Be Mine (Jackson Boys 2)

Rising to my feet, I make another note. Schedule Xmas lights even tho it’s Sept, I jot on a sticky. “On it, Emily.”

The doorbell rings again, and I say my goodbyes before she can speak up. “I’ll touch base with you at the end of the week. Bye!”

In my haste to get off the phone, I don’t look in the peephole. I don’t ask who is outside. I don’t pause to think who it might be. Instead, I swing open the door with an expectant look on my face. I see only half of Chip’s face before I realize my mistake. I should’ve made Emily go through her list another dozen times instead of answering the door.

My ex darts inside before I can stop him. I fall back, watching helplessly as he kicks the door shut and locks it.

“How’re you doing, Lainey? Feeling safe and smug in your house?”

“What are you doing here?” I ask, folding my arms around my waist and backing into the room. “How’d you get past the doorman?”

“Told him I was surprising my girlfriend.” He tosses a bouquet of mangled flowers to the side.

The backs of my legs bump into the coffee table. I look behind me, wondering how fast I can get into my bedroom and lock myself inside.

“Get out,” I say, but the words sound more like a plea than a command. I try again, this time with bravado. “Get the hell out!”

A nasty smile stretches across Chip’s face, as if he can smell my fear. “Make me.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot my phone on the table. I lunge for it, but before I can make contact, Chip’s fist whips out and strikes me in the chin.

I spin around, knocking the lamp over. Stumbling, I try to catch myself, but my hand slips off the edge of the table, and I fall to my knees. His sneaker-clad foot is in my gut before I can steady myself.

Tears spring into my eyes, but the physical pain jolts the fear out of me. I scramble backwards for space, casting about for a weapon. There are magazines on the table. There’s the lamp that fell down. There’re my feet and my fists. I’m not going to make this easy for him.

Chip bends down, shoving a hand in my hair and wrenching my neck back. “Guess why I’m here.”

“Because you got fired?” I reach up to grip his wrist and try to pry it away from my head.

His nostrils flare in anger. “That’s right, bitch.”

His hand comes up to slap me, but this time I block it with my other hand. The impact sends a sharp pain from my wrist down my arm, but the resistance surprises Chip. Only for a second, though. His hand tightens in my hair.

“You broke the deal, and now I’m breaking you.” He tries again to strike me, but I fend him off.

I kick out like a child having a tantrum, windmilling my legs. I hear him grunt as my foot makes contact with his thigh.

“You fucking bitch. I’m going to hurt you so fucking bad.” He wrenches my leg to the side and then falls on top of me. Two hundred plus pounds drive me into the carpet.

I thrash underneath him, but he’s too strong. Keep fighting, I tell myself. He pulls on my hair again and this time I let him, allowing the pain to feed my own anger. I scratch at his face, catching him in the eye.

“Goddammit!” he screams. He pushes up to his feet and for a moment, I think I’m free. For a moment. Then he starts dragging me by my hair toward the kitchen. “I’m going to cut this fucking hair off, and then I’m going to rape you with a knife because you’re not worth sticking my dick in again.”

I can’t stop the tears—the ones of pain, the ones of fear. But I can still fight.

“This is stupid, Chip. And you’re not stupid.” I make an appeal to his vanity while frantically thinking of a way to free myself. I need to jerk free. He’s got one hand on my head. I can get out of this. I can. I need leverage.

“This is the best idea I’ve had yet.” He sounds cheerful. The man has lost his ever-lovin’ mind. My butt hits the tile as we cross the threshold from the living room into the kitchen. “See, if Nick is going to ruin me, then there’s no reason for me to be careful anymore. And if I’m going down, I’m going to make him regret it. What better way than to fuck you up? Literally.” He chuckles. The ball of terror in my stomach flips as he halts in front of the counter.

“Hurting me isn’t going to hurt Nick. We’re friends.” I claw at his wrist, but he doesn’t even flinch.