by Grey, S. R.
I’m not too worried about Dylan. He’ll be returning home via the freeway, which is, as of this last report, not flooded.
But I am concerned for someone—Jack.
What if the area around my old place is flooded?
What if Jack’s in trouble?
Who’s going to help the poor little guy?
“No one, that’s who,” I murmur as I’m plagued by those awful thoughts.
Crap. I can’t take it anymore. I decide to take my chances and go check on him.
First, though, I send a text to Dylan informing him of my intentions. He won’t receive it till the game is over, but at least he’ll be aware of where I am and what I’m doing.
I then realize I’ll need to borrow one of his cars. My Fusion is out of police custody, but it’s now at the body shop being repainted.
Sighing, I grab the keys for Dylan’s Range Rover and send him another text so he doesn’t think it’s been stolen when he gets home and finds it’s gone.
It’d be super embarrassing to get arrested my first day of living at your house, I type with a chuckle.
With that done, I proceed to run around procuring what I think I’ll need to conduct a bunny search out in the rain. The carrier Dylan so thoughtfully purchased is a definite must. An umbrella is in order too, though it takes me forever and a day to find one of those. I finally locate a big one in a closet, but even more time is wasted when I have to rummage through boxes and boxes of unpacked clothes in search of my seldom-used raincoat.
“There it is!” I cry out when I find the olive green jacket.
Finally, I’m ready to hit the road.
I check my phone for progress on the game and find that it just ended. I consider waiting for Dylan, but it’ll be a while before he gets home.
“I can totally do this on my own,” I remind myself, enforcing my new assertion that fear no longer rules my life.
And with that, I’m off.
The rain has let up considerably, so the drive is pretty fast.
I’m feeling like this won’t take long at all—till I see the whole complex is engulfed in darkness.
Great, there’s no electricity. This would have to be a spot where it’s out.
“Just my luck,” I murmur.
Determined nonetheless, I pull into my old parking spot and hop out of the car. I decide to leave the umbrella behind since the rain is nothing more than a fine mist at the moment. But I do retrieve the carrier from the backseat and take my phone out of my purse so I can stuff it into a jacket pocket.
When I toss my purse back in, the pepper spray from Dylan rolls out. Since it’s creepy and desolate, you bet your ass I grab that thing.
Look at me, taking my safety into my own hands. Dylan would be proud.
There’s nothing left to do but go find Jack.
Only problem is it’s really, really dark behind my old unit. And that makes it scary as hell.
Taking a breath, I whip out my phone and activate the flashlight app. And then I forge onward.
I am a woman on a mission, armed with illumination and pepper spray, damn it. What could possibly go wrong?
Just as I’m thinking those go-me thoughts, I trip over a rock and almost face-plant into the sandy, though now mushy with rainwater, earth.
“Shit, crap.”
Just as I’m righting myself, a prickly cactus stabs my leg.
“Ouch, damn it!” I drop the carrier. “Did that thing move on its own?”
It didn’t of course, but things are getting really creepy. Escalating the fear factor, I suddenly detect one of those damn scuffling noises from up ahead.
Shining the light out in front of me, I call out, “W-w-who’s there?”
My heart, already beating like a damn jackhammer, starts to pound out of my chest. Even so, I make sure my pepper spray is ready so I can defend myself. If some bad person is back here with me they’re about to get more than they bargained for.
But then fear, or maybe common sense, kicks in—I need to abort this mission, a fact driven home when I hear the weird scuffling noise again. It’s one thing to be fearless; it’s another to be stupid.
But before I can hightail it out, something small and furry and sopping wet hops out from behind a shrub.
“Jack!” I exclaim, exhaling a relieved breath. “It’s just you, thank God.”
I rush toward him just as the rain starts back up. Great.
And then, out of nowhere, I am pushed hard from behind.
“What the…?”
I fall forward onto my knees and Jack takes off.
I somehow remain calm enough to take a quick inventory…
I have my phone and my pepper spray. And you know what? I have every intention of fighting back.
Scrambling to my feet, I spin around to face whoever just shoved me.
Shining my light out in front of me, pepper spray in hand, I grind out, “Bring it on, motherfucker.”
Someone laughs.
I adjust the light and—fuuuck. “Sten?”
“So you haven’t forgotten about me, after all,” he snarks.
My ire rises because it’s all so clear now. There’s no more denial, so I go ahead and call him out.
“You’re the one who’s been stalking me. It’s been you all along, hasn’t it, you slimy prick?”
“Watch your language, bitch.”
I laugh bitterly. “You can’t shut me up anymore. I can say whatever I—”
And that’s when he rushes me.
“Fuck you!” I scream as I raise my pepper spray, ready to blast him in the face.
He’s quicker, though, and knocks the canister out of my hand, along with my phone.
Unarmed now in any way, I do the only thing left to do—I freaking run.
She Did What?
We’re kicking the Jets’s asses, just like I knew we would.
And personally I am having an outstanding game.
First period, I assist on a beautiful goal by Benny Perry.
Second period finds me blocking shots and battling in the corners like a mofo.
