Prevail (Triumph Book 3)

by S. J. McGran

  I did so much to prevent this from happening to me again. I took self-defense classes. I put him in jail. I took out a restraining order. And, yet here he is torturing me all over again. Ruining me. Taking every ounce of strength and security I’ve managed to find away from me again.

  No. No, I can’t let this just happen. I have to do something.

  Sucking in a lungful of air I get ready to let out a loud scream, but before I can a pounding sounds above us. It sounds like someone knocking on the door relentlessly. My heart beat takes off. That person is my only way out.

  I don’t know what William has planned to do to me, and I don’t need to know. I know enough—about William, his intentions, his personality— to know I need to get the hell out of here before things get even uglier. Instinct tells me that William’s time in jail has only made him harder, colder, sicker. The beatings he put on me before were nothing in comparison to what he has planned now. I can see it in the distance in his eyes, before there was still the tiniest bit of warmth, love in them, even when he’d knock me around. All of that is gone now. That is what scares me the most. I used to know what he was capable of, but now I’m totally in the dark.

  The pounding increases and I realize it’s now or never if I want to have any chance of getting out of here. One chance. One plea for help. That’s all I get.

  Sucking in a deep breath I scream at the top of my lungs, “Help me!”

  Drawing in another lungful of air I prepare to beg for help again. But before I can my world goes dark.

  And utterly silent.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Rico

  Unease washes over me when I pull up to Riley’s childhood home. Her car is in the driveway, and another car that I swear I’ve seen before—the blackout windows and black rims are pretty unique and especially odd for a small country town like this one—is parked haphazardly at the curb.

  The closer to the door I get the more worried I become. The house is completely dark, the curtains pulled closed despite the early evening hour. Ringing the doorbell once I force myself to breathe, try to tell myself it’s just my nerves that have me all worked up.

  For days, I’ve been worrying about Riley—where her head is, where her heart is, where we stand. The entire drive here I tried to find the right words to tell her just how much I need her. To tell her, we’ll fight whatever life throws at us, because as long as we have each other we can get through it.

  All day, all I’ve done is worry about the status of our relationship.

  Right now, as the door goes unanswered, and the damn car parked in my view irks at my nerves, I’m only worried about my girl and her wellbeing.

  “Fuck this.” Raising my fist, I start pounding on the door like I can knock it down by sheer force of my fist. And really if I don’t find my girl soon that’s a real possibility.

  My fist raises to start the relentless pounding again when a sound breaks through all the noise in my head. A scream. A plead for help.

  Suddenly, I am that man. That man that is capable of breaking down a door with his fist. Because that was my girl in there. My fucking girl is screaming for my help and I’ll be damned if a fucking wooden door stops me from getting to her. From saving her.

  Taking a step back I raise my leg and with every single ounce of strength I can muster I kick the door handle over and over until it finally breaks free. Shoving my way through the broken door I stumble into a dark entryway and living room.

  “Riley!” When my call goes unrequited sheer terror floods me. Her name is the only thing I can find the brain space to say as I run through the house, going room by room in a desperate search.

  Opening the last door, I find I take the stairs to the basement two at a time. My feet come to a sudden stop at the same time my world stops spinning. Not even my worst nightmares could conjure this up.

  How stupid was I to worry about what to say when I saw her again? To worry over something as small as forgiveness?

  For half of a second, I breathe one single breath of relief at seeing Riley with my own two eyes. Her hands and feet are strapped to the chair, and her eyes are blindfolded. But, she’s alive. I only know this by the uneven rise and fall of her uncovered chest. She’s definitely not conscious, but she’s alive.

  Blood trickles from her nose and mouth, and her beautiful auburn hair is tinted red from an open wound on the side of her head.

  But, she’s alive.

  My emotions shift as worry, panic, and relief take a back seat. Riley disappears from my vision as red fills it. That dirty, sleazy, fucking scumbag is standing behind her. His shirt has red blood spatters on it—Riley’s blood and his face has a cocky smirk set firmly in place. He doesn’t even have the decency to look guilty, remorseful, or afraid.

