Page 40 of Life

I felt no pain when he lifted me up and put me into the bathtub, broken and bleeding.

No pain when he pushed my head under the water.

No pain when I opened my eyes and saw his distorted face through the ripples above.

I opened my mouth to take a final breath, let it all go and be free, but instead of water, I sucked in air. Blessed air. No longer was Antonio standing over me, holding me underwater. I blinked the wet away and gasped the oxygen in. A face was now above me. Soft green eyes. Smooth tan skin, and no hair. A full mouth. A shiny gold badge.

Then the faceabove me changes. Morphs. The edges around his image blur. The room around me is changing from the blue tiled walls of the bathroom to bright white ones. The eyes, though, they are the same. The mouth still full and soft. The layers of hair falling into his face… His voice is loud. Authoritative.

“It’s just a dream. Wake up, babe. Wake up. I’m here! It’s me. Eli. I’m here.”

Eli. Not Tommy, and most importantly, not Antonio.

I wrap my arms around him and cry into his neck, trying to spit out what I know is going to happen. “Eli! He’s going to kill me. He almost did before. He’ll do it again. He won’t stop until my life leaves my body,” I choke out through copious tears.

In one swift move, Eli lifts me up and out of the bed. I cling to his neck, my tears rolling down his bare chest and back.

He sets me down in the center of his huge bed. The entire room smells of his natural brand of leather and a spice I can’t begin to name. I don’t say anything but watch as he enters a room to the right, flicking on the light. I briefly hear water running and then shutting off before he flicks the light off and comes back to the side of the bed.

“Take these. A couple of Tylenol. It will help.”

I follow his instructions without a word. Once I’m done, he takes the glass back and sets it on the nightstand before moving around the bed and getting in. He rolls to his side, wraps an arm around my waist, and tugs me to him. He’s a veritable furnace to my cold, gooseflesh-ridden skin. His heat quickly seeps into my skin and bones, and I finally relax, the dream starting to dissipate, its evil claws releasing their hold.

“You want to tell me about it?” His tone is gentler than he’s used before.

I shake my head.

“You scared me, babe. The gut-wrenching scream made me think he’d gotten to you in my house. In. My. Fucking. House. And my house is secure. I have the best security possible.”

I swallow and nod.

“Tell me,” he urges, locking his arm over my waist more fully.

Safe. “It was the night he almost killed me. The night your brother saved me from him.”

“That’s how you met? You and Thomas?”

“Yeah. He saved me all those years ago, took me to a hospital, and came back months later when I was released from the hospital and brought me to the shelter where I met Gigi. Both of our men had done a number on us, and we escaped with our lives.”

“I read the report. But I thought you weren’t together that long.” His voice is low and comforting in the still of the night.

“We weren’t. I hadn’t seen him after that for years until we ran into one another at the local pub where the girls and I hang out. He was there with some of his detective buddies. He asked how I was doing, if I was single, and then asked me out.” I smile, remembering that night fondly.

Eli chuckles behind me. “Smart man. But I wouldn’t have waited. I’d have followed up with you after the hospital and shelter.”

“I didn’t look like I do now. He wouldn’t have seen me the same way. I was black-and-blue and broken in a million pieces when he saved me that night.”

“Babe, you could be bald, forty pounds heavier, and have pink and purple polka dots all over your body, and I’d still want you.”

Dios mio,he’s breaking me down. “Charming,” I say sarcastically, but truthfully, it was one of the nicest things a man had ever said to me.

He sucks in a long breath. “I call ’em like I see ’em.”

“That is true. You definitely don’t mince words.”

“You know what else I’m telling the truth on?”

My heartbeat picks up, beating against my chest the same way it did when I was lost to the nightmare, or should I say memory. “What?”

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