Page 60 of Bloody Quarter

Hot tears rolled down my cheeks. “I didn’t mean to, we were run off the road….”

“Shut up!” He stomped down the hallway until he was towering right over top of me. The roar of his voice made me shake. Yara whined as her shadow moved around on the other side of the door. “Liar.”

“I’m telling the truth. I swear.” Every bad decision that was made that night swirled around in my mind.

“This is what you deserve. It should’ve been you. You should’ve died.”

In a blink, the last few weeks with Greyson flashed in my mind. Every challenge and obstacle that I’d managed to conquer as they pushed me to be stronger and find myself. No. This was not how my story ended, at least not without a fight.

With a yell, I kicked up as hard as I could, hitting him in the hands. A bullet nicked the floor behind me. My next kick nailed him right in the crotch. He doubled over, and I scrambled to my feet. Using the only fighting move I knew, I cracked my elbow across his cheek, snapping his head to the side and forcing him to stumble back.

“Bitch,” he snarled.

Taking a step back, I bent down and pictured I was on racing blocks. With every ounce of strength and speed that could be mustered in such a short run, I lunged at Mr. Landry and rammed into him like a bull, my shoulder connecting painfully with his jaw. He rolled over backward, and the gun skidded down the hallway. Leaping over him to get away, I screamed when he grabbed my ankle, and I crashed to the floor.

“Ah!”

Yara began to bark in the office. The sound of her nails scratching on the door was somehow louder than my thundering heart. She was too small to help, and it would crush me if he hurt her. My legs had always been strong, so I kicked out like I was punching at him. Each one landed a solid blow. Blood smattered his face when I connected with his nose, and he swore.

Pushing to my feet, I ran for the gun, but Mr. Landry was right behind me. I kicked it, and it flew under a table and out of sight. I was fast, but he was determined, and he wrapped an arm around my waist before I could reach the front door and hauled me back against his body. He was so much larger, but fear and anger were fueling me, and I stomped on his foot as I slammed my head back.

“Fuck! You fucking cunt,” he growled, picking me up. I screamed as he threw me over the edge of the bar, and I hit the ground. I’d caught some bottles with my flailing legs, and I looked up as they started to fall. Pushing as hard as I could, I leaped away from them as they crashed to the floor and shattered. The alcohol was determined to try and drag me down tonight as it flowed along the floor like fingers reaching for me.

I tried to get up, but I hissed as my feet slipped out from under me, and I landed on my ass, my head smacking back against the bar before I took a single step. Reaching back, I checked for blood. Oh my god, oh my god. Of all the ways I’d pictured myself dying, this was not it. Mr. Landry glared at me from over the polished wood as he stormed around to get to me.

I reached back, my hands frantically searching the shelves for a weapon as he marched through the low, swinging bar door. His face was red, and his eyes were wild. His hands were curled so tight they looked like meaty sledgehammers, and my heart raced in my chest. Giving up the search, I slid backward on the floor to put as much space as I could between us.

“You little bitch. I tried so hard to put you and what you did out of my mind. I finally had my life back on track. I was seeing a therapist and had a steady job, but then you showed up at my daughter’s favorite bakery. The one place I could still go and have a pleasant memory, shed a tear, and silently grieve.” His boots crunched on the glass as he walked, while my sneakers squeaked as I pushed against the damp floor. Once more, alcohol of all kinds filled my nose and called to me, but I could only focus on one enemy at a time.

Greyson, please hurry.

“You took that from me too. The last fucking thing I had of Tammy, and you destroyed it,” he yelled. I bumped up against the bar as I turned to get away, screaming when he jumped for me.

Everything seemed to happen at once, and just like the night of the accident, my mind struggled to understand how I’d ended up in this position. Mr. Landry landed on me with all of his weight, knocking the air from my lungs while tears stung my eyes as he punched me in the face. I clawed at him with my nails like a feral cat as I screamed bloody murder.

“I was run off the road,” I yelled at him as he tried to get ahold of my wrist, but that would be the end of me. Bucking up, I wiggled partially out from under his hulking frame, but I didn’t get far enough.

“Bitch! Liar! You killed my baby,” he roared like a wild animal, and my eyes went wide as he pounced on me again, sliding us further across the floor. I smacked at his arms as he wrapped his hands around my throat, and this time, I fought to stay alive to breathe past my constricted windpipe.

I flailed as I punched and smacked at him, but it was useless. Mr. Landry was an unmovable statue. A glimmer to my right caught my attention, and I reached for it as little dots began to form behind my eyes. My fingers brushed against the large shard of glass, willing it to move closer. With a last-ditch effort, I placed my hands in the alcohol that had felt like my mortal enemy for so long and flicked it into his eyes.

“Ah, fuck,” he growled, letting go of my throat. Gasping in a deep breath, I reached for the chunk of broken bottle. “Why won’t you just fucking die?” My hand wrapped around the glass just as he fisted the front of my T-shirt.

“I’m sorry. It was an accident,” I yelled, but there was nothing left of a logical man in his eyes. He’d lost himself to the pain years ago, and seeing me had ripped the wounds that he managed to heal wide open again. Even in understanding him, I wouldn’t lay here and accept death. I’d made a mistake, and I owned that, but I wouldn’t be the punching bag for everyone to abuse anymore.

“Just fucking die,” he snarled, lifting his fist. Tears poured from my eyes as I took my first real fighting swing since before the accident. The part of me that had been so quick to fight—I thought it died in that car with my sister—rose inside of me now. I was fighting for more than my next breath. I was fighting for the girl I’d been who only wanted to defend her sister. For the teen I’d been, when I was locked away and beaten down by life and left in the rearview mirror by those who were supposed to love me. I was fighting for the woman I’d become and the future I wanted with Greyson. I was fighting for the new me.

“I’m sorry,” I screamed as the glass plunged into the side of his neck. Blood flew and splattered my face when I pulled it free. Shock registered in Mr. Landry’s eyes, but he didn’t let go. I struck again and again and again, hot blood coating me. Even when his hands let go, and he fell forward, his weight blanketing me, I screamed and stabbed at his body, wiggling out from under him. I kept stabbing him, lost in the moment, caught between the past and my future, both playing a deadly game of tug-o-war.

“Hey.”

Screaming, I spun around. I couldn’t stop my arm in time as my brain registered that it was Greyson. Luckily, he deflected the blow that would’ve stabbed him in the chest, but the sharp glass cut open his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” I said again, this time to Greyson, as he grabbed my arms and pulled me into a hug. He pushed me back to hold me at arm’s length as his eyes skimmed over me. Lifting my wrist, he pried the glass shard from my hand. I stared at the bloody gash across it. I hadn’t even felt it cutting me. “I’m sorry,” I mumbled again.

Greyson grabbed the front of my T-shirt, and I sucked in a sharp breath as he sliced it open before doing the same to his own and then tossing the glass away.

“What are you doing?” He placed a finger over my lips as he lifted my bleeding hand and brought it to his mouth. With a flick of his tongue, he licked at the blood running down my palm and then groaned as he placed my hand against his cheek. The dark desire in his eyes was as much of a turn-on as it was terrifying.