Bound to the Bachelor

by Sarah Mayberry

“I’ll do whatever I want to you, bitch,” Darren said, striking out with his fist.

  She dodged the blow, and it slid off the side of her jaw. And suddenly Beau’s voice was in her head, calm and steady.

  You want to go for soft tissue. You want to smash the nose, use your fingers in the eyes, chop at the throat, try to get a knee into the groin.

  Her hands curled into fists, and she struck out, aiming for Darren’s nose. He turned his shoulder, easily blocking her, then rushed at her, using his superior body weight to slam her into the corner near the window. Her head cracked against the wall, and blood filled her mouth as she bit her tongue.

  “That was my money. You had no right to give it away.”

  He slapped at her with an open hand, landing a blow on her temple. She brought her arms up, trying to protect her face, and tried to jab at him with her elbows. He grunted as one of her blows struck home, and she took advantage of his surprise to push forward with everything she had. He staggered back, and she darted past him, her gaze pinned to the door. If she could get outside, help would come. She’d scream, and people would come out of their apartments, and she would be okay –

  Darren slammed into her from behind, tackling her to the ground. She hit hard, the air punched from her lungs. He climbed onto her back and grabbed at her hair, yanking her head back, one hand snaking around her neck.

  He’s going to kill me.

  The cold certainty of the thought sliced through her, and everything in her rejected it.

  She was not going to die like this. Not when she’d struggled so hard to live. Not when she’d fought tooth and nail to be healthy and whole. Not when she’d just fallen in love for the first time in her life.

  She bucked. She used her arms, her belly muscles, her knees. She twisted, wrenching away from him, even though her scalp was screaming with pain from the grip he had on her hair. The hand around her neck loosened, and she tucked her chin into her chest, opened her mouth and sank her teeth into him, biting hard. He howled, and she jabbed an elbow backward into his belly. He let go of her hair, and she scrambled out from beneath him, flipping onto her back and kicking at him with everything she had.

  “No,” she screamed. “No, no, no, no.”

  He grabbed at her feet, trying to stop her, but thanks to Beau she knew her own strength, knew what she was capable of, and she kept fighting, kept kicking.

  “You fucking bitch,” he said, rearing back from her, and she realized he was crying, blood running down his chin. “I earned that money. I did everything he told me to do. Everything. And I never said a word.”

  Spittle sprayed from his mouth, and his whole body was shaking as he stared at her with bloody fury in his eyes.

  “Not like you. I never ran away. I took it all. I earned every fucking cent.”

  Lily blinked as his words sank in, shock stilling her flailing limbs.

  Luther.

  Oh, God.

  Suddenly a bunch of things she’d never fully understood slotted into place. Darren’s refusal to respond to any of her overtures of friendship during the two years they’d lived in the same house. His lack of friends. His poor performance at school. The way he’d refused to bear witness for her the night Luther had attacked her.

  Darren had been a victim first, and he’d continued to be a victim after she’d escaped.

  Oh, God.

  “Darren… I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I didn’t realize,” she said, staring at his mad, ravaged face. “If I had, I would have done something.”

  For a moment she thought she’d gotten through to him, found the right thing to say to cut through his murderous rage. His mouth worked, and he ducked his head, using the backs of his hands to swipe the tears from his face.

  When he lifted it again, his eyes were filled with hot accusation and she understood there was nothing she could say that was going to quell his inconsolable fury.

  “I don’t want your pity,” he spat.

  Then he launched himself at her again.

  Chapter Twelve

  ‡

  Beau ran every red light between the town hall and Lily’s apartment, his foot flat to the floor, his heart in his mouth.

  If Pascoe hurt her…

  If he laid one fucking finger on her…

  He couldn’t let himself think about not getting there in time. Couldn’t let himself imagine what a man the size of Darren Pascoe could do to Lily. His truck mounted the curb as he screeched to a stop outside her apartment block. He flung the door open and bolted for the entrance, punching at apartment numbers until someone buzzed him through. The elevator was too slow, and he pounded his way up the stairs, taking them two at a time. He scared the crap out of a woman in the hallway when he barreled through the doorway on the second floor, but he barely spared her a glance as he bolted up the corridor toward Lily’s door.

