While Cameron was distracted, Lisa managed to wriggle out from under his bulk and jump off the couch. The minute she was free, she called,
“Isabel—come here, little girl!”
The chewchie made an amazing leap through the air, launching herself from the top of Cameron’s balding head, where she had scrambled to avoid his latest blow, to Lisa’s waiting hands. She climbed up Lisa’s arm and nestled herself safely against the side of her neck where Lisa could feel her fragile body quivering and hear her tiny, rapid panting.
She started to dodge to the right to get by Cameron and head for the front door, but her husband lumbered around and blocked her way just before she could.
“I don’t think so, my dear,” he said, smiling that cruel smile she remembered so well. “You’re not going anywhere until you’ve had your punishment. Six months of punishment, all at once, in fact.” He sneered at her, his face a mass of bloody scratches in the faint light of the TV. “I wonder if you’ll survive it. Somehow I rather doubt you will.”
Lisa broke and ran, Isabel clinging to her hair as she whipped down the narrow corridor into the tiny kitchen. She was heading for the back door, which opened onto a postage-stamp-sized backyard, separated from her neighbors’ yards by only a flimsy chain link fence. She was sure if she could just get over it, she could make a run for it and find someplace to hide. If she could just…
Her hand grabbed the knob and she twisted and pushed—but nothing happened. Heart pounding, breath tearing in her lungs, Lisa twisted the knob again—then tried working the thumb-lock, first one way and then another.
Still nothing.
“Oh, I don’t think so, my dear,” Cameron’s voice said behind her. “You see—I’m onto your tricks. I jammed the back door long before I broke in the front.”
Lisa turned to see him blocking the narrow kitchen door, an evil grin on his bloody face. She drew in a breath and screamed at the top of her lungs,
“Help! Help me—call the police!”
The walls were paper thin and she knew her next door neighbors must hear her. But the only response she got was a brief pounding on the wall and someone shouting back,
“Quiet in there! Peoples’ tryna sleep!”
“Oh, I think you’ve come to the wrong neighborhood if you think someone from here is going to call the police,” Cameron remarked, still grinning at her. “I drove past at least two fairly flagrant drug deals on my way to find you—I doubt that Tampa’s finest get down to this area of town very often.”
He began advancing on her again.
“Which begs the question, my dear—why would you rather live in this dump than in our lovely house out in Shelton Chase Estates? Why would you run away from me in the first place?”
“Because,” Lisa spat, “At least in this dump nobody gets drunk and beats me up every couple of weeks!”
Cameron’s face darkened in the dim light spilling in through the kitchen window.
“Now, now, my dear. I don’t ‘beat you up.’ I simply punish you and only when you deserve it. Like now!”
He lunged at her but Lisa ducked, jumping to the side of the ancient stove. There was a cast iron skillet there—another relic left by a previous tenant. Lisa had gotten it out earlier, thinking to make herself a cheese sandwich before she had given up and gone with the Lean Cuisine because it was less trouble. But she had left the skillet out and though it was invisible in the shadows of the kitchen, she knew it was there.
She reached out and found what she was searching for—the iron handle cold and solid in her hand. The skillet was so heavy that Lisa normally had to use both hands to lift it but now terror seemed to make it light. She hauled it off the stove top with a scraping, clanging sound and swung it as hard as she could at Cameron’s head.
If she had hit him a direct blow, she might have cracked his skull with the heavy old skillet. But somehow, he managed to get his arm up just before its iron bottom came crashing down. It bounced off his forearm and Lisa lost her grip on the handle so that the skillet came crashing down between them, landing on his foot.
Cameron howled—which provoked more aggravated pounding and shouts of, “Quiet, damn it!” from the next-door neighbors.
Lisa thought about shouting for help again and thought better of it. Cameron was still in her way—still mostly blocking the narrow kitchen doorway with his bulk—but this was the best chance she was going to get.
Putting her head down, she rushed past him and felt a sharp tug as he ripped several strands of hair from her head.
