CHAPTER 12
Dee
Things returned to normal the next morning. Tyson was released from the hospital and was eager to go back to school and tell everyone about her hospital adventure. Since I was carless—my pickup truck was still probably at that damn club and might even be towed—I asked Lulu to swing by the hospital. To my surprise, she was driving my truck, which was fortunate because her Mini was way too small to accommodate all of Drake’s stuff. My sweet little girl planned to share the toys with her classmates and even left some behind for the children at the hospital.
“Thanks for picking up the truck,” I told my sister as I buckled Tyson into her car seat.
“Don’t thank me,” she replied, already in the front passenger seat.
“What do you mean?”
“Drake arranged to have it brought to the house.”
“Drake, the man you work for, Mommy, who gave me all these toys?” interjected my daughter.
“Yes, cupcake.”
“He’s the bestest man ever!”
My precious little girl was right. Drake was too good to be true. And as I got into the car, it frightened me as much as it excited me.
Drake was out of the office all day. His schedule included several meetings as well as auditions for a new animated series he was developing. I held things down in the office, answering emails, setting up pitches, and doing some filing. In between tasks, my mind drifted to him. It was impossible not to think about him.
I felt beholden to him for getting me through the Tyson crisis. In the course of twenty-four hours, he’d gone from being a jerk to being my hero. Though I still wasn’t sure if he screwed me and I wasn’t going to ask, his recent actions spoke louder than words. I tried hard to keep myself busy because every time I thought about him, my heart pitter-pattered and a cluster of tingles danced between my legs. He was gorgeous, funny, and successful. I’d never met a man like him nor had I ever been so attracted to anyone. But I didn’t have to do a lot of soul searching to know I didn’t stand a chance with him. I wasn’t his type and what hot, rich single guy would want a woman with a kid, who came with baggage that could sink the Titanic and was still married, to a felon no less. Fucking Kyle. I tried to bury him in the back of my mind, wishing I could bury him six feet under.
Facing my glum reality, I heard my cell phone buzz mid afternoon. A text. It was either Lulu because she was the only person in my life who texted me or my wireless carrier telling me I had a payment past due. I reached into my purse for my phone and my heart skipped a beat as I eyeballed the message. It was from Drake! How did he get my cell phone number? Had my sister given it to him? Or maybe he’d gotten it from Human Resources? With an unsteady hand, I read it.
Drake: I’m bored. This audition is dragging on. The actors can’t get their lines right.
Me: I’m sorry. Didn’t they practice?
Drake: Nah. Voice actors can be lazy.
Me: It must be fun. Have you ever tried?
Drake: Once. I played a leprechaun prince and had to contort my voice.
Me: What did you have to say?
Drake: I’ve screwed everyone in this kingdom, but I only have eyes for you, my frog princess.
I almost dropped my phone as I laughed out loud. I could also feel my cheeks heating and wet heat pooling between my legs.
Me: LOL! You didn’t really say that.
Drake: I did. Boy Scout Honor.
Me: LOL! You were never a Boy Scout.
Drake: That’s true. I was a Girl Scout.
I laughed out loud again. My boss was witty. It was time to show him again that I could be witty too. I could have made some transgender joke, but I went in a different direction.
Me: And what kind of girls did you scout for?
Drake: Cute brunettes with perky boobs and big fat ponytails.
A heat wave flashed through me and the flutters between my legs intensified. Holy shit! He was describing me! He texted again before I could respond.
Drake: What are you doing tonight? Big plans?
I hesitated to reply. Ty had convinced me to let her sleep over her friend Chandra’s house again, and with all she’d been through and her birthday around the corner, I couldn’t say no. I texted Drake back. With the truth. Pity party for one.
Me: Nada.
Drake: :-)
My blood bubbled. The cocky bastard was happy I was alone on a Friday night? Was there a flip off emoji I could send him? Before I could find one and lose my job, he sent me another text.
Drake: I’m coming over. I want you to listen to the auditions with me and help me cast the voices. I can’t think straight.
Neither could I. My boss had a dizzying affect on me.
Drake: And you’ll be paid overtime.
The extra money, despite how much I needed it, had nothing to do with my sudden temperature spike or giddiness. It was a work date, I told myself. Just a work date.
I got home a little after six. Lulu must be teaching an evening Zumba class as her car wasn’t parked in the driveway. I could never keep track of her frenetic schedule especially since it seemed to change weekly. In addition to her group classes at gyms all over the city, she was building a strong client base as a personal Zumba instructor.
Tossing my purse on the couch, I made a beeline for the kitchen, hoping to find a bottle of wine in the fridge. I was both excited and anxious about Drake coming over and hoped a glass of Two Buck Chuck would relax me. It’s business, just business I told myself, my nerves buzzing.
I stepped into the kitchen and froze. All the air left my lungs.
“What the hell are you doing here?” My voice was filled with shock and rage and I could feel fear pouring into my veins.
A beer bottle in his hand, he turned around and glared at me with his steel blue eyes. A wicked smirk crossed his lips. “Nice to see you too, darlin’. You’re lookin’ good.”
I met his predatory gaze. Kyle! He hadn’t changed much…still tall and sinewy, but his face was now lined and bearded, his russet hair longer and in some kind of man bun. Jetting from his befitting wifebeater, the sleeves of tattoos that had once so turned me on repulsed me.
He took a long chug of the beer and strutted my way. I was too afraid to move as he swaggered up to me. I could feel the heat of his breath on my cheek and smell the stench of the alcohol. He was for sure drunk. Drunk as usual.
