by Peyton Banks
A lamp.
Books.
Hangers.
Just great.
Note to self: run out and buy a bat.
“That door was locked,” she muttered. She quietly crept from her room and strode down the short hall. Her gaze roamed the living room.
Nothing.
She walked over to the kitchen and found it to be clear.
“I’m hallucinating.” She ran a trembling hand through her hair. “Get your shit and go, Anya.”
She headed back to her room, and this time she heard it even louder. Her feet froze in place.
The hallway closet.
She hadn’t thought to check it.
Anya turned around slowly, and the floor of her stomach gave way.
The door of the closet opened, revealing none other than Glenn.
“Hello, Anya.”
A scream erupted from her lips. She spun on her heel and ran toward her room, but she wasn’t quick enough.
“Running again, are we?” Glenn snapped. His arm wrapped around her waist, lifting her from the ground.
“Get away from me!” she screamed, kicking with all her strength.
He carried her into her room. She flailed and hollered, trying to break free of his hold.
“Packing again?” He tossed her on the bed.
She immediately rolled to the side and landed on the floor.
“Are you going to stay with your new boyfriend?”
“Leave me alone, Glenn. Get out!” she cried.
Warm tears streamed down her face. She knelt by the bed and eyed Glenn, afraid to take her eyes off him.
“I told you I’m not done with you. Do you think a night in jail will keep me from you?” he snarled. His eyes were wide and deranged-looking. His chest rose and fell fast while his hands clenched at his sides.
Anya gripped the blanket on her bed, trying to think of an escape plan.
She was trapped.
There was no emergency exit in her bedroom. The only way out would be the window, and it was currently closed.
“I didn’t have you arrested,” she whimpered.
“You didn’t stop them from taking me either, did you?” He took a step toward her. His eyes were feral, and it was only a matter of time before he exploded.
“Glenn—”
“You belong to me, Anya. No paper will keep me from you,” he growled, stalking toward her. He had been furious when she’d filed the order of protection in Atlanta. That was what had triggered her need to move. Staying in Atlanta wasn’t an option. He still would have come for her.
She scrambled on the bed, releasing a scream when she was snatched back toward him. His grip on her ankle was tight and bruising.
She kicked and clung to the blanket, trying to hold on, but he was too strong for her.
“You are coming back to Atlanta with me, bitch.”
“No!” Her head flew back from the force of the blow she didn’t see coming. She rolled over to her side, cradling her stinging face. “Glenn, please, leave me alone.”
“You don’t think I don’t know about your new little boyfriend. You spent the night at his house,” Glenn snapped.
Anya glanced over her shoulder at him in shock.
How the hell did he know about Dalton?
“You will be punished for that, baby.”
A chill went down her spine. She knew what that meant.
“No, Glenn, please.” She shook her head.
He pulled her to him, but she refused to let him hurt her even more. She kicked and screamed, reaching out for anything she could.
Anya’s gaze landed on the lamp by her bed. She grabbed for it and snatched it off the nightstand. She swung with all her might.
“Bitch!” Glenn roared as the lamp connected with his head. He fell back on the floor, allowing her time to escape.
She moved to the other side of the bed, landing on her knees.
Ignoring the pain, she pushed up and took off running down the hall. She had to get to the door.
Cursing sounded behind her. Glenn’s loud stomps were closing in on her.
His body slammed into her. She fell with him landing on top of her.
“Help!” she screamed. She wasn’t sure if anyone was home to hear her. She sent up a prayer that someone would help her.
“Shut up!” He flipped her over and pinned her down with his body. The skin around his eyes was already darkening where the lamp had connected. His eyes narrowed on her, and a sinister grin spread on his lips. “None of your neighbors on this floor are home, baby. You can scream all you want. Matter of fact, I want you to, I love it when you do.”
It was at that moment that Anya’s life flashed before her.
Graduating from high school.
The kiss she’d shared with Dalton when she was eighteen.
Traveling to Europe with girlfriends in college.
Her college graduation…even her passionate night with Dalton.
She had immediate regrets that she hadn’t shared her feelings with Dalton.
“You come back to Vegas and whore yourself out. Had I known you wanted to be a slut, I would have pimped you out myself.”
“Just leave me alone,” she sobbed.
Glenn was too heavy for her to buck off.
“If I can’t have you, no one will,” he screamed, spittle landing on her face. His hands flew to her neck, strangling her.
Her breath was immediately cut off. She clawed at Glenn, trying to free herself.
“You made me do this!” he hollered, applying more pressure to her. “It’s all your fault.”
Anya’s lungs burned, demanding air. But she couldn’t breathe it in. She fought him as hard as she could, but she couldn’t pry his hands from her neck. Black dots swam before her as her vision dimmed.
“Stop,” she wheezed. She beat at Glenn, but it was useless.
“All your fault,” he chanted repeatedly.
Anya’s body grew weak. She could no longer fight him. The blackness wrapped itself around her and took her into blissful oblivion.
