“So fucking much for love.”
My cell rings again, and this time I’m angry and ready for him.
“I told you to leave me alone!”
“You did this, you fucking whore.”
Eric, and from the sound of it he’s decided to blame me for his messed up relationship. Thank goodness Bee has gone out with Jill, a friend from college, and isn’t here to hear this. She’s fragile and not ready for this. I, on the other hand, am having a really bad day, and I relish the thought of putting at least one asshole in his place.
“No, you did this, Eric,” I snarl, staring at the portrait of Vincent and feeling my anger deepen.
Men are such bastards, and if I can’t have a go at the man who’s hurt me, I’ll take what I can get with this one.
“I’m not the one starving my girlfriend to the point she’s losing hair. I’m not the one who told her she’s fat and unsophisticated. You did that. Count yourself lucky her brother isn’t on your doorstep with that violent temper of his.”
“You set your rabid-ass boyfriend on me, you stupid slut. I lost my job yesterday thanks to you!”
He’s yelling, and I know that if I was anywhere near him right now he’d probably resort to physical violence.
“What?”
It dawns on me then what he’s saying. Vincent got him fired? How? When? And why would he even bother if he’s done with me?
“Your little English prick called my boss yesterday and got me canned. I know you did this, and I promise you, you and that whore will pay for it.”
“I did no such thing, you slime ball. If you come anywhere near me and Bee, I swear, I’ll let Jeff Parker kill your useless ass!” I scream, flinging the portrait at the wall.
“You better be prepared, Sissy.”
The call goes dead before I can curse him out, and I slump back feeling drained and unaccountably afraid. I’ve come to understand that Eric Brennan is capable of a lot more than the schoolboy adoration and shy teasing he’d done in the early days of knowing him—just look at what he’d done to Bee—but this phone call sends shivers down my spine.
And I no longer have the safety blanket of Vincent, my own personal knight, to keep me feeling safe and secure. It scares me that Bee and I are alone and at his mercy.
He has the codes the security company had given us when they’d installed the system, so the first thing I do is call them and have them come over to change them.
When Bee and Jill walk in I’m on the phone with my father and reassuring him that everything’s fine. Seems the guy who owns the security company is in Daddy’s pocket, and he’d called him a second after ending my call.
“Yes, Daddy, it’s no big deal, just a precaution. No, Daddy, I swear everything’s safe and all right. I’ll see you soon, and tell Mama I love her too.”
“What’s going on?”
I turn to Bee, feeling like crap but needing to get things in place for her, our, protection.
“Eric called earlier and threw around some threats. Seems Vincent didn’t take his treatment of you too kindly and got him sacked. I just got the security codes changed, and I think you should go down to the police department and get a restraining order. Just in case.”
Her knees give out, and Jill grabs her, lowering her trembling form to the sofa.
“Sissy, I’m sorry, I—”
“Don’t be sorry, Bee, be mad. That asshole is taking things too far, and I refuse to be afraid of that little worm. Now get your coat back on. We have an appointment with a restraining order, and I’d really like to talk to you about calling Jeff.”
Jill leaves, even though she seems reluctant to leave Bee with me. I know I’m being hard, but I can’t help needing to get things done. Especially now that I no longer have Vincent to lean on.
***
We’re at the station talking to a cop when my phone rings again. When I see who’s calling, I seriously consider turning the thing off, but, idiot that I am, I answer it and wait silently, not giving him the courtesy of a hello.
“We need to talk, dove.”
“I’m busy, Vincent.”
It’s true, but I say it to show him that I am no longer the idiot who’ll drop everything and come running when he wags his finger. Plus, leaving Bee alone right now is not a good idea. She’s just now calmed down from her hysterics and pleading not to call her brother or her parents.
I really think things are going to a place that requires more than what I can give her, but she’s insisting that Eric would never really hurt her.
I’m not so sure, but what I do know is that if that asshole gets anywhere near me he’ll definitely try to hurt me. Hence the pepper spray I’d bought on the way to the precinct.
