I couldn’t let him go on. It was breaking my heart to have to hear his truth and know what I was about to say would undo him. “What we have here is temporary. Remember? That’s why I told you not to get attached. I’m on the run, Warren. On the freaking run from a deranged husband who won’t let me be his ex. I have a lot of baggage. Too much for someone like you. You deserve someone who can marry one day, not a married woman like me who will probably never get a divorce. I’ll get my new identity soon and…” I had to clear my throat from the tears I felt choking me. I continued, fearing he would cut me off. “Maybe it’s best if we don’t see each other again until then.”
I felt like I stabbed myself. The way my heart was beating, I felt close to having a panic attack, but I had to stay strong until he left. It pained me to push him away, but it would be worse if I allowed him to stay and be in danger. I wanted nothing more than to stay with Warren and be his, but if Bryant ever found out, he would kill Warren.
“I wish you would just hear me out.”
“I have, Warren, and there’s nothing you can say.”
He winced, and I knew the dagger was lodged right where I was aiming for: his heart.
“I’ll see you when Wiz says your paperwork is done.”
I nodded, not trusting words instead of sobs to come out my mouth. Watching Warren drive away was painful, and I stood there in the darkness for a moment thinking of everything I’d lost. I’d given my entire life for Bryant and lost it all; now I was trying to find it again. A tear slid down my cheek and I touched it, wondering if I was being too emotional. I was always overly emotional during my period. Which hadn’t come yet. It had been completely irregular since I stopped birth control and since I was really stressed.
Still, I allowed the idea of a little baby, with eyes like Warren’s and my smile, to appear in my mind’s eye for a second. The visuals were enough to make my heart heavy. I wasn’t supposed to be having feelings for him. Plus, I wouldn’t want to bring a child into the turmoil that was my current life. Just thinking about carrying Bryant’s child chilled my bones. That was a sure way to be stuck under his tyranny forever. If he knew I had his child, he would never stop looking for me, and when he found me, he wouldn’t kill me: he’d fight me in court to take my only child away from me until I died of a broken heart. In all this running, I hadn’t stopped to think if I wanted a child. Before I met Bryant, I did, but since I realized who he really was, the thought never occurred to me. I wondered if I had the guts to go through with an abortion. I wasn’t sure that I could. It didn’t matter, though. Wasn’t no point in thinking of ‘what ifs.’ I wasn’t pregnant; it was just stress.
I settled that as I opened the door and walked into the motel room I was starting to call home. My thoughts delayed my reaction as I realized Bryant was sitting on the bed. He caught my arm as I turned to leave and dragged me inside before locking the door.
“Ah, ah, ah. Where are you going?”
I kept struggling and froze under the sting on my face and realized he’d slapped me. It was effective, and I stood there dazed and listening to him talk.
“I was beginning to think you’d never show up.”
“Bryant—”
He held his hand up. “Why don’t you sit down? I think we’re overdue for a chat.”
I looked around, searching for anything that could help me. Almost everything was nailed down – the phone, the lamp on the stand, and the bed frame. There was only one entrance, and I knew Bryant would have some kind of weapon on him – maybe a knife, or maybe he knew that he could overtake me and didn’t have anything.
“I couldn’t help overhearing your little romantic parting.”
“Let me explain.”
“No, no, no,” he said, shaking his head like a parent disciplining a child. “It’s my turn to talk, Tamara. Now sit there like a good girl and listen.”
He sat back in the wooden chair from the small desk in the corner and thought out loud. “Now, where was I? Oh yes. The movie-worthy parting.” His eyes glinted. “So you got yourself a little boyfriend while you were gone? And a biker at that. Such a naughty girl. I always knew you had a little slut inside of you. I tried to help you rid that part of yourself, but I see I was not successful.” He sucked his teeth. “And he knew you were married. What a cad. Sleeping with a married woman. Has he no self-respect?”
“He has more respect in one finger than you have in your entire body.”
Bryant jumped up and smacked me twice, throwing my neck to the left and the right. I anticipated and gritted my teeth to hold in my cries, though my eyes watered without my consent.
“I see you’ve gotten mouthy since you’ve been gone. Don’t worry: I’ll make sure to beat that out of you too.”
I held my stinging face and a sob came out. “You’re the devil.”
“Not true, Tammy,” he said, stroking the scar he gave me on my knee. “I’m your husband.”
“I will never be your wife.”
He laughed without true amusement. “The law would beg to disagree.”
I took a deep breath and kept talking, knowing he would hit me and hoping I made him so mad he accidently killed me. “I don’t care what that piece of paper says. I will never be your wife again. I hate you, and I won’t ever stop running, no matter what you do to me.”
