“What the hell is wrong with you? You act like he’s a person. If he wanders into the house he’ll find you just fine.” She didn’t get up and move into the living room though. She sat at the table, watching the open front door, hoping he’d walk through it. To take her mind off the animal she pulled her “To Do” list closer and examined what she had planned for the day. Shopping, a trip to the auto shop, a stop at the library. Not too much to do, but if she caught lunch in town she could waste most of the day away.
As she stood from the table a movement by the door caught her eye. A smile spread across her face as she waited for her wolf to come through the door. The thing that stomped across the floor wiped the smile from her face in one fell swoop. Ronald Norte had come a-callin’ and he didn’t look happy. A deep breath helped her steady her nerves but she really wished she’d kept the .22 on the dining room table instead of putting it back under her bed.
“Ron, what the hell are you doing here? Get out.” She cringed when her voice shook. Standing quickly from her chair and placing it between her and the approaching cloud of thunder didn’t help her rein in her fear.
“Oh, no, Cammie. I’m not leaving. See, somehow last night I got hit over the fucking head by a bitch who was supposed to be my girlfriend. I don’t take kindly to that kind of abuse from the woman I’m sleeping with.” He stalked forward. Anger and rage rolled off him in tangible waves. Bloodshot eyes glowed with menace as he stared at her. The smell of alcohol and body odor preceded him into the room. It washed over her, drawing her stomach into a tight knot, and added a hint of nausea to her already terrifying situation. She backed farther into the room and circled behind the table, putting it squarely between them. What the hell was she going to do?
The closest phone was in the kitchen, attached to the wall. Her cell phone was probably upstairs, along with the gun and her baseball bat. He stood between the dining room and the kitchen, so any weapon she could use was closer to him then her. Think, girlie, think. You can outsmart him, but you have to calm down. Good advice, if she could just listen and obey it.
“Ron, why don’t you sit down and we’ll talk about this. You know I didn’t mean to hurt you. You scared me and I reacted,” she said, infusing as much false calm into her voice as she could. She glanced around the room. A weapon, a weapon… What can I use for a fucking weapon? When her gaze finally fell on the heavy, metal candle holder on the middle of the table she felt her body shake with relief.
“Fuck you. I’m not gonna sit down and talk about this. I woke up on my own fucking kitchen floor with a hurt leg, busted up broom handle and a fucking headache. It took me an hour to get up and drink enough to stop the fucking pounding in my head.” He stepped farther into the room and took a step around the table, sneering at her when she mirrored his step. “You are such a fucking pansy. I knew you were the first time we met and you went all doe-eyed at me. I’m going to teach you how to behave, one way or the other, woman. Now get over here.”
“No. I’m done with you, Ron. We’re finished. You’ve hit me for the last time. I really don’t want to hurt you, so why don’t you go home and sober up. Then, if you still want to talk, let me know.” He weaved another step around the table and she once again mimicked the move. She wasn’t stupid enough to let him get to her. If she could get him around behind the table she could make a run for the kitchen and at least grab something better to defend herself.
She tried not to stare at the candle holder sitting on the table. She was afraid that if he figured out what she was going to do he’d grab it first. Trying to time her lunge with his next step taught her once again that drunk didn’t equate stupid. He grabbed for the holder at the same time. Both scrambled across the table, knocking silverware and napkins to the floor. She tried to reach further than her shorter stature would normally allow, using both hands to drag herself onto the table. Her fingers barely touched the cool metal when it was yanked from her grasp. She tried to reach for it, to drag it from his hand but he was quicker to scramble off the table. The evil laugh that rattled in his chest scared her more than anything else she could remember.
He wasn’t looking at her with anger any longer. A calculating glint sparkled in his eye. A sickly chill ran down her spine, while her palms were clammy and slick. He wasn’t there to just slap her around. He had serious pain on his mind. She sucked in a deep breath and readied herself for the dash to the kitchen. If she didn’t find something to defend herself with soon she’d be fending him off with her bare hands.