Oh God, just like last time, babbled a voice in her head and then she was past him and racing down the hall. But the wrong way down the hall, she realized in a moment, when she came to the bedroom door. She had meant to turn the other direction and run out the front door but it was too late now, she could hear Cameron stumbling down the hallway behind her like an angry bull, shouting that he would make her pay, that he would punish her and she would be sorry—so sorry—that she had ever left him!
Feeling like she was trapped in a nightmare loop of the past, Lisa ran into the bedroom and slapped the door shut behind her. She bolted it but it was only one of those cheap, twisty locks on the doorknob and the door itself was little better than plywood.
He’ll be in here in a minute. Then what? What can I do?
She ran for the bedroom window but it wouldn’t open—the damn thing must have been painted shut, which Lisa was pretty sure was a fire hazard. But it didn’t look like she was going to get a chance to complain to the management—not if she couldn’t somehow get away from her enraged and drunken husband.
She felt for her cell phone—the burner she had bought when she’d run from him in the first place so he couldn’t trace her—but again came up short.
Must have left it on the coffee table, she thought, her stomach squeezing like a fist with anxiety. Oh God, it was just like before—just like last Christmas Eve! Only this time she was sure Cameron was going to kill her!
“Let me in, you little bitch!” he shouted and there was a muffled blam! as he rammed his shoulder into the bedroom door. The door shuddered but held, though it looked decidedly loose on its hinges. It couldn’t take another blow like that, Lisa thought. It was going to give the next time he rammed it.
Her eyes scanned the room, looking for a weapon to defend herself and coming up short. She thought about hiding in the closet but the closet door was even flimsier than the bedroom door and didn’t lock at all. There was only one other thing to do—one other place she could go.
Tears streaking her face and her heart pounding so hard she could feel it in her fingertips, Lisa dived under the bed just as the bedroom door splintered open and banged against the wall.
Crawling as quickly as she could, she shoved herself into the narrow, dusty corner under the head of the bed. She stuffed her fist in her mouth, trying not to cry—trying not to even breathe too loud—though she knew it was useless. Just like last time, Cameron would find her. And just like last time, he would drag her out and beat her like a dog.
Only this time he won’t stop, she thought, her throat tight with terror. This time he’ll kill me and probably no one will even catch him. Why should they? This is suitcase city—women alone get raped and murdered all the time here. They’ll chalk my death up to a break-in and Cameron will be free to start all over again—to find some other poor girl from the wrong side of the tracks who’s too dazzled by his money and charm to realize what an abusive asshole he is before it’s too late. He’ll—
Suddenly the cheap Wal-Mart bedspread she’d bought with her first month’s salary—her first month of freedom—flipped up and Cameron’s grinning face appeared like some horrible, bloody jack-o-lantern staring at her.
No, that’s wrong, her mind gabbled. A jack-o-lantern is for Halloween and this is Christmas Eve. By now it’s probably Christmas.
Yes, it was Christmas. And her present was going to be getting beaten to death.
Lisa tried to s
hove the awful thought away but she couldn’t drag her eyes from her husband’s cruel smile.
“Now, Lisa, my dear—didn’t I tell you I know all your little tricks?” he purred, a self-satisfied smirk on his bloody face. “I just knew you’d end up hiding under the bed eventually. But you know you can’t hide there forever. Come on out now, and maybe I won’t make your punishment too bad.”
That was a lie and Lisa knew it. It wasn’t just that he was a mean drunk—Cameron enjoyed hurting her. He derived pleasure from her pain. Her terror was almost like a drug to him and in this case he’d been waiting for six months to get his fix.
He wasn’t going to stop until she was dead.
As though to give truth to her thoughts, Cameron reached under the bed and grabbed her by the ankle. With a sharp tug, he pulled her nearly to the edge of the bed before Lisa could even scream.
“Leave me alone,” she gasped, her throat tight. “You bastard, why can’t you just leave me alone?”
As she spoke, she kicked out with her free foot and connected solidly with his nose. She heard a satisfying crunch and Cameron howled and let go of her.
