Blinded by Fate (The Ugly Roses Book 3)

by Harlow Stone

“What’s he doing here? Out cold on the floor?” I ask.

  He sneers back at me. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  I shake my head, letting him think that I’ve resigned to my fate. “You’re going to kill me anyway, I know it. What’s it matter if you tell me?”

  As expected, he’s happy to share his knowledge. Feeding off the fact that someone is listening to him. Loving he has all the attention he probably never got truthfully in his life because he’s a useless sack of shit who nobody in their right mind would respect enough to listen to.

  “Kid’s along for the ride. Wasn’t hard to get him either. As soon as my Andy told him he was his brother the little fuck lit up like a goddamn Christmas tree.”

  Setting the glass down he puts his hands out in front of himself, imitating a child in a whiny voice. “Oh you’re my brother! Oh brother can we play together! Can we? Can we!”

  I don’t bother hiding the look of disgust on my face at this sick man’s rendition of the first time Shawn got to meet his brother. The first time a child who grew up in foster care found out he had living blood in the world.

  Evil blood.

  I gather from the way Braumer speaks that Shawn is not as far advanced as other people his age would be, perhaps developmentally challenged due to what he went through as an infant. The ice around my heart thaws on the side closest to him. If he is truly as Braumer makes him out to be, there is no way in hell he could have been involved in what happened to me. Maybe I’m wrong, but it just doesn’t feel right. Not with the hope I saw in his eyes earlier, the lost eyes of a little boy who finally found what he wished for.

  The look of an innocent young man, albeit a grown up one.

  The laugh of a madman pulls me from my thoughts. “Shoulda’ seen ‘em! Ah fuck, kid didn’t know what to do with himself. Followed Andy around, did his homework for him. Readin’ books ‘n shit so Andy and me could work on the bigger picture. Even got ‘em to sign his name on our business papers so if shit went south that stupid kid would take the fall and we’d be long gone.” He sighs.

  “Worked well too, ‘til you fucked it all up. Told Andy he had no business with you, you were the same as the rest of ‘em and his momma too. No good fuckin’ whores. No clue why he wouldn’t drop it. Dragged that half-wit around…”

  “ENOUGH!”

  I’ve had it, fucking had it! Who the fuck treats their child with such disrespect?

  He does, apparently.

  “I would give anything, ANYTHING to have but five fucking minutes with my child. Whether bruised, broken or handicapped! She’s my flesh and blood. MINE! What the fuck is the matter with you?”

  I spit in his direction, not giving two fucks what he thinks of it. The glass he was holding shatters against the wall, its contents now gone. Heavy footsteps make their way toward me and he grabs hold of me by the arms, dragging my body up off the ground.

  “ME?” His spit flies in my face as he speaks, the scent of scotch invading my nostrils. He shakes me, causing my head to snap back.

  “I’ll tell you what the fuck’s wrong with me—YOU! You’re what’s fucking wrong! I shoulda’ been bookin’ a flight to the fuckin’ south right now! Livin’ out my retirement with my boy and Honduran hookers! But NO! I’m fuckin’ here because you went and killed my fuckin’ boy!”

  Letting go of my arms, he tosses me like a sack of potatoes against the work table. I hit my hip hard on the edge before I lose my balance and land on the floor, ass first. The pain shoots up my tailbone and I have no time to absorb it before he grabs me by the arms again, hauling me up, screaming in my face.

  “It’s all your fault! I had one last chance at retirement and you and that GI Joe of yours went and killed that too splashin’ Becker’s name all through the mud! I only got half of what I was owed for getting you in jail and out of the way.”

  I’ve felt this way before, half-helpless and in pain. I hang onto the pain like I did last time, forgetting everything else but my fury and bring my right leg up to knee him in the balls. Braumer dodges to the right, and I end up hitting him slightly to the left in his upper thigh.

  Grunting at the impact it only slows him down for a moment. My wrists crush between my body and the table and I try to push myself off again, a second attempt to get him down. Swinging my head forward I make contact with his nose, I watch the blood drip before I go to bring my leg up again. I’m not fast enough as his hand was behind his back, and he whips his gun out, smacking me in the side of the head with it. “Stupid cunt!”

  I turn with the hit so it doesn’t knock me out completely. I ignore the blood running out of my previously stitched eyebrow and turn around.

  I won’t give up, I can’t.

  My eyes don’t meet his but the end of the barrel. In all the ruckus, I missed Shawn being helpless on the floor. I notice him now on his feet at the same time that Braumer does. Swinging the pistol from myself toward Andrew’s brother, I launch forward. A deep howling, “nooooooooo!” comes from Shawn’s throat as I launch myself toward Braumer at the same time the gun goes off.

  I don’t know if it’s the alcohol, or the adrenaline, but he catches me and himself before we hit the concrete floor. I’m shoved backward, pistol-whipped once again in the same motion. My back lands hard on the table.

  “What that fuck is it with these two. Always after ya.” He shakes his head.

