Fighting to Forgive (Fighting Series) (40 page)

Jonah moves another step closer. If a fight starts, Axelle and I will be in the middle.

“Jonah, stop. Take Axelle. I’ll stay. It’s okay.”

He freezes and tilts his head. “You’ll stay?”

“Take Axelle. Right, Stewart? Axelle can go. I’ll stay. We can go to the hotel. You and me. Okay?” I’m frantic. My words tumble out in a rush of nerves and determination.

He must be debating because he loosens his hold. I beg him with my eyes.
Please let her go.

After everyone leaves, I can stick with my original plan. Piss him off enough to get him to hit me. All it will take is one time, and then he’ll get arrested. It’ll work.

“If you take my kid, I’ll call the police and claim she’s been kidnapped.” He moves us back, deeper into the house.

Dammit!
He’s not going to let her go. “Stewart, just for one night. Let her go for tonight, and then tomorrow we can figure things out.

“Nothing to figure out. I’m taking you back to Seattle.”

“Wrong again, dicklick. You’re not taking my woman anywhere.”

Blake.

Every head in the room jerks toward the doorway. A shaky smile pulls at my lips as the shock of seeing him sinks in. Still in his suit pants, he’s ditched his dress shirt and coat. A black, sleeveless undershirt hugs his broad chest and ripped abdomen. He looks like a modern-day knight.

Stewart must be surprised too, as his hold slips and Axelle races to Blake. She throws herself into his arms. He hugs her and kisses the top of her head, not once taking his eyes off Stewart. “Hey, kiddo. Get your ass downstairs. Killer’s worried as shit down there.”

She scurries off, and Jonah has Raven go too. With the knowledge that they’re safe, and away from whatever’s about to go on here, I take my first full breath.

The air around us is electrified with tension. Blake and Jonah stand blocking the only way out, making the room shrink around us.

“Now you” —Blake steps farther into the room—“get your cocksucking hands off my woman.”

“My wife.”

Blake sneers and advances another step. “Did he say wife?” he asks Jonah.

“That’s what I heard.” Jonah’s answer is low and intimidating.

“Huh.” Blake rubs his chin, looking thoughtfully at Stewart. “She doesn’t want you here, but here you are. She wants a divorce, but you’re still married.” His face turns positively murderous. “She doesn’t want to fuck you, but you take her anyway.” His muscles coil tight beneath his skin. “Seems to me, you’re a bad fucking listener.”

A slight tremor runs up Stewart’s side. “You don’t know anything about her.”

“Oh, I think I do,” Blake says, his lips curling back over his teeth. “I know she tastes like sweet vanilla between her legs when she opens them to me
willingly
. I know she moans so deep when she falls apart in my arms that I can feel it in my dick when I’m inside her, this too she
gives
me. I know she likes it when I crush her with my weight after I come inside her, her arms and legs wrap around me so tight, I think she’ll break my bones.”

Stewart’s eyes bulge, and his nostrils flare.

Blake moves again, not looking to be anywhere near finished. “But most importantly, I know she’d sacrifice herself and her safety for the people she loves. She’s been doing it her entire life. Throwing herself up like a shield.” His eyes find mine. “It’s time someone did the same for her.”

Tears spill from my eyes, his beautiful words releasing the emotion I’ve been holding back. He understands what I did was to protect him.

He knows that I love him.

“Blake—”

“Ha! You’re dumber than you look, kid. She’s got you fooled.” Stewart’s mouth brushes against my ear. “Don’t you, slut?”

I flinch at his hideous whispered words.

“She’s coming with us,” Jonah states, reminding me he’s still in the room.

“She’s staying with me.” Stewart tugs me back a step into the living room.

“Wrong. You let her go,” Blake says, “or I break both your arms.”

“You think she’s some prize?” Stewart’s voice is louder now, most likely unnerved by his dwindling options. “Guess she didn’t tell you about what a slut she was in high school.”

He’s lying. I was a virgin before Stewart, and he knows it. He’s trying to convince Blake that I’m not worth it.

“Did she tell you? Did the little slut—”

Two hands wrap tightly around his throat. He lets me go and reaches to claw at Blake’s wrists. I stumble away and across the room.

“One more word about my woman being anything other than perfect, I’ll break your fucking neck.”

Jonah closes in but doesn’t make a move to pull them apart.

