Retribution Boxed Set (Books One and Two) (23 page)

“I’ll hold you to that.” He smiled as he released
her hand and walked away.

She stared after him like a love struck teenager.
She should probably sit, but then that would definitely be the end of their
dance, and this way, she could drag it on a bit longer.

“What the
fuck
was that?”

Paul’s words ripped her from her dream swifter
than the vicious tornadoes of her youth. She turned to him, trying to keep the
defiance from her expression. “Just a dance.” She knew people judged her for
being with an asshole and not just walking away, but she swore there had never
been one time he’d treated her like this during the first months they’d been
together. Then inch by inch he’d changed until one day she woke and realized
he’d trapped her.

“What do you take me for, some mother-fuckin’
fool who can’t see his woman is cheating on him?”

She swallowed, trying to keep her fear at bay. Whether
it was alcohol or drugs, he was his meanest when he was on some kind of high. And
he was there now. His voice was already loud enough to attract the attention of
people at nearby tables, and she’d absolutely die if he ruined Nicole’s wedding.
“No. I only love you, Paul.” It sickened her to say that, and she swore it
would be the last time she spoke those words to him. “He’s a friend of
Nicole’s, and it was just a dance. Nothing more.”

“I know who the fuck he is. A shit ass cop,
that’s who. We’re going to go home, and you’re going to take a scalding shower
to clean off the filth he left on you.”

Her cheeks burned with humiliation as tears
spiked behind her eyes. She was certain the people nearby had heard every
brutal word he’d spoken. “Fine. Let’s go now. I’m ready to leave anyway.” She
started to turn toward the gate alongside the house, but he gripped her wrist
hard enough to leave marks and jerked her backward.

“We’ll leave when I’m goddamn ready. I’m not done
with my poker game. I only came out here to find my pack of smokes.” He
maintained his vice grip as he leaned over and retrieved a package of
cigarettes from the ground.

“Everything okay here?”

Horror gripped her as she shifted her gaze to Sam.
Dark anger burned in his eyes, and she sensed things were on the edge of
disaster.

“What the
fuck
do you want? Paul spit his
words at Sam.

Janie stepped between them. “We’re fine. Just leaving.”
She sent Sam a pleading gaze, but he looked right past her.

She turned to Paul. “We should go now. I know you
don’t want any trouble.” She gave him a meaningful look, hoping his aversion to
cops would kick in.

Luckily, he wasn’t too wasted to pick up on it. He
jerked Janie to him, leveling a hard, nasty look at Sam. “Fuck you.” He started
walking.

Sam made a move to intervene.

“Please.” She begged the detective with her eyes
to let them leave.

He held for a moment, his gaze warring with hers,
and then he stepped aside. “This won’t be the last time we meet, Castell,” he
said to Paul.

“I don’t give a shit who you think you are. You
don’t scare me.”

“I should.”

There was something in the way Sam spoke that
shot a shiver through her. Paul might not be scared, but she was.

She grabbed Paul’s arm, not giving either of the
men another chance to escalate things beyond the current state of affairs. She
didn’t bother saying goodbye to the newlyweds, wouldn’t be able to look Nicole
in the eye knowing exactly what her friend would say.

Janie and Paul reached the second floor of their
apartment building, anger emanating off him in waves. He waited until she’d
opened the door before he pushed her inside. The second after she turned on the
lights, he shoved her over the back of the couch, forcing his knee between her
legs. The sound of tearing fabric filled the quiet room as he jerked her skirt
upward, baring most of her behind and making her wish she’d worn more
substantial underwear. “This is a reminder to never let another man put his
hands on you.” He slapped her hard. The sound of his hand hitting her bare skin
echoed through the room.

She whimpered.

She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of
knowing he’d hurt her, but she couldn’t help it.

Her vocalization fueled his enjoyment. He slammed
his hips against her, crushing her between the couch and him.

“You want this? He ground his hardened cock
against her. When she didn’t answer, he slammed into her again. “I said, do you
want this? He grabbed the hair at the base of her skull and pulled until hot
tears scorched her eyes.

“Yes,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Never in her life had she wanted to hurt someone like she wanted to hurt him.

He released her head with a forward shove, causing
a sharp pain to shoot down her neck.

“You’re going to have to shower first, and you
know what kind of shower I’m talking about.”

She’d managed the pain he’d caused her so far. She
knew she had a plan to leave, had been biding her time. But something in his
voice truly frightened her this time. He wouldn’t actually burn her,
would
he
?

“Okay.” Waiting for the perfect moment to leave him
was now out of the question. They’d both crossed a line tonight, and there was
no going back. The pretense of showering would buy her a few minutes. She still
had her little bag wrapped around her wrist with her phone inside, and she
could call for help.

She started toward the bathroom when he reached
out and grabbed a handful of her skirt and yanked. The soft, silky fabric of
her dress ripped with a muffled scream. Janie gasped as she turned toward him.

He shrugged. “It was already torn, anyway.”

Because he’d ripped it
, she wanted to
shriek.