  I’m going to change that.

  Taking a half step forward I brace myself for a battle. Tightening my back, clenching my fists and jaw, I level him with a look full of promises. “Let her go and I’ll only kill you. Touch her again and I’ll make sure no one ever finds your body.”

  Without taking his eyes from mine he slowly raises a gun and turns back towards Riley. I don’t think. I react.

  Within two steps, I reach him, diving across the short distance between us I grab him firmly around the throat. Holding tight I squeeze him with both hands until his face turns red and his weapon falls from his hand. Kicking it to the side I watch it until it’s well out of reach. For either of us.

  “She’ll.” Wheeze. “Never.” Wheeze. “Love you.” Wheeze.

  “She already does you piece of shit.”

  His fucking face is purple, my hands bleeding from his desperate clawing and yet he still has the audacity to sneer at me. “She won’t love you like she loved me.” His words come out slowly in between ragged breaths.

  My arms shake with the force of my strangling. “You’re a sick bastard.”

  Unwilling to listen to any more of his bullshit, to be this close to him any longer. I finally put an end to all of this. Cocking my fist back, I slam it into his face over and over until his eyes fall closed and my left hand—still firmly wrapped around his throat—is the only thing holding him up.

  Dropping him unceremoniously to the cold, concrete floor I rush over to Riley.

  “Baby?” Falling to my knees in front of her I check for a pulse, my shaky fingers landing on her clammy throat. One. Two. Three. It’s fainter than it should be, but it’s there. Thank fucking Christ. “Stay with me, Kit.”

  Pulling my phone out of my pocket I dial 9-1-1, my fingers shaking more fiercely with each passing second. Sticking the phone between my shoulder and ear I start on the duct tape that’s wrapped around her wrists and ankles.

  “Fuck,” I breathe out just as the operator comes on the line. Her ankles and wrists are white from lack of blood flow. “Hurry, please. She’s unconscious and bleeding heavily from her head.” I give the operator the address and send up a silent prayer that they’ll get here fast enough.

  Scooping her up I cradle her limp body in my arms, pulling her tight against my chest. I keep her close. I whisper reassuring words to her unconscious body. Until the sirens sound in the distance, I hold my breath.

  I can’t lose her.

  I hear knocking from upstairs. I hear the police announce their arrival. I force my voice to work. I force myself to call to them. To direct them to the basement. When the first uniform walks around the corner, I finally breathe.

  “He hit her in the head. She’s bleeding, and breathing, but she’s not awake,” I say as soon as the EMTs get close.

  “Thanks. We’ll take it from here.” They take her from me and start checking her vitals. They lay her on a stretcher. They press gauze to the side of her head to stop the bleeding.

  I hear voices behind me. I hear someone shout that there’s a gun. But, my focus is only focused on Riley. She’s all I see. When they start to carry her upstairs, away from me, a sense of panic and loss overwhelm. I feel helpless. I feel lost.
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br />   There aren’t many people in this world that understand loss and regret more than me, but fuck if this doesn’t hurt more than any of them. The loss of my parents. The loss of my grandparents. Even the loss of myself hurt less than wondering if I was about to lose Riley forever.

  I follow them up the stairs. Out the front door.

  “Are you family?” One of the guys in a navy uniform asks me. “Sir? Are you family?” He asks again.

  Dazed I start shaking my head no. “Uh. N-no. But, her family isn’t here. I’m her boyfriend. Can I ride with her?” At the conflicted look in his eyes, I add on a broken whisper, “Please?”

  “Normally we don’t let anyone but family come.” I turn to him and I’m not sure what look I’m wearing—anger or anguish—but it gets him to change his mind. “Okay, yeah but we have to go now.”

