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Violet closed her eyes, sinking once more into the abyss of pleasure, until she finally heard it. Raised voices. Angry shouts.
And Daisy’s scream.
Sitting up so fast her knee connected with Dean’s jaw, she hardly had time to apologize as she buttoned her shirt crookedly. All she could think of was getting out that door and rushing to her sister’s aid.
“Daisy!” Violet shouted as she practically jumped over the couch. Throwing the door open, she was greeted with a sight that made her blood hit subzero.
Daisy lay on the ground in their front yard with Quinton standing over her. As the bastard drew back his leg to kick her sister, Violet ran down the steps in a blur of speed to bowl the bastard over. As they tumbled to the ground in a tangle of limbs, Violet lashed out like a mad woman. Biting, scratching, kicking.
“Fucking crazy bitch!”
Quinton managed to climb on top of her and draw his fist back. Violet brought her nails up, raking down his face as he swung.
The explosion of pain in her cheek made her head spin, but before she could get her bearings, Quinton was gone. Violet crawled to her knees, seeing double as Dean slammed Quinton into the ground and twisted his arms up behind his back.
“Stay down, asshole, or I’ll break your fucking arm.”
The voice was Dean’s, but it was darker, more guttural. Another sound drew her attention, and she crawled toward Daisy’s sobs, pulling her sister into her arms and cradling her.
“It’s okay, baby. It’s okay.”
Violet closed her eyes against the spinning world. She heard Dean tell someone to call 911 and opened her eyes to find people on her lawn. A few she recognized, neighbors she’d seen but never spoken to.
It could have been several minutes or several hours, she wasn’t quite sure, but her head finally started to clear as police sirens screamed up their street. Daisy clung to Violet as if hanging on for dear life as uniforms spilled into the yard around them.
And then strong arms wrapped around her and Daisy, protecting them from the world. Dean’s hands were running over her face, her hair . . . even her arms.
“I’ve got you,” Dean whispered.
Violet would have smiled, but the muscles of her cheek were on fire. “My hero.”
Chapter Twenty-One
DEAN DROVE VIOLET and Daisy home from the hospital, but neither said much. Daisy sat in the back with Dilbert, staring out the window while Violet rode up front, holding a cold pack to the left side of her face. Every time Dean saw her swollen, bruised cheek, he wanted to walk into the police station and get five minutes alone with the bastard.
But Dean had missed his chance to exact painful revenge on Daisy’s ex-boyfriend, and besides, he didn’t really think kicking the shit out of the worm would have made him feel any better.
Daisy had several cracked ribs, but those would heal in four to six weeks. Dean was more concerned about the psychological trauma she must have suffered.
Dean and Violet had been in the room with Daisy as she recounted what happened before they’d arrived. Daisy had met Quinton earlier in the parking lot of her work. She’d just planned on stopping in and grabbing a few things, figuring it was a pretty public place to break things off. When she’d told him that she didn’t think she was up for a long-distance relationship, he had talked about moving with her to Oregon. Unable to get around it, she’d been honest and told him that she didn’t want any kind of relationship with him. Period.
At first, he pleaded with her not to leave him, but when she told him nothing he said would change her mind, he’d started cussing and screaming at her. She’d rushed inside, and one of her coworkers had run interference until he left.
She hadn’t realized he was following her until he pulled up behind her in the driveway.
His verbal abuse had escalated until she’d tried to walk away, and then he slapped her across the face. She’s swung at him with her purse, but he’d knocked her to the ground and kicked her. And kept kicking her until Violet attacked him.
Dean had seen abusive relationships before. Hell, he’d seen a man knock a woman out with one hit. But he hadn’t been prepared for the blinding rage that swept through his body when he saw Quinton strike Violet.
Dean reached across the console and laced his fingers through hers.
“You okay?”
“Yes, for the hundredth time.” There was no bite of irritation in her tone, just a bone-deep exhaustion that gave a slight slur to her words. He knew Violet was already tired from work, but after the stress and the adrenaline, he wasn’t sure how she was still awake.
Dean pulled into their driveway and went around to get their doors. Daisy was moving slowly, although that could have been because of the pain meds she was on. He helped Violet down, and she put her arm gently around her sister’s waist.
“I’ll make sure you get in all right,” he said.