He took another step forward, whipping his
pocketknife from his pants. He opened it, held the blade inches from her nose. A
terrible shiver erupted from deep inside. She froze as he slowly lowered the
blade. She didn’t dare breathe for fear of what he might do to her. He’d
knocked her around several times before, but he’d never been this sadistic. His
dark eyes glittered as he slid the knife between a shoulder strap and her skin.
“Don’t move now, or someone will get hurt.” He ran the edge of the blade across
the fabric, splitting the strap in two. The bodice of her dress sagged forward,
threatening to expose her right breast.

He laughed. “I always thought it would be kind of
sexy to rip the clothes off a woman.” His words came out charming and sultry,
the same voice he’d used to woo her in the beginning, but the look in his eye
was pure evil. He sliced the second strap, leaving nothing but remnants of her
dress to cover her.

He set the knife on a nearby table before he
reached both hands into her bodice, his muscles bulging as he tugged on her
dress. The fabric resisted, but ultimately failed as he tore her dress from her
body. She stood with her tiny handbag, wearing nothing but a thong and her
heels.

“There’s my sexy baby.” He rubbed his cock. “God,
I’m hard for you. Let’s get you clean.” He started pushing her toward the
bathroom, but a sharp panic forced her to fight back.

“I can shower by myself.” She tried to remove his
hands from around her waist, but he wouldn’t budge. “Why don’t you get a beer
and wait for me in bed? It won’t take me long.”

He pushed her into the bathroom. “Uh-uh. I think
I want to watch this time. Besides, how am I going to know if you get the water
hot enough? He forced her into the tiled area still holding her purse and wearing
her shoes. He turned on the faucet, the cold water hitting her bare skin with a
shock. A malicious glint flickered in his eyes as he turned the water
temperature completely to hot.

Her pulse skyrocketed. This would not be a
punishment she’d recover from in a couple of days. “Paul. No.” She reached for
the faucet to adjust the temperature just as the water began to warm.

He grabbed her wrists, holding her in place. “You
will
wash that filth off you.”

Oh, God. She had to get out of there. The water
grew uncomfortably hotter, to the point it felt like red hot needles piercing
her breasts.

Survival instinct took over.

She shoved herself at him, surprise giving her
the upper hand. He toppled backward, taking her with him. She bashed her head
against the corner of the counter as they landed on the tile floor.

Before he could react, she scrambled to escape
his grasp. He reached for her, grabbing her calf, but her skin was wet enough
he couldn’t keep his grip. She ran for the front door, her feet slipping in her
strappy heels.

He caught her as she reached the couch. She
grabbed the table lamp, swinging around as hard as she could, ripping the cord
from the socket and slamming Paul in the head. He stumbled backward.

He was down, but he blocked her escape.

She ran for the darkened kitchen. Her favorite filet
knife hissed as she slid it from the wooden block, the blade shaking in her
hand like a remaining autumn leaf fighting a strong winter wind.

Paul appeared in the doorway, light from the
living area haloing around him. Even in the dim light, she was certain he had
blood dripping from his forehead. “I’m going to kill you, bitch.”

“Don’t come any closer, Paul. I’ll use this.” She
held the knife higher to make certain he saw it. “I’m going to call the cops.” She
prayed to God her phone still worked after being soaked by the shower. She
could only hope the fabric of her purse had protected it. “If I were you, I’d
get out now before they show.”

He paused for a moment as though deciding whether
or not she told the truth. Then he started to advance.

A panicked cry escaped her lips, but she kept the
blade in front of her.

“You don’t want to do this, baby.” Paul turned
his voice all sweet, but she knew the devil that lay beneath.

“Don’t come any closer.” Her heart pounded so
loud in her chest, she was sure it vibrated the walls.

He stopped when there was less than four feet
between them. “Give me the knife, baby.”

She shook her head. If only she didn’t have to
dig the phone out of her purse to make a call.

“Give it to me, Janie.” His voice had transformed
back to the pissed-off octave it had been moments before.

“Leave me alone.”

She recognized the shift in his stance a second
before he lunged at her. In what she could only describe as some kind of
subconscious self-preservation, she thrust the knife forward, and his eyes
widened as it slid into his chest. He fell back in surprise, but it didn’t
knock him completely down. He reached for her, and she did the only thing she
could.

She grabbed a large pan hanging above the stove
and hit him in the head. Fueled by adrenaline, her blow was enough to knock him
out.
Don’t come into my kitchen
, she wanted to yell at him.

Massive shivers encompassed her body as she
stared down at the bloody mess at her feet.

“Dear God,” she whispered as she took a few steps
back.

Her fingers fumbled as she opened her purse and
retrieved her phone. Thank God it still worked. When she heard the ringing
coming through the receiver, tears flooded her eyes.

“Janie? Nicole sounded concerned as though she’d
already been worried about her.

“I need help.” Her words came out as muffled
sobs.

“Dear God. I knew it. Where are you? Are you
okay?”

“No. I’m home.” She paused, needing a moment before
she could speak again. “I think I killed Paul.”