  I give him one hard nod and take a deep breath as I follow him to the back of the ambulance, my heart in my throat the entire way. Grabbing either side of the open back doors, I lift my leg and place it on the bumper but just as I’m about to pull myself up a strong grab on my bicep stops me. Looking over my shoulder I come face-to-face with another navy uniform. This time, however, the face isn’t quite as friendly.

  The uniform gives me a head nod in the direction of Riley. “You ride with her and we’ll meet you there. We have a few questions about the guy we found barely breathing in the basement.” Just behind him I see another stretcher with William on it. His wrist is handcuffed to the side of the stretcher.

  Shifting my attention back to the police officer I give him a nod and then push my way into the ambulance taking my spot next to my girl just as the sirens sound. Grabbing her hand in mine I take just the smallest bit of comfort in the fact that she’s still alive, still warm.

  I know I won’t be able to truly breathe again until she pins me with those expressive hazel eyes I love so much. Until I see her beautiful smile and hear that sweet laugh.

  ***

  The second I stepped out of the ambulance a group of ER nurses crowded us, asking the paramedics questions about her condition. I wasn’t even able to kiss her, touch her, tell her I’d be waiting for her as I watched her get wheeled away from me. As soon as the emergency room doors closed I found myself once again being gripped by a cop.

  The stern-faced man pulled me into a private room and questioned me about everything I knew. Which really wasn’t much. No, I don’t know how he got into the house. No, I don’t know how he knew where she was. No, I don’t know what he wants with her. Yes, I punched him the face. No, I didn’t see him knock her out. Yes, we are aware that he has violated his restraining order.

  The questions were endless and by the time I was I told I was free to go it took every bit of energy I had to pull myself out of the chair and walk out of the room. I walked out feeling more drained, more frustrated, more anxious than I had before I walked in. I wanted to know the answers to those questions as much as he did. But, there were only two people capable of giving us those answers and they were both currently unconscious.

  Letting out a frustrating growl I walked into the waiting room and took a seat on one of the chairs calling Roxy, begging her to call the Andrews’ and begging her to come down here.

  Twelve hours later I sit in the same spot, the same questions running on an endless cycle through my mind. My stomach roils. My eyes burn. My muscles quake. No one will tell me anything because I’m not family. I can’t see her. I can’t do a goddamn thing but sit here and wait and pray. I’ve never felt so helpless in my life.

  At some point, Roxy showed up and I know she’s feeling everything I am. I know she’s trying to be there for me, but it doesn’t matter what she does, or what she says. Nothing matters, at least not until I finally get to see her, touch her. I won’t be able to breathe until then.

  “Roxy.” A woman’s tear filled voice rings through the waiting room. Glancing up I see an older, attractive couple walking towards us. Their faces look haggard, worried. A look I’m sure mirrors my own.

  Roxy shoots out of her seat and runs into the woman’s arms. I don’t have to be introduced to the newcomers to know who they are. They are very obviously Riley’s parents. She looks identical to her mother. “They won’t tell us anything,” Roxy whisper-shouts with her head still buried in Mrs. Andrews’ shoulder.

  I see the woman look over Roxy’s shoulder at her husband and give him a small nod. I stand, wiping my hands on my jeans as he makes his way to the reception desk. Finally, we’ll get some answers.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Riley

  A steady beeping echoes around me, but no matter how many times I hear the sound I can’t place it. I’m sure of exactly two things at the moment:

  1. My head hurts like a bitch,

  2. I have absolutely no idea where I am or how I got here.

  Voices, voices I vaguely recognize, start to filter through the pain and the beeping. They sound fuzzy and far away, but close enough for me to make out the words.

  I feel pressure on my hand like maybe it’s being held. I try to force my eyes open, try to find a way back to the world that’s fighting so hard to break its way in. But, the harder I try to open my eyes, the heavier my lids feel. The quieter the beeping becomes, and the pressure in my head gets heavier.

  The last thing I hear before I fall back into the darkness is a quite whisper, “Come back to me, Kit.”