She saw the movement and tried to duck before the candle holder whistled by her ear and skittered under the cabinet behind her. It struck her shoulder on the way by, throwing her off balance for a split second and forcing a pained cry from her lips. She knew the sign of weakness would delight him, but the throbbing in her shoulder was more than she could take without showing something. She winced when she touched the spot on her collarbone. It didn’t feel wet, so she was fairly sure she wasn’t bleeding. She couldn’t stand there and let him launch more things at her head. Next time she might not be so lucky.
With a whimper she tried to swallow, she turned and sprinted around the end of the table. She could hear Ron grunting behind her. She swore she could feel his foul breath breezing over her neck. Every hair on her body stood up, chills raced across her skin. The evil and anger seemed to permeate the air, thickening it and making it harder to suck in a breath. She felt like a rabbit being chased by a fox. The prey to a sadistic predator. She wanted to scream, to turn and see where he was. Make it to the closet, grab the broom, don’t look back.
The few seconds it took to make it around the doorway and across the kitchen felt like hours. Every cell in her body screamed to escape. Adrenaline lent a heavy pounding to her blood. It rushed loudly in her ears and seemed to echo off the walls in the room. She could barely hear her own gasps for air as she finally made it to the closet door. The chant was loud in her mind. Open the door, open the door, open the door. She reached out, hand violently shaking, and grasped the doorknob. She sobbed her relief when the door swung open easily. Her eyes locked on the thick wooden broom handle at the back of the closet. She reached out and screeched in terror, and anger, when her head snapped back.
Her scalp screamed with pain as Ron yanked her out of the closet by her hair and threw her across the kitchen. She slammed into the cupboards under her sink, knocking the breath from her in a pained whoosh.
“Get up.” His voice was deep and menacing.
She shook her head to clear the haze. Terror was gripping her chest so tightly she couldn’t breathe. She knew being on the floor was a bad place to be if he attacked, but she couldn’t coordinate her heavy limbs enough to stand. He moved a step closer. She could see the triumph shining from his dark eyes.
“Get. The. Fuck. Up.”
This was it. She was going to die on her kitchen floor. She knew she was gasping, hyperventilating. Her lips tingled with the increased oxygen circulating so quickly through her body. Her heart was racing, fed by the adrenaline and fear. Shudders shook her, rattling her teeth. Her vision was dimming with the encroaching black of unconsciousness, but she couldn’t stop the gulps of air. When she blacked out he’d show no mercy and just beat her to death. For a moment she almost gave in. It’ll be painless, mostly.
A growl, so deep and animalistic it sounded foreign in her house, came from behind Ron. In the tunnel-vision that was slowly swallowing Cammie she caught a glimpse of fast moving fur. She heard a yelp and then the darkness engulfed her.
Chapter Eight
Ian, with sides heaving and a growl deep in his chest, stood over the human male. He fought the inner struggle with his animal side to just kill the bastard and be done with it. His scent was familiar enough to know that he was the one who had hurt Cammie the night before. He was the asshole that she’d cried about. Her fear was so thick on the air that it made it difficult to breathe. What the hell had this jerk been about to do to her?
He looked over at
the crumpled woman and growled again. She was injured enough to be bleeding. He could smell it in the air. A shiver ran along his back, raising his hackles. The images he’d seen when he limped into the house were terrifying. Cammie had been cowering against the cabinets, shaking and whimpering. The man had been approaching her with her death shining in his beady eyes. Ian hadn’t thought before acting. His animal instincts kicked in and he jumped at the man, wrapping his jaws around an outstretched arm. He’d pulled hard and yelped when the man stumbled enough to fall, hard, against the doorjamb.
The drunken fuckwad had bounced his skull against the wooden frame enough to knock himself out. After one more glance at the male, Ian walked toward Cammie. She was laying in an unnatural slump, but he could hear her breathing. He nudged her gently with his nose, hoping to wake her without frightening her. He gave her hand a quick lick and pulled a groan from her. Her eyes stayed shut and when a second lick didn’t wake her he decided to wait a little. He lowered himself and snuggled his body close to hers, pressing his fur against her to warm and comfort her the only way he could in his wolf state.
