by LM Spangler
“I’m afraid I’m not following. What does he have to do with anything?”
“He’s my boss.”
Denah nearly choked on her bite and had to take a long swig of her beer. “Whoa…” Her voice wavered and forced her to clear her throat. “Sorry. Much better. So you’re working where your ex-husband used to?”
Ridley studied her sister over a sip of beer. Denah shared the same dark, caramel-brown hair and freckles as Ridley. That was where the similarities ended. Ridley stood at five-feet-four while Denah pushed six feet. Ridley was curved graciously with wide hips, a softly rounded stomach, and over-average-sized bust. Denah was curved delicately and reminded Ridley of a ballerina. Tall, languid, graceful.
“Yes, I do. Denny let me know there was an opening there and seeing as I was unemployed, I went there. Now I’m a Sterling Motors employee.”
“Nice. I’m glad you found a job. That mutt of yours was about to eat you out of house and home. Plus, seeing Jack’s gorgeous face every day would be a plus.”
“Yeah, it’s a plus, but I’m not sure what to do about that. I swear that every time I’m around him, I turn into a hormonal teenager crushing on her first love.”
Denah’s brows rose. “Really?” She gazed at Ridley. “You hadn’t been with a man since before the divorce, which equals over a year.”
“I know.” The concession came out as a whine. “What in the hell am I supposed to do about it?”
“Jump his bones.”
Ridley’s mouth fell open and she snapped it shut. “Do what?”
“You’re attracted to him, right?”
“Umm … yeah.”
“Do you think he’s attracted to you?”
Ridley had sensed something when she’d brushed her lips against his. Restraint. Like he wanted to deepen the kiss, take it to the next level. A tightened bow string threatening to snap. “Yeah, maybe. I…”
The ring of Ridley’s doorbell interrupted their conversation. “I have no idea who that could be,” Ridley said as she walked down the hallway from the kitchen to the front door. She swung the door open and her heart leaped into her throat. “What are you doing here?” she hissed.
“What? You’re not going to invite me in?” Dean Asher asked with a smug, masculine smile on his face.
Ridley’s pulse bypassed racing and went straight into light speed, making her head spin and her breathing to increase. “No.” She shook her head. “You’re not welcome here. You never will be.”
“That’s not how you treat the man you used to be married to,” he teased, remaining smug.
“Keywords being used to. Say your piece and leave,” she demanded, forcing her voice to not waver even though her stomach was a quivering mess of nerves.
“Not out here,” he said, shouldering her aside and entering her home.
Her back connected with the wall hard enough to force the air out of her lungs. “Get out,” she ordered as she tried to draw precious oxygen into her body.
“I’ll stay for however long I want to. There is nothing you can do about it. But, I’m not here to muscle you around.”
“Say that to my back,” she muttered under her breath. “Say what you came to say and get out.”
“As you wish. You will call Sterling Motors tomorrow and quit your job.” He crossed his arms over his broad chest.
The man could still strike fear into her, even after the divorce. She hated being weak. “Why would I do that?” she forced herself to say. “I need the work and Sterling had a spot open.”
“That doesn’t matter. You will call Jack tomorrow and resign. It’s as simple as that.” His silver-blue eyes seemed to penetrate her very soul. She couldn’t lose ground, even if she was a coward.
“No. I won’t.” Her hands went to her hips and a split second later, she realized she made a mistake. She was thankful Dean had never struck her, but that seemed like it was about to change. The look in his eyes was pure menace, pure evil. Quick as a flash, he slapped her and hollered, “You bitch!”
She instinctively covered her face with her hands. Stars exploded in her vision as stinging, burning pain spread across her right cheek to her lips. She tasted blood. Gale-force fear blew through her, leaving her a quaking mess of a human as she fell to the floor.
Denah came running from the kitchen with Dozer in tow. She must have let him in when Dean’s and Ridley’s voices rose in disagreement. “I called the police. They are on their way,” Denah advised as she hung onto a snarling, snapping, teeth-baring Dozer. “Leave or I’ll set him loose.”
