Twisted Scars (Comanche Sons Motorcycle Club Book 1) (9 page)

Chapter Nine

Riley had always thought that she would die quickly, that when the end came she wouldn’t really feel anything, but as soon as she heard the loud sound in her apartment, fear coursed through her veins. She shivered. A chair had fallen over as someone rushed towards them.

It wouldn’t be a pleasant death.

“Get out,” she yelled to Chance.

He was near the door and could leave. When he groped for the switch once more, she whirled and turned towards the door, but someone grabbed her hair and pulled her back. She yelled loudly. Shock made her freeze, and she wasted a few precious moments as the attacker pulled her back towards him. She felt his hard body as she collided into him. She’d trained hard for this and learned so much, and perhaps it was that instinct that saved her life. She jabbed her elbow hard in his stomach and heard him gasp for breath, but he was strong.

“What the fuck!” said Chance.

Chance still wasn’t out of the apartment and Riley knew he should leave before he got sucked into this mess that wasn’t his. If he remained, he would die. She just knew it. The terror that overcame her was not only for her safety—but for his. She shouldn’t have gone out with him. If she hadn’t, he wouldn’t have been here tonight. He would be safe. Instead, he was here, groping about in the dark, probably looking for another switch.

His phone came to life, and she saw the brief strip of light illuminate his face which was frozen in a horrified look. “Go away,” she said before a hand clamped on her mouth, and the attacker dragged her back towards the bedroom. He’d been in her apartment for some time and appeared to know the layout. If he took her in the bedroom and locked the door, her chances in that cramped, narrow space would substantially reduce. She couldn’t allow him to take her inside.

Riley had spent the last many years not only honing her shooting skills but also learning karate. She didn’t want to go down without a fight. After preparing for this moment for past decade, she couldn’t simply give up. The man was stronger than her, but physical strength was not everything.

She raised her leg and brought her foot down on his foot. He cried out. Using the opportunity, she clamped her teeth on his arm. He screamed. She whirled around, kicked him in the groin, and he doubled over with pain. Something clattered on the floor. She attempted to run but his recovery was faster than she expected. He seized her around the waist with his other hand. She fell on the floor, and her head hit the corner of the overturned chair hard enough to make her see stars. He collapsed on top of her to keep her pinned.

“You fucking bitch,” he gasped.

She couldn’t see a damn thing, but she felt him grope on the floor as he looked for whatever he had dropped. A knife! It had to be that. If he’d a gun, he would’ve shot them the moment they came in. No, he was carrying a knife, and that’s why he grabbed her because he needed her to be close to him. If he found it, she was dead.

She kicked on the floor, desperate to get away before he found his weapon. She raked her fingers over his face, tried to kick him in the groin again, but he refused to budge away from her. Suddenly, he was pulled off her. The sudden loss of weight stumped her for a moment until she realized that Chance had abandoned his quest to find another light switch and was instead struggling with the attacker. She heard them scuffle. Someone cried out.

Praying that it wasn’t Chance, she ran to the door and opened it. Light flooded in from the corridor, and the two men were illuminated. “Help! Help!” she screamed, hoping that someone would come in. “Help.”

Riley ran over to the men and picked up the knife that she saw on the floor. Holding it, she hovered around the men. If she got an opportunity, she would stab the attacker without a moment of hesitation, but Chance and the attacker were so entwined that she was scared of hurting the wrong man. Suddenly, Chance pushed the guy. She swiped at him as he stumbled past her, but the man ran for the door. She gave chase and was followed by Chance, but the attacker clambered down the stairs, and they lost him as they reached the ground floor. He disappeared into the deep night.

“Shit!” she cursed. “Fuck!”

“Who? What?” Chance paused to take deep breaths. “You’re bleeding.”

She touched her forehead with the hand that was holding the knife. Blood stuck to her fingers. “It’s not so bad.”

“God damn it! What the fuck was that?”

She turned to face him. A ghost of a smile played on her lips. “Believe it or not, that was my older brother.”

His mouth gaped. If it wasn’t so serious, she might’ve laughed at his incredulous expression. “He? What?”

She didn’t have another option. He was too involved. It was time to tell it all. Yet, she was reluctant to do so. “It’s a long story.”

“I’ve got all the time in the world to hear it, love.”

She nodded. When this moment came, she thought that she might not be able to react well, but she realized that she was quite in control of her senses. “We have to call the police, I suppose. Come on, let’s go upstairs.”

After they went up, she called the police and explained the situation. Then, she put down the knife on the counter, keeping her gaze away from its serrated edge that gleamed with malevolence. She took out the first aid kit. “Here, let me,” said Chance.

Expertly, he wiped her wound and dabbed it with ointment. “You hit your head on the floor?”

“On the overturned chair, I think.” Everything happened so fast that it was hard to recall every detail. Yes, the man tried to kill her. Yes, she knew him. And yes, she had expected something like this to happen for a long time. Wherever she went, he found her. She was the only reason for his existence, his purpose in life, and no matter what she did he would hound her until he managed to kill her.

“Talk, love.” There was a hard note in his voice, as if he wouldn’t rest until she told him the entire, unvarnished truth.