By the third period, the Wolves are up 5-1.
And then it’s suddenly 6-1 when I initiate a breakout from the defensive zone and shoot the puck into the net.
After our decisive victory, I grant a couple of on-ice interviews, and then it’s off to the locker room to get ready to go home.
“Good game, man,” Noel, my defense partner, says to me as he’s taking off his equipment at the stall next to mine.
“Yeah, you too,” I reply.
There are more congratulations, along with an “attaboy” talk to the team from Coach Townsend.
And, dude, when all is said and done I feel like a million bucks. Not only is our team firing on all cylinders as of late, but I finally feel at peace in so many ways.
The past was catching up to me, but no longer. Sure, I still live with regrets that I couldn’t save my mother—I’m sure I always will—but I’ve learned not to beat myself up about it anymore.
Watching Chloe change from a victim to a strong person inspires me every day to be better, do better. I was a victim too back then, as I was just a kid. I finally accept that now.
I guess you could say love saved me.
Flying high, well, on everything, I hit the showers. Afterward, I have a chance to chill and check my phone. I expect to find a text or two from Chloe, probably a progress report on how unpacking is coming along.
What I don’t anticipate, seeing as it’s a stormy and dangerous night, is a message from Chloe that she’s out looking for that damn rabbit.
“Is she crazy?” I mutter.
Jaxon Holland is packing up his bag next to me and says, “Who are you talking about?”
“Chloe,” I murmur.
He throws his bag over his shoulder, readying to leave. “Is she okay?”
“I’m not sure, man.” Grabbing up my own bag, I say, “Hey, I’ll walk out with you.”
“Cool,�
�� he replies.
As we head out to our cars, where the rain is pouring, we put up our umbrellas and I prepare to fill him in on what’s going on.
“Are you ready for this?” I begin. “Chloe’s out in this fucking weather looking for a rabbit that used to hang out in her backyard.”
“You mean she’s over at that place she just moved out of?” he asks.
“That would be the one.”
“Shit, it’s a bad night out,” he says, the wind whipping around us like a mini tornado. “Not to mention, it’s dark as fuck and no one’s really out. Is there even security over there?”
“No.”
My apprehension is rising, and it just about goes through the roof when Jaxon shakes his head and says, “That’s bad, Culderway. I hear electricity is out all over the city.”
“Aw, fuck, you’ve got to be kidding me. I better get over there right now.”
Jaxon offers to come with me, as we’ve reached our cars, but I decline.
“Thanks, man, but I got this.”
We go our separate ways and once I’m out of the rain, I text Chloe a quick message to hold tight—the game’s over and I’m on my way, babe.
Funny that she doesn’t text anything back.
Fighting Back
Running is the best option.
But I don’t get too far.
Sten catches up to me in what feels like an instant, grabbing me in a tight hold from behind.
Struggling to break free, I shout, “Get the hell off of me!”
“You fucking whore,” he hisses in my ear. “You moved in with him, didn’t you?”
I play dumb, hoping to keep the jerk from flipping out.
“I don’t know who you mean,” I murmur.
“Yes, you do,” he snarls. “I’m talking about that hockey guy.”
Angry, though still struggling, I pant out, “What I do is none of your business anymore.”
He, tightening his arms around me till I’m immobile, whispers forebodingly, “You’ll always be my business, Chloe.”
Shit, this is him showing me he had control from the start. Allowing me to struggle was designed to wear me out, which it unfortunately has.
Breathing hard, I go limp.
The rain has slowed to a light mist again, which is unfortunate. Sten’s hold is not slippery in the least; it’s freaking rock solid. The only thing I can do to slow him from doing whatever he has planned is to keep him talking.
So I once again ask, “Are you my stalker? Is that why you’re here in Vegas—to stalk me, harass me, vandalize my car?”
“That car should be in my name, Chloe. I bought it.”
I have my answer. Shit.
Defeated, I mumble, “It is you, isn’t it? You’re my stalker.”
“Yes,” he replies as he sniffs my hair. Eww! “I’ve been following you, watching you, because I still want you. I did those things to get your attention. Did it work? Do you still want me too?”
Uh-oh, it’s time to tread carefully. He’s talking crazy now.
The answer is, of course, no. But I can’t just blab that out. Sten is clearly unstable.
“Chloe?” he prompts.
“Um…”
He starts kissing my neck. Ugh.
“I even started smoking,” he murmurs, chuckling sinisterly. “You drove me to it, my love.”
My love? This is worse than him calling me nasty names. It’s like he’s delusional on top of everything else. I really need to get away from him…and fast.
But how?
My pepper spray is gone, so that’s out. So what are my other options?
I can think of only one—I must rely on my self-defense training.
My sapped strength is slowly returning and with it, a clearer train of thought. The moves my brother taught me for when your assailant has you in a hold from behind are coming back to me.
And I’m ready to use them.
Bending my knees quickly, I shoot my hands up in the air as fast as I can.
It works! Sten’s hold on me is broken, and I spin around quickly so he can’t grab me again.
“What the fuck?” he bites out.
He sure didn’t expect that.