  Please let her be okay. Please let her be okay. Please let her be okay.

  Panic sat just beneath his breastbone, born of the terrible fear he was going to be too late, too slow, not enough to save someone he loved yet again.

  It couldn’t happen. Not to Lily.

  He paused for a split second when he reached her door, visualizing where the lock was set on the jamb. Aiming high and close to the edge of the door, he rammed with everything he had and felt the door give as the lock broke free of the flimsy door jamb and opened. The door slammed into the wall, revealing Lily’s apartment to him.

  What he saw stopped in his tracks.

  Lily stood on the far side of the room, phone to her ear, her clothes torn, blood on her face, her gaze fixed on the opposite corner where Pascoe lay curled in the fetal position, his body shuddering with wrenching sobs.

  “…I need you,” Lily was saying into the phone, but the moment she saw him, she dropped it and flew across the room to him. He met her halfway, pulling her into his arms, desperate to confirm she was alive and whole and unharmed.

  “Are you hurt? Did he hurt you?” he asked urgently.

  She was shaking, every muscle quivering, her fingers digging into his back.

  “I’m so glad you came,” she said.

  The wail of police sirens sounded outside as he eased back enough to look at her face. Her lip was split and swollen, one eye already starting to bruise. Her neck was red and abraded, and something popped in the back of his brain as he realized that Pascoe had tried to choke her.

  “Did he do this to you?” he asked, his hand cradling the back of her neck.

  “Beau, it’s so awful.” Her eyes filled with tears as she looked up at him. “Luther abused him for years. That’s why he wanted the money. He felt he’d earned it.”

  Beau’s gaze flicked to the figure huddled in the corner. Pascoe’s tears had quieted, and now he was simply lying with his forehead pressed tightly to his knees. Completely zoned out. Which was a damned pity, because it was the only thing that stopped Beau from tearing his head off his shoulders, sob story or no sob story.

  “I had no idea,” Lily said, tears rolling down her face. “If I’d known, I would have taken him with me, or reported Luther, or made my mother do something.”

  She was so goddamned bighearted, it slayed him. Pascoe had tried to kill her, and she was crying for him.

  “Listen to me, okay?” he said to her. “There is no blame for you here. You did nothing wrong. What happened to him was down to Luther, and no one but. Okay?”

  Lily sniffed, then her gaze dropped to his shoulder and she nodded. He pulled her close again, aware it was going to take her a while to work through all the crap Pascoe had just dumped on her. As he knew from painful experience, traumas like this sent ripples everywhere in a person’s life.

  The sound of multiple footsteps heralded the arrival of Toby Walton and his crew, and Beau called out that the situation was under control.

  “Lily okay?” Walton asked, his expert gaze assessing the scene as his team spilled into the room.

  “She’ll live,” Beau said shortly, pissed t
hat Walton hadn’t tracked Darren down and prevented this from happening.

  “He’s been staying in the basement of an empty house on Bramble Lane,” Walton said, clearing discerning his ire. “We got a report this morning. We were over there checking it out when the call came in.”

  He held Beau’s eye, and after a beat Beau gave a terse nod. “Okay.”

  One of Walton’s deputies was assessing Pascoe, and he caught Walton’s eyes and shook his head.

  “Call for an ambulance,” Walton said, turning his gaze on Lily. “What about you, Lily? We need to get you to a doctor?”

  “I’ll be fine,” she said, shaking her head.

  Beau still had his arm around her, and he could feel the tremors still working their way through her system.

  “I’m going to take her back to Heath and Andie’s,” he said. “You can get her statement later.”

