Page 15 of Fighter
Benjamin hadn't covered this. Or had he? My mind suddenly fractured, and all I could think about was air.
He stomped a foot onto my side and shoved me to the ground. Pain wired through my body, hot and fast as lightning. I struggled to regain breath, too weak to shove him off when he pressed a foot into my chest. An audiblecracksounded seconds before pain shot through my body again. My breath rushed back all at once, exacerbating the heat. I slammed a fist into his calf to get him to move, but his leg was too heavy. He leaned too much weight into it.
He didn't even notice.
“You know nothing,” he growled.
Seconds later, I was pinned against the fridge by my throat while he screamed. Emotion built in his eyes. Were those tears? No. Rage? He screamed incomprehensibly. Whatever came over him was dark. Foreign. Something else. The anxiety. The meds. A combination of all of them.
Or something worse.
He released me and I scrambled away with a desperate gasp, but he grabbed me by the hair and hauled me back. A backhand across the face sent stars across my vision. Somewhere in the blur of pain and disbelief came another voice.
“Talmage!”
Had I imagined it? Was Amber here?
Whoever it was, the voice distracted him. He paused, hand poised to strike again, when a semblance of humanity came back to him. When he glanced over his shoulder toward the front door, his grip on me loosened. I grabbed my only chance.
With a cry, I drove my fist into his knee. The unexpected blow took him by surprise and he dropped with a grunt. Then I hammer-punched his injured shoulder with the keys in my hand so I could clamber over him. He squealed like a pig, and it gave me the space to get out of his reach. Amber let out a cry and dropped to her knees.
“That's his injured shoulder!” she cried.
Panting, I backed away. My back slammed into the door as I fumbled for my phone. My head swam, dizzy now.
“Talmage!” Amber’s too-thin body was visible beneath a dirty tank top as she put her hands on his bright red face. “I'm here. I'm here.”
“Sera!” he gasped, the word lined with terrifying rage.
My side on fire, I bolted outside. No one followed me as I slipped out of sight into a grove of trees, grabbed my phone, and called 911.
“911,” answered a voice. “What's your emergency?”
“My brother is going to kill me,” I panted. “Please send someone now.”
“You going to be all right here?”
Jayson Hernandez, a county deputy, stood in the doorway to the small hotel room I'd managed to rent. His shoulders shadowed the room as he stepped inside, then frowned. He had thick forearms and a quick smile. With his short black hair and warm hazel eyes, he was a charmer. He'd come into the Diner several times after his shifts, and always tipped well. To have him witness all of this was . . . embarrassing, at best. But his serious mein and professional manner kept me from wanting to fold in on myself as I scanned the hotel room.
The bar that housed these hotel rooms lay in the heart of Pineville, just next to the pizza place, and a short walk from work. If I moved to the front of the building, the Diner would be visible just down the road, by the MMA Center.
More importantly, it was smack dab in the middle of everything. People added security. Talmage wouldn't come here.
Which was a good thing.
My hastily packed bags lay on the hotel bed, which had a headboard made of thick wooden logs and a lamp with an adorable bear peering around the back. It seemed impossible that only a few hours had passed. That the world still moved on. That no one else had noticed my entire life shifting a bit more to the wrong angle.
“Sera?”
Jayson's quiet question pulled me from my spiraling thoughts. I nodded, my voice scratchy when I turned to face him.
“Yeah,” I said. “I'll be good here. Thanks for the ride and for all the help.”
“I'll talk to the owner,” he said. “Make sure you're good, just in case. If you need anything, just give me a call.”
He pushed my bike the rest of the way into the room.
“Thanks, Jayson.”