As if on cue, Dozer tugged hard, his front legs off the ground as he tried to break free.
“I’ve had my say. Remember, Ridley. Make that phone call tomorrow or I’ll do worse than slap you, bitch.” With that parting threat, he turned, put his hands in his pocket, and began to hum as he walked to his car.
Denah slammed the door and raced to the kitchen.
Ridley sat on the floor, with her arms wrapped around her legs, and rocked back and forth. Why had she been so stupid to provoke him? Tears flowed and she did nothing to stop them. Her face burned hotter than the sun and her upper lip had been busted open. “Stupid, stupid, stupid,” she mumbled over and over.
Denah kneeled beside her and put a bag of ice on Ridley’s face. “That asshole, bastard, son of a bitch.”
Despite the situation, Ridley smiled and winced before speaking. “You forgot gutless, dickheaded fucktard.”
“After the police arrive, I’m going to run you into the hospital. I think you need a stitch or two in your lip.” Denah gently placed a cloth against her sister’s lip.
The soft hand towel burned the wound, but she held it against her face.
Sirens approached from a distance and gradually got louder and louder. Lights began to flash on the wall from the half-circle window in the door.
Denah rose and opened the door for the officer.
Ridley glanced up at the policeman. Way up. The man was huge. Easily taller than six feet. Probably taller than Jack.
“Ma’ams. My name is Officer Boyd Folsom. I believe there was an altercation here tonight.”
Ridley nodded and pulled the cloth and ice bag away from her face. “That would be correct.” She tried to smile, but the stinging burn forced her to wince again. “Sorry.”
Officer Folsom inhaled sharply, his eyes narrowing, turning as menacing as Dean’s had been. “Miss…” He pulled a small notebook from his pocket. “Miss Ridley Asher. Let me say that no man has the right to strike a woman unless it’s in self-defense. There is no need for you to be sorry. Do you mind if I sit next to you?”
Ridley shook her head as the officer lowered himself to the left of her and Dozer sat next to her right side.
“Tell me what happened.”
Ridley recounted the scuffle with Dean and Denah added what she could. Officer Folsom advised Ridley to file for a Protection From Abuse order against her ex-husband. After agreeing to do so, the officer left and Denah forced a reluctant Ridley into her car and took her to the hospital.
“You didn’t have to do this,” Ridley complained as they got closer to their destination.
“I know I don’t, but I love you and that bastard had no right to hurt you.”
How could Ridley argue that point? He did hurt her. Hurt her physically and spiritually. A dark, oily, angry stain tainted her. Taunted her. Stripping her of all she had accomplished to this point. She had made it out on her own. She was happy.
One slap destroyed that. How could she show up at work tomorrow with likely bruises and a stitched lip? She’d have to explain she instigated the attack by challenging him. Had she not, she would likely not be in the current situation.
Once they arrived at the Emergency Room, she was led back to a room while one nurse made sure the incident was phoned into the police and a second nurse who gently cleansed Ridley’s wounded lip and gave her something to take the edge off the burning pain.
“I’m going to go
into the hallway and call Rick. He knew I was bringing you here, I just want to let him know we made it.” Denah slipped into the hallway.
Ridley nodded as the nurse finished cleaning the wound. She “uh-huhed” a few times before speaking.
“It’s still oozing blood. I think it’ll need a stitch or two, or perhaps the doctor will choose to glue it. At any rate, I’ll send for him. It may be a bit because of a few cases before yours.”
Ridley nodded again and the nurse took her leave. Ridley sat alone in the drab, sterile gray room that smelled of gloom and antiseptic. There was no color. Only the blue of her jeans and, as she glanced down at her once-white top, the red-brown of the blood that dripped onto her shirt.
After staring at the streaks on her t-shirt for a moment, the first hot tear slid down her cheek. Then another and another. She lay back on the examination table and let the storm loose. She had no idea how long the torrent lasted, but fatigue gripped her, tried to pull her under. The pain medication had kicked in. The burn still raged, but she found that she didn’t care. A rolling, white fog slowly eked its way into her brain and she finally allowed sleep to blanket her, to take her away from the hospital, and away from the shame.
