Stout

  “Not to me.” I’m going to change his mind about this.

  “I want this one to be special. A birthday you’ll never forget. And I’m going to make sure that happens when we get home.”

  “I’ll take that.”

  The band is playing their version of “I Don’t Want To Change You” by Damien Rice. One of my favorites. “You told Marlana this was our song. I think it should be.”

  “It’s a good one.”

  I’m not sure it’s right for a couple to make a song theirs without fitting lyrics. “But it doesn’t describe us. It says the opposite.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because I’m trying to change you, or change your mind, about giving me the things I want.” I’m not sure that’s fair to Oliver. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’m being selfish.

  “I’ve been doing research. We’re gonna find ways to compromise.” He’s interested and open to learning. He wants to bend?

  “What kind of research?”

  “You’ll see.”

  “Tonight?” Please say yes.

  “Perhaps.”

  “I’m ready for this party to be over so we can go to your house.”

  Oliver holds the sides of my face and kisses me, sucking my bottom lip into his mouth. “You like doing that, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, but I like sucking your clit more.”

  Tingly sensations spread throughout my lower pelvis. “Totally unfair to say that when we have to wait.”

  “I want you thinking about it the rest of the night. I need my good girl to be drenching wet for me.” I love when he puts an edge of growl behind his words.

  “No worries there. You’ve taken care of that.”

  “Good.” There’s that smile. Triumphant. Smug. Sexy as fuck.

  I need to get away from Oliver before I consider dragging him into a broom closet. “I should check in with Michelle. Make sure everything is going according to plan. You need to mingle with your guests.”

  “I’d rather be with you. But I’ll make the rounds to talk to everyone because you say so.”

  “Don’t have too many beers. I don’t want your senses overly dulled later.” I have a surprise in store for him.

  “Don’t worry, baby. I have no intentions of missing out on a thing you have planned for me.”

  * * *

  Oliver’s friends don’t know when to stop partying. He’s a beer brewer so I guess it goes with the territory. But damn. It’s after one in the morning. I’m ready to go so we can get the after-party started.

  “I know my brother’s friends well. Do whatever it takes to start moving them out of here or they’ll stay all night.”

  I know what I have to do. “It’s a concert venue. I’ll get the band to play “Closing Time.” That’ll get some of their asses moving out the door.”

  “Well . . . maybe.” Lawrence doesn’t sound optimistic.

  “If that doesn’t work, I’ll have them turn on all the lights.” Drunks hate well-lit places. A flip of the switch and it’s like a stampede of rats running for the sewers.

  An hour. A fucking hour to get everyone out of the building. I will need to remember that if I ever plan another party for Oliver’s friends.

  “Michelle, I’m going to start taking boxes to the van.”

  “I’m putting it in overdrive so we can get out of here before sunup.” I can tell she doesn’t mind being here late. I don’t think she has stopped smiling since I told her to take charge.

  “I’m going to pay you overtime.”

  “You don’t have to do that. I’m one hundred percent fine with being here.” She stops and does her happy dance. The running man. “I got to take charge.” Her dancing is better than her singing.

  “And you did a fabulous job. I’m very proud of you.” She’s young, but I see so much of myself in her. Such a go-getter. I’m happy she hasn’t been put into a position where she must depend on someone like Martin to achieve success. If she stays on the right path, I’m going to help this girl go places.

  Michelle comes to me. She wraps her arms around me and squeezes. “Thank you so much, Adelyn, for trusting me enough to pass the baton.”

  This won’t be the last time I do it. “I think we should let you take over more often.”

  Having a right hand as needed, one I could trust, would be priceless. Oliver and I might actually get some weekends together.

  “I’d love that.”

  “Why don’t you go and let me take care of this?” That is such a tempting offer. “Kevin can help me carry this stuff to the van. Go on. Get out of here and enjoy the rest of the night with your boyfriend.”

  Boyfriend.

  I think I will. “Thanks. See you Monday.”

