Page 47 of The Fixer

“What did he say to you when you told him it was over?”

She didn’t need to tell me. I’d read it in the police report Shaw had given me. “This isn’t over, bitch. It’s only just begun.”

Eliza lowered her chin and her fingers spread across my chest. It stole my breath, her touch. Stole it as if she’d wrapped those long fingers around my throat and squeezed.

“Will you teach me?” she asked, so quiet I could barely hear it over the pounding of my heart. “Will you show me how to protect myself?” Those chocolate eyes lifted, settling upon my lips. “I want to be strong, too.”

Her confession made me quake. Her fingers stretching toward my chest could be felt between my legs. I wanted her strong. I wanted her to be able to fight back. I wanted her laid out on my bed, stuffed full of my cock.

I covered her hand with mine and she twisted her grip until our fingers were intertwined. “Of course,” I whispered, pulling her close, getting lost in her smell and the feel of her body touching mine. “Of course, I will.”

12

Eliza

Fingers closed around my throat as an arm locked around my body, clamping down so I couldn’t move. Panic struck me and I couldn’t breathe. “Move, love,” a gentle voice coaxed in my head. “Don’t panic. Move.”

Following the command, I whipped my head to the right, breaking the hand’s hold on my throat by forcing myself into the weakest spot at the thumb. I dropped down, throwing my elbows up, then behind me, jabbing the hard knot of bone into the soft spot under his ribs. As he stumbled backward, I lifted my right foot, bringing it down on his shin before spinning away.

Arms up at the ready, I faced my attacker. Jet cradled his ribs, a crooked smile on his face.

“Good. You did good.”

My soul soared at his tough-won praise. I hadn't seen a smile in the past two hours. My muscles ached and my forearms and feet hurt, but to hear his approval made it all worth it.

“You think so?” I asked, twisting my fingers together.

“I know so. Come here.” Jet pulled me to him, his arms wrapping around me as they had moments ago, only this time, we were chest to chest. He hugged me and my body hummed. He kissed my temple and I wanted to lift my face to his. “You’re amazing,” he whispered before letting me go.

Jet glanced at the simple clock hanging on the wall, then let out a long breath before turning his darkened eyes on me. “One last move and then we’ll take a break.”

My stomach sank and the worthless feeling I fought so hard against came swarming back. I hated our breaks. For the past two days, Jet had been trying to teach me self-defense. Each break brought with it a change in his personality. He went from being kind and helpful to barely talking to me at all. He’d grab his phone. Disappear into his room. And getting him back out from behind whatever masks or walls he threw up in his absence was a monumental feat.

I was no closer to understanding him than I’d been when we first met.

“On the floor,” Jet commanded, and my sinking stomach twisted into the tightest of knots.

This move, being pinned to the floor with him on top of me, was one of the hardest for me to handle. There were memories wrapped up in me that were too terrifying to think about, and the panic that sometimes hit me during the other attacks came flying at me full force.

Jet eyed me as I lowered myself to my knees, his gaze sweeping over me in a way that made my skin feel sticky and cold. His hand whipped out and grabbed my chin as a sneer pulled at his lips. “Down. Now.”

He shoved my chin away, and I fell onto my butt, then lowered myself to my back as quickly as I could.

This wasn’t the man I knew. Jet had never treated me like this. Had never been anything but kind. And as he lowered himself between my legs, his hands gripping hard at my thighs, all the knots in my stomach loosened and a raging heat built in my gut.

He pressed his hips between my thighs, and my heart clenched. His hands flashed out and pressed into my throat, pinning me against the floor. He bared his teeth, cruelty slashing like an ugly wound across his face. “I own you now. You’re never getting free.”

No.

Reaching between his arms, I grabbed at his wrist with one hand as my other reached across him and gripped his neck tight. I pressed my left foot into his pelvis and pivoted to the right, swinging my right leg up to his armpit, pushing off his body with my left foot before wrapping my leg around his head. I thrust my hips up, pressed my legs down. And the man who thought he owned me fell to the ground.

Two hard slaps on the mat hit my ears before his urgent voice. “Calm down, Eliza, calm down. It’s me.”

In a blink, I let him go and fell to the floor. And seconds later, his hand was wrapped around the back of my neck as he pulled me up into his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured against my head. “So sorry. You’re okay. You’re going to be okay.” He leaned back, gripped my cheeks between his hands. Those silver eyes dipped down my face like they were coating me in their calm. My heart was racing, my insides quivering as he tilted his head.

“You were amazing,” he told me, his thumb tracing over my lower lip. “So fucking amazing. You didn’t even stop to think.”