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That’s why, when hands grabbed me, I wanted to scream. I started to tumble forward, only for the hand on my arm to yank me back, the hand that slid between my legs and cupped me tightening until I was sure I was back on that boat, back with Rhys and his intruding hands as he ripped and pulled and stabbed until he got what he wanted.
“Told you to get over here, little snake.” My back was pressed to his soft stomach, and his hand rubbed over me, causing every muscle in my body to freeze. “You take this pretty little pussy and straddle me like a good girl, and I’ll make you feel so good.”
With a gasp, I shoved my elbow into the man’s chest. He loosened his grip, and I nearly fell to the floor between his legs. But as he grabbed for me again, I reached for the straps that wound their way around my left calf and pulled out my knife.
It was against his throat before he could touch me. Those beady fucking eyes bulged right out of his head as he felt the cold steel against his saggy skin. He froze, hands pulling to his sides in surrender like the little pussy he was.
My right foot collided with his chest and he went flying backward in his chair. It toppled over, and the man squealed before he landed with a thud against the wall and the chair collapsed beneath his disgusting bulk.
Roscoe burst into the room in time to see me dragging myself off the floor. Rather than racing toward the pervert as he sputtered and cried and laid down worthless threats, the bouncer came straight to me. He gripped my arm, looking over the bright red marks blooming on my pale skin before he dragged his gaze down my body.
Down, to where my snake tattoo wound around my leg and curled around my hip.
There were red marks there, too, though they were harder to see against my inked skin.
“I told you to lose the knife,” Roscoe hissed before turning his attention to the man. “The fuck do you think you’re doing? You don’t touch the girls, asshole. That’s rule number one.”
“She pulled a knife on me—”
“She was protecting herself!”
He climbed to his hands and knees. “I didn’t do any—”
“She’s got your grubby palm prints on her body.” Roscoe grabbed the man by the collar and yanked him off the floor. “You get the fuck out of this club and don’t even think about setting foot in here again. If I see you, I’m calling the cops.”
He pushed the man forward, not taking his hand from his collar as he shoved him down the hallway and toward the front door. Caleb, one of the other bouncers at the club, peeked his head around the corner. I curled my arms around myself, covering what I could.
“He touch you?” I nodded and the corner of his lip curled up. “You pull your knife again?”
Without answering, I turned and rushed back to the locker room, letting Caleb’s laughter chase me away. I grabbed my bag from my locker, tossed on my leggings and a sweatshirt, then ran for the back door.
I didn’t exit, though.
How long had it been since I did?
Instead, I threw open the door to the storage closet and slipped inside.
With my back against the door, I sucked in big, heaving breaths, trying to get my heart to slow and my mind not to slip away. I sank to the floor, feeling for my sleeping bag and pillow before crawling toward them and curling up.
I let my tears fall as I tried to keep my nightmares from terrorizing me again. Desperate, I pulled my phone out of my bag and punched in my code. My last message to Lee was still sitting there, unanswered.
And for too-brief of a moment, I swore, I saw those three little dots dancing, like he was there on the other end, typing out a response.
But it never came through.
21
LEE
Kelly: I wish you could hear all the words I’m too afraid to say.
I wanted to scream into the abyss. To tell her she’d already said enough. My heart bled for her, her every word another stab wound that decimated me.
What she did to me scared the shit out of me. Each new text made holding my silence even harder. At the same time, it made speaking up impossible.
I needed her words. I needed to know she was okay, and never once had she given me as much as she gave my silence over this stupid phone.
Dragging my eyes up from my screen, I looked over my employees. At Joss and Weston and Kolton and Jen. At Rylan, sprawled on his usual seat on the couch beside the windows, his crutches at his side and his wounded leg resting on the coffee table.