Time had passed. She wasn’t sure how much, but she’d awoken to the sound of Denah’s voice and a male’s voice. It wasn’t Denah’s husband, Rick’s. It sounded like … Jack’s. Prying her eyes open and allowing them to adjust to the light, she turned toward the source of the voice.
“There you are,” Denah said. “Feel any better?”
Ridley shook her head. “Wha-wha-what are you doing here, Jack?”
He moved to the side of her bed. “Hey. Your sister called me. She found my cell phone number on the Internet. I got here as quickly as I could.” His chocolate-brown eyes held the same look of anger as Dean’s had, though Ridley doubted Jack would hit her. “If I ever see the son of a bitch again, I’m going to kick his abusing ass from here to Timbuktu.” The whip of disgust was evident in his no-nonsense tone of voice. Ridley didn’t doubt him for a minute.
Ridley opened her mouth to speak when the door opened and a young man, looking barely out of med school, entered the room, followed by the nurse.
“I’m Dr. Scott. Jean said you probably needed a stitch in your lip.” He offered his hand.
Ridley took it and allowed him to pull her into a sitting position.
Dr. Scott brushed her torn lip with a latex-covered finger, gently tugging open the wound.
The flash of pain burned hot and she jerked away from him. “Ow!”
“Sorry, sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to cause you discomfort, but I needed to see how deep the wound was. Oh,” he exclaimed as he reached for a gauze square. “I’m going to put two stitches in. One to secure the lowest layer of the tear within the lip and then one to cover the outer layer.” He turned toward Jean and nodded.
Jean withdrew a syringe, small tube, needle, sutures, and gauze from her pocket. She removed each item from the plastic they had been encased in. She handed Dr. Scott the tube first.
“I’m going to add a couple drops of a numbing solution to the wound before injecting some basic Novocain.” The doctor stepped to Ridley, tilted her head back slightly, and squeezed the liquid from the tube. Ridley jerked away and hissed, then she stilled when she couldn’t feel her lip anymore. He fetched the syringe, stuck its tip in Ridley’s lip, and then set it aside. “You may feel some tugging, but it shouldn’t be uncomfortable. If it becomes so, please let me know.” He grabbed the suture-threaded curved needle and made quick work of sewing the wound shut. “There you go. The stitches will dissolve on their own with next to no scarring. If you would need anything, contact your family physician.” With that, he removed his gloves with a snap and left the room.
Nurse Jean jotted instructions on a print out and signed Ridley out.
Ridley slid off the bed and her legs buckled, giving out on her. Strong arms surrounded her, gently holding her upright.
“Lean against me. I’ve got you,” Jack said softly.
She did as he asked, allowing him to support her as they left the room and then the hospital. Jack loaded her into his Ford Mustang Fast-back and spoke to Denah. “I’ll run her home and stay with her for the night. That bastard isn’t going to hurt her again. I promise you that.”
“I believe you,” Denah said. “I’ll call later and check up on you, Ridley. I love you, kiddo.”
“Love you too,” she said as Jack slid into the driver’s seat.
“You ready?” he asked as he closed the door. He studied Ridley for a moment. “I’m going to kill him.”
Ridley shook her head. “I pushed the wrong buttons tonight,” she murmured.
“I could push him off a cliff. This wasn’t your fault, Ridley. He was always a hot head, but I’d never seen him act that way toward you.”
Ridley glanced at him as he pulled out of the parking lot and began their journey back to Dover. The automatic street lights flashed on, casting his face into light, then shadow, and back to light. His clenched jaw added an air of defiance to him. On her behalf. “Thank you for coming,” she admitted, thankful to have him as her protector. “You don’t have to stay with me. Dean’s my problem.” She whispered the last three words as the heaviness of those words weighed on her.
“He hurt you, Ridley.” His grip on the steering wheel turned his knuckles white. “He hurt you.”