It only took a few minutes for her to rouse. A groan slipped through her parted lips a heartbeat before her eyes flickered. He watched her confusion slide quickly to fear as she tried to sit up. He whined in sympathy when she tensed and whimpered. Pain oozed off her skin with each breath she pulled into her lungs. He felt rage building again, twitching his muscles and making a growl rumble in his chest. He stopped the noise when she jerked away from his body.
A moan from the asswipe across the room brought Ian’s hackles up, and another growl to his throat. He stood slowly, and placed his body between the ass and Cammie. He would not allow her to be injured any further, even if he had to kill the male in her kitchen. His lips pulled back from his teeth as he watched the man come to his knees with clumsy movements. The wolf was pushing to attack, to stop him from standing.
“What the fuck? You have a dog? When the hell did you get a dog?” The male pitched forward slightly but caught himself on the edge of a cabinet. His voice was full of anger, but slightly slurred with either pain or booze. “I’m gonna kill it in front of you, bitch. It bit me. I’m fucking bleeding again.”
Ian could hear Cammie moving behind him. She slowly slid to a seated slump against the cabinet. He could smell her blood, metallic and heavy, in the air. Between the smell of her injuries and her fear he was holding onto his control by a thread. He could kill the human in a matter of moments and save her from any further pain. The feel of breaking bones was a phantom impulse causing his jaws to clench. Saliva dripped from his lips in anticipation.
“Ron. Get out of my house.” Her voice was a whisper, but the anger behind them vibrated in the air. They moved over Ian, ruffling his fur and adding another level of fury to his already raging emotions. She slowly shook her head and her next words were a little stronger. “I’m calling the sheriff. Enough is enough. You need to leave me alone. I don’t want anything to do with you, but if you keep pressing your luck you’re going to get arrested.”
The other man attempted, unsuccessfully, to stand. He fell hard to his knees and yelped. Ian’s lips peeled back in a murderous grin. He couldn’t stop the snarl that snaked through his teeth. He took a step forward, reducing the space between him and the man. He watched as the male heaved himself up, standing on shaking legs. The sneer that crossed the man’s lips increased the volume of Ian’s snarl. The look was purely sadistic. The satisfaction there that injuries and pain had been inflicted sparked in the man’s eyes.
“I’m leaving, but I’ll be back. I’m not done with you yet, Cammie. No woman is gonna get the best of me.” Ron turned slowly, hobbling and wincing as he walked to the door.
Cammie must have been watching him leave as well, because the moment Ron was no longer visible she collapsed and sobbed quietly into her arms. Her whole body shook while she cried. Ian wanted to fix this for her, but he needed to stay near her in case Ron returned. He listened to the truck the asshole drove leave quickly, spitting gravel, as he left her yard. With a final shake of his head and snort to clear the male’s scent from his nose, he turned and looked her over. The pain and anguish flowing from her was too much.
He padded back to her and lay on the ground next to her, scooting his body next to hers. He was surprised when she flung her arm over his body and buried her face in his fur, but he was glad he could give her some comfort.
* * * * *
What was she going to do? She could call the sheriff and let him handle Ron, but she’d have to admit everything she’d allowed the asshole to do. All the times he’d hit her or pushed her. How would she explain that to a man she didn’t know? She’d just moved to town. What if Ron and the sheriff were friends? Would he take her word, or believe the bastard? She couldn’t lose her job over this, but she was afraid Ron would come back and hurt her.
While she contemplated her next move Cammie worked her fingers into Titan’s fur. His warmth and the press of his body against hers gave her more comfort than she could remember. He’d saved her. Ron would have killed her, or beaten her badly, but her wolf friend had attacked him and drove him away. All right, Cammie-girl. Get a grip and get up. She needed to go shut the door and decide what to do next. Ice would be a good idea as well, for the lumps on her skull and shoulder.
With a groan she moved and climbed, unsteadily, to her feet. The kitchen was unscathed in the violence that had erupted. She’d expected some sort of carnage. A sigh of relief slipped over her lips. A light brush of soft fur against her hand brought her attention back to Titan. “Oh, what a good boy you are. I owe you something big for saving me, don’t I?”