Must have broken his nose!
Lisa knew she wasn’t going to get a better chance than this. She scrambled out from under the end of the bed, trying to stay as far from her attacker as she could, and ran for the door.
But before she could reach the doorway, a heavy hand tangled itself in her long hair and yanked her hard, bringing her to her knees with a painful gasp.
“You bitch!” Cameron growled, his face a bloody mask. “You broke my nose!”
Then he had her down on the ground, his hands locked around her throat and this time Lisa knew there was no getting away…
Then suddenly, two glowing red sparks appeared in the darkness behind Cameron’s head.
No, not sparks—eyes, those are eyes! Lisa thought as gray flowers of nothingness began to bloom before her own eyes. Now who did she know that had eyes like that… eyes that got red when they were angry?
“You son of a bitch!” a voice thick with Rage growled behind Cameron. “I’ll fucking kill you!”
Surprise was just beginning to register on her husband’s face—smeared as it was with gore from his broken nose—when someone grabbed his thinning hair and jerked his head straight back.
“Wha—” he started to say. Then there was a glowing blue light in the darkness and suddenly his head was gone. Just…gone. There was nothing left but a smoking stump, which was what remained of his neck, Lisa supposed. It reminded her of Ambassador Ba’deal’s smoking stump of a wrist after his hand had been cut off by Asher’s laser knife. But that seemed long ago and very far away somehow.
Lisa stared in blurry incomprehension, a part of her brain wondering where Cameron’s head had gone even as her consciousness faded further. Head or no head, the hands at her throat seemed to spasm tight one last time and then her husband’s heavy body collapsed on top of her, crushing the rest of the breath from her lungs.
Lisa gasped…choked…tried to draw a breath and couldn’t. She couldn’t breathe…couldn’t breathe.
Then everything went black.
Forty-Eight
“Lisa? Lisa, oh Goddess—are you all right?”
Asher pried the dead man’s hands from around her throat and pushed the heavy male body of her, to one side, so he could cradle her in his arms. Her head rolled loosely on her neck and she didn’t seem to be breathing.
He’d had life-saving courses his entire career—he knew what to do when someone stopped breathing—but somehow all his knowledge—all his cool under pressure—deserted him now. All he could do was hold Lisa’s body close to his chest while hot tears rolled down his cheeks.
Too late, he was too late.
If only he had listened to his chewchie earlier—if only he had taken the dream seriously.
If only you hadn’t driven her away in the first place, whispered an accusatory little voice in his head. If you hadn’t broken things off with her, she would still be safe aboard the Mother Ship. Instead, you lost her just as you feared—lost her forever. You flaunted the will of the Goddess—threw the gift she gave you back in her face—and this is your punishment. To never see the woman you love again. You’ve failed in the only mission that ever mattered—you didn’t save her. YOU DIDN’T SAVE HER.
“Goddess!” Asher heard himself cry out. The grief welling inside him felt like it might break him in two. “Goddess, I am sorry—so sorry!” he cried into the darkness, cradling Lisa’s limp body in his arms.
He wanted to go on—wanted to beg for a second chance, promise he would do better, swear he would love and honor and protect Lisa all his days—but none of those words came out. All he could do was hold her to his chest and whisper over and over,
“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry!”
“Warrior.”
Asher’s head jerked up. It was the same strong, feminine voice which had woken him not an hour before. He looked around the dark room but couldn’t see anything but the two chewchies sitting in a corner, grooming each other and crying in sad little voices.
“Warrior,” the voice said again, resonant and rich in the small, cheap room.
“Goddess?” Asher looked around again uncertainly. He couldn’t see her but he could certainly feel her presence. It was like a golden sunshine pouring down on his head and shoulders with an almost palpable weight, even though he couldn’t see it.
“Warrior, I forgive you,” the Goddess said. “I know your reasons for rejecting my gift at first. This time only I will excuse it. But do not let it happen again.”
“No, I swear it will not!” Asher exclaimed. “Oh Goddess, please—”
But he broke off for he felt Lisa stirring in his arms.
