“Your loss.” I return to the living room and pull out my laptop, setting it up on the coffee table. Plopping down on the floor, I pat the carpet next to me. “Come here, boy.”
He chuffs, but trots over, sitting right up against my side. I wrap one arm around him and pet his chest. “Such a good boy,” I mutter along with a bunch of other cutesy doggy compliments. “Want your cookies?”
While he munches on the treats, I log into the gym’s YouTube account.
“Holy shit!” I squeal, startling Gambler.
We’ve finally reached a hundred-thousand subscribers. I send Sully a text, not that he pays attention to the numbers the way I do. But it’s a big deal, so I want to share it with him.
Good job! He writes back.
As if the subscribers are there because of me instead of the sweaty, shirtless workout videos of Sully, Jake, and their friends.
Giddy with excitement, I scroll through some of the comments on the most recent video, answering questions and pointing people toward our website for more information.
Thump.
Gambler’s ears perk up. He hasn’t stopped staring at the hallway since he sat down and now it’s starting to creep me out.
“It’s okay, boy. Chill, you’re making me nervous.”
He whips his head around and licks my chin a few times before returning to staring at the hallway.
“Yuck,” I mutter, swiping at my face, “I love you, but the slobbering has to stop.”
Tickticktick.
My gaze shoots down the hallway.
What the hell is that?
Gambler growls low in his throat, the fur down his back stands straight up.
“Easy, boy,” I whisper, pulling myself to my feet. “Stay,” I order.
He rolls his doggy eyes my way as if he’s saying, “You’re not the boss of me.”
I creep toward the hallway and find my bedroom door open a crack.
There’s no way Gambler opened the door earlier. I glance back at him. Right?
“Did you do that?”
At this point, I’m talking to the dog to keep myself calm.
Blood pumping like crazy, I press my hand against my bedroom door and push it wide open.
The knob thuds against the wall and the door gently swings back toward me.
Everything seems fine. I’m still creeped out.
Maybe Gambler and I should go wait outside for Celia.
Liking that idea better and better, I turn to go back to the living room.
Time to grab Gambler’s leash, and my purse. I’ll go park my butt somewhere that doesn’t make me jump every five seconds.
A whispering-shuffle behind me is the only warning before my hair is yanked. Hard.
I stumble, the hold on my hair the only thing keeping me on my feet. A sharp scream of surprise and outrage bursts out of me. It’s such a shock to my system, my mind blanks. Forgetting all the maneuvers I’ve learned from Sully, I reach back, digging my nails into flesh. My attacker gives my hair a vicious twist and I let out another yelp.
Gambler barks and his galloping paws thud over the carpet. I’m spun and shoved toward my bed and the door slams shut.
Gambler’s heavy body hits the thin door with a jarring thump. His paws scratch furiously over the cheap particle board. Whines and barks echo through the apartment.
Breathing heavy, Darren engages the lock and backs away from the door.
My gaze shoots to the lock.
A quick twist of the knob and Gambler will take care of the problem for me.
The bed dips as Darren sits next to me. Instinct has me jerk away, but he yanks me back by my hair.
Stupid ponytail.
“I didn’t know you had a dog, Aubrey,” he whispers against my ear. And, ew, is he sniffing my hair?
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” I whisper.
He tightens his hold on my hair and a prickle of pain trails against the side of my neck. Warm wetness spills over my skin.
He cut me!
“I’m looking forward to us getting reacquainted.”
“You’re out of your mind. After what you did to my boyfriend’s gym, the police are still investigating you.”
Maybe I shouldn’t have warned him that he’s still a suspect, but I’m desperate to say anything to convince him to release me.
Instead, he backhands me hard across the face. My head snaps sideways. Sharp, stinging, ear-ringing pain explodes in my head and I fall to the side.
Stop. Think.
I can’t.
This isn’t like anything I’ve trained for.
“I’m your boyfriend. Me, Aubrey. Six years I’ve been waiting for you. We were going to get married.”
“I was sixteen!”
“You were having my baby,” he whispers. “We were going to be a family.”
“What?”
Oh, Jesus. The stupid pregnancy test that prompted the unraveling of our affair.
“What did you do? Did you kill our baby?” he asks.
“I was never pregnant. It was a false-positive.”
He goes stock still, sucking in a deep breath. “You ruined my life because you couldn’t read a simple test?”
Wow. I don’t even know where to start with that nonsense.
Outside the bedroom, Gambler frantically attacks the door.
Cheap door. Cheap lock. It’s only a matter of time before he opens it.
I hope he goes for Darren’s throat.
“I read it fine. It was wrong. It happens sometimes,” I grumble, pissed at myself for bothering to explain. “You seem to forget I was a sixteen-year-old student, and you were my twenty-eight-year-old teacher,” I say with more force in my voice.
“Age is just a number. You loved it.”
Good God, he really has no remorse.
Instead of guilt and sadness. This time anger bubbles through my veins. Maybe back then I was willing, but I sure as hell am not now. I haven’t written to him or contacted him in over six years.
A “normal” guy would’ve gotten released from prison and moved on with his life, not sought out his victim to pick up where they left off.
“Thanks to you, I can’t teach anymore,” Darren says in a matter-of-fact tone. If he’s expecting an apology, he’s o
ut of luck. I’m fresh out of any sympathy for him. “But I’ll figure out a way to provide for you and our family.”
It seems the crazy train is moving full steam ahead.
The door rattles again and Darren stares at it. Enough is enough. I use the distraction to center myself before lashing out with my right foot.
It’s a kick I’ve worked on a lot with Sully. Darren’s leg is a smaller target than the heavyweight bag Sully has me practice on, but my foot connects with a solid crack to his knee.
Darren shrieks and grabs his leg. “Bitch!”
I shove myself off the bed, diving for the door. Darren reaches for me, hand grazing the back of my shirt, but I shake him off.
Movement in my peripheral vision has me throwing myself at the door, but I fall short and Darren lands on my back.
For a second I can’t draw in any air. The shock of hitting the floor with one-hundred and fifty pounds of psychotic baggage on my back steals my breath.
While my brain processes the situation, my fingers claw into the carpet, desperately trying to drag my body out from underneath Darren.
“Not so fast.” His fingers circle my wrist and yank it behind my back. My other hand remains trapped under my body. I squirm and struggle to free myself and he wrenches my arm harder. “Behave!”
“Fuck you. Get off me!”
“Shh.” The back of his hand brushes the side of my face. “You’re going to come with me and we’ll start our new life together.”
“Um, no.” I struggle, gaining a precious inch of ground.
“You’ll remember how good things were, Aubrey. We need time to get to know each other again.”
“I gotta tell you, Darren, if you’re trying to woo me, this really isn’t the way.”
“There’s the spark I remember,” he says in his smug-condescending-teacher way that used to fill me with shame. Ugh. Now, it just pisses me off.
I flip and squirm my way onto my back.
“That’s it,” he says.
He can think I’m acquiescing if he wants, but from working with Sully, I’ve learned this position gives me more leverage. I may be tiny, but my legs are pretty damn strong. Even better, Darren’s focused on the door. I pull my knees up, then kick out as hard as I can, hitting him square in the chest.
I’m rewarded with a sharp whoosh of air shooting out of him as he falls backward. No time to gloat, instead I scramble to my hands and knees. I grab for the knob and twist hard. Gambler rockets into the room, snarling and barking.