And he’s not going to expect this, I think as I knee him in the groin as hard as I can.
That freaking drops him.
But I know he won’t be down for long. I need to get out of here.
Blindly, I take off into the darkness.
As I round the corner of the other side of the unit, I slam straight into a hard body, a definitely male hard body.
Shit, does Sten have an accomplice?
Adrenaline still pumping, I’m blinded by rage.
Damn it, I’ll take this bastard on too.
Weak and mousy Chloe is gone for good.
Yelling and screaming and kicking and clawing, I fight this person with everything I have.
But the asshole seems unfazed and still somehow grabs hold of me.
I thrash and battle, one last stand.
But then I hear a voice that calms me. Huh?
“Chloe, Chloe, it’s me, Dylan. Calm down, sweetheart.”
Oh my God, it’s Dylan.
I’m safe, I’m safe!
Relieved, I collapse into my savior’s arms.
This One’s from Me, Asshole
I turn Chloe around to face me, and I keep on repeating, “I’m here. I’m here. You’re okay. Everything is all right.”
I’m not sure why she was fighting me, but something sure terrified her. For her to not even see me, to instantly snap. “Sweetheart, what happened?” I ask.
“Dylan” is all she can choke out since she’s fighting back tears.
I rub her back. “It’s okay. Everything is fine now, Chloe.”
“No, no, it’s not,” she cries, gesturing to a big lump on the ground several feet away.
It’s the first I’ve noticed it, whatever “it” is. “What the fuck is that?”
“Not what, Dylan, but who.”
My eyes still aren’t fully adjusted to the darkness, but I suddenly remember I grabbed a flashlight from the car before I got out. In all the confusion, I forgot to turn it on.
I do so now and shine it up ahead.
“Stay where you are!” I yell out when I see the lump is a man, currently trying to stand.
The guy rises to his knees, but otherwise obeys.
Through clenched teeth, I ask Chloe, “Did that fucker hurt you?”
If she says yes, this guy’s a dead man. Okay, maybe not dead, but he’ll be severely incapacitated.
“He tried,” she says, “but I fought him off and kicked him in the balls.”
“Whoa, that’s my girl.”
Sighing, she murmurs, “That guy is Sten, Dylan. It was him all along stalking me. You were right. And so were the police.”
“Wait.” I point over to the guy, who I notice is kind of holding his junk. “That is your fucking ex?”
“Yes. He’s the one who’s been doing all the awful things, like vandalizing my car. It was all him from the start.”
“Well, it ends here, Chloe. It ends now.”
Whipping out my phone, I call 911.
By the time I’m done talking with the call, Sten is standing. That impudent little fucker. He doesn’t appear to be a flight risk, though. He looks like he’s still in pain, what with the way he’s holding his crotch.
“You clearly got in one hell of a shot,” I say to my ass-kicking girlfriend.
“I did,” she confirms, looking proud as can be.
She has every right to be pleased with herself. She’s come a long way. Subduing this bastard on her own has to have been cathartic for her.
But, you know what? I need a little catharsis too.
I tell Chloe to stay put, and then I stride on over to Sten.
“What do you want?” he snarls. “I heard you call the police. I’m not gonna run.”
“You better not,” I warn him.
; “Guess you and the little whore can be happy now,” he taunts.
Asshat never sees it coming when I cock back my fist and nail him in the jaw.
“Aw, fuck.”
He teeters and drops back to the ground.
“Stay down there,” I spit. “You belong in the mud.”
The prick deserves so much more, but I’ll let the police deal with him.
“You’re not worth it,” I say.
When I return to Chloe, she’s shaking. The adrenaline rush from this whole ordeal is wearing off.
“I’m cold, Dylan,” she says.
“Here, sweetheart, take this.”
I take off my jacket and wrap it around her.
The police arrive a few minutes later. They hear our stories and arrest Sten. Officer Willet is on the scene and informs us that he’ll be in touch.
After everyone is gone, save for Chloe and myself, we gather up the pet carrier and locate her pepper spray under a shrub.
“Too bad Sten’s not still here,” she says, holding up the spray. “I could blast him once for good measure.”
“Don’t worry,” I assure her, “you got him pretty good with that knee to his balls.”
Chloe doesn’t respond to that. She just leans into me, clearly exhausted.
“Where to now?” I ask softly.
“I just want to go straight home, to our house.”
“You got it, babe.”
Jack!
Sten is charged with a slew of offenses. Since he can’t make bail, he’s left to rot in a jail cell till a court date is set.
Now that’s justice.
I’m proud of how I handled myself, and Dylan is too. I want to continue taking responsibility for my own safety, so more self-defense classes are definitely in order. What Graham taught me has already proved invaluable.
So, a couple of mornings after the incident with Sten, and while Dylan’s at practice, I call my brother to see if he’s up for meeting at his gym.
“I’m already there,” he tells me with a laugh.
“Perfect. I’ll be right over.”
“Cool. See you soon.”
I arrive at the gym ready to roll.
“Let’s get started,” I say to Graham as I’m grabbing up a pair of sparring gloves.