  Walton looked as though he wanted to argue, but Beau didn’t give him a chance, guiding Lily out of the apartment. She turned her face into his shoulder in the elevator, and he pressed his hand against the back of her head, his chest swelling with relief and gratitude that she was okay.

  “Ow,” she said, shifting slightly beneath his touch, and he immediately pulled his hand away.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “He grabbed my hair,” she said, one hand going to the back of her head.

  Jesus.

  “I’ll be careful,” he said, drawing her back against his chest.

  They walked slowly to his car, and he wrapped her in the blanket and secured her seatbelt before circling the car to the driver’s side. Andie called as he was pulling away from the curb, and he put her on hands free as he gave her a brief rundown on what had happened.

  “We’ll meet you at home,” Andie said, tears in her voice. “I love you, Lily. I’m so glad you’re okay.”

  “I love you, too,” Lily said, but there was a flatness to her tone, and Beau knew shock was kicking in.

  She needed to be somewhere safe, surrounded by the people who loved her. He eased his foot down, and ten minutes later they were parking on the apron in front of Heath and Andie’s place. The front door flew open, and Andie raced out, throwing her arms around Lily the second she got out of the car.

  Lily hugged her back, and Beau made eye contact with Heath as the other man exited the house and stopped a few feet away.

  “You okay?” Heath asked quietly, and Beau gave a tight nod.

  “We should get Lily inside.”

  Andie disengaged from their tight hug, slinging her arms around Lily and herding her into the house.

  “Let’s get you in front of the fire and check you over,” Andie said.

  Beau trailed after them, fighting the urge to push his sister out of the way. He wanted to be the one comforting Lily, looking after her. But he knew he hadn’t earned the right, had no idea if she even wanted that from him.

  Heath put a match to some kindling, quickly adding a couple of logs to the growing flames. Andie settled Lily on the couch closest to the fireplace and made eye contact with Beau.

  “There’s brandy in the cupboard above the oven.”

  Lily shook her head, pulling a face. “No. Not brandy, please.”

  “I’ll make tea,” Beau said, heading for the kitchen. He and Lily had already played this game before.

  He stirred in three teaspoons of sugar and lots of milk, and when he returned to the room Lily was talking in a low, flat voice, describing what had happened.

  “…I managed to push him away, but he tackled me before I could get to the door. I fought him off, I fought him so hard, but he just kept coming at me.” She paused for a moment and swallowed as if the memory was a difficult one. Beau’s hand tightened on the mug. He should have been there. He should have pulled out all the stops last week and ensured this never happened.

  “Then he said that the money was his, that he’d done everything Luther wanted and never said a word, and I realized what had happened,” Lily said, resuming her story. “I told him I was sorry, that I hadn’t known, and he told me he didn’t want my pity. But I just kept telling him I was sorry, over and over, hoping it would sink in, because I figured he’d never heard it from anyone, right? I figured someone should say it to him.”

  She was crying again, and Beau handed the tea over and tried not to feel like the most impotent bastard on the planet as he stood there and watched the tears slide down her bruised face.

  “Is that when you got there?” Andie asked, glancing up at Beau from her position beside Lily on the couch.

  “No. Pascoe was catatonic in the corner when I got there.”

  “He just fell apart,” Lily said, her gaze unfocussed as she gazed off at something only she could see. “One minute he was on top of me… and then he just fell apart.”

  She sipped at the tea and closed her eyes, and he realized she was done in, a side effect of the massive adrenaline overload she’d just experienced.

  “You want to go to bed, sweetie?” Andie asked.

  “Yes. And I want a shower,” Lily said, her eyes still shut.

  “Okay. Let’s go.”

  Beau stepped forward to help Lily to her feet, but again Andie was there, her arm around Lily’s shoulders.

  “You want me to come with you? Help you undress?” Andie offered.

  “I want Beau,” Lily said, her gaze finding his.

  Andie and Heath went very still. Beau could feel his sister looking at him, but he didn’t take his eyes from Lily.

  “I’ve got you,” he said gruffly.

