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“I found you. I found you, you slut.”
Everything in me turned to liquid nitrogen. Jase. Jase. I didn't wait another second before I started scrambling backwards, away from his advancing figure. He'd grown a beard, and as he came upon me, sneering and wild-eyed, all I could think, of all the things I could think, was that it looked good on him.
Screaming wouldn't have done me any good, even if I could get enough air to do it before he straddled me and wrapped his hands around my neck.
“Slut! Lying, cheating, whore! He told me! He told me everything! You let him fuck you! You let him fuck you everywhere!”
Dutch, I thought, my fingernails digging into the backs of his hands, my legs kicking wide and fast, trying to make contact with any part of him soft enough to hurt. He squeezed steadily harder with each second; a line of spit dropped onto my eye from his savage, foaming lips. My lips started to tingle, my mouth making pathetic little gasping sounds, my eyes feeling like they might pop right out of my face.
“You're my wife, Bex. You're my wife, and you let that biker trash fuck you, laughin' at me, the man you swore to love and serve,” he snarled, face getting closer and closer to mine. I gave up trying to get his hands off my neck and looked wildly from side to side, throwing my arms out, grasping for anything in reach. I felt something hard and stiff against my stomach; he was getting off on this. His dick never did work too well through our marriage, but now it seemed to work just fine, and his lips turned up in a twisted smile.
He kept one hand on my throat, squeezing just as hard as ever, but dropped the other hand to his belt, sloppily undoing it.
“You like fuckin' so much? Such a dirty whore, you like dick so fuckin' much? Why don't you show me how much you like it, Bex? Let me fuck that ass of yours, that pretty, filthy, whorin' ass...”
Fuck no.
And then...fuck yes.
My fingers found something. Not much of anything, but enough. Whatever it was, it had a blunt point at one end. He was rubbing his nasty little pecker across my stomach, and I felt him lift off me just enough to grab me around the waist. He moved his hand from my throat to my cheek, giving me a chance to gasp at some precious air before he ground my face down into the gravel.
“Yeah, Bex? Yeah? You ready to take your husband's cock, the way you're supposed to, you ready to serve me, the way you're meant to? Fuckin..”
“Mmfffuckk...mmmnooo,” I managed to grit out, my lips scratching against the pavement. I slammed the blunt end of whatever-it-was up with all my might, hitting him in the temple.
“Holy FUCK!” He howled, one hand flying to his head, the other still trying to hold me down even as I was bucking him off and kicking myself free. I looked at my hand. It was a fuckin' pair of chopsticks in their little paper container. Spilled out of my purse, from when I had Chinese food two weeks before. Thank God for devil-designed black holes, and all the things you lose in them. Not that I had much time for deity-thanking. I was on my feet, still gasping through a raw and ragged throat, running straight for Peach's. I heard him trying to chase me, but he wasn't dumb enough to follow me inside.
Not that it meant he was done with me. Not in the slightest. Because I knew – I knew – it was Dutch who called him here, Dutch who told him about me and Cross, the one thing I knew would take Jase from a talker to a doer.
And if it was Dutch that brought him here, I knew Dutch would keep him here, until I was six feet under and off his hands for good.
Cross
“Where is she? Where's Bex? Who the fuck touched my woman?”
Maybe I would have been surprised to hear myself call Bex “my woman”, but in the moment, it was the truest thing to come out of my lips. I was lucky I was with someone sober when I got the call, or I would have likely killed myself and ten other people trying to ride to Peach’s drunk. As it was, Hunter drove me in his cage, since I wasn't riding bitch for anyone. I spent half the drive pounding the ceiling and roaring, and the rest of it trying to grab the wheel out of his hands 'cause I thought I could get us there faster.
Peach had the club locked up. No cops, for obvious reasons. But one of the brothers, Soldier, who'd been at the club already, was standing guard outside.
“Where is he?”
“Ran off, I 'spect,” Soldier drawled blandly. I think Hunter held me back. He must've, or I would have had Soldier against the wall and sayin' uncle in a heartbeat. No one was allowed to act like this was no big deal. My woman had been attacked.
“Get the fuck on the street, and look for him,” I remember shouting before Peach unlocked the door and let us in.