“Asher?” Her voice was thin and weak but it was there—she was there! She was alive, Asher realized. Really and truly alive!
“Lisa!” He crushed her to him, breathing in her sweet, warm scent, holding her as though he could never get close enough.
“Asher?” she said again, her voice somewhat muffled against his chest. “What…what are you doing here?”
“I came for you.” He pulled back, looking into her eyes. “Gods, I’m so sorry I didn’t get here sooner, Lisa. I never should have let you go—I love you!”
And then he pulled her close again and Lisa held on to him tightly. Both of their chewchies came scampering over and Asher felt the one that was his climb lightly up his shirt to perch on his head. Lisa’s made its way to her shoulder and suddenly the emotions he was feeling were doubled—no, quadrupled.
Love and caring and relief and gratitude to the Goddess filled him until he felt like a cup filled to the brim, unable to hold any more. He swore to himself he wouldn’t take this second chance for granted—that he would bond Lisa to him and spend the rest of his life protecting and loving her and making her happy.
“Thank you,” he whispered over and over again. “Thank you. Thank you, Goddess. Thank you.”
Forty-Nine
“So you’re back—I knew you wouldn’t stay away for long. But I didn’t expect to see you in this part of the Mother Ship.” Liv frowned in a worried way as she finished examining the finger-shaped bruises that circled Lisa’s neck—which was still pretty sore. It felt like Cameron had tried to twist her head off—and had very nearly succeeded.
Asher had brought her back up to the Mother Ship and straight to the Med Station, which was apparently the Kindred equivalent of the ER back home. He waited anxiously by the side of her bed as Liv examined her, a troubled expression in his green eyes.
“Will she be all right?” he asked Liv for probably the fourth time since the exam had started five minutes ago. “Is there any permanent damage?”
“I don’t think so, Commander Asher.” Liv cleared her throat. “Look, why don’t you go talk to Sylvan for a minute. He has some questions to ask you about what happened.”
“If you’re certain it’s all right for me
to leave her…” Asher still looked worried but just then Commander Sylvan himself came into the exam room and asked him to step outside.
The minute the door closed, Liv turned back to Lisa.
“Well, it looks like the two of you are back together?” she made it a question, raising one eyebrow at Lisa as she looked into her eyes with a light.
“Yes,” Lisa said simply. “That is, I think so. He told me over and over how sorry he was for pushing me away. And for not getting to me sooner.”
She shivered when she thought of what she’d been through. Of how Cameron had—but she didn’t want to think about it right now. If she did, she knew she would start shaking and crying and she didn’t want to go there. Right now she needed to feel strong—not weak.
“I take it you were attacked?” Liv said quietly. “Do you need me to get a rape kit, Lisa?”
Lisa realized this was what she’d been waiting to ask until she could send Asher away.
“No.” She shook her head firmly. “No, Cameron was much more into using his fists than…anything else,” she finished and swallowed hard—which hurt her bruised throat.
“Cameron?” Liv frowned and raised her eyebrows. “Who’s that?”
“My asshole abusive ex who I was running away from,” Lisa explained. “He, uh, finally caught up with me tonight.”
“But Asher got to you just in time?” Liv asked.
“You know…I’m not sure he did.” Lisa frowned. “I remember Cameron choking me and then he lost his head…”
“You mean he went crazy?” Liv asked.
“No—I mean his head literally came off.” Lisa made a slicing gesture with one hand across her throat. “I think Asher cut it off with his laser knife thingy,” she added and shivered again. “He’s, uh, really handy with that thing. It’s how he saved me on Helios Beta too.”
“Okay, sounds like they’re going to need a cleanup crew down on Earth then,” Liv said. She didn’t seem at all surprised that Asher had killed Lisa’s abusive husband. Maybe it wasn’t unusual for Kindred warriors to go a little berserk when they thought their woman was threatened. Hadn’t Asher said something about that when he talked about going into “Rage?” Lisa couldn’t remember.
Falling for Kindred Claus Page 24