  ***

  Hours. Days. Time has gone by without my recollection, without my knowledge. The only reason I’m aware of time passing is the random moments where I’ve surfaced long enough to glimpse life outside this dark cavern I’ve been living in.

  The incessant beeping. The voices. The pressure on my hands and arms. The warm, dampness on my forehead and lips.

  Life is going on without me while I’m stuck in this lonely, black world.

  Finally, fighting my way free, my mind finally releasing me from the hold it had me in I come to. Blinking my eyes rapidly, I squint against the blinding fluorescence of the overhead lights. When my vision clears I roll my head on my pillow to the side of the hospital bed I’m lying in where the pressure on my hand had been most consistent.

  A pile of long blonde hair is draped over my arm and shielding the girl’s face, but I can only take one guess as to who would sleep by my hospital bed. “Rox?” My voice is scratchy from not using it for so long. She raises her head and I’m met with her big, sad brown eyes.

  Her eyes fill with tears and her bottom lip quivers. Before I can say anything words start tumbling from her mouth so quickly I can hardly distinguish one from another. I’m pretty sure she says something about being sorry, but the longer I listen to her typical long-winded rant the stronger the pulsing in my head gets.

  Leaning back against the pillows I close my eyes and with more effort than it’s ever taken I raise my hand in an attempt to get her to stop babbling. “Shh. Please. Where is Rico?”

  “Oh, sorry.” I smile internally at her attempt at whispering. “He’s downstairs in the cafeteria. I’ll go get him.”

  I nod before reaching out for her hand. “Wait, Rox?” She looks back at me and I can see the worry, the pain in her eyes. How long have I been here? “What happened?”

  “William found you or followed you, to your parents, we aren’t really sure. He kidnaped you, Riley. He… Oh god.” She stops as a sob wracks her body. “He could’ve killed you.”

  I close my eyes as memories start to surface. Just small glimpses of what must of happened to me. I don’t remember much, but the little visions I’m getting are enough.

  “I’m okay, Rox. I’m here.”

  She squeezes my hand one more time before dropping it. “I’ll go find Rico. He’s hardly left your side since you’ve been here, he’ll be upset you woke up without him.” She gives me a small smile as she makes her way out of the room in search of the only person I really need to see right now.

  The door opens almost immediately after her exit and I crack
an eye open hoping to find my handsome man standing there. But, I find myself too tired to actually move—or open both eyes.

  And instead of Rico I find a young nurse in blue scrubs checking my vitals. “How are you feeling, honey?”

  “My head is killing me.”

  She nods before making a few notes in my chart. “I’ll go let the doctor know you’re awake.”

  I watch her leave the room and once again close my eyes—too tired to face the bright lights, the loud noises. I’m not sure if the doctor ever comes in. I’m not sure if I answer questions. I’m not sure if what I just experienced was actually real or just a medicinally induced dream.

  I want to scream at my body that I don’t want to sleep anymore. I want to see Rico’s dark brown eyes. I want to hold him. I want to tell him I’m sorry. I want to tell him how much I fucking love him.

  But, once again I’m pulled back into the blackness before I can stop it.

  ***

  Time is immeasurable again. I feel like I’m in this constant battle with light and dark and damn it I’m tired of being in the dark. Clawing my way through the fog I finally come to, for the second time, only this time the light is so much brighter.

  Blinking a few times I clear my vision as the most beautiful face comes into view. A face I’ve been missing, and craving, and dreaming about for days.

  Raising my hand I run my thumb across his tanned cheekbone and the slight stubble growing along his jaw. His own eyes blink and when those warm, chocolate brown eyes of his land on mine tears fall uncontrollably down my face.

  “My beautiful girl,” he breathes. Rico’s lips tip up slightly at the corners, as his hand comes up to cup my cheek. We’re both laying on our sides, smashed together in my tiny hospital bed and while it’s uncomfortable I wouldn’t change it for the world.