  The place has cleared out but I don’t see Oliver anywhere in sight.

  I’m leaving. Where are you?

  Parking lot. Talking with friends.

  Got to put something in the van around back then we’re leaving. Hope you’re ready for the real party.

  Fuck yes.

  Good. Give me 5.

  I’m standing by the van when I’m pushed against its back door with my arms shoved over my head. Hard cock pressing against my ass. Not painful but definitely forceful. Authoritative. Domineering. Powerful.

  Oliver is beginning to take this role as a dominant male seriously.

  I fucking love it.

  I sway my ass from side to side, rubbing it against him. “Couldn’t wait five minutes, huh?”

  Oliver binds one hand around both of my wrists to hold me in place. His other hand snakes around my waist beneath my skirt and dives into my panties. Two fingers plunge inside me, thrusting slowly.

  “Mmm . . . that feels good.”

  Warm breath against my ear sends goosebumps down my body. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed this sweet little cunt, my kitten.”

  Fuck. No, no, no.

  I look at the strong arm pinning my hands to the van.

  No black shirt with the sleeves rolled to the upper forearm.

  No tattoo.

  No.

  In its place, I see a white button-down with a monogrammed cuff link. RDM.

  Martin.

  Fuck. No.

  I buck and struggle to free myself from his hold but he’s pinning me hard with his body. He doesn’t budge. And I panic.

  My scream for Oliver is muffled when he rips his hand from my panties and covers my mouth. I bite his hand in desperation, and it leaves my mouth, landing on my neck. Right against my carotid. Martin knows exactly how to squeeze so I pass out in a snap.

  So I stop struggling. If I black out, this is over.

  “I saw you on that stage tonight, and everything about us came rushing back to me. How much I miss you and how badly I want you back in my life.”

  Do not show fear. Do not feel fear. You can control your reactions. Defend yourself. Remember what Willie taught you. You spent months preparing for this moment because you knew this day would eventually happen.

  Easier said than done. I’m shaking like a fucking leaf in a storm.

  “Come back to me, Adelyn. Marry me.” What the hell? How could he think I’d do that?

  Martin would love having me under his thumb as his wife. Legally bound. I’m certain he believes this move would put an end to his blackmail problems.

  He’s out of his fucking mind.

  He tried to kill me.

  Safety is so close. Just around the corner of the building. Oliver is waiting for me. I could call out for him again but I’m terrified of what Martin will do to me. Maybe I just keep him talking. Stalling. Giving Oliver time to come for me.

  Please, Oliver. Please, come for me.

  “You so easily forget what you did to me.”

  His whiskey-infused breath is on my ear. Makes my fucking skin crawl. “I haven’t forgotten, love. But we can start over. It’ll be like that other life never happened.” He seriously thinks we can start fresh?

  One word:
Delusional.

  “I will never forget or forgive what you did to me.”

  His woodsy fragrance infused with Jack and Coke, a scent once so familiar, engulfs my nose. Sickening. How did I ever find that sexy?

  “Marry me and you’ll have everything your heart desires. I’ll give you all the babies you want. You won’t have to work. You can stay home and be a mother like you always wanted.” No. That’s what Martin wanted. Me tied to him at home with his kids. That was never my plan, but he damn sure tried to convince me it was.

  He wants to talk babies? We’ll talk babies. I’m about to drop the bomb I’ve been holding for four years.

  “You mean you’ll give me another baby to replace the one you killed when you nearly beat me to death?” I’ve always wanted to tell him he finally got his wish and then destroyed it. “I was pregnant with your child and you beat it out of me.”

  “No . . . no . . . fuck, no.” I can’t see the pain on his face, but I hear it in his voice. And I’m glad. Thrilled I’m able to hurt him in some way.

  Most men wouldn’t mourn the loss of an unborn child. But Martin’s not every man. He had gone through four wives by the time I came along and none of them had given him what he wanted so badly. A child. Specifically, a son to carry on his name and take over his empire.