Still holding the bottle, he leaned into me and, with his other hand, yanked hard at my ponytail, pulling my head back. “You let your hair grow. It looks good.”
My breath hitched. “I-I thought you were still in prison.”
He laughed. “Nope. Been there. Done that. Got out for good behavior. Just call me Mr. Goody Two Shoes.” He laughed again.
“How did you find me?”
He snickered. “Piece of cake. I have friends everywhere.”
“How did you get in here?”
He snorted. “Looks like someone left the backdoor open.”
Dammit. Lulu sometimes did that when she took the garbage out. “Why are you here?”
“I want you back.”
My blood turned to Freon as my heart raced in my chest.
“Kyle, it’s over. I want you to leave.”
His long, pointed tongue slithered across his upper lip. “I’m not going anywhere, babe, until I get a taste of you.”
I jerked my head away as his slobbering lips smacked down on mine. He nudged me to open my mouth for his tongue, but I kept my lips clamped. He slid the hand holding the beer between my legs, and began jabbing me with the bottle. Forcefully, harder and harder. He was hurting me. Moans and groans clogged my throat. And then I did it—I slapped him across his face. So hard the whack stung my hand. He pulled away.
“Why the fuck did you do that, bitch?” He rubbed the rosy handprint I’d left on his right cheek.
“Get the hell out of here.”
He snarled. “I’m not going anywhere until I get a piece of your ass and see my kid.”
My already rapid heartbeat quickened. I could feel my pulse in my throat. Fear surged in my blood vessels as I tried to think rationally. With his violent streak and drunken state, there was no telling how far he’d go.
“Tyson isn’t here. Now, leave!”
“Bullshit. Let me see her or I’m going to give it to you.”
“Kyle, if you don’t leave, I’m going to call the police.”
I impulsively turned on my heel, but as I took a step, he grabbed me, knocking me to the kitchen floor, flat on my back.
“Oh no you’re not,” he growled, pouncing upon me and holding me down with the weight of his body and the force of his hands. I writhed and wailed. “Let go of me!”
“Shut up, cunt!” he yelled with a sharp whack across my face that made me wince with pain. Tears stung my eyes as he squeezed me prisoner with his legs.
“Please don’t hurt me,” I begged, the tears now falling. I was trapped by him and helpless. Screaming for help at the top of my lungs wouldn’t help as no one lived on either side of our house and rarely did anyone walk by it.
Setting his beer bottle on the floor after another guzzle, he popped the button of his jeans and zipped down his fly. Thank God, he wasn’t commando. He rubbed his cock vigorously and I watched it swell beneath the fabric of his black boxer briefs. He breathed heavily against me.
“Remember good ol’ Joe Cocker?”
I never wanted to hear that name again. His pet name for his dick. I bit down on my trembling lip.
His mouth twisted into another diabolical smirk. “Well, if you don’t, let me refresh your memory.”
I shuddered as my breath caught.
“Open your legs for me, sweetheart, or I’ll open them for you.”
“No, please!” I sobbed out, my entire body shaking. I could already feel the pain of his penetration even before he entered me. How could I have ever fallen in love with this man? This monster.
“Are you wet for me?”
I couldn’t get words past my constricted throat. My lips quivered as sobs wracked my body.
“Answer me, bitch!” Without warning, his hand crashed across my face again, this time even harder, leaving a burning sensation in its wake. I cried out in pain. And then my eyes grew wide.
“Get the fuck off her.” Two large hands pulled Kyle off me by the edge of his wifebeater. Drake! My knight in shining armor. He shoved Kyle forcefully against the kitchen counter, one hand gripping his neck, the other his shoulder.
“Who the fuck are you?” Kyle choked out, turning red with rage as I scrambled to my feet.
“Your worst nightmare.”
“Drake, watch out!”
It was too late for a warning. In one swift move, Kyle grabbed an empty beer bottle off the counter and smashed it over Drake’s head. The glass bottle broke in half. I watched in horror as Drake, dazed, recoiled, stumbling on his feet and holding a hand to his head. Blood trickling down his face, he cursed under his breath and groaned.
Stepping backward, I ended up plastered against a wall as Kyle pulled up his worn jeans and took angry giant steps toward me. He pressed his hard, wiry body against me and poked his index finger into my throat, holding it there like a gun. A terrifying thought assaulted me. What if he actually had a gun? Terror filled every cell of my body.
“So, is that your motherfucking boyfriend?” he growled in my face.
“I’m more than her boyfriend,” came Drake’s enraged voice, “you fucking cocksucker.”
Before I could blink, Drake lunged toward Kyle, hurling him off me once more.
“You’re going to pay!” Spinning Kyle around, Drake punched him in the face with ear-splitting force and then gave a hard kick to his balls. Cursing, Kyle clutched his crotch.
“And here’s another one for good measure, fuckface.” With his powerful knee, Drake jabbed Kyle in the balls again. Groaning loudly, Kyle bent over in pain and then staggered out the backdoor. Rather than going after him, Drake took me into his strong arms.
“Are you okay?” he asked, tenderly brushing a strand of hair out of my eye.
Still shaking, I nodded and held him in my gaze. Kyle had cracked open Drake’s head and blood was pouring down his face from the sizeable gash above his eyebrow.
“You’re hurt.”
“I’ll live. Who was that motherfucker?”
I heaved a deep breath. “My husband.”
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