“Yes, he did. It hurts now that the Novocain wore off, but I’m not your problem. As much as I appreciate the offer of you staying with me.”
His gaze went from the road, to Ridley, and back to the road. “You became my problem as soon as you walked into my office this afternoon.”
“Because you’re my boss.” Disappointment lowered the tone of her voice. How she wished he’d come because of something more than a boss/employee dynamic.
He surprised her when he pulled the Mustang to the side of the road. He didn’t face her. “Do you think I’d’ve rushed to the hospital if I didn’t care about you?”
“I … I…” she sputtered.
He faced her, his eyes lit with the harsh light from the overhead street lamp they’d pulled under. “Do you think I do this for any employee? Sure, I’d go to the hospital, but I wouldn’t offer to stay with them. I don’t want to see you hurting. It rips me apart seeing your face marred by his hand.” He faced forward again and dropped a bomb. “I love you, dammit.” He put the car in drive and pulled back into traffic.
It wasn’t just a little bomb he dropped, it was nuclear. “You … you … love me?” Did she hear him right? Did he really just say that?
He exhaled heavily. “Yes. I fell in love with you the third time I met you, but you were married to my partner. I wouldn’t and couldn’t do anything about it so I kept my distance.”
A soft snort escaped. “I thought you didn’t like me.”
“I stayed away because I was afraid to get too close. Afraid I’d fall head over heels in love with you. Turned out I already had, but didn’t realize it until today. Dean never deserved you. I should have told you that he was a cheating male whore, but again, he was my partner. My hands were tied.”
Ridley rubbed her temples. “This is a lot to absorb. It complicates things.”
It was Jack’s turn to snort. “Majorly,” he admitted.
“Let me digest this for a few minutes,” she advised.
They drove in silence from the hustle and bustle of the city of York to the quiet back roads of Dover. Jack pulled into the driveway behind Ridley’s truck. “Give me your keys.”
Ridley was far too tired to argue. She fished her keys out of her purse and dropped them into his hand. They exited the Mustang, walked to the house, and Jack unlocked the door. Ridley walked into the living room and collapsed on the couch.
“Can I get you anything?” Jack asked.
“Hmm … some water maybe,” she answered as she snuggled into the blessed comfort of her plush furniture.
J
ack ran his hand over her hair. “Sure.”
She fell asleep as soon as he stepped into the kitchen.
Chapter Three
Jack awoke in unfamiliar surroundings. The light of the morning filtered through the blinds of Ridley’s bedroom, casting yellow light against her soft gray walls and the comforter only shades darker. The no-nonsense room matched the woman who designed it.
The events of last night crept into his memory. One certain portion reverberated like a bullet in his mind.
He’d told Ridley he loved her. He hadn’t even seen her for over a year, thanks to her divorce. The feeling rushed over him, into him, the moment he’d seen her yesterday.
Now he was lying shirtless in her bed. Usually, he’d have no issue being in a woman’s bed. This particular woman went through hell last night because of his douchebag ex-partner. Hatred heated his blood, sending it coursing through his system. Any man who struck a woman in anger was a dirt bag. He actually had called this particular dirt bag his partner as of three months ago when Dean married Kyla.
Jack scrubbed his hands over his face, pushing the last dregs of sleep from his body as visions of last night rushed him. Ridley had fallen asleep as soon as she hit the couch. She didn’t stir when he carried her upstairs, stripped her down to her underwear and bra, and dressed her in a button-down sleep shirt.
He actually shook when dressing her. His fingers itched to trace the curves of her breasts and hips. He wanted her then and still did now. She lay next to him, breathing softly as she slept with her back to him. A cold shower was what he needed now, as he slowly slipped out of bed to take care of bathroom business. The room was small and utilitarian. Directly opposite the sink was the bathtub/shower combination. The toilet was next to the sink.
As he washed his hands, he stared at himself in the mirror. His gray-streaked hair stood up on end and he had bypassed a five o’clock shadow about twenty-four hours ago.
He padded quietly in bare feet out of the bathroom and stopped dead in his tracks.