“Say you hear me, asshole.”

Stewart nods, and Blake shoves him back and releases him. He clutches his throat, catching his breath. “She’s… got you… fooled.”

“Oh yeah, and how’s that?” Blake’s tone is mocking.

Killian, Axelle, and Raven show up in the doorway. They hurry in, but Jonah holds them back with his body, not allowing them close enough to get hurt.

Stewart’s recovered from Blake’s throat constriction, and stands to his full height. “Did she tell you how many guys she slept with the night she got pregnant with Elle?”

“Liar!” My shout fills the room, reverberating off the walls. “Why are you lying?”

“Oh, I’m a liar all right.” Stewart laughs. “But not now. Then.”

He lied… then? Lied about what?

“Oh, come on! Look at me.” He points to his face. “She looks nothing like me.”

The entire room goes still, and my head feels light.
Oh my God.
My head swivels toward Axelle,who’s wrapped in Raven’s arms. Her face is drained of color.

“Yeah, that’s right. Let it sink in, bitch—”

“Shut the fuck up.” Blake shoves Stewart, sending him back a couple steps. “Don’t say another fucking word.”

A flicker of something calculated passes over Stewart’s face. He looks back and forth between Blake and me. His lips curl into a grin. “Me and the boys had some fun that night. Hottest chick in school, drunk as hell at a party.”

Bile rushes up my throat. I stagger back, bracing my weight against a bookshelf. I don’t want to, but I desperately need to hear what he says next.

Blake shakes with rage, his muscles dancing beneath this skin, ready to unleash. “I warned you. Not another word.”

“Didn’t take much to get her so drunk she passed out. Shit, she probably weighed ninety pounds back then.” Stewart’s laughing and teasing, talking about me but speaking to Blake.

“I told you to shut your—”

“Blake, no. Let him. I want to know.” What happened that night? I remember drinking, and waking up with Stewart. But the in between… could he be telling the truth?

“Mouse, baby.”

I shake my head. “Please.”

“Fuck,” Jonah mumbles from across the room.

“Oh, now you want the truth, huh?” Stewart runs his hand through his hair. “You didn’t seem to care about the truth when your parents were begging me to marry you.”

Begging?

“They were so worried about your reputation. Little did they know you’d fucked half the football team that night.”

My hand splays over my chest, and then moves up to grip my neck. No. I’d have remembered. Right?

“We had our fun with you, taking turns, filling you up.” He looks past me like he’s reliving the memory and enjoying it.

“You’ve heard enough, Mouse,” Blake growls, his voice trembling with rage. “Get Axelle the fuck out of here.”

Axelle shrugs off Killian’s attempt to pull her outside. Her eyes lock on mine. She wants the truth as badly as I do.

“No. Tell me everything,” I say to Stewart, knowing that we may never find out what happened that night if we don’t get it now.

Stewart’s eyes grow icy cold. “Everything? How about how you ruined my life. You and your bastard kid.”

The nausea bubbles up into my throat. As badly as it feels to hear what he’s saying, I need him to continue. My soul demands answers.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I married you because I thought you were Axelle’s dad. If you weren’t, why didn’t you say anything?”

He throws his arms out to the side. “How fucking stupid can you be? What was I supposed to do? Admit that I roofied the hottest chick in school so the boys and me could gang bang her? I’d end up in jail.”

“Enough.” The pop of plaster rings through the room. Blake pulls his fist from the wall, where he knocked a foot wide hole. “I can’t take this shit.” Blake’s jaw is rock hard, his mouth in a tight line, and his fists flexed. His shoulders seem bigger, swollen and held up high, prepared to do damage. “Tell him you’ve heard enough.”

Stewart studies Blake through narrowed eyes. That scheming look back on his face. “Haven’t you been listening, asshole? You don’t want her. She’s garbage. Even back in high school, no one stepped up. Not one of the guys claimed the baby as their kid. No one wanted them.”

Crack!

The sickening sound of broken bone, and Stewart drops. Blood gushes from his nose, running down his chin and onto the carpet.

“I want them. They’re mine.” Blake’s words are bellowed seconds before the room erupts.

The coffee table shatters against the wall. Stewart is up and punches Blake, but it has no affect. He throws Stewart to the ground, straddles his body, and rains punches to his head. Fleshy thuds of fists to bone ring thorough the room.