“How dare you?” He hissed. He grabbed my arm so tight, I cried out. “You’re mine! And no other man will have you. I don’t know what that biker told you, but he lied. No one will ever stop me. You think that little restraining order can keep me away? It can’t. Whatever you thought, you’re wrong. It doesn’t matter how far you run. You’ll always be mine. In fact, let me show you exactly what I mean.”
He grabbed my shirt and tried to push it over my head.
“No!”
“Shut up,” he said, squeezing my breast painfully through the material. “You will give me what I want.”
“No! Stop it, Bryant. I don’t want this.”
He got both his hands at the bottom of the hem and pulled, effectively ripping it up the middle. “Did you hear me ask you what you want?”
Tears streamed down my face. “Cry if you want, Tammy, but I won’t stop.”
“You’re a monster,” I screamed as he wrestled me onto my back,
“You’re nothing to me.”
That only seemed to encourage him and he fought to unbuckle my pants.
“I won’t let you! I don’t care what you say. I’ll never give up.”
“This can happen the easy way or the hard way, Mrs. Byrd,” he said, pinning my arms above my head. “With you conscious or with you taking a little nap. Either way, it’s going to hurt,” he guaranteed.
I spit in his face and he turned a deep, beet red.
“You’re going to regret that,” he said, and I knew I wouldn’t as his fist came down and hard onto my face. The world pitched one way and became dark around the edges. I could feel him fumbling with my pants.
Don’t quit. Fight! I thought, but my hands wouldn’t cooperate.
None of this would have happened if I had stayed with Warren or had invited him in. It was my own fault. I couldn’t see anything, and my other senses faded with my vision, but I could remember him easier than I thought.
The hard lines of his face. The rugged feel of his beard on my face when we kissed. The way he ran his fingers through his short hair, perpetually looking unkempt. I thought of his full lips and the way they felt when we kissed. I recalled the look in his eyes when he tried to tell me how he felt. Now I would never know what he was going to say.
Chapter Fourteen – Warren
I sighed as I fell back onto the couch. It was as if tension had lifted, but instead of relief, I was left with an ugly shade of melancholy.
I was brooding. So? I wasn’t afraid to admit it either. Well, admit it to myself. I sat on my couch guzzling whiskey and coddling my feelings. I could do that in the safety of my own home because I needed to get rid of the burning in my chest. Nothing seemed to fix it. I’d tried riding, and now I was trying liquor. I hoped it worked. It had to. How I was feeling wasn’t safe for my club, and they always came first. As the VP, I had to look out for them, but this damn ache in my chest was distracting. I knew it would make me react slower and where I lived, that could get you killed.
It had only been about an hour, but I was already regretting walking away. I should have stayed. I should have fought for us more…but I didn’t want to beg.
My phone rang, pulling me from my reverie.
“Talk.”
“The papers are ready.”
I wondered why Wiz called me instead of dialing Red. Her number was in the system. Then it hit me: Wiz was a perceptive guy for a man who kept his nose in electronics, and he was pretty good about noticing what others were too dumb to see. He probably noticed how sweet I was on Red, or I was more obvious than I thought I was.
“VP?”
I realized I hadn’t said anything in a while. “I’ll tell her,” I said briskly before hanging up. It was a little rude, but he was used to it. Our president wasn’t flowers and candy either.
I stood, mentally scanning myself. I had only just sat on the couch with my whiskey. I’d only had a large gulp. Sure that I wasn’t dizzy or tipsy and could see clearly, I climbed onto Heaven. This would probably be the last time I got to spend with Red before she left, so I drove to the motel quickly, thinking of ways I could prolong it. I pulled up to her room, confused as I drove past a car that looked exactly like Betsy. I walked over to it, looking for the unforgettable dent in the passenger side door. It was in the exact same spot as the car Red owned. But what was it doing here? Especially since I knew it was stolen before.
That mother fucker.
I didn’t think as I pulled my trusty Glock from my waistband and shot out the doorknob and where I estimated the lock would be before kicking in the door.
Cold washed through my system at Red unconscious and bloodied on the bed, under the motherfucker who hadn’t even thought to climb off her when he heard a gunshot. Red’s face was swollen and bleeding, and my heart clenched when I couldn’t tell if she was alive.
I took in the complete scene, unbelieving what I saw. Red was completely naked except for her bra, though it was pulled down, revealing bruised nipples. While Bryant was over here, clad only in his boxers. Perhaps I was too late, or he had been working up to having sex with her. It was clear he was enjoying her body in other ways and taking advantage of the fact she couldn’t fight back or say no.
“Would you please close the door?” Bryant said, as if this was a common mistake. Like I’d accidently walked into the wrong room and not shot through the fucking door. “As you can see, I’m in the middle of a conjugal visit.”
I saw red.
