Page 63 of Drive To Survive

His lips curved at the edges, the smile malevolent. I suppressed a shiver and backed up a bit. If I caught him off guard and made a run for the front door, I might make it. But what if I didn’t? Until last night, in my heart of hearts, I wouldn’t have thought Paul capable of violence. Anger, yes. A temper, most definitely. But physical violence toward a woman? Never. If I didn’t have the shadow of a bruise on my chin, and a cut to the inside of my top lip where Paul had kissed me so roughly, it wouldn’t have ever crossed my mind.

“There’s plenty to say, Ev. So I suggest you get in there, sit your ass down, keep your mouth shut, and listen.”

He flicked his wrist, a gesture for me to go into the living room. I did, only because that brought me closer to the front door, and a chance at escape, should I need it. Perversely, though, there was a part of me that wanted—no, needed—to hear what he had to say. To watch him try to worm his way out of a situation all of his own making and with a solid justification—because there wasn’t one.

I sat on the arm of the chair, a lamp within reach and the front door less than ten feet away. I estimated I’d need about five seconds to unhook the chain, twist the lock, and then open the door. If he tried anything, I’d stun him with the lamp and make a dash for it.

“I did love you, Ev,” he kicked off with. “And seeing you now, I still do. We could make a go of it. The three of us. You, me, and Rhett. There’s nothing to stop us now.”

I shook my head. He just didn’t get it.

“There’s no point, Paul. I don’t feel anything for you.”

“But you could. You loved me once. We just need some time. The three of us. We could take a trip. Vegas, maybe.”

I laughed. “Vegas? Yeah, great idea with a six-year-old in tow. They just love the slots.”

He flexed his jaw, and a vein pulsed in his temple. I recognized that tell as a precursor to Paul’s temper on the rise. The time had come to end this. He wasn’t going to say anything that would remotely make me feel any less used by a man in an authoritative position who took advantage of an innocent twenty-year-old girl, and I was stupid to think otherwise.

Rising to my feet, I motioned toward the door. “There’s nothing you can say, Paul. I want you to leave.”

“No.”

One short word, yet it was enough to send a tremor rushing through me.

“Nico will be here soon,” I lied. “It’s better for you if you’re not here when he arrives, especially after what you did last night. He’s furious, and I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”

Paul laughed, his eyes glittering dangerously. “You think I’m scared of a fucking cripple?” He threw his arms out to the side. “Let him do his worst.”

Anger burst within me. He could call me names all he liked, but Nico was not a cripple. I felt around for the lamp, my fingers curling around the cord.

“Nico is worth ten of you. He’s a better father to Rhett than you ever were or could ever be. He’s arranging a lawyer. A top lawyer. One who’ll make sure you never see Rhett again. Now get out or I’ll call the police.”

“Good luck with that plan, babe,” he declared. “Your cell is on the kitchen table. Let’s see if you can get by me.” He feinted, like a football player trying to stop an opponent from sprinting past.

My legs shook, knees virtually knocking together. “Stop playing games, Paul.”

His lips twisted cruelly. “Who said I’m playing games?”

He took a single step in my direction. I swung the lamp. It smashed against the side of his head, and he stumbled. I didn’t stick around to see if he was okay. I ran for the door. The chain came away easily, but as I twisted the lock, Paul’s hands slammed against the door on either side of my head. And then he grabbed a handful of my hair and yanked me backward. I screamed as loud as I could. Dorothy, please hear me.

“Shut up!” Paul yelled.

I saw his fist coming, but I didn’t move fast enough. It slammed into the side of my head, up by my temple. I fell, cracking my head on the corner of the coffee table. Nausea swirled in my gut, creeping into my throat. Paul loomed over me, his mouth moving, but I couldn’t make out the words.

My vision blurred, and darkness closed in.

Pain. Not a dull thump like the onset of a migraine. Agonizing, vicious pain. I forced my eyes to open. Why am I lying on the floor? Groaning, I tried to get up. I winced. Colorful spots danced in front of my eyes. Everything ached. My back, my hips. My ribs. I reached up to touch my head. Blood. My fingers were covered in blood. I extended my arm out, grabbed onto the edge of the sofa, and hauled myself up. Even that minor effort exhausted me. I slumped. The slightest movement sent fiery bursts of agony shooting through my temple.

I need help.

I rose to my feet, and the entire room swirled and spun. Feeling my way along the wall, I made it into the kitchen. I grabbed a cloth off the counter and ran it under the faucet, then pressed it to my head. After rinsing it out a few times, the bleeding stopped. I collapsed onto a chair, my gaze falling on my cell. I’d missed several calls from the school.

My stomach lurched, and I went cold.

Don’t panic. It might be something simple, like Rhett is unwell and they need me to come pick him up.

I returned the call.

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