Page 75 of Maverick

Okay, I could do this.

This was almost certainly a trap, but I couldn’t risk that Mabel was inside hurt and alone. Or worse, at the mercy of a man like Trent.

So I pushed open the open door and stepped inside, entering as quietly as I could.

The house was completely dark, despite the fact that it was the middle of the day, and it was eerily quiet, which put me on edge because it was so at odds with the way Mabel’s house normally was. Today there was no music blaring, no scent of food cooking in the oven, and most of all, it was without Mabel’s throaty laughter.

“Mabel,” I called out in a low whisper.

There was no answer. My heart pounded in my chest as I took each step carefully, closing my eyes to listen for any movement that might be Mabel. Or someone else. The idea of coming face-to-face with Trent after all these months had a giant ball of stress settling deep in my belly, but there was no reason to worry about it now. I was here to help Mabel, no matter what.

“Mabel,” I called out again in a whisper, but she didn’t answer, and I couldn’t hear the telltale thump of her cane on the wooden floor. My shoulders fell in defeat, and I took another step forward, ignoring the way my heart raced because I was determined to find Mabel. Find her and get her the medical attention she needed, before I headed back to the clubhouse.

The living room was empty, but behind me there was a familiar creak that I’d heard often in the few short weeks I worked for Mabel, one of the floorboards in the hallway was loose and whenever anyone approached it groaned softly. I knew, just knew, without turning around that it wasn’t Mabel or Mrs. P. The creak was loud, and it squeaked under a heavy weight. The footsteps of a man, and not an elderly woman or a child. Turning slowly, I took a defensive step back at the sight of my worst nightmare. Trent.

His lips curled into a menacing smile. “Hello, wife. Miss me?”

Anger and fear pulsed through me in equal parts, my fight or flight instinct veering towards flight, except Trent was blocking the exit. I could run through the back door, but that would leave Mabel alone. I dared a look into the eyes of the man who terrorized me for years and I felt more anger pulse through me. Anger and disgust as I stood a little taller and met him head on. “Not even a little bit.”

His smile faded and I knew what that meant even before he lunged towards me. “Bitch, you’ll pay for that.”

I jumped back instinctively, letting out a loud cry of pain when the back of my knees crashed into Mabel’s solid wood coffee table. I didn’t fall, thankfully, I just stumbled. Unfortunately, it was enough of a stumble for Trent to get his hands on me. He grabbed my hair first, and the familiar terrified scream exited my mouth.

Suddenly, I was right back in Ohio in the dining room, running away from certain danger and failing as his free hand wrapped around my throat. “Now this is familiar, isn’t it?” He released my hair to smack me across the face four times. “God, I’ve missed you, baby.”

I resisted the urge to throw up at his words, uttered without sincerity. “Wish I could say the same,” I choked out. “But I was happier than I’ve ever been. Without you.” I knew it was a mistake the moment the words left my mouth, but I needed to say it. For me.

For Sophie.

His smile faded. “Bitch,” he growled, pulling his arm back and releasing with as much force as he could.

His fist hit my face a little too high to break my nose, but just enough to hurt like hell. “Son of a bitch!” I fell back and hit my head on the table, which made my vision blur, but still I scrambled to my knees and tried to stand up.

“Not so fast,” he warned, and grabbed a handful of my hair, yanking me backwards. “You didn’t think I’d let you get away so easily, did you, Grace?”

Maybe I was hopeful, but I could see now that it was just a fairytale. But still, I knew this sin, leaving him and taking Sophie with me, would earn me the most severe punishment, which meant I had no choice. I dropped my head forward and let Trent get the upper hand so that when he was feeling confident and mean, he wouldn’t expect what I did next. I sent my head flying back into his face, unsure what I hit or didn’t, but the sickening crunch felt good. Really good. Trent fell backwards, but he didn’t let me go, which meant I fell on top of him. It wasn’t ideal, but I drove my knees into his chest, dug my nails into both sides of his face and pulled down as hard as I could. His skin tore under my nails and he let out a long, wailing cry that would draw the attention of the neighbors if they were home.

“Ah, kitten has claws.” He punched me in the stomach twice.

I fell backwards, hitting my head on the floor. My vision blurred and my head throbbed as Trent got to his feet and sent one heavy boot flying into my side over and over and over again.

“Stop,” I shouted as I curled into a ball. I knew my words wouldn’t make a difference. If anything, they would make him even more determined to do maximum damage.

“Never!” He had a crazed look in his eyes as he raised one foot high above me and brought it down just as I rolled away. “You whored around with another man,” he shouted, and stomped towards me again.

I rolled away again, heart racing as I was quickly running out of space.

“You broke your vows,” he screamed wildly, and stomped at me again. Missed again.

Of course I broke my vows because I married a sadistic asshole who only cared about himself. His wants. His needs. I scrambled towards the lamp in the corner and gripped the handle, tossing it at Trent.

“I like the fight,” he said as he fell to his back with a loud grunt. “It’ll be even more fun when I break you this time.”

His words pissed me off because they were too true. He’d done exactly that over the years, he’d broken me over and over until I learned my lesson, until I was the docile housewife who never did anything right. Who earned every bruise and broken bone, and worse, had kept silent about it for years.

He crawled towards me and, feeling bold, I pulled my knee back and let it loose quickly, sending my foot flying dead center on his stupid, angry face. The crunch beneath my shoe was loud and brutal, the blood that poured from his face, disgusting.

Empowering.

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