Page 49 of Behind the Lyrics
Stepping to the peephole as quietly as possible, I squinted, praying I was wrong, but still needing to verify what my brain already knew.
Heseemedsober at first glance, but I peered deeper.
His nostrils flared, and a line burrowed between his brows. “Come on, Angie. Ijustwant to talk. You won’t return my calls, and we really need to work this out.” Day-old stubble covered his jawline, and there was a glassy sheen to his eyes. Not quite drunk, but not completely sober, either.
Workwhatout?And why the hell was he in Arizona, standing on my doorstep?
I closed my eyes for a moment to steady myself. I’d come so far from that frightened, hopeless woman when I left him. How did he have the power to dredge up those old feelings and insecurities?
“Open up the fucking door,” he growled in a lower voice, his lips pressed next to the seam of the doorway. “Before I kick it in.”
My heart hammered. He’d do it, too. And if that happened, everyone in the complex would know. Not only would I be the current flavor of the month for Viktor Farrow’s stream of online gossip, but the media would get wind of my ex coming by and turn the visit into some kind of twisted triangle.
“I’m not kidding, Angie.” One solid thump on the door vibrated through my cheekbone pressed under the peephole. “Not. Asking. Again.”
I jerked the chain from its cradle and twisted the deadbolt.
Before I could even pull the door open, he shoved himself inside, pushing me backwards.
“About fucking time.” He turned the lock in place then pivoted toward me.
Up close, his sour breath wafted in my face. Moving my gaze downward, I bit my lip and tried to fight the steadily rising panic. His shirt buttons weren’t in the correct holes, and only half of the cloth was tucked into the waistband of his slacks. He’d put on some pounds, too, because his stomach pooched over his belt.
“What are you doing here?” I stepped away, not wanting to be anywhere near him.Please let this be a nightmare.“You need to leave. We have nothing left to say, Jeff.”
“You fucking bitch.” He lunged forward and grabbed my wrists.
I was so shocked I stood there, frozen and confused, amazed he thought he could touch me like this.
“I lost myjobbecause of that fucking story you made up. When you and that scumbag hotshot started dating, my boss got wind of your old accusations.” With a rough twist, he flung me toward the wall of the hallway leading into the kitchen.
Making a grab for the small bar dividing the kitchen from the living room, I missed and fell to the floor, my tailbone hitting the carpet with a painful smack.
Anger flared in my soul. He wouldnotdo this to me. “That’s not my fault. And just because you can’t remember doing it doesn’t make it a lie, you asshole.”
“You ruined my life.” He prowled forward, his blue eyes dark and filled with wrath.
I shuffled backward, still on my ass but able to push against the floor with the heels of my feet. Propping my torso on bended arms, my elbows dug painfully into the shaggy carpet.
Marky stood near his food bowl, his glowing eyes fixed on Jeff’s face. His tail bushed into something resembling an electrified feather duster. My cat hissed at the man towering above me with murder in his flinty irises.
Ignoring the cat, Jeff bent forward and grabbed the front of my shirt.
“Get out!” I kicked toward his crotch, but he sidestepped and easily lifted me up, dragging me to the living room.
“You’re going to pay for what you and that fucker did.” He stopped walking and jerked me closer.
“Let me go, Jeff.” I tore my nails at his arms, but his grip was so tight I couldn’t draw a breath. Stars danced in front of my eyes.
With his free hand, he slapped my cheek.
The piercing sting sent my head careening to the side. Those bright stars dimmed into black tunnels.Just need a breath, please, God. If I die, he’ll hurt Marky.
“And I’m taking payment from you first.” His fingers loosened, and I gulped sweet air. “You wanna keep claiming rape? Fine. Let’s get to it. At least I’ll remember it this time.” His fingers were dry, scratchy twigs sliding to the front hem of my shirt. His revolting touch dredged up those old memories I’d locked away.
I shuddered. The sound of my clothes ripping spurred my brain into action.
“Don’t youtouchme.” Screaming, I clenched my fists and swung, hoping to connect with his jaw, his eye, his nose—hell, anything.
