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“Please, Nora,” Lix says, eyes remaining on the road. “You have nothing to apologize for.”
“You must think I’m stupid for staying with him.” She wipes her nose.
“You don’t need to explain yourself, not to me or anyone else. All that matters is you got away, and you’re going somewhere safe.” Lix glances at Nora. “Take it one step at a time. Okay?”
She rests her head back on the seat. “Okay.”
I sit quietly, holding back my tears for this woman. The hell she must’ve endured for ten years. I want to hug, console, and tell her everything will be okay. I want to return to that house and kick the shit out of the man who hurt her. Call the police and have him arrested. Make him pay for his crime and face the consequences for what he did to this poor woman.
How does Lix do it? How does he remain stoic and nonreactive to the horrifying situation I just witnessed? He has the means to damage Nora’s abuser. I’ve watched a few of his MMA fights on the internet. His fists are lethal. Not to mention, he could probably crush a man with his legs. His ability to fight is impressive.
If I’m being honest, watching it turned me on.
Oh my God! I’m sitting in this SUV with a battered woman in the front seat, fantasizing about Felix Daxon—a prime suspect for the killing of my uncle.
Something is wrong with me.
My emotions are out of whack, torn between my empathy for Nora and my appreciation for Lix’s selflessness. I watched him enter Nora’s home, restrain her abuser, and bring her back from a nasty blow to the head. He did it with unwavering control, unfaltering precision, and monitored tenderness.
He kept his calm and didn’t succumb to the disturbing scene. He subdued his target and got the woman out safely. So many things could’ve gone wrong. Showing up as I did caused Lix to suffer a punch to the face. Sure, he quickly overcame my interruption. I shouldn’t have been there, though, because I could’ve caused more than a bruised chin. But when I looked in the window and saw Nora passed out on the floor, I didn’t think. I reacted.
We pull up to a motel. Lix gets Nora’s bags and helps her out. A woman in her late fifties shows up. They share a few words that I can’t hear. Nora and who I suspect is Jane head toward the motel.
I remain where I was ordered to stay. Anxious about the hour ride back. Lix doesn’t speak a word to me. Finally, we pull up to my car on Nora’s street.
Lix gets out and opens the back door. He thrusts his hand out, looking around. “Give me your keys.”
“I can drive home from here.”
His rapid eyes continue to move, and massive frozen glaciers not to be reckoned with clash into me. Okay. The ride wasn’t long enough for him to cool down.
“You’ll take my truck. I will follow you home. Now, give me your fucking keys.”
“Fine.” I fish my keys out of my purse and drop them into his hand.
He follows me home. The closer we get to my place, the faster my heart beats. What’s going to happen when we get there? I know he’s pissed off that I intervened, and rightly so. If I were after a story, this could be the big one. But I didn’t follow him for a story. I did it because I need to know the truth about my uncle… and Felix Daxon.
I park his truck in front of my place on the street. Lix pulls up behind me. He gets out, and I meet him in front.
“Which one is yours?” He walks toward my apartment.
“I’m in the lower.” I rush to follow him to the door.
Gripping my keys in his hand, he holds them up. “Which one opens it?”
“I can let myself in.” I reach for my keys. He pulls them away, turns, and tries every key in my lock.
“Lix!” If I thought my heart was beating fast before, I’m about to go into cardiac arrest, waiting to discover what might happen once he gets in. “What are you doing?”
“Found it.” He pushes my door open and enters.
I move past him, snatching my keys from his hand. “I understand you’re upset I showed up tonight.” I smack my keys and purse on the coffee table. Crossing my arms over my chest, I lift my chin and look him straight in the eyes. “But it’s time for you to leave.”
“I’m not leaving.” He pushes my door closed, his heated gaze fixated on mine.
I step toward him. He slams my wrists against the wall, pinning me like a Post-it on a corkboard. I fight to break free, but he’s too strong. “Let go of me!”
“This is what it feels like,” he says, pressing his thighs against mine. “This is what it’s like to feel trapped. This is what Nora felt. That man abused her, probably mentally and physically, for years.”