“Oh, my God.
What
? Xander, stop the car,”
she said to her new husband. “We’re almost to the airport, Janie, but we’ll turn
around. Oh, God, Janie. What happened?”

She tried to pull in a shaky breath, but her
lungs seemed to be made of iron. “He tried to hurt me.” In bits of memory and
spurts of emotion, she tried to tell her what had happened. Even to her own
ears, it sounded like a fractured account.

Nicole took a moment to explain to Xander. Janie sat
in numb silence listening to his inaudible reply. “Xander’s calling Sam
Holden,” Nicole said, coming back on the line. “He’s the man you danced with
tonight. The detective, okay?”

Janie nodded, then remembered she had to speak
for Nicole to hear her. “Yes.”

“He’s much closer than we are. He’s a friend, and
he’ll help you.”

“Okay,” she whispered before she mindlessly set
her phone on the bar. Her breaths came shallow and rapid, and it was all she
could do not to hyperventilate.

She stood over Paul, watching for any sign of
life, alternating between praying she hadn’t killed him and praying he’d never
hurt her again.

*        *        *

Numerous lights illuminated the streets of
Portland as Sam sped to the scene of the crime. He wished he’d been in his
undercover unit so he could turn on the emergency lights. But he’d been called
to help in an unofficial capacity, and he was more than a little hesitant to
provide too many links between his professional and personal life.

As it was, traffic was light, and he made it to
Janie’s apartment building in just under ten minutes. He parked in front of the
three-story brick building as memories of the last time he’d been there jumped
to the forefront of his mind. That was the day he’d first met Janie. It was
also the rain-soaked day when he’d feared he might lose Xander to a gunshot
wound.

Sam hoped he wouldn’t find a similar situation
this time.

He exited his black Charger and rushed toward the
entrance. Addictive adrenaline surged through his veins like it always did when
he approached a scene where he wasn’t sure what he’d find. He took the stairs
two at a time, slipping his gun from the hidden holster beneath his jacket as
he approached her door.

He didn’t bother knocking, but tried the handle
instead. It was unlocked.

Xander had said Janie had thought she’d killed
her boyfriend, but even knowing this, he wasn’t prepared for the scene that
greeted him.

The sight of Janie standing in the doorway to the
kitchen, naked except a pair of panties and her shoes, with blood running from
a gash on her forehead kicked him in the gut harder than a crazed assailant
high on meth. Ruined mascara ran beneath her huge, terrified eyes and down her
cheeks like black rivers. Something in her broke when she met his gaze and more
tears trickled down her face.

Fuck. The sight brought back haunted memories of
his sister.

He rushed forward, trying to keep his expression
calm, knowing Janie would take clues from him.

He snagged a blanket from the back of the couch
and made it to her side in a few short strides. “Oh…Janie,” he whispered. Despair
radiated from her and into him. He crushed her against him, wrapping the quilt
around her to warm her. She sagged into him, her legs finally giving out. He
scooped her up and placed her on the couch.

Her sobs came without warning, like a rushing
river after a rainstorm. Violent shivers wracked her body.

“I need to check on Paul,” he said gently,
nudging aside a broken lamp that lay on the floor near their feet.

Her gaze slipped toward the kitchen, but she didn’t
respond.

He cursed as he reached the doorway. Her attacker
lay in a crumpled heap near the fridge, his body in silent repose. The handle
from a thin, slender knife protruded from his chest, leaving a big, red stain
on the man’s white shirt. A large pan rested near his head. He tried to picture
what it must have been like to live through what brought Janie to this point,
and the thought sickened him.

Sam knelt next to the lifeless man and placed his
fingers on his neck, searching for a pulse. A faint beat registered against his
skin.

He was alive.

They didn’t have any time to lose or that
statistic would change. As much as he would like to see the bastard dead, it
would make things much harder on Janie.

Sam stood and strode into the other room. He kneeled
by the couch, lifting Janie’s chin, forcing her to look at him. Her fearful
eyes locked with his as though he was her lifeline. “I need you to listen to
me, Janie.”

She stared at him for a moment and then nodded.

“You need to call the cops.”

Her eyes widened.

“Tell them to send an ambulance.”

“He’s not dead? Her voice was a hopeful whisper.

“No, not yet.” He pushed aside her bangs,
checking the wound on her forehead. An inch gash above her right eyebrow had
swollen around the edges and oozed blood. She needed medical attention as well.
“But you can’t wait, okay?”

“Could you call them for me?”

He shook his head. He really didn’t want to leave
her, but he couldn’t risk the questions that would follow. Questions like, how
did he know about the stabbing? How was he connected to Janie? And why didn’t
he radio for backup the moment he received the distress call? He needed to
avoid anything that would draw suspicion to him or Xander. “I need to leave.”

Her features contorted into a mask of panic. “No,”
she whispered.

“It’s going to be okay, Janie.” He took her by
the shoulders, looking her squarely in the eyes. “You’re going to call, and
they’ll come. They’ll help Paul and look after your cut, too. The EMTs are
better at this than I am.”