In that moment, the flash of anger protected me from the coming pain.
I’d failed her. I’d told Red I would protect her, and I failed. I should have done more. I should have been here and now this asshole wanted to pretend like everything was okay? Red made me a better man. Without her, I was just a biker outlaw, a fucking Bandit, and what I planned to do to her husband was criminal. Before I swung my first punch, I already had no regrets.
White-hot fire burned so bright and blinding, it swallowed my entire being. I saw red. I tasted red. I smelled red. Everything was colored in red, burning down in a fire I couldn’t contain. My whole world was red. I pocketed my gun and grabbed Bryant’s forearm, jerking him until he cried out and used his body weight to force me to the ground. It was easy to roll over until he was pinned beneath me as I clocked him in the face. His face felt hard against my fist, but I barely felt it as his nose crunched and spurted blood on my face and shirt. Everything was easy as the fire burned through my body.
My large hand wrapped around his thick neck. I dug into the skin there, leaning forward even more to choke him with all my strength. His arms waved in front of me, beating against me and trying to push to loosen my grip or make me stop. There was nothing he could do. His bloodied face turned a slight blue as I tightened my grip. He wasn’t willing to die like a gentleman. He clawed, scratching at my face, anything to get me away from his throat, but I was determined. His hand patted against my waist and I realized what he was grabbing for a little too late. I let go to flick the gun from his loose hands.
I let him go, diving onto the floor, following the gun as he rolled over, coughing loudly and trying to catch his breath. He was barely breathing, but he stood, trying to get away like the coward he was. I ran towards him, not balancing my weight, and he used my determination to turn to the side and sent three jabs to my side. That fucker hit my kidney by the intense pain shooting up my body. I groaned and bent over, but was still not sated. He could have kill Red. He had hurt her. I should have just killed him as soon as I walked in, but I wanted to make him bleed with my own two hands.
Despite being dazed, I pulled him back to me, unwilling to let him go.
A voice whispered in the back of my head, begging me to stop. Red could still be alive. She might not be dead. If she was alive, I needed to stop. I needed to get her some help.
That voice made me loosen my grip, enough for him to step towards Red, and I realized he was dumber than I thought. Getting out of here alive wasn’t guaranteed, and he wanted to try and get out with Red?
He scrambled, once more going for the gun. I had half a mind to shoot him in fucking head since it was clear he was nothing but a chicken shit, too scared to fight me like a man, desperate to use a weapon instead of his own hands. He was big enough to use them with Red, though.
Fucking coward.
I threw my right fist and collided against the side of his head.
He staggered backwards a couple steps before regaining his footing. I didn’t allow him to make another move.
I’d had enough. I needed to get Red to a hospital as soon as possible. With my gun firmly in my grip, I thrust the gun to his crotch, right up against his dick, making him freeze and throw up his hands. Though his face still looked indignant, like any minute this could somehow all change in his favor.
I leaned forward until we were nose to nose. “Do not move, motherfucker, or I swear to fucking God I will pull this
trigger! You ever want to piss out your dick again?”
He didn’t answer but ducked his head once. “Then I suggest you get the fuck out of here before I make that an unachievable dream. Walk out the door while you can.”
“You don’t know who you’re messing with. You think because you have this gun that you can run me off.” I was used to the villain feeling the need to spew their monologue. I listened halfheartedly, hoping he would talk himself out and get on his merry way. “You think I’ll stop. Well, I won’t. This isn’t over. You can’t have her. Tamara will always be mine.”
I shot him in the foot before I registered that my hand moved.
I yelled over his screams as he writhed on the floor, holding the carnage that was his foot. “You just had to keep talking. Didn’t you? You just couldn’t shut your fucking mouth. Do you want to say something else?”
This time he shook his head widely with large, pain-stricken eyes.
“That’s what I thought.” I stood over his body, trying to calm myself down. “Let me make myself very clear,” I said, leaning down until I could smell the musk of coward and see the pupils of his eyes. “If you look at Tamara, look for her, come near her, or so much as breathe her air again, I will kill you.” His eyes widened even more as I continued. “I won’t hesitate, and I won’t be caught. Do you understand?” He opened his mouth but I interrupted. “Don’t say another word!” I knew I would kill him if I heard his horrible voice again. “Nod your fucking head if you understand.” Bryant nodded, proving he did have some sense in his head. “Good! Now leave, and you better pray to God or whoever the hell you serve that she wakes up and nothing is broken, because if it is, I will find you and give you everything she has times two. I will break every bone in your body except your hand, so you can sign your fucking name on those divorce papers.”
He stood and limped towards the door as I opened my phone.
“Yeah?” Gus always sounded like he just finished a pack of cigarettes when he talked.
“I need a team, Pres.”