  Andie hesitated a moment before stepping back and allowing him to take her place. Together he and Lily walked slowly from the room, leaving behind his sister’s palpable curiosity.

  Lily let the blanket fall from her shoulders once they were in the guest room, lifting her hands to start unbuttoning her coat. Her fingers fumbled, and he stepped forward and brushed them gently away.

  “Let me.”

  He undressed her like a child, slipping her arms from first her coat, then her sweater. The red marks on her neck looked even angrier against the pale skin of her bare chest, and he swallowed a four letter word as he took in the bruises on her arms and torso. He slipped her skirt town, and peeled off her tights, revealing more bruises on her legs.

  “I’ll just turn the water on,” he said, leaving her to go into the en suite and flick on the taps. It took him a minute or so to get the temperature right, and when he returned, Lily was standing where he’d left her, waiting patiently, her arms loose by her side.

  “Come on, sweetheart. In you go,” he said gently, steering her into the shower.

  She hesitated on the threshold, looking back over her shoulder at him. “Come in with me?”

  He didn’t say a word, just started to pull off his clothes, his chest aching with gratitude that she wanted him, that she was turning to him for comfort.

  Following her beneath the water, he took her ever so carefully into his arms. The water ran over them, warm and clean, and Lily started to cry, her face pressed to his bare chest. He closed his eyes and tried not to gather her more tightly to his body, even though every instinct told him he needed to be close to her.

  “I thought I was going to die,” she said after a short while. “I thought I was going to die and I’d never see you again.”

  He’d thought the same thing, too, during the long, torturous race to her apartment after Andie’s call. He’d thought about the five years he’d held her at arm’s length, and all the times he’d avoided being in her company, and he’d vowed he would never, ever waste another second with this woman.

  Lowering his head, he pressed a kiss to her wet hair and laid his cheek against her head. “I love you, Lily.”

  Her arms tightened around him, and she pressed her face into his shoulder. “I love you, too. So much I can barely stand it. I know it’s not what you want right now, but I can’t change the way I feel and –”

  “What I want right now is
you. Only you. In my bed, in my life. Only you, Lily.”

  She tilted her head back so she could look at him. It hurt something in him to see her puffy lip and bruised eye, to know she’d been in pain and scared, and he hadn’t been there to protect her, but he tried to keep his feelings from showing on his face.

  “You were in my head,” she said. “You saved me, you know, even though you weren’t there.”

  “What?” He stared at her.

  “He was coming at me, and I was terrified, my mind a complete blank, and then I heard you telling me to go for his nose, his throat, his eyes. And when he got me on the ground, I did what you showed me I could do. I used my arms and my legs and I kicked at him…”

  His eyes burned, and slid a hand up to cup her jaw, careful of her bruises. Stunned that so much spirit, so much energy and goodness, and sheer grit could be contained in such a small person, and so grateful the few things he’d taught her had helped sway the outcome in her favor.

  “God, I love you,” he said.

  She smiled, then turned her face and pressed a kiss into his palm.

  “Ow, ow, ow,” she said, flinching. “My lip hurts.”

  She lifted a hand to finger it gingerly.

  “It’s split, and a little puffy, but it should settle in a day or two,” he said.

  “I suppose I’ve got black eyes as well?”

  “Just the one.”

  “Huh.” She thought for a beat. “I think I might have split his lip.”

  She looked proud of herself, and even though he’d been sure he was never going to smile again, his mouth curled up at the corners.

  She was irrepressible, this woman he loved. This amazing, resilient, sexy, smart, gorgeous woman.

  “I love you,” he said, unable to stop himself from saying it again.

  After years of dodging commitment and avoiding entanglements, he couldn’t believe how easily the words came now that he had the right woman in his arms.

  Lily rested her head against his chest again, and they stood under the streaming water, neither of them saying anything for another few minutes.

  Finally, Lily stirred. “I guess we should go put your sister out of her misery,” she said.