“What the hell am I supposed to be lookin' for?”
I didn't have time to answer that question, because the minute I stepped into that club, I was headin' for Bex. Finding her there, in the backroom, an ice pack against her head, lips cut up and neck black-and-blue, I dropped straight to my knees.
Call me a cliché. I damn well know I am. But you don't know what you got 'til it's gone, or at least until you almost lose it. Seeing her there, roughed up and swollen-eyed, beaten by a man who wasn't half worth her, it felt like my fault. I shouldn't have let her drive that stupid fuckin' cage around town without anyone watchin' her. I should have been riding her to and from work every single day. I should have known she was in just as much danger as Blade or I. I should have forgave her, a long time ago.
“Cross,” she croaked, and the age in her voice made my heart cramp. “Get up, please, I...”
“Stop it,” I said, grabbing her face, gently, studying all the ways he'd hurt her. “Don't you tell me what to do, Bex Carter. If I wanna kneel before a woman, I will.”
I was tryin' to keep it light. Tryin' to pretend that her face didn't make me feel like punching a hole through the wall. Her beautiful eyes – one of them was half swollen shut. And those lips I should have been kissin’ still carved with bits of grit and gravel. I let my thumb brush them, and she shuddered but didn't pull back, the pain held at bay by her spirit. All the same, I knew I'd hurt her a little bit more, and now I wanted to punch a hole through my own damn chest.
“It was that ball-suckin' ex-husband of yours, wasn't it?” I asked, drawing back. She swallowed, which clearly took some effort and caused some pain. She nodded.
“Dutch,” I said, low enough that Peach couldn't hear me. She was standin' in the doorway. Bex blinked and nodded again.
“Fuck,” I said, and leaned in, grabbing her hand. Shit, even her palm was scratched and bloody. But she didn't pull it back. She squeezed my hand back. “I'm gonna find him, baby. I'm gonna find him, and beat him into the ground. I'm gonna shove a bowling pin up his ass. I'm gonna...”
“Cross,” she croaked again, and my name on her lips was heaven and hell mixed together. “No..wait..think.”
Talking was hurting her. That bastard stole her voice right out of her throat. When I found him...when I found him...
How the hell was I gonna find him? Dutch sure as hell wasn't gonna point me in his direction, not even if it would help keep up this illusion he was trying to maintain. I didn't know if he was driving a Subaru or a Crown Victoria or a unicycle. I could know what he looked like, but there was no telling which sleazebag motel, high-class bed and breakfast, shantytown apartment, or cabin in the woods he was hiding out in.
I was gonna try. Hell yes, I was gonna try. I'd have my brothers crawling over Cutter, searching every alley and gutter. Shit, I'd go straight into the heart of Blackhawk territory if I had to, on the hope that they'd give me a pass. But that night? That night, I was hopeless, helpless, and two kinds of fucked. What could I do?
Well, I could hold her. And tell her I was sorry for dragging this out so damn long. For actin' like I hated her, when really, just having her around was enough to keep my heartache at bay. I cupped her cheek again, leaned in close enough to press my forehead against hers, our pupils lining up straight as arrows.
“I love you, Bex, and I'm not gonna let anyone get away with this,” I s
aid, watching the water welling at the bottoms of her eyes. “Don't cry on me now, baby. I'm sorry. You're sorry, I'm sorry, we're both sorry. Don't go cryin' on me now...”
But women can't help but cry sometimes. And when they do, it's a man's job to hold them through it, and let them get your shoulder wet, and even let them wipe their little noses on your best shirt.
So, gingerly as I could, tryin' not to hurt her any more than she was, I picked her up and carried her out to the car, layin' both our bodies down in the backseat while Hunter drove us home. I never wanted to let my brothers see me being tender, because it might make them think they can start getting unruly, but it didn't matter that night. That night, I'd be Bex's own personal teddy bear, and fuck anyone who said that wasn't the manly thing to do.
Bex
Bex
For Cross to welcome me back into his bed was almost – almost – enough to make Jase’s attack worth it. But not quite. Cross came in, fuming and screaming and dragging me back into his heart – but for hours, all I could do was shake.