She laughed when he grinned at her. The first time she’d seen the toothy smile she’d been terrified that he was silently snarling at her, but now, she could tell he was just happy. It was cute in a scary sort of way. She stroked a hand over his head. “Come on. Let’s go in the dining room and see the damage. Then, I guess I’ll have to call the sheriff and make a report.”
Slow, limping steps led her into the other room and she gasped at the destruction. Where there had been none in the kitchen, there was a scene of disarray in the dining room. Chairs were over turned, dishes lay shattered on the floor, her glass was broken and iced tea sprawled in a wide puddle on the hardwood floor. She could feel her breath sawing in and out of her lungs, rasping roughly down her throat. The ringing in her ears was a pretty fair indication that she was hyperventilating again.
She knew, in a small part of her brain, that she was losing it. She was going to pass out right there on her floor, probably land in the puddle that was slowly creeping along the floor boards. She couldn’t stop the panic-induced breakdown. Her back hit the wall next to the doorway with a dull thud. She was thankful for the structure as she slid, weak-kneed, down until she was sitting against the cool, cream paint. She knew that if she didn’t get a handle on her breathing she’d be passing out any moment. Darkness was already edging her view. You are stronger than this.
A slight noise interrupted her panic for a moment. She watched in amazement as Titan came limping into the room from the other doorway. In his mouth was her cell phone. What the hell? Was he a trained helper dog? Was she completely wrong about his heritage? She watched in befuddlement as he wandered over to her, gingerly cradling the phone in his jaws. He stopped in front of her and slowly lowered his head until the phone slid from his teeth. She absently wondered if he had gotten it wet enough to not work.
“Good boy, Titan.” She reached over and picked the moist phone off the floor. When she flipped it open she was surprised that it still worked. She glanced at him again. “If I didn’t know better I’d think you actually had listened to me talking about calling the sheriff. Were you trained to get the phone if someone was injured?” He’s not going to answer you. She snorted at herself. Maybe all the hits to her head over the last day had finally knocked something loose. Although the animal seemed to know what she was saying, or
it was reading her emotions enough to understand things.
She looked at the phone and shook her head. She pushed the question from her mind about how he’d known to bring it, and dialed the sheriff. Sucking in a deep breath, she waited. She almost hoped Conner didn’t answer, but then where would she be? Once she found Titan’s owner she’d be alone again, a sitting duck waiting for Ron to come back and hurt her. After three rings she was just ready to pull the phone from her ear.
“Hello, Conner Manning.”
Shit.
“Hi, Conner. This is Cammie Henderson. Um. I think I need to talk to you about Ron.” Her voice shook and she could feel tears prickling behind her eyes.
“’Bout time, missy. I’ve been waitin’ for you to see reason. I’m about twenty minutes from your place. Can you wait that long? Do I need to get an ambulance out there?”
What the hell did he think was going on? “Um, no. I just need to talk to you. I don’t have any plans today other than running into town. You don’t need to rush over here.”
“Cammie. Darlin’. I’m on my way now and I’ll see you in a few minutes. Do you have that .22 of yours handy? Did you lock the door?”
“Geez, Conner. What do you know that I don’t? You’re starting to scare me.”
“Just lock the door and I’ll be there as soon as I can. Call me if he shows up.”
“Okay, but I don’t think he’s coming back today.”
“Shit, Cam, he was there already? You’re okay? I’m putting the siren on and I’ll be there in fifteen.”
She jumped at the quick disconnect and stared at the phone for a moment. What the hell was that? She’d clearly heard the panic in Conner’s voice. They really didn’t know each other well. His concern scared her more than anything else. What did he know about Ron that would cause such a reaction in a normally stoic man?
The nervous energy that the call had generated was enough to get her back up to her feet. She quickly walked through the kitchen and locked the door. Running through her mind what other precautions she probably should be taking. She’d go upstairs and get her rifle, and the baseball bat.
Accidentally Yours (Coyote Bluff Series Book 1) Page 7