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Pressing a hand to my heart, I said, “I don’t know, but he didn’t follow you here, otherwise he would have rung the bell a hell of a lot sooner. He’s tracked you somehow, on the very day you had a restraining order slapped on him. I don’t think he wants to deliver milk and cookies.”
“Oh God,” she moaned, beginning to breathe sporadically. “Maybe you shouldn’t go out there, either. We’ll just call for help and—”
A boom followed by a shout and breaking wood and plaster told us that my front door had just been kicked in.
Chloe yelped out a scream.
“Stay!” I shouted, pointing at her in stern warning as I raced from the room and charged down the hall.
When I skidded into the living room, my heart pounding with fear, I gulped. “Oh God.”
A drunken man was sprawled on the floor in my living room with my front door hanging wide open at an odd angle.
Groaning, he hiked himself up to all fours and lifted his face to show me that he’d hurt himself in his fury to break in my door. Blood poured from a cut on the center of his forehead, and he looked the worse for wear.
“Chloe...” he slurred awfully as he stumbled upright into a wobbly stand.
Yeah, he wasn’t just drunk; he was completely wasted.
“Dax,” I said, lifting a hand to ward him off as he teetered toward me. My voice shook slightly, but I thought I kept fairly calm… Considering. “What’re you doing here, buddy?”
He paused and squinted at me, obviously not recognizing me at first. Then his eyes cleared as he pointed before flinging his long hair over his shoulder and out of his eyes. “Hey, aren’t you that slut who just had the baby with the dead guy?”
“My name is Lucy,” I told him, shifting to the side away from him as I hardened my jaw against the insult but otherwise ignored it. “And you just broke into my house. So how about I call someone to come pick you up, huh? You’re not looking so good.”
“I’m not fucking going anywhere without Chloe. I want to talk to that bitch, find out why she thought it’d be funny to put a fucking restraining order on me.”
I swallowed, trying not to have a total panic attack in front of him, and shook my head. “She’s not here, sorry.”
“Don’t fucking lie to me,” he roared, pointing. “I saw her car.”
I glanced out the open front door at Chloe’s car. “She left it here and caught a ride with someone else,” I improvised. “They went to a…a show.”
“She went to a fucking show?” he repeated, his mouth hanging half-open as he gaped at me. “Right after siccing the police on me? I don’t fucking think so. Chloe!” he roared. “Get your lousy, lying ass out here right now, you worthless whore!”
“Alright, you need to go,” I ordered, pointing with the stern command. “Now.”
“Fuck you.” He lumbered toward the hallway that led to the room where my daughter was.
No way was I letting him get anywhere near Ava or Chloe. Growling, “No,” I dodged into his path, physically blocking his way. “Get out of my house.”
“Move, bitch,” Dax roared and backhanded me.
I think he called me another lovely, flattering name, but my ears were ringing so loud I couldn’t really hear what he said next. Pain exploded across my jaw, and everything went dizzy.
I thought I was going to go down.
But when he tried to bulldoze past me into the hall again, I knew I couldn’t let him go. Using every ounce of cognition I had left, I wrapped my arms around his waist and planted my feet on the floor, trying to hold him there, away from my baby.
This time, I heard him loud and clear when he yelled, “Get off me!”
“Get out of my house!” I shouted back.
“Chloe!” he retorted, then plowed his shoulder into one of my still-sensitive boobs, making me cry out before he full-on body-slammed me into the wall.
I immediately lost my wind, plus my grip on his waist.
Thinking he had me licked, he turned toward the hallway again. So I’m pretty sure I surprised him when I jumped onto his back, grabbing and clawing whatever I could get my hands on, to keep him out here.