  I was so certain he was infertile. That’s why I didn’t put up a fuss when he demanded I stop taking my birth control pills. I thought there was no way I’d get pregnant if his four previous wives hadn’t. He was the common denominator in the equation for no baby.

  And I was so very wrong.

  “God, you had my baby inside you that night. I wouldn’t have laid a finger on you had I known.” There isn’t a place hot enough in hell for this man. I wish he were dead and burning right now.

  “He would be three years old, probably running around getting into all kinds of mischief, if you hadn’t beat me until you killed him. Your own flesh and blood? Probably your only chance at a son.” I have no idea if the baby was a boy or girl but I know the thought of losing a son kills him.

  “Oh, God. I didn’t know, kitten.”

  Kitten. That word from his lips makes my hair stand on end. I hate it.

  He releases my hands and turns me so I’m facing him. He cradles his hands on each side of my face. “I’m so fucking sorry.” Those eyes. I never wanted to look into this man’s eyes again. He’s insane. And the dark obsession I see there confirms it.

  “I’m not sorry. Not one bit. That baby would have tied me to you the rest of my life. And you would have made me miserable every day I walked this earth.” I’ve thought that in my head on a daily basis for four years, but I’ve never said the words aloud. Because they’re so ugly and horrible.

  It was an innocent baby. It didn’t ask to be conceived. And it sure didn’t ask to be killed.

  “You’re angry with me about the baby. And you should be; it was all my fault you lost him. But I swear I’ll make it up to you. We’ll try again. I’ll put another baby inside you, and we’ll have our family.” He’s seriously lost his mind.

  “No. Way. In. Hell.” I shove at him but he doesn’t budge. “Let go of me, Martin.”

  “No. You’re coming home tonight, back into our bed, where you belong. So help me, Adelyn, I will throw you over my shoulder and carry you if you fight me. You know I will.” Yes. I know all too well what Martin is capable of doing. If he says he’s taking me, he fucking means it.

  And now I’m absolutely terrified.

  It’s now or never.

  “Oliver!” I’m able to scream his name once before Martin spins me around and pins me in a bear hug with one hand over my mouth.

  “Dammit, kitten. Why’d you have to do that?” He lifts me from the ground and walks backward. I know he’s taking me to his car. No. Not again. If he gets me inside, I’m a goner. I will choose death over submitting to him again.

  I’m not ready to die so I choose to stop panicking and recall Willie’s teachings. Adelyn, work with your attacker’s movement rather than fight against it. Use the lift to help facilitate an effective defense.

  Martin wants a fight? I’ll give him a fucking fight.

  I kick out of my heels when he lifts me higher. I put the sole of one foot on his thigh and push away from him so I can kick out my leg and gain the needed momentum to slam it backward in an upward motion into his balls.

  “You . . . motherfucking . . . bitch . . . whore.”

  Martin immediately bends forward, just as Willie said he would, and my feet are back on the ground.

  My chance to run.

  Except he doesn’t release me.

  Lean forward, Adelyn, and throw a reverse elbow to your attacker’s head. He’s bigger. Stronger. Maybe even faster. But also completely unprepared for what is about to come his way. It’s as though I’m hearing Willie’s voice in my head. And I obey.

  I lift my left heel from the ground and turn so my right elbow can catch Martin directly in the nose. And it does. “Stop it, kitten.”

  I repeat the jab a second time. And a third. I will not stop until he releases me. Or my arm breaks. And even then I’ll turn and use the other arm.

  Martin releases his hold on me and I stumble forward, nearly losing my balance and then falling on all fours on the asphalt.

  “What the hell is wrong with you, Russ?”

  I look back at Martin. His face is red. He’s struggling to free himself but it’s no use.

  Oliver. Thank God.

  He’s holding Martin in a chokehold from behind, and he isn’t letting go. If anything, his grip is growing tighter. “What the fuck, man?”

  “She’s mine.”

  Oliver looks at me, total confusion on his face. “What’s he talking about?”

