Page 21 of Life

I shook my head. “I don’t think he did. I don’t.” I scrambled to say anything that would diffuse Tony’s anger. Thinking quickly, I wrapped my arms around his neck lovingly, the way he liked. “Tony, my tiger, I only want your touch. Always. Forever.”

His mouth twisted into a white-lipped snarl. “Yes. And I shall prove how this body is mine and only mine.”

I swallowed and widened my eyes. Usually this type of proprietary talk spoke of a session in the sheets that would blow my mind, but the way he said it did not lend to tidings of romance and rough sex.

Just as I was about to ask what he had in mind, he gripped my arm, tugged the towel off my body, and flung me toward the bath. He toppled me into the water and then held my body under. I thrashed and kicked, holding my breath for as long as I could. All I could see above me through the ripples of the water was his ugly scowl. The hate and fire in his eyes burned as much as the water did as I gulped heaps into my throat and lungs.

The pain was excruciating. Water filled my mouth, nose, and throat like a tidal wave crashing to shore. I felt the moment my body started to go limp, and blackness surrounded my vision before I was yanked out of the tub and thrown over the edge, where Tony lifted me up and pounded my back until I vomited water across the tile floor.

“There you go. You see,mi reina?” He held me close and placed kiss after kiss against my wet skin as I heaved the last bits of water from my stomach and lungs. “Look at you. Needing me. Don’t you see? I hold your life in my hands.”

“Jesus fucking hell!” Eli stands up and paces the floor. “He nearly drowned you that time?”

I shrug and wipe my eyes. Tears are flowing again, and I realize I’ve told the story out loud.

“That time?” I chuckle lamely.

“You mean he did it more than once?” His eyes are twin green circles of anger.

I glance over the couch to the bookcase. Abraham Lincoln. Hellen Keller. Dr. Martin Luther King. Pieces of what this man I know very little about likes to read. He must enjoy reading about people who made a difference in our lives. Those who shaped American civilization. Maybe he planned to one day shape the way we see the world.

“Answer me,” he thunders.

“Why? So you can go all macho man crazy?”

He frowns and then comes back to sit next to me. Right next to me. His thigh touches me where I have my feet splayed in front of me. I wiggle my toes and tuck them under his leg to warm them.

“No, because the more I know, the better I will be at catching this twisted motherfucker.”

I lick my lips and look down at my fingers. The nail polish I’d put on the other day is chipping at the edges, the soft pink revealing the dry, brittle nails beneath. “Yeah, he liked water games,” I respond dryly.

“Why?”

This man sees a lot. He catches criminals for a living. How he cannot understand a man’s desire to control a woman by whatever means necessary is beyond me. Then again, maybe Antonio is a special breed of evil.

I blink a few times and then purse my lips. “Obvious reasons.”

“Which are?”

“The number one being because water torture didn’t leave any visible marks.”

Chapter Six

Adeep rumblingsound wakes me. I open my eyes to a room still dark, even though it feels like I’ve been asleep for a full ten hours. The blackout blinds over the windows are phenomenal. Definitely need to get me a pair for my bedroom windows. Once I get my bearings, I lift up and strain to hear what’s being said in the office across from the guest room I’m currently occupying. The clock on the side table shows it’s only seven. Eli must be an early riser.

Pushing back the covers, I tiptoe on bare feet to the wooden door cracked open about an inch. I usually sleep with the door completely closed. He must have looked in on me while I slept last night, even though I don’t recall going to bed. I should be creeped out by him spying on me while I am vulnerable and asleep, but all I can come up with is a feeling of warmth and happiness that he cared enough to check on me.

I open the door a few inches and listen near the opening.

“My team scored me the police report from the last time Maria saw Antonio Ramirez. I’m faxing it now.” Eli’s voice is curt and stern.

Even the mere speck of a reminder of that awful night grates on my anxiety, stirring my fear into a thick roux.

A few beeps ring through the space, which is probably him faxing whatever document his mystical team of misfit crime fighters found.

“Got it? Good. It’s not pretty, man. Downright fucking ugly.” He sighs. “My brother put two bullets in the guy. Hip and knee, after the scumbag broke both of her legs with a baseball bat and tried to drown her in a bathtub, which I understand was nowhere near the first time. Thomas barely got to her in time. She was damn lucky not one, buttwoneighbors called in a disturbance, one mentioning they thought the woman of the house was in grave danger.” Eli rubs a hand through his hair. “This guy is dangerous.”

A few moments of silence tick by as I shift closer. Eli is pacing the room with a cordless phone to his ear, wearing only a pair of plaid pajama pants.

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