WhiskeyBottleLover (14 page)

What was his problem? “Bill, go home. I have a lot of work
to do today and need to get started. I don’t have time for this.” She wanted
him gone, now.

“I asked you a question, woman. Answer it!” he snapped.

Chance flinched at his loud, harsh tone. A thick vein
protruded and throbbed at the side of his temple as his face grew red. Even his
eyes were sparkling and it clearly wasn’t joy shining there.

“I don’t have to answer to you for anything,” she told him
in a careful tone. No need in poking the bear, as Hayes said. “This is my
property, my home, and I’m asking you politely to leave.”

“This might be your property,” he grumbled and then pointed
to the scattered wood. “But you got that wood off my property. I told you I
would come over and haul it out. I would cut it up. I would split it. You did
not have my consent to get it yourself. Who did all this?”

Jesus, were his eyes throbbing now? The man standing in
front of her would make young children run screaming and yeah, she would be
doing the same thing if not for his high-and-mighty tone. Where did he get off
thinking he could control her like this? Chance tilted her head to the side and
frowned.

“I’m sorry? Did you not understand the words, ‘I don’t have
to answer to you for anything’? Let me make it clear for you. It’s none of your
damn business, Bill. Go home.”

In a flash of movement he reached out, grabbed her arm
beneath the blanket and jerked her hard against his body. His other hand
snagged the back of her hair, yanking her head back and bringing tears to her
eyes from the sharp pain. Damn it, he pinned the poker between them so she
couldn’t defend herself.

“You use my truck for your silly, meaningless hobby and
don’t repay me, and now you’ve chopped up my wood to heat that pathetic excuse
for a home. You owe me.” His hand released her hair and slid down her back
until he cupped her ass and squeezed.

Chance bucked against him, trying to free herself. “Get your
filthy hands off me,” she shouted and then stomped down as hard as she could on
his foot. The effort was fruitless, he barely even noticed.

“My hands will touch any part of you I like,” he mumbled and
squeezed her ass harder, to the point of pinching the flesh. “I get what I’m
owed, little missy, with interest. You don’t want to play the game nicely and
pay willingly then I’m forced to take it.”

He leaned down, trying to touch her mouth with his thin,
disgusting lips. Chance screamed, jerked her head to the side and brought her
knee up. The connection did the trick. Bill grunted, released her and then
doubled over. Taking her opening, Chance turned and ran for the front of the
house. If she could get through the door and get it locked, she could call the
police.

Steps away from safety, a bone-jarring blow to her back
knocked her to her knees. She hit the ground hard, her head spinning and her
eyes blurry. Harsh, mean hands gripped her shoulder, digging into flesh and
muscle as he jerked her body over. It took a few blinks before she could focus
on Bill standing over her.

“You just keep adding to the tab, don’t ya? That’s okay.
I’ll enjoy collecting.” He bent down, tore the blanket out of her clenched fist
and just as he reached to tear her top, he jerked backward.

Terror had her frozen. Chance could only lie there, holding
the useless poker and watching as Hayes drilled his fist into Bill’s face. It
only took one blow and Bill stumbled backward, holding his bleeding nose.

“Who the fuck are you?” he growled as blood dripped from
between his fingers.

Hayes pointed at the man, his face a mask of rage so
frightening Chance didn’t understand why Bill wasn’t running for his life. “You
touch her again, you so much as even think about her, and I’ll make sure you
end up this county’s biggest mystery.”

Chance’s mouth dropped open at the malevolent, dark and
inhuman voice that emanated from Hayes’ throat. Worse, he didn’t appear to be standing
on the ground, but hovering, and was that steam rolling from his wrists?
Gathering her wits, she scrambled to her feet and stumbled toward Hayes.

“What the hell are you?” Bill staggered backward toward his
truck.

“Your worst nightmare,” Hayes responded in a deep, booming
voice. In a blur of movement, a mere blink of time, he appeared right in front
of Bill.

He might be vicious and cruel but he wasn’t stupid. Bill
shouted his fright and then ran for the truck. Chance stood dumbfounded,
watching him clamber behind the wheel, start the truck and tear out of her
driveway. Neither she nor Hayes moved until the vehicle hit the main road and
took off. Only then, when Bill’s truck squealed down the road, did she feel the
painful, bone-cracking thud of her heart hammering so violently.