  “Russ Martin.” That one word, his surname, is all it takes for Oliver to understand.

  I never called him Russ. He was my boss, Mr. Martin. And then just Martin.

  Ferocity. A look I’ve never seen on Oliver’s face. And then Oliver’s bicep bulges as he squeezes tighter. “You like beating up on women who can’t defend themselves?”

  I watch Martin’s face go from red to purple to a shade of ash. “Oliver, you’re choking him.”

  “Oli . . . ver.” Martin is barely able to speak.

  I’m watching the life slowly drain from Martin’s eyes. And it scares me. But not for him. “Stop. Please. You’re going to kill him. And then where would we be?”

  No two ways about it. Martin is dying before my eyes––by Oliver’s hand. “Baby, please. Don’t do this to yourself. To us.”

  Oliver is like a dog who has a taste of blood, and doesn’t want to relax his clenched jaw, so I move closer. “Look at me.” He ignores me so I pat my chest. “Look at me, Thorn.”

  He does but I can tell he doesn’t want to. “You have to stop. Please.”

  I see his grip lessening. “That’s it, Thorn.”

  “I’m letting go, you son of a bitch. Make one move toward Adelyn and I will end you.” Oliver’s jaw is clenched. His teeth gritted. His voice a deep snarl.

  What I see in Oliver’s eyes tells me his words aren’t a threat. He means what he says.

  Martin falls to the ground, panting for air, holding the front of his throat. “Fuck, Stout. Feels like you crushed my windpipe.”

  “You’re a lucky fuck I didn’t.” He puts both hands in his hair and fists the top. “I can’t believe this. Russ Martin.”

  He bends over and puts his hands on his thighs. He looks like he may throw up. “All this time I’ve been imagining this Martin guy was some kind of inhuman monster. Turns out he’s my business client. Someone I considered my fucking friend. How? How could I have not seen that?”

  Oliver straightens when I approach him. I wrap my arms around his waist and press my head to his chest. “I’m so sorry.”

  He strokes his hand from the crown of my head to the end of my hair. “Fuck, Adelyn. This isn’t on you.”

  I lift my head fro
m his chest. “Please just get me out of here.”

  “We need to call the police. That fucker needs to go to jail.”

  I look at Martin stretched out on the pavement, still working to catch his breath while holding his throat. Doesn’t look like he’ll be getting up anytime soon. “No.”

  “Come on, Adelyn. You can’t be serious. He assaulted you. Tried to kidnap you. And he would’ve been fucking successful if I hadn’t come back here.”

  It’s too late for help from the police. I’m in too deep. “I’ve been blackmailing him for four years. You think he won’t rat me out if I have him arrested? Financial records will prove what I’ve been doing. All the money I’ve taken from him. If he goes to jail, I go too. Except he’ll probably get off while I’ll rot. Everything that happened here tonight is hearsay. No proof other than what we claim. So please tell me you understand. I’m fucked.” Totally backed into corner. But it’s my own fault.

  No argument. Because he knows I’m right.

  “Looking at him makes me sick. Can we just go now?”

  “Yeah, baby.” Oliver takes his phone from his pocket. “This is Oliver Thorn. I need a pickup at Iron City. ASAP.”

  No two ways about it. I’m fucked.

  And not in the way I want to be.

  Oliver Thorn

  Leaving Russ safe and sound in that parking lot fucking killed me. Killed. Me. I wanted to do to him what I did to Jimmy. Make him pay for all his wrongs.

  Or truth be told, much worse.

  I lost it. In that moment when my arm was locked around his airway, I wanted nothing more than him dead. But then Adelyn made me look at her. Made me hear her. And I knew I’d lose her if I didn’t stop. If I didn’t take back control.

  Adelyn isn’t saying a word. I hope it’s because she doesn’t want to have a conversation about Russ in front of the driver from the car service. Not because I scared the fuck out of her or because she’s going to shut down on me.

  I want her to feel safe so I wrap my arm around her shoulders and hold tightly.