Page 23 of Take Me to Church
I try to plant my feet, hoping to fight against his grip, but Rodney only pulls harder, the tips of his fingers digging painfully into my skin. Shockingly, I’m not worried he will actually get me into his car—I still believe Christian won’t let that happen—but it’s clear Rodney can do damage without actually getting me out of this parking lot.
I try again to resist, dragging my Vans against the blacktop as I use all my strength to tip my body away, wincing at the added strain it puts on my arm.
My plan miraculously works. Rodney’s clamping grip releases, sending me careening back against the blacktop for a second time. I land hard on my already bruised ass, yelping at yet another round of pain.
“Lydia.” Christian’s tone is sharp enough to pull my focus his way despite the panic still frantically scrambling my thoughts. He jerks his chin toward Rodney’s idling sedan. “Open the back door.”
Years of following orders and the adrenaline shutting down my brain send me jumping to my feet to do as he says. I yank on the door, but it won’t budge, so I pull harder, putting my full weight into it.
“You gotta unlock it, Sweetheart. Press the button inside the front door.” Christian’s directions carry a sense of urgency that makes me move as fast as I can.
I fumble with the automatic locks, accidentally re-locking everything before finally shoving the button in the right direction. The second I hear the locks click open I go back to the rear door, whipping it open.
“Good girl.” Christian’s praise is abrupt and unexpected. I’m used to men who bark out orders, knowing they’ll be followed, and showing no appreciation when they are. “Now you need to step back.”
Once again I do exactly as he tells me. But this time it’s not purely out of reflex. This time I do it because I want to hear him tell me I’ve done something right again. I want to chase that feeling of acknowledgment and appreciation down.
At least I do until Christian pushes past me and drops Rodney’s slumped body into the backseat, grabbing his legs and folding them into the opening before slamming the door.
Christian turns to face me, his face coming close to mine. “Lydia, I need you to look at me.”
It takes everything I have to drag my focus away from what I think I just saw to meet Christian’s gaze. “What’s wrong with him?”
“That’s not something you need to worry about.” He shifts as I try to look at the car again, blocking my line of sight, forcing my eyes to stay on his. “I need you to tell me who watches the camera on the building.”
I roll my eyes upward to focus on the security camera mounted above the back door of the bar.
“Piper saw you out here Saturday night. Is it the bartender who usually keeps an eye on the camera?” Christian’s voice is shockingly calm and unbelievably gentle.
I swallow hard, fighting the nausea creeping up my throat. “Security watches it at night, but not during the day. We only have one bouncer on staff up until 8 o’clock.”
“What about the recordings? Does somebody go back through those?” Christian’s words are smooth and measured, like he’s working hard to make sure I understand them.
I swallow again, fighting against the shaking settling into my limbs as adrenaline feeds into my veins. “No one looks at them unless there’s a reason.”
“Good. How long before they’re recorded over?” Christian’s left hand comes to my face, his thumb slowly dragging across my skin in a touch that’s surprisingly soothing.
“I think it’s on a twenty-four-hour loop.” We’ve only needed the security footage once since I’ve worked at The Cellar, and I remember Stella saying something about us barely making it since it had almost been twenty-four hours.
Christian’s thumb continues to slowly slide against my cheek. “You’re doing real good, Lydia.” His eyes move over my face. “Take a deep breath.” He breathes in with me, pursing his lips as he blows the breath back out again. “Good girl.” He tips his head toward the car. “Now I need you to get in this car so we can get out of here.”
I nod, the movement jerky. “Okay.”
I was under no illusions I was as capable of handling a scary situation as Piper believes she is, but I sure as heck didn’t think I would shut down the way I am right now. I feel completely numb as Christian leads me around the car, keeping the same hand that was on my face against my lower back as we go. He opens the door and carefully urges me inside, buckling me in before taking his place in the driver seat and pulling away.
I clench my hands into fists where they sit in my lap, fighting the urge to look into the back seat. I know what’s there even if my brain isn’t currently willing to acknowledge it.
“I’ve got a problem.”
Christian’s voice is flat beside me and I turn to see he has his phone pressed against his right ear. The skin of the hand holding it is stained with streaks of drying blood. “Rodney came back for Lydia. Tried to grab her in the parking lot after she got off work.” His eyes slide my way before moving back out the windshield. “I handled it.”
I hug my purse tight to my chest because the way he says it sounds final. Like the issue of Rodney has been eradicated completely.
Forever.
I slowly twist around, unable to breathe as I turn my gaze to the back seat. My eyes meet Rodney’s and my breath stutters at the way they seem to stare right through me, unblinking.
Unseeing.