12
Dalton leaned back in his chair in his office and put his feet up. He was bone tired. They had finally gotten the fire under control and let it burn out.
Max was doing well. The hospital was keeping him overnight for observation. He was lucky to only suffer from a slight fracture. No surgery was needed, but he’d be in a soft cast for some weeks.
Dalton reached for his cell. He’d hadn’t had a chance to check it since his day had gone to hell and back.
Ringing filled the air. Dalton glanced at the screen and saw his brother’s name.
“Yo,” he answered, running a hand along his face. He pulled his hand back and saw black soot on it. He didn’t even want to know what he looked like.
“When were you going to tell me about Anya?” Dallas’s gruff voice came onto the line. He had always been the more serious of the two. Going away into the Marines made him harder and more unapproachable to people who didn’t know him.
Dallas was a private man who had been fighting some demons from his time in the service. Dalton knew that his sibling had lost his entire squadron when he had been deployed. It had fucked Dallas up mentally, and he had blamed himself all these years, but then he’d met Candi, and she’d helped him. Dalton would be forever grateful that his sister-in-law was the one to help Dallas out of his personal nightmare.
“Hello to you, too, dear brother.” He chuckled.
Dallas was never one to mince words. He was like a bulldog when something was on his mind. He never let it go.
“I haven’t had a chance to call you. We hooked up this week.” Dalton quickly went over the story of her car dying in front of the station and how they’d reconnected. He left out the steamy details of their night.
There were some things he didn’t share with his sibling.
“And how the hell did you know about Anya?” he asked. It hit him then. He hadn’t even told their parents where
his mother could have said something to Dallas.
“She was down here at the station,” Dallas said.
Dalton dropped his feet to the floor. His curiosity was piqued. He knew she’d been hiding something from him, from the rehearsed reason why she was back in Vegas, to the unanswered phone calls and then the nightmare.
“Why would she be down there?” he asked quietly. His chest tightened with anxiety. If she was in trouble, why wouldn’t she say something to him?
“I asked her outright, but she brushed me off with some generic answer. But she failed to remember I am very proficient at getting the answers to my questions.”
Dalton had no doubt his brother was good at extracting information. He was currently leading a gang unit division for the Las Vegas Task Force.
“The officer who helped her owed me a favor. He told me everything.”
Dalton listened to Dallas recount what the officer had told him. An ex-boyfriend. Domestic violence. Trespassing. An arrest was made. Filing an order of protection.
It all made sense.
Why she didn’t want to stay at her apartment.
Why she’d moved back to Vegas.
He glanced down. His hand was trembling. He gripped his knee and blew out a deep breath.
Why hadn’t he pushed her for answers?
She shouldn’t be going through this alone.
“How can we help her?” Dalton cleared his throat. He’d do whatever he needed to keep her safe. He’d just got her in his life, and he was not willing to part from her.
In just a short week, she had burrowed her way into his heart.
He’d known her forever, but this week, he’d really gotten to know Anya, the woman.
“I looked into her ex and called a few buddies down on the Atlanta police force. What they told me wasn’t good, Dalton. This guy is dangerous. He’s a loose cannon and can go off at any time.”
Dalton pushed back from his chair. He needed to go check on her. He needed to see that she was safe.
“I have to go to her,” he muttered. He snatched his keys from his desk drawer.
“Where does she live?” Dallas asked.
“She’s been staying at her parents’.” Dalton dashed out of his office and made his way through the station. He ignored the curious stares. He burst out through the door and jogged to his work truck, bypassing his bike parked next to it. “I’m on my way there now.”
“I’ll meet you there.” Dallas disconnected the call.
Dalton hopped into the truck with a curse. Turning it on, he drove out the lot and onto the street. Dalton had thoughts of flicking his lights on but pushed that to the side. If he wasn’t going to a fire, he’d get in a shit ton of trouble.
He raced along the streets, heading toward the Graham’s home. He pulled up Anya’s number and tried calling her, but it just went to voicemail.
“Her phone is dead, or she has it off so she can write.” Even hearing it out loud didn’t comfort him. She had a deadline coming up, but she’d still answer her phone.
Right?
Hell, he didn’t know.
Dalton kept hitting her number, praying it would finally ring, but all he got was her voicemail.
“Hey, you’ve reached me, but I’m unavailable at the moment. Leave me a message, and I’ll hit you back when I get a chance.” Her voice washed over him.
He needed to feel her in his arms. He needed to see her, kiss her, just know that she was okay.
She should have known she could always trust him. Hell, even his brother.
When she was a kid and being bullied, it was him and his brother kicking the neighborhood kids’ asses who messed with her.
He gripped the steering wheel tight in anticipation.
“Lieutenant, come in. Over,” Nancy, the dispatcher’s voice, came over the department radio.
“Hell, no! Not now.” He blew out a deep breath and reached for the handheld radio. He held it in his hand and pushed the communication button. “McNeil here. What’s going on, Nancy? Over.”