“Dove, I have a lot to tell you, and I would appreciate it if you’d stop being so difficult,” he mutters, making my lips twitch.
Always so polite and controlled, even when I can hear the frustration in his tone.
“Fine. I’ll swing by your place tomorrow afternoon.”
“No—”
“Look, Vincent, I’m going through some shit with Bee right now. Oh, and thanks a lot for getting Eric fired. He’s blaming me for that.”
“Tell me,” he orders, and I know how annoyed he is when he doesn’t holler at me for interrupting him.
“He called this afternoon and got real nasty about getting fired. He blames me and—”
I stop and cover the mouthpiece when Officer Deidricks waves me over, letting me know he’s ready for my statement.
“Look, I have to go. I’ll come by at four.”
I end the call before he can hear the background noise of a prostitute having a go at the arresting officer, and join Bee and Deidricks. Swear to God, this has been a really crappy week, and I can’t wait for the weekend to be over so we can start a fresh one.
A half hour later we’re back in a cab and headed to a little Italian place Bee used to love. The statement and getting the order against Eric had been a relatively simple process, and I have it on good authority that Officer Deidricks will personally take care of serving it to Eric.
“I think we should just go home. Besides, I’m not supposed to eat anything but the crap on that diet plan,” Bee mutters, letting me know how unimpressed she is with me right now.
I don’t respond to her tone but sling an arm around her instead and pull her into my side. She’s taller, so comforting her isn’t easy, but I do it anyway, ignoring her stiffness.
“We are not going home to sit and stare at the door or walls. Anyway, I’m pretty sure they’ll accommodate us with a special order of grilled chicken breast and some steamed vegetables, Bee. Now stop being so grumpy and get over it.”
“Easy for you to say, you didn’t just serve the man you love with a restraining order.”
No, but I’d dropped Vincent’s phone call and any chance at working things through in order to be with her, and I kind of resent her resentment. As if what I’m doing for her means nothing. As if it’s a fly in her fucking ointment.
I want to scream at her and tell her to quit her bratty whining and get a backbone, till the doctor’s voice pops into my head, reminding me that this would not be easy.
“I’m part of that shit list he has going too,” I remind her. “He’s not exactly pleased with me either. And I kind of broke up with Vincent today, so I’m not having a great time of it either, you know.”
She pulls back and groans.
“Shit, Sis, I am so sorry. Here I am complaining like a five-year-old. Is this because of me and all the time we’re spending together?”
“Nah. He’s just being a dick, so I cut it short.”
Not a good idea at the moment. For one thing, I’m bummed about not finishing the landscapes, or the portrait still standing in his bedroom, and for another, I was banking on the commission he was going to pay me.
I suspect I’m either going to have to hit it lucky and sell a few more paintings through Vern—fingers crossed—or call my daddy
to float us for a month or two. I don’t want to, but I will. For Bee.
Chapter Thirteen
The rest of the day doesn’t go too badly. After a hearty late lunch and an almost painful effort to raise her spirits, I drag us both home and go up to the eyrie.
I want to pack away the portraits and start a new one, something that will consume me long enough to get over Vincent, something to bolster me for our meeting tomorrow.
“Sis, you want a cup of tea or something?”
I look down from my perch in front of my bare canvas and see Bee puttering around in the kitchen in her pajamas, her hair bundled up and messy, but shinier than I’ve seen it in days.
“Yeah, thanks. You washed your hair?”
“Yup, and I used that swanky hair mask your mom sent last month. That stuff is awesome!” she yells, and I grin when she walks up the stairs, two cups and a tub of peanut butter in her hands.
“The doc ain’t going to like you messing with stuff that isn’t in his plan,” I warn, taking the cup to sip at the hot, sweet tea.
“He can kiss my ass. If I have to get over this shit and get a lard ass I’m gonna do it eating things I like. Besides, peanut butter is a food group. So whatcha doing?”