Hayes fell to the ground in a crumpled heap, wrapped his
arms around his stomach and cried out as if in pain. That sound, that horrid,
gut-wrenching bellow snatched her from her stupor. She ran to him, dropped to
her knees and witnessed the steam rolling thickly off his wrists.

“Hayes, what is it? What’s happening?” She wanted to touch
him. Her hands hovered over his back but fear kept her from making contact.
What if her touch caused him more pain?

He didn’t answer, only jerked and heaved as if his insides
were being shredded. Terror gripped her as blood began to trickle from his
lips, dropping to the dead, dry leaves beneath him. His body quickly grew
soaked with sweat with each hard, racking wave of pain.

“What can I do?” Fat tears rolled down her cheeks, dripping
from her chin.

“Nothin’,” he grunted. “Punishment.”

Suddenly the smell of burning flesh hit her senses, causing
her gag reflex to kick in. Slapping her hand over her mouth, she watched in
horror as the flesh around his wrists seared and blistered over and over. What
could he possibly be punished like this for? Who would be so cruel?

Hayes began to tremble uncontrollably, the shaking so
tremendous he fell to his side and curled into a tight ball. Chance ran for her
blanket, returned and draped it over him.

“No,” he managed, his enormous brown eyes so full of pain
gazing up at her. “You. Cold.”

“Damn it,” she whimpered. “Stop worrying about me. I’m fine.
What can I do to help you?” There had to be something, anything. She couldn’t
stand this.

His hand poked out from beneath the blanket, shaking
violently, reaching for her. Chance took it, stretched out beside him and
pressed it to her face.

“Stay.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” she promised. Using her free hand,
she stroked his cheek. “I’m here and I’m not leaving you.” Inside her head she
pleaded and screamed for it to stop.

Together they lay there on the ground. Chance wrapped around
him, trying to keep him warm until his groaning and trembling stopped. Silent
moments passed but each sound of his ragged breathing assured her she hadn’t
lost him. Desperate to ease his distress in any way possible, she stroked his
hair and wiped away the cold sweat. Meaningless she knew, but the only comfort
she had to offer.

“Chance.”

Her name came out a scratchy, weak sound. “I’m here.”

“Inside.”

“Yeah, okay.” She didn’t know how to get him inside but even
if she had to drag him by the arms, she’d get him there.

Before she had a chance to move he pulled her to him, gazed
into her eyes and the next thing she knew they were on the floor of her living
room. Later she would think about that but right now she had to clean him up
and get him comfortable.

“Sorry, didn’t have enough to make it to the bedroom.”

Chance cupped his clammy cheek. “I’ll bring the bedroom to
you. Relax.”

Grabbing every blanket she could find and her pillow, she
rushed back to him, propped his head up and encased him in a thick cocoon of
warmth. Every slight movement of his body made him groan in pain. As gently as
she could, Chance removed his boots and was shocked to feel how cold his feet
were.

“Do you want me to undo your jeans? It might help.”

“Don’t think anythin’ will help.”

Well, she thought it might. How many times did she run home
to shed pants when the bloating got bad or she’d eaten something that didn’t
agree with her? “Too bad, I’m gonna do it anyway.”

Chance slid her hands beneath the blankets and worked all
the buttons free. Hayes took a shaky but relieved breath and then smiled at
her. His color had gone ashen, even his bloodstained lips looked paper-white.

“I’m gonna start a fire and then clean you up. It isn’t good
to lie in all that sweat.”

He took her hand, stopping her from leaving. “You need to go
to work.”

“I’m not going anywhere and leaving you like this and you
won’t be able to follow me. Jenny can handle the shop. I’ll call her later.
She’ll understand.”

“Chance.”

“No!” The word came out harsh and thick. Her emotions were
getting to her. “Don’t argue with me, damn it.” She tugged her hand from his
and went in search of a large bowl and towels.

Once she had everything she needed, she started a fire.
Hayes seemed to be sleeping nestled under all the covers. Good. She didn’t
think she could talk right now. Not without breaking down. And the thing was,
her fragile emotional state had nothing to do with her encounter with Bill, at
least she didn’t think so anyway. No, seeing Hayes in agony as if he might die,
that destroyed her.

