I Know What Love Is (14 page)

I had to fight or I would be back there once more, with no hope of escape this time.

“
Jo...” Trace's voice float through the ether, and I wrenched my face away from Elliot's. “Jo, talk to me. Tell me you're okay.” He sounded so scared, what was left of my heart broke for him. He didn't know the danger we were in. He didn't know how screwed up I was. He didn't know that I would never be okay.

“
I'm fine, babe,” I said and I didn't miss the slight uptick in Elliot's lips. I knew what was coming and steeled myself for the blow. His backhanded slap sent me tumbling back onto the floor and I landed hard on my hip. I was up in a flash and scooted back across the floor, sliding my ass over the knife as I grabbed the handle.

“
Don't talk to him!” Elliot yelled and I blinked. That was the first time I'd ever heard him raise his voice. My face throbbed, but I didn't let the pain distract me.

“
I love him,” I said impulsively, wanting so badly to hurt him. He clenched his fists at his sides, his whole body tightening. “I love him,” I repeated, my voice sounding dead to my ears. “He's a good man.” Elliot's eyes flashed with a crazed light, and I knew my words were like a knife plunging into his heart. That was why I couldn't stop myself. I was happy to hurt him. Sadistic glee rose in me, pushing aside the mind-numbing fear. “He loves me. He treats me good. When he makes love to me, he makes me feel good.”

“
I
make you feel good,” Elliot's voice dropped low again, his jaw clenched tight. “You remember how I used to make you feel.” He looked like he was going to snap any moment. I only remembered the gun when he reached behind him and pulled it out and pointed it at me. I stared down the barrel of his gun, and for once, I didn't feel fear. Well, not much, anyway.

“
I hate you,” I heard myself say. “I left you because I hate you. Every time you touch me, I want to peel my skin off and burn it.”

“
You fucking lie!” he screamed, coming so close that the gun is almost pressed against my forehead.

“
Blow my brains out. Splatter my blood. Kill me,” I taunted. “I'd rather die than touch you.” His lips flattened into a straight line. I could hear the light clatter of the metal as his hand shook, his finger poised at the trigger. “You don't love me. You hate me just as much as I hate you,” I say softly. “Otherwise, you'd leave, too. You'd leave me and never come back.” The air was thick between us. I couldn't breath as the seconds ticked by. I felt certain he was going to pull the trigger. But he didn't. He let out a puff of air and let the gun fall to his side. Then he dropped to a crouch in front of me, his eyes level with mine.

“
I can't,” he said, simply, lifting a hand to sweep a strand of hair off my forehead. His eyes blazed a black fire and I knew it wasn't going to be as simple as reverse psychology or a gunshot to the head.

“
Fuck you,” I said, but it came out as a dull whisper, not an angry kiss-off like I meant.

“
You will,” he said with a wink, his lips curling in their evil way. My fingers closed around the handle of the knife, and I tried to prepare myself to stab him. My movement would have to be sure and strong, otherwise I wouldn't plunge it as deep as I wanted to. If I didn't, I wouldn't kill him with one blow, and it would have to be one blow. I knew I'd only get one chance.

“
Jo!” Trace screamed and I gasped, the sound throwing off my concentration. “
Jo!
” Elliot sucked his teeth, standing so abruptly that I jumped. He cocked the gun and caught my eyes again.

“
Don't move,” he said, then strode through the kitchen toward the patio. I was up in a flash, the knife in my hand. By the time I got through the kitchen and to the patio, he was standing over Trace, gun raised, poised to shoot. I didn't think, just ran full-on into him, the power of it forcing all of the air out of my chest.

We landed with a hard splash in the pool. The impact was like a blow to the head. I gulped in water, my ears ringing as I sunk to the bottom. I could see Elliot's dark form above me, writhing in the water, kicking his legs. The gun floated past my head in slow motion, like a dream. I didn't swim, although my body was fighting for air. My fingers grasped at the water, my eyes bulged. I didn't want to die, but I didn't want to know what was going to happen with the rest of my life either. My mouth opened and closed as I choked. My throat tightened and the ringing in my ears quieted, the water drowning out all sound. My vision darkened and I closed my eyes.

