Page 24 of This Is Love
As my stomach flips and bile surges up to the back of my throat, my gaze flicks from this psycho to the door. I’ve gotta get out of here.Three. Two. One.I grasp the door handle and squeeze, throwing the door open just as my captor’s hand encircles my upper arm.Fuck!
“Come on. Don’t you want to have some fun?”
“N-no.” My jaw clenches against the stutter in my voice. “Let me go.” I struggle to free myself of his hold, but he twists, bringing his left hand to rest on my thigh. I suck in a breath, looking from the blade to his face, which is way too close. We are in the middle of nowhere. Unbidden, a whimper climbs up my throat and slips from between my lips.
“Come on. Just suck my dick, and I’ll let you go.” He chuckles, a look of sheer mirth in his eyes—only I don’t think he’s joking, he’s simply amused by my terror. “And maybe let me touch you a little.”
Struggling again, I manage to unbuckle my seat belt, “F-fine. I’ll do it.” My eyes crash shut as his light up.
“Go ahead then,” he whispers, gesturing to the hard-on protruding from his underwear, “let’s see what you got. Take it out.”
I might be having a heart attack, but I swallow and nod, shifting in the seat. I lean in, and as I brace my hand on his thigh and reach for his dick with the other, he lets go of my arm. I make a fist and slam it down on his tiny, hard erection with as much force as I can muster. He howls as I use every bit of my dancer’s agility to turn and scramble from the Jeep.
“Motherfucking bitch!” Before I can escape, his gloved hand snatches at me, and as I wrench free, I crash to my hands and knees on the gravel. It abrades my skin, and I cry out in pain.Glancing back, I realize he’s got his door open, and a shot of adrenaline careens through my body. I push to my feet as he shouts more obscenities at my back. “Fucking cunt! Get back here!”
I suck in a breath as he comes after me, one hand cupping his junk, the eyes behind the ski mask blazing with fury.Oh my god, I can’t die tonight.Not happening.Taking off like a shot, I sprint toward the protection of the tree line at the side of the road. I scream internally and don’t dare look back.
13
LOGAN
I runmy hand over my jaw, sitting in the Evermore Memorial waiting room for a second time in mere hours. Not exactly where I want to be right now, but I’d feel like a shithead if I walked out. Jaxon had been so fucking angry when he got out of the car. So, there’s that, but also some of what I’d overheard when I came in. Namely, the fact that his mother, Macie, doesn’t have health insurance. And Jaxon had been talking to them about a payment plan.
It would make sense that she would no longer be on Eric’s insurance policy once the divorce was final. I guess she hasn’t ever gotten her own. I blow out a hard breath. But what sense does that make? She’s diabetic.
Unease settles over me. I have no idea what’s going on, because surely Macie got a huge settlement in the divorce. There’s a part of me that’d felt bad for even catching the conversation he was having with the lady at the registration desk, yet some of what I learned is surely another clue to the enigma that is Jaxon Ledger. My stepbrother’s behavior has been a puzzle to me that I wasn’t sure I’d ever figure out—and honestly hadn’t wanted to until now—but more and moreis falling into place. And what I’m learning has me feeling strangely off kilter.
My brain clicks back to his sour comment as he hauled ass away from the car earlier. Why does he think my mom broke up their family? As far as I know, Eric and Macie were divorced by the time Mom met him. My stomach twists. But what if he wasn’t? The insinuation that my mother is a homewrecker is enough to make me ill.
It makes me want to help him somehow. Because it’s obvious he and his mom are struggling, and I hate to think that it has anything to do with our families merging… but I’m concerned that it does, and I simply have been out in left field with the sun in my eyes all this time, blinding me to what’s really going on. I feel… selfish.
But as much as offering help might seem like a good idea to the casual observer, I know Jaxon too well to think he’d accept anything from me. Hell, he isn’t going to want me sticking my nose in it at all. I told him when I got here that I’d be staying, but he’ll be pissed I haven’t left, no doubt in my mind.
The sound of fast-paced footsteps pries me free of my thoughts, and I glance up. Jaxon’s hurrying toward me, phone up to his ear and a concerned look on his face. “It’s Rya,” he whispers in a low voice. “I don’t know what’s happened, but she’s crying. Something about ballet shoes and a masked freak and the goddamn woods.” He gives his head a disbelieving shake.
My brows crash together. Nothing that just came out of his mouth makes any fucking sense and has my head jerking back. “What?” I gesture to his phone, alarm filling me. “Is she still on the line?”
He nods, his dark eyes holding an anguish that has everything to do with the girl caught up in the war between us.
Working my jaw to the side, I hold out my hand. “I can try to talk to her.” As I make the suggestion, it occurs to me that Rya has done something I never thought possible. She’s scared… and she called someone other than me. The idea of it tears my heart to shreds. Jaxon stares steadily at me, and I’m sure he’s wondering if it’s a good idea since she didn’t reach out to me instead. I allow my eyes to drift shut against the pain her choice has caused me.
“Rya. Listen to me, pretty girl. Logan’s here. He’s with me.” He pauses, and I hate not being aware of her response. “I’m—we’re—at the hospital… with my mom.” He stops again to listen. “No. Don’t worry about it. Logan wants to talk to you.” Wetting his lips, he listens intently. “It’s okay, we’re going to help you. No one is hanging up the phone until we figure out where you are. One second.” He hands the phone to me. “She’s fuckin’ terrified,” he grits out, the dread and uncertainty in his voice barreling into me.
Holding the phone up to my ear, I immediately hear Rya’s panicked breathing. It makes my already anxious heart ache. “Rya, it’s me.”
“Lo-Logan?” Her voice sounds like she’s on the verge of losing it, the strain evident.
“Yeah, it’s me. Where are you? Any idea?”
What comes next is a rush of words that hardly sound like English.
“Whoa,” I murmur. “Slow down. Deep breaths. I can’t understand you.”
Just then, a nurse appears, looking chagrined to have to interrupt. “Jaxon, sorry. Your mom is asking for you.”
His eyes crash shut, then he grips me by the shoulder. “Take the phone, take my car. You’ve already got the keys.”
I exhale hard, “Okay. I’m on it. I’ll try to get a hold of you if?—”