Riley didn’t want to keep it inside anymore. She owed a lot to Chance. He’d tackled the man rather than running away. If he wasn’t around, she would’ve died. Her brother would have found the knife and plunged it inside her. She lived today because Chance didn’t open that door and leave. Instead, he stayed and fought with her. What more did a man need to do before he heard why he risked his life?

“My brother’s two years older than me. We grew up together in a place that was our house of horror. My father was a construction worker, a mean son of a bitch who took out his tension and relieved his stress by beating the shit out of his wife. My mother was weak. We begged her to leave, but she never wanted to. When my brother was five, my father hit him for the first time.”

“Oh my God!”

“Even God didn’t come to our rescue.” Her voice was dry. “We prayed for him to die or for our mother to grow a backbone but nothing like that happened. She took the beatings, and she watched him beat her son. When I was older, I was also beaten like the rest. Anything could spoil his temper. We walked too fast or too slow. We came in too late for dinner or too early. We talked too loud or too slow. He didn’t need a reason, all he needed was an excuse.”

He put a bandage on her forehand. “How long did it go on?”

“My brother was sixteen when my father beat him to within an inch of his life. He should’ve been taken to the hospital, but my mother…she wouldn’t ever do anything to hurt her husband. Social services would’ve been informed. She didn’t risk that. My brother got better. He got a knife, and one day he killed them.”

He jumped as if she’d burned him. “What?”

“He plunged the knife in my father’s chest while the old bastard was snoring, drunk and exhausted after the beating he’d given me that day. Then, my brother killed my mother while she…lay on the bed, helpless, alone, as much a victim as the perpetrator.”

“What happened then?”

“I saw it all. After the beating I got that day, I’d actually hidden in my parents’ closet because that was the one place my father wouldn’t have looked. When he went on a rampage, he turned the house upside down looking for us, but he never thought that I would be silly enough to hide in his own bedroom. After the beating, I went upstairs and hid there in case he decided that he hadn’t given me enough punishment.”

All the color had drained out of Chance’s face. He looked as if he would collapse. From shock? Or from revulsion? Her father was violent and her brother a killer. Surely, he was regretting the fact that he got involved with her in the first place. But now he knew, and she may as well tell him every damned thing.

“The police came in the morning when I was brave enough to call. I was fourteen, but I was old enough to be a state witness. My brother was sent away. He was underage, so the punishment wasn’t as severe. He was sent away for seven years, because well, he was a victim of mental and physical abuse and the defense made a case that he was rendered temporarily insane.”

“But he escaped the prison?”

“No, he didn’t.” She hopped off the stool and went to the door as she heard the police coming in. “He got out and has been after me since because I was the one who sent him away.”

She could see that he wanted to ask some questions, but the police officers came in and he’d to stop. After they gave their statements and handed over the knife, they were taken to the station so that she could file a complaint. “I already have a restraining order against him,” she told the police. “Took it out five years ago when he first attacked me.”

“You didn’t file a complaint?”

“I did. The first time he wore a mask, so I couldn’t tell who he was,” she recounted. “The second time I was attacked while I walked alone from work, and he talked to me, told me to set down my purse. It could have been an ordinary mugging, but I knew that it was him. I spent years with that guy in a house. Of course, I could recognize his voice.” She took deep, calming breaths, aware that Chance was listening to her statement as much as the police. “So I ran. That’s when I got the restraining order, but I knew it wouldn’t be enough. He would always find me so I moved away, and I keep moving and moving so that he can’t catch up.”

“But he did,” said Chance.

She didn’t say anything. “Did you see his face today, ma’am?” asked the police.

She shook her head. Of course, she didn’t. That’s why the lights had been turned off. He’d done something to the system. As long as she couldn’t positively identify him, the police wouldn’t do much. It could be anyone. But of course, she knew it was him. She recognized his voice, his scent, and his body. You couldn’t grow up with someone and not know that person really well.

That was why she knew that he would kill her.

All he needed was one perfect opportunity. She would have to be on her guard for the rest of her life.  

“I didn’t,” she admitted.

“But you could get his fingerprints off the knife. He wasn’t wearing gloves,” said Chance.

She looked at him. Yes, she hadn’t noticed that. “I touched the knife.”

“We’ll have sent it for analysis. Why don’t you give your fingerprints so that we can eliminate yours form it,” said the police officer.

She didn’t have any option but to agree to whatever they wanted. This was a nightmare that she’d lived with for a long, long time. It would never come to an end unless one of them died, and there was a good chance that it would be her. After the formalities were over, she emerged out of the police station. It was around five in the morning, and the sun wasn’t out yet. One of the officers would drop them off at home, but she didn’t want to go there.

What if he came again?

But what choice did she have? That was her home, and she would have to make sure that he didn’t break in again. She would have to change the locks tomorrow or better yet, she should just move to another city. That was the easiest option. She would start again and be safe for a few months until he found her once more. She never knew how he tracked her. Her brother was persistent. She changed her cell number, didn’t keep contact with anyone, didn’t have Facebook or Twitter accounts, and yet he managed to track her down.