Goodbye, cruel world.

Too cruel.

I felt his hands close around my wrist, yanking me upwards. I fought, but he held fast, and soon, I was crashing above water again, gasping and coughing and choking. My hair was plastered across my face and I couldn't see as I was hauled out of the pool onto the hard stone. Strong arms pulled me in close, my nose pressed into wet fabric that smelled of pine and chlorine. I could hear someone yelling my name and I remembered Trace. He needed me. I pushed and fought until I could get free, then crawled onto the thick green grass, my vision blurry and my limbs shaky. My dress tangled around my legs. My wet feet slipped and skid in the lawn but try as I might, I couldn't stand.

He grabbed my hips, forcing me down beneath him.

“No!” I screamed. “No!”

“
Joan!” he hissed, in my ear. I didn't stop struggling. I kept pushing him away, my knees shoving into the grass as I kicked at him. I was hysterical, my body still not realizing that I was no longer drowning. He hauled me over onto my back, covering my body with his. He pulled off the ski mask and tossed it aside. His face hovered above mine, his damn beautiful face. I hated how dreadfully handsome he was.

Too bad he was a fucking psycho.

I bowed my back, my fingers clawing into the ground, even as my hysteria faded away like a fog. He ran a wet hand down the valley of my breasts, feeling my heart beat beneath his palm. I could feel his too, pulsing through his clothes and his skin. Then he kissed me again and I shoved my heels into the grass, pressing against him. He growled and dropped his hands, shoving up my clingy, soaked skirt. I gasped in air between kisses, and then his tongue slid inside of me again, drops of water dripping down his face onto mine.

“
Don't you fucking touch her!” Trace was screaming again, his voice carrying across the lawn. “Jo! Oh God, Jo!” I could hear the desperation he felt. It was as tangible as my own. My naked legs were open for Elliot; my dress was bunched around my waist. He reared up, freeing me in order to unbutton his jeans. I rolled over onto my belly and pushed up onto my hands and knees. My skin was covered in blades of grass and dirt and my wet hair was stuck around my face. The night was deathly still for a moment, no crickets, no Trace, no nothing. My own rough breathing was all I could hear, muffled in my ears.

Elliot looped an arm around my waist, pulling me back against him. He was already angling against me before my deadened motor skills kicked in. He slid inside of me, roughly, and an ugly, jagged sound ripped from my throat. It sounded wild, broken, like an animal caught in a trap. His cock stretched me, but it didn't hurt. He didn't force himself deep, at first. I tossed my head back, eyes to the sky, as he slid another few inches into me.

I couldn't believe it was happening again.

“
Fuck,” he whispered, dropping his forehead to the valley between my shoulder blades.

“
I'll never forgive you,” I whispered, even as my body accepted him and pulled him deeper. He began to move against me, sliding in and out. He yanked down the front of my dress, freeing my breasts. He kneaded them with his rough gloves, his lips pressed against the wet skin of my back. I heard a strangled cry and I knew it was me, that I'd become that wounded animal. He held me to his chest, his knees on either side of mine, and bucked hard, his hips against my ass. Then he did it again and again and again, until I lost count. Our grunting began to mingle, becoming one with each thrust.

It felt nasty and dirty and wrong and good and bad, all at the same time. His cock was so hard and big, and each thrust was forcing me closer to the edge of a cliff I didn't want to jump over. I didn't want to come with Elliot's cock inside of me, not ever again. The bastard didn't deserve it.

“Fuck, baby, fuck,” he chanted softly against my skin, dropping his hands to my hips, holding me tightly against him as he thrust hard, so hard I had to grit my teeth to prevent a scream. A sharp cry still escaped. I rolled my hips to distract him, but the pleasure from the small movement caused my eyes to roll back in my head. My pussy clenched around him, and he jerked into me with a growl.