  I try to pull out of the fog, not from blood loss I don’t think but from the third hit to my head in the past hour. I look in Shawn’s direction. He’s gasping for air, holding onto his bloody chest. It’s a high hold and I hope it’s just his shoulder.

  My head snaps back. Braumer has ahold of my hair and hauls me up off the table. I kick my legs out, but with hands behind my back, my balance is still off.

  “You’re gonna pay for that you bitch!”

  He spins me around and elbows me hard in the back, forcing me down onto the table. Still gripping my hair, he forces my face into the hard, metal surface, sticky with scotch.

  “They couldn’t leave you well enough alone,” his sick voice harps in my ear. “Don’t know why, must have a golden fuckin’ pussy. Won’t know ‘til I find out.”

  I kick my legs out behind me, trying to make contact with his shin, anything. Letting go of my hair, he grabs my bound wrists, pushing them up my back so my elbows are out. The pain! Fuck, the pain in my shoulders is excruciating.

  “Arrrghhh,” I howl low in my throat, not stopping with my legs.

  “Scream. My Lucy screamed, nobody heard her and nobody will hear you either.”

  My arms cry out in pain and he uses his free hand to lift my head from the steel surface, slamming it back down again. I fight the stars behind my eyes, the fog that wants to set in as he releases my hair. Then I hear the unmistakable sound of a zipper.

  “No!” the grumbled plea leaves Shawn’s mouth. Tears run down his cheeks and he tries to push himself off the floor to help. I know I will do whatever I can in this moment to keep him safe, he has no one. He has nothing.

  Except me.

  I couldn’t save Cory, I couldn’t save my family, and I failed to save my daughter.

  Redemption.

  I use what little nails that are left on my hands and scratch at whatever flesh there is behind me. It’s flabby, not firm.

  “You cunt!”

  He jerks my arms up further. The popping sound echoing from my shoulder resonates through the room as he grabs hold of the back of my jeans. They’re loose, due to my lack of eating properly. I curse myself for not wearing a belt.

  “That useless fuck Stratus was supposed to send me videos! I didn’t get any, but this will be much better.”

  The cries of Shawn fall into the background as my pants are pulled beyond my backside, the cool air of the basement evident on my bare skin. Still, I keep kicking.

  Fight Elle, don’t fucking stop. You keep fighting until he’s down. And when he’s down, you fucking run. Run as fast as you fucking can!

&n
bsp; Brock.

  Brock.

  I kick with every fucking thing in me, I kick. I have no use of my arms. My head is too fuzzy and Shawn’s pleas for Braumer to stop fall deaf in my ears. My struggle is futile. I feel his skin touching my thighs. I close my eyes, praying for the first time in my life for something, someone, anything that can help me.

  “Gonna fuck ya,” his sick voice says to the back of my head. “Then, I’m gonna fuckin’ kill ya and that sorry excuse of a fuckin’ kid.”

  I take a deep breath, not at all resigned to my fate. Not ready to succumb to what is about to happen.

  Lilly.

  Cory.

  My parents.

  I’ve been using my right leg for the past three attempts to kick him, not my left. My hip hurt too badly on that side. I relax my body, letting him think he’s won. Perhaps he has? But I won’t give up.

  Never.

  I lean further into the table, away from Braumer. I relax my body into it, letting him think I’ve passed out. I know when he comes to this conclusion because he pulls back, letting go of most of the pressure holding my arms up.

  Stepping away from my body slightly, I hear the unmistakable sound of pleasure. Him getting himself ready. I hate to admit that I know he wasn’t hard when he leaned into me, I also know he’s over sixty. Probably doesn’t happen as quickly as it used to.

  I listen. Only using my sense of sound, I get a feel for where he’s at and bring my left foot up behind me, bending at the knee and forcing my foot upward. The following scream is like music. I lean up and dive to the side, falling hard on my ribs.

  Braumer is on the floor, hands between his legs with face white. Bringing my legs up behind me I ignore the agony in my shoulder as I try to grab the knife out of my boot. My back screams in pain. My pants, still straddling my bare ass, hinders my movement but I push through. I touch the tip of it, just getting the top of the handle in my fingertips before he launches himself to the side, kicking my feet.

  I lose the knife and it skids across the floor behind me. Rolling to the side, I get it back in my hand, but not before he lands on top of me.

  “You fucking bitch! You’ll pay for that!”

  He backhands me once again across the face. I don’t know how many more hits I can take before the lights go out. I’m also sickened by the fact he’s sitting on top of me when my pants are below my ass and his flaccid cock is hanging from his.

  I gag, attempting to roll to the side so I can vomit. Grabbing hold of my throat he stops the process, sucking the life out of me. He lowers his face, close, too close to mine. I try to bring my knee up again but I can’t; my pants and his weight limit the impact.

  I gasp, trying desperately to suck air into my lungs.

  “You’re dead, cunt.”

  The sick, evil smile is one of the last things I see before his body goes flying through the air. I try to reach for my throat but I can’t, my hands are still tied.