Strong arms lift and move me from my statued spot. Axelle and Raven are talking to me, but their words are static. White noise compared to the words that pound in my head so hard they rattle my core.

I want them. They’re mine.

Twenty-nine

Blake

I’m lost in a blur of blood and rage. Fuzzy. Incoherent. Fueled by instinct over thought. My arms swing, one after the other, muscles burning. I’m high on the buzz. Light-headed from the release. Over and over, my hits land hard.

Pulled from behind, I thrust back an elbow to relieve the tension. Contact.

Wet coats my fists. My target isn’t moving. But that doesn’t stop me from delivering blow after punishing blow. I’m pulled back again. Voices filter through the fog. They’re yelling.

More, I need more. My arms crank harder. The object of my beating offers no resistance. I roar, an animal begging for a fight.

The voices yell louder.
Stop, Stop!

I can’t. Revenge. Protection. Duty. These are what push me to punish.

A wall hits me from the side. I’m weightless a second before pain explodes in my shoulder. I struggle to get back to my feet. Crawling against the weight that holds me down. I thrash and kick, embracing the violence that hums in my veins.

Voices call my name, shouting. One familiar and feminine. She needs me.

Throwing off the resistance that keeps me grounded, I scramble to my feet. Visions assault my brain. Tear-streaked faces. Eyes round with panic and worry.

I shove through the fog, searching. Where is she? My muscles prepare for another fight. She cried out for me. I heard it, but where is she now? Adrenaline rockets through my veins.

A grip on my arm. I’m pulled back. No. They can’t keep me from her. I whirl on my attacker. My hand wraps around a neck. I push back and up, holding my enemy off the ground by the throat.

The voices yell louder. I squeeze tight, growling, ready to watch death pass through the eyes of the fucker.

Those eyes, wide with fear. And pain.

They roll back. Tears drip from chocolate brown irises.

My hold quivers.

Layla.

Layla

Oh, God. No!
Not Blake. He promised he’d never hurt me.

I claw at his forearms. My eyes water, and splintering pain erupts in my throat. Everything around his enraged face fades to black. I try to talk, but my windpipe won’t allow it.
Please, Blake. See me.

He blinks fast.

I fight for consciousness.

Jonah’s forearm crushes against his throat. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Snap out of it. Break through, man, fuck!”

The grip on my neck lets up. He drops his hand, and I crumble to the floor, gasping for air. Jonah wrestles a writhing Blake to the couch. He throws him face down into the cushions and digs his knee into his back.

He turned on me. All I did was touch his arm, and he turned on me. But that wasn’t my Blake. I saw it in his eyes.

Axelle and Raven pull me to my feet, asking me if I’m hurt.

“I’m okay.” I cough and swallow past the burn in my throat. “I’m okay.”

“Mom, what’s wrong with him?” Axelle’s sobbed words are laced with worry.

“I don’t know. He lost it.” That’s the only way I can make sense of what happened. One minute I was hanging on everything Stewart said, and the next… total chaos.

Stewart’s body lies motionless on the floor; his face’s coated in his own blood. Searching deep for empathy—or hell, pity—I find nothing but satisfaction. He had it coming. He practically begged for it with the hideous insight he provided into my past after Blake’s repeated demands for him to stop. Stewart goaded Blake into throwing the first punch. But why? So he could pull out a weapon and claim self-defense? But there’s no weapon.

Blake’s still on the couch, and Jonah’s talking close to his face. I can’t hear him, but whatever he’s saying doesn’t look pleasant.

I grab Axelle around the shoulders. “Come on. Let’s go into the kitchen.”

Killian looks out the window. “Cops are here.”

Axelle, Raven, and I huddle around the kitchen table, and Killian opens the front door.

Officers rush in, low to the ground, guns raised. “Everyone, stay where you are, hands up.” They move through to the living room, and out of my eyeshot.

“Put your guns away. He’s okay.” Jonah’s voice bellows from the living room.

“Lower your weapons.”

I cower, waiting for the gunshot that thankfully never comes.

Raven pulls a chair from my kitchen table and moves it to face me. “Are you sure you’re okay? Does anything hurt?” Her eyes make passes from my shoulders to my chin.

“I’m okay.” I rub my tender neck. “A little freaked out, but I’m not hurt.”