A tear trickled free, rolled down her cheek and dripped onto
the hearth. This punishment he endured, it had something to do with her.
Exactly how she couldn’t be sure but something she did brought it on. God, what
an awful way to live. Chance brushed another tear away and busied herself
soaking a cloth, wringing it out and then dunking it again.

She touched it ever so gently to his lips and washed the
dried blood caked there. Hayes didn’t stir, not even a flinch. Next she cleaned
the rest of his face, thinking it would work better in the tub. This would have
to do though. He couldn’t walk and she couldn’t carry him.

After pulling the blankets back, she opened his damp shirt,
worked it down over his shoulders and wiggled and tugged until she could get
his sleeves down. Somehow she managed to remove the material and left it
bunched beneath him. To her relief his chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm.

Her hand glided over the hard planes of his sculpted chest
and then moved lower to his exquisitely defined abs before drifting to where
his jeans lay open. Her gaze followed that thin line of dark hair down as her
hand froze just above the denim. Jesus, what the hell was wrong with her? She
shouldn’t be looking at him like this. Moments ago blood trickled from his
mouth, his body contorted and trembled in excruciating pain and she had no idea
if he would recover from any of it.

Still, after everything she’d been through in the last
fifteen minutes she couldn’t help herself. This man had managed to capture her
heart and mind in record time. Her, a woman who learned early in life caring
for herself would be the only way to capture any type of happiness. Now, here
she sat consumed with worry, sick at the thought of never seeing him smile
again or hearing his laughter and a deep lust she couldn’t seem to control.

No man had ever affected her like this. Sure, she did her
time dating, being intimate with others, but in the end it all left her empty
and unsatisfied. Hayes, he filled her up with his inquisitive nature, his hard
work ethic and his need to treat her like a gift rather than an object. Every
little meaningless gesture from her the man accepted with humble appreciation.

This was a man she could love and it didn’t seem to frighten
her in the least. No, realizing he’d be gone for good if she didn’t find a way
to free him from the bonds of that fucking bottle, that scared the hell out of
her. That knowledge pulled a sob from her chest and a fresh wave of tears to
her eyes. She’d find a way. She had to. Even if he chose not to stay with her,
knowing his torment had ended would give her peace.

Hayes’ hand slipped over hers and pressed down into his
lower abdomen. She gasped, fearing the pressure would cause him pain. Their
gazes met and held.

“Are you okay?”

His voice sounded so horribly weak and timid it broke her
heart. His insides could be a pureed mess for all she knew and he wanted to
know if she was okay. Damn it, every second made her fall for this man more.

“I’m fine, Hayes.”

“He didn’t—” He swallowed hard, actually had to work at it
and then tried to reach out and touch her face with his other hand.

“No.” She knew what he wanted to ask. Telling him about the
bastard’s hand on her ass served no purpose at the moment.

Hayes took a relieved breath. “I heard you shout for him to
get his hands off you. I rushed for the door and then heard you scream. When I
saw him standin’ over you, the look on his face and his hand reachin’ for you,
I lost control. I hope I didn’t frighten you.”

Chance pressed her cheek into his hand. “I wasn’t scared of
you, not even when you were floating above the ground and speaking with a
demonic voice.” No lie. At this point it wasn’t possible for her to be afraid
of him. “You’re my hero.”

He winced, actually flinched away from her at the word. “I’m
no hero, Chance.”

“Well, that’s your opinion. Mine’s the one that counts at
this moment.” A slight smile tugged at the corner of his lips and eased some of
her anxiety. “How do you feel?”

“The fire and thirty blades twirling around inside me have
stopped. I’ll be good as new shortly.”

She glanced down at his wrist. Fat, ugly blisters were
forming. Yeah, good as new. “Tell me what you did to deserve this inhuman
punishment.” She lifted his hand from her cheek and held it in hers, inspecting
the blisters carefully.

“I broke a rule.”

His nonchalant shrug spiked her anger. “I understand that.
What rule did you break exactly? What could you have done so damn bad that it
warranted this torture? That’s what it is, you know. Torture.”