  Literally.

  I cough, and roll to the side, vomit coming from my mouth. I feel the binds being cut as I watch a flurry of black in front of me. I watch blood spray against the cold concrete walls as my eyes water, blurring everything in front of me.

  The feeling of someone’s hands on my bare legs makes me jolt. “No!” I gurgle through my sickness before the distorted vision of my Viking settles in front of my face. I move my arms to pull up my jeans, howling in pain through my tears.

  “Easy girl, it’s me, it’s Denny, babe,” he says while holding his hands between us.

  I can’t help the sob pushing through my tears.

  “I’m gonna cover you up Elle, not gonna touch you alright?”

  I knew as soon as it was him he wouldn’t hurt me, but I have a hard time nodding my foggy head.

  “O-oh-okay,” I manage to say since my head won’t cooperate. I feel his hands, gentle on my legs as he pulls my jeans up over my hips. My hands lie limp at my side, my shoulder too sore or dislocated to move. I allow my sight to focus across the room. I see another man grabbing under Shawn’s shoulders, trying to drag him away.

  “Noooooo!” I wail as best I can. “D-d-do-don’t hurt him!”

  Denny leans in low to my face. “Elle, what’s going on?”

  I shake my head slightly, so close to passing out but not ready to until I see that Shawn is okay. “Don’t hurt him,” I whisper. “He’s good, he tried to save me. Please don’t hurt him.”

  The last thing I remember is Viking blues, sincere, intent and promising.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Beep…

  Beep…

  Beep…

  The sound of the heart monitor machine is my awakening, and also a firm reminder that I am in fact alive. The sickening smell of disinfectant and antiseptic invades my nostrils as I fight to open my eyes.

  They feel glued shut and my body as though it weighs a ton. I can’t move my feet, or at least I don’t think I can and I struggle to move my fingers next. The beeping of the heart monitor quickens as I fight unconsciousness and my non-cooperative body.

  “Shhhhh.” Ryder’s command is followed by his thumb caressing my cheek, then between my eyebrows as he calms the frown most surely on my face.

  “Calm beautiful, you’re okay.”

  His soft words spoken against my temple do just that, calm me.

  So I go back to sleep.

  ***

  “She’s coming out of it Mr. Callaghan. We never know how long this process takes because every patient is different. Some people can suffer a head injury and be awake in a day or two. Sometimes it takes weeks, even months. The swelling has decreased rapidly the past few days. However, it could be the emotional trauma that has kept her in a comatose state.”

  Shuffling sounds fill the room, someone moving back and forth.

  “I just feel fucking useless, Doc. It’s been a week.”

  “Give her time. Talk to her, it’s all you can do.”

  The door closes and a warm hand grabs mine. I know those fingers, those callouses. They’re familiar yet not as I feel what I think is a bandage.

  “I used to watch you late at night. Fuck that sounds creepy but I don’t mean for it to. I have trouble sleeping, or I did until I slept with you. Not because of nightmares like the ones you’ve suffered from. I can’t really tell you why because I don’t know. Maybe I just needed you because you seemed to fix that problem.”

  He sighs and I feel his warm breath on my hand. “So when I couldn’t sleep at night, I’d sit on the balcony outside my room and I’d see you. You’d sit in the same spot for hours, watching the water and laying on that big red lounge of yours on your back porch. It was hard to make out your facial expressions from that far away and it drove me insane because I wanted to know what was going on in that pretty stubborn head of yours.”

  Warm lips touch the back of my hand and he continues to hold it to his face, speaking against it.

  “I couldn’t get enough of you and you wanted nothing to do with me. That was a hard hit for a man like me because I’ve never wanted for anything when it came to women; it’s always been easy. Until you that is. You challenged me beautiful, and as much as I wanted to let my dominant streak through, I knew if I did, you’d run. You did run.

  “You pushed me away, and as much as I wanted to fight for you I still treated you like a leaf on a tree in the fall. If I set you off I knew all it would take is one more gust of wind to send you flying. I couldn’t take that chance because I needed more of you. I still want more of you. I want all of you—every piece that you’ll share with me.”

  I feel the wetness on my hand that I can only imagine is tears.

  “I thought you were dead, beautiful. Fuck! Jimmy drove so goddamn fast to get to that house Braumer had you in. I was so pissed off you did that! I’m still pissed off because all I could think was that the last time I spoke to you it was to say I had a business call I needed to make, not that I loved you. All I could think about was the mundane useless shit I didn�
��t get to do with you yet. Like wake up with you again, or take you out for dinner because I’m a prick who hasn’t taken his woman out on a proper date yet. It all just flooded in because I thought it would be too late to save you and you’d be gone before I got to do that. Before I got to find out what your favorite color is, your favorite memory as a child or what made you decide to name your daughter ‘Lilly’. I want to know all of that and more, I need all of you, Elle. So wake up beautiful, please wake up.”

  The hitch of his breath, the gruffness in his voice and the wetness on my hand breaks my heart.

  I did this to him.