“We have a report of an apartment fire. The guys are on their way there now. They’re requesting you to join them. Over.”
“Fuck!” Dalton pulled to a stop at a red light. He wanted to punch something. He took a few deep breaths, hitting the comm button again. “What’s the address? Over.”
Nancy came back on and read off the location.
Dalton’s breath was ripped from his lungs.
That was Anya’s apartment building.
“I’ll send you the coordinates. Over,” Nancy offered.
“No need. I know where this is. On my way. Over.” Dalton slammed the radio back in its holder and flicked his lights and siren on. He looked both ways, then pushed forward to bust a U-turn in the middle of the intersection and headed in the direction of Anya’s place.
Unfortunately, now he had a reason to use his lights.
He grabbed his phone and dialed Dallas.
“You there already?” his brother asked in greeting.
“Change of plans,” Dalton announced grimly. He shifted in his seat and had to stay focused on driving now. He was going at high speed. “I just got a call. An apartment building fire. It’s Anya’s.”
“Give me the address, and I’ll meet you there.”
Dalton rattled it off before disconnecting the call. He raced through the city. Lucky enough, she didn’t live far away from the station.
He just prayed he wasn’t too late.
Anya groaned. Her throat was on fire, and she couldn’t feel her arms. She cracked open her eyes and blinked a few times. The room was dark, making it hard for her to see.
When the hell did I get on the floor?
She remembered packing for her parents’ and then—
Her body jerked, and she immediately looked around for Glenn. Seeing no sign of him, she relaxed slightly.
It was then she noticed the handcuffs around her wrist and her hooked to the railing on her bed.
A piercing siren was going off, and she couldn’t place it.
Why is my vision so cloudy?
She blinked again, but it didn’t go away. She breathed in deeply and coughed.
Smoke.
It was the smoke alarms going off.
The building was on fire.
Her throat was raw and sore. She glanced around and found smoke filling her bedroom, the fire crackling outside her bedroom door.
Think, Anya.
She squinted around and didn’t see any possibility she would be able to get out safely. There was no way she could dissemble her bed to get free.
She was in trouble.
Panic filled her chest. She would have rather died by his hand than burn alive.
He did this.
There was no doubt about it.
The smoke was growing thicker. Anya yanked on the cuffs and tried to break free. She cried out, pulling with all her strength, but the damn things didn’t budge.
Tears blurred her vision. Her body racked with coughing as the air became too thick to breathe.
“Help!” she tried to scream, but her throat was severely damaged from Glenn. Her scream came out more of a peep.
No one would hear her.
Her gaze fell on the orange flames shooting up onto the ceiling out in the hallway. It would only be a matter of time until they arrived.
This was not how she imagined she would die. She’d always pictured herself growing old with the love of her life and having a bunch of kids. The vision had always been that she would be surrounded by all of her loved ones when it was her time to die.
Apparently, she wouldn’t get that wish. She was going to die alone and charred by fire.
Tears streamed down her face. She could barely see from the smoke and the tears. A sob choked her and escaped through her lips.
How would anyone know to look for her? The only person who knew she was coming here was her mom.
Her mother! Hopefully, she would call the police if Anya—
Why would she call the police? Anya had never told her what was going on. All she was sure her mother would think was that she was just late and got busy doing other things.
Not that she was in danger and about to die.
Her sobs rocked her body. If she ever made it out of here alive, she vowed to never keep anything from her family.
Ask for help.
Don’t think you can do it all on your own.
Those were good suggestions, but by the looks of it, she wasn’t going to make it out of there alive. She sent up a prayer that someone would come to her rescue. She begged, pleaded, and bargained, desperate for God to hear her plea.
She eyed the bed and tried to think. How the hell did he get the handcuffs around the railing? Even if she pushed the mattress and box spring off, the frame was still bolted together.
She pulled on her hands, trying to slide them through the opening of the metal, but a pain shot up both arms. The more she moved, the tighter they got.
Anya glanced back toward the door and watched in horror as the flames made their way to the doorframe of her bedroom. The wood burned hot, and the heat and smoke intensified.
There was going to be no chance she would make it out of here.
This was it.
This was how she was going to die.
13
Dalton stepped from his pickup truck and slammed the door. His gaze was locked on the burning building. The east side of the three-story structure was engulfed in flames.
His men were currently working on extinguishing the fire. Two major fires in twenty-four hours was a hectic day, but this is what they trained for. It was their duty to protect and rescue the residence of their great city.
The familiar fire engine from his station was parked close while his men worked. Police had roped off the area and were keeping the onlookers back at a safe distance. A few ambulances were parked and ready to help.
Dalton strode forward, his long legs eating up the distance fast.
“Dylan!” he shouted. He made his way over to the engine where Dylan stood.
“Hey, boss. Hope you don’t mind, we called in a few guys in for this. We’re getting our asses handed to us today.” Dylan wiped the sweat from his forehead.