“Trying to start a new series.”
She eyes the blank canvas and frowns, shaking her head.
“The two of us are a pathetic pair, you know that? Here we are, hung up on two idiots. We should burn their shit in a freedom ceremony or something.”
“Yeah,” I snort, flicking my eyes at the portraits I’d stacked against the wall, their fronts facing away from me. “That should really help. If we don’t get arrested first.”
“Know what I think, Sis? I think you should go see him tomorrow, with an open mind and not thinking he’s an ass. He did do me a favor, and I think…he’s nicer than he seems.”
“I thought you were warning me off.”
She sighs and licks at her empty spoon.
“I don’t want this thing with Eric to turn me into one of those nasty women who hate all men. I want to be loved again someday and…I want the same for you. Stop ignoring his calls and give it a try. Don’t let my shit color your relationship.”
We both go to bed after that, even though it’s barely past eight. I’m drained and need the oblivion of sleep to stop the thoughts swirling in my head.
I don’t want to think that Bee’s right, that I overreacted the day Vincent had called because I was tripping over this mess and the power that he had over me.
I know it’s true; I just don’t want to admit it to myself. Not yet, anyway.
***
A noise wakes me, and I roll over to check the clock, groaning when I see that it’s just past two in the morning. I’d been having a really good dream about Vincent and his tongue skills, and I want nothing more than to go back to sleep and chase the sensations I’d been feeling.
I hear the noise again and mutter under my breath, flinging the covers aside. If I find Bee wandering around in the dark again like I have so many times lately, I will kick her ass. She knows how much I hate that creepy shit.
“I’m so going to kick her ass for ruining that dream.”
I grab my robe and go to shove an arm in when I hear a faint whimper and drop it, rushing to the door instead.
“You fucking bitch!”
I stop dead in my tracks at the sound of that snarl and flail for a few seconds when I hear a crash and then a curse. My bedroom door bursts open, and then Bee’s inside, locking it, shaking, crying.
“Help me with the dresser!” she hisses, and I snap out of it long enough to get my back against it, feet to the wall, and push, shoving the heavy mahogany dresser in front of the door.
“Come on, Sis, we have to get out of here. He has a gun.”
My door rattles and then starts shaking violently, and we both jump back with a scream. Eric has obviously lost his shit and means business tonight, and I’m not sure—
“Fire escape. It goes to the roof, but that should be better than standing around here,” I say, shoving her at the window.
I grab my phone on the way and turn it on, while we crawl out of the window onto the cold landing and the even icier wind. Fall in New York is not kind to a woman wearing sleep shorts and an old sweatshirt that just reaches her knees.
My feet burn with every step up, and I’ve just reached the top, Bee hot on my heels, when we hear the crash of glass and a bellow of rage.
“He’s coming out the window! Jesus, Sis, what the hell are we going to do?”
I grab her hand and pull her onto the roof, wincing when the asphalt and loose gravel dig into the soles of my feet.
“You stupid bitches! There’s nowhere to go up there!”
No, there isn’t, and as we run, searching for a place to hide in the dark, Bee trips and crashes into me, sending us sprawling and my phone skittering. I’m almost hyperventilating as we scramble up and I start searching for the phone.
It’s so dark up here, even with the lights from surrounding buildings, that it takes me precious long seconds to find it. Bee grabs my hand and pulls me along just as my fingers close around it, and I realize why she’s almost vibrating with terror.
Eric is on the roof.
“Come on, Sis,” she hisses, pulling me to the far left corner and shoving me down behind an HVAC unit, her thin body huddling in beside me.
I grab my phone and whimper when I see the smashed screen, but I have to try something. It’s our only hope. I press on where I think the call button would be and hope that the thing calls. Somebody. Anybody.
“I fucking know you’re up here, Bianca! When I get my hands on you—”
His voice is so close that we both tense. Bee whimpers, and I feel her tears when she buries her face in my shoulder and digs her short nails into the skin of my forearm.