“
Take it, Joanie. Take it,” he gritted out, hoarsely. Then he made me scream again, pinching the spot on the back of my thigh when I least expected it. “I didn't forget,” he growled. “Every inch of your skin belongs to me. Every. Inch.” He thrust hard to emphasize the last two words, and I dropped to my elbows, my forehead brushing against the grass. “That motherfucker never stood a chance.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, resisting the urge to look over at Trace. I don't want to see the look on his face as another man violated me right in front of him. Although I couldn't love Trace, I knew he was a good man. He loved me. He wanted to protect me. He would never fuck me on the ground, in the dirt, like we were two animals in heat.

With a growl, Elliot pulled out of me, and I moaned at the emptiness. Then the world spun as he rolled me over onto my back, repositioning himself between my legs, no hesitation. He pushed inside again, his eyes on mine. He balanced on his elbows, caging me in. He hammered into me, our hips banging together in a rough rhythm.

“
I love you,” he breathed, wrapping his arms around me and holding me tightly against him. “I'm never going to let you leave me again.” A pang went through me at his words and I let my arms flop open, although I ached to grab him and hold on. Holding on would have given me an ounce of stability. As it was, I was at his mercy. And he fucked me mercilessly. My traitorous body gushed around him as he pumped in and out of me. Together, our bodies found a devastating rhythm. When he pulled at my lower lip with his teeth, sucking it into his mouth, my body gave out. An orgasm shot through me, painful in its intensity. His cock felt so fucking good inside of me as I clenched and pulled him deep. Another ragged cry ripped from my throat, piercing the quiet night. Then I was kissing him, sucking his tongue as he fucked me through my climax.

He came with a growl against my mouth, the veins in his neck bulging and his eyes closed. I felt him spurt into me, filling me up with his hot come. I threw my head to the side, feeling my body collapse into the soft grass. He followed me down, his body heavy on mine. Our bodies twitched in tandem, the shock of the orgasm still rushing through me. He recovered first, pushing off the ground into a crouch. I didn't move as he pulled away. I just lay there, in shock. The dark sky yawned above me and I wished I could just disappear. I wished I could become a light breeze and float away, but as always, I didn't get what I wanted. Elliot stood, dark and big, towering over me as he zipped back up his pants.

“I'm going to kill you,” Trace's voice echoed in my ears, and for a minute, I thought he was talking to me. I rolled my head, blinking to clear my vision. Trace's face was red, his cheeks stained with tears. His wrists were bloody, the metal of the handcuffs cutting into his skin. “I'm going to fucking kill you, you motherfucking son of a bitch!” he screamed, hoarsely.

Elliot walked toward him slowly, hinging at the waist to pick something off the ground. I squinted, trying to see what it was. My breath caught in my throat when I realized it was the knife. I'd dropped it when I tackled him. Forcing myself onto my hands and knees, I began to crawl through the grass.

“Elliot!” I screamed, but it felt like my mouth was full of cotton.

He glanced back at me over his shoulder, and I saw the evil smile on his face right before he stabbed Trace in the chest.

“
No!
” I heard myself wail, the sound shredding my throat. I struggled to stand, almost tumbling again when my leg almost gave out on me. I began limping toward the two men on the patio, my ankle screaming out in pain. I didn't know then, but I'd broken it when I shoved Elliot into the pool. A hairline fracture, but painful as hell anyway. I couldn't move as fast I wanted to, besides. The scene in front of me was like one of those nightmares where you try to run but you move at a snail's pace. I could see Elliot stabbing Trace over and over again, in slow motion. Trace slumped to the ground like a rag doll, his blood spreading thickly across the stone patio.

Elliot turned to me, slick red covering his hands, and he didn't expect me to grab at the knife. I felt the wooden handle in my palm and I pulled it toward me. His fingers were slippery, losing his grasp. I saw myself stab him in slow motion, the blade disappearing into the black of his shirt. It was a side wound, not square in the chest like I would have preferred, but it was better than nothing. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, like he was too shocked to say anything.

I stepped back, letting the knife clatter to the ground. My new dress was stained pink, all of a sudden. When I held out my hands and they were red with Elliot's blood, I couldn't help it. My mind felt light, almost like I was floating above myself. Nothing seemed serious anymore. Nothing was real.