“We can’t stay here,” I whisper, gathering enough courage to peek out from behind our hiding spot.
I almost wet myself when I spot him prowling around in the dark, his shadow no more than fifteen feet from where we’re huddling. Our only hope now is to try and skirt this side of the roof and make it to the ladder leading back down. If we can double back without him spotting us.
Thank God it’s so dark up here, or we’d be done for already.
“Hello?”
I hear the faint growl and almost sob my relief when I bring the phone up and realize that I am not hearing things.
“Vincent.”
“Dove, what the hell—”
“Eric. We’re on the roof. He has a gun,” I whisper, breathing in shallow gasps. “Help us.”
I hear him curse and yell something, but I don’t have time to answer his questions right now.
“Come on.”
Bee struggles, trying to slink further back into the corner when I grab her and start pulling her along behind me. I stay crouched and so close to the wall the cold brick scratches at my bare legs.
We make it to the next unit and stop. We’re both breathing heavily, our breaths leaving white clouds in the air, when I know that we don’t stand a chance.
“I fucking see you, bitches.”
Chapter Fourteen
“Run,” I hiss, pushing Bee toward the edge and closer to the ladder leading back down.
She shivers, but clings harder, refusing to leave me alone. Eric hasn’t seen us quite yet, but I know, now that we’ve left cover, he’ll be on us in a heartbeat.
I pull her behind me and scan the roof, squinting in the dark to ensure that we’re moving in the right direction and that when the time comes, I can shove Bee to safety.
“Bianca!”
She pulls me down and huddles into me. We’re halfway to the front left corner and about twenty feet away from the ladder when he sees us. I know that if we stay here like she wants, we’re dead.
“Come on, Bee!” I yell, grabbing her upper arm to push her, stumbling and crying toward salvation.
A loud bang explodes on the
air, and I push harder, flinching when a shard of gravel shoots up and nicks into my right cheek.
“He’s shooting at us! He’s going to kill us!” she sobs, stumbling, falling.
I gasp and grab her back up, panting heavily when we reach the ladder.
“Go!”
Bee swings over and grabs on.
“You stupid bitch.”
She’s screaming and clinging to my hand when I feel a fist wrap around my hair and pull, wrenching me back into a solid, sweating body. The pain blindsides me, and I scream, yelling out curses and flailing when he jerks up, pulling me off my feet by my hair.
There’s no choice but to let go of Bee’s clutching grasp.
“Sissy!”
“Run, Bee! Call the fucking cops!”
My eyes are stinging from the pain in my scalp and the rancid stink of his breath hitting the right side of my face, and I retch, feeling stark terror take hold of me.
“You’ve ruined my life, little Sissy.”
The gun kisses my temple, digging in, burning me with the heat from his previous shot. He’s going to kill me. I know it, and…there’s nothing to say that will possibly change it, so I reach back and claw at his face, feeling his skin come off and lodge beneath my nails.
Eric screams and releases my hair, but not before he spins me around and backhands me across the face, so hard I go crashing to the ground, black spots of pain swimming in my vision.
“I should have gotten rid of you a long time ago, you silly bitch,” he snarls, clutching at the bloody grooves. “Bianca doesn’t need a ball buster like you putting thoughts in her head. You’re a menace.”
I laugh, swiping at the blood dripping from my split bottom lip.
“That’s rich, coming from you. I never told her she’s fat and stupid; you did. No wonder you held onto her so tight. No other woman would take you.”
Pissing off the guy holding the gun is not one of my better ideas, but I can’t—no, I refuse to just lie here and let him shoot me. This guy…he’s gone nuts, and nothing I say now can possibly save me, so I might as well get a few good hits in while I still can.
I see anger contort his once handsome face and come up onto my elbows, scuttling back away from him. He points the gun directly at me and follows, smiling so coldly I feel my heart stutter a beat before it starts racing wildly.
ROMAN (Lane Brothers Book 5) Page 19