Tatted Cowboy (20 page)

I don’t answer her – I don’t think I can talk around the lump in my throat.  Instead, I bring my lips to hers, pouring every ounce of love I feel into the kiss.

I was wrong, before, when I said life couldn’t get any sweeter.  It’s so much sweeter now!

*~*~*

I hope you enjoyed Luke & Laura’s story. Please keep reading for an excerpt of Rogue Cowboy (Sienna & Zeke).  Coming soon!

“You called the cops, didn’t you?” he roars, coming towards me, his stride full of purpose.

I stumble back in shock, landing on my behind.  With fear driving my every move, I curl myself into a ball in an effort to protect my ribs and stomach.  Unfortunately, the move leaves my back open and he slams his boot in, hitting me low, no doubt bruising my kidneys.

He bends down and his fist slams into my face.  Pain radiates through every nerve ending in my head.  My hoarse cries are drowned out by his yelling.  I try to fight back but he whacks my slender hands away with his own before grabbing my wrists and twisting the skin, giving me a Chinese burn.  I scream in pain, but the bastard just laughs.  Moving to straddle me, he holds my hands down by my side, pinning them with his knees. My tendons and bones protest, and pain explodes up my arms to my elbows.

I manage to bring my legs up and kick him from behind, the movement dislodging him and allowing me to gain a slight advantage. I roll to my side, desperate not to be on my back under him anymore.

“Please, stop,” I beg through a groan.  Tears are streaming down my face, mixing with the blood dribbling from my split lip and my arms feel like lead weights so I can’t even manage to bring my hand up to swipe across my mouth.

“I told you not to call the fucking cops, didn’t I? I fucking told you.  And, what did you do? You went and called them?  Why the fuck don’t you ever listen, Sienna?”  Over and over again Jake screams at me.  When he gets this mad, the vein in the centre of his forehead bulges out and his eyes almost pop out of his head.  He looks feral.  And I’m petrified.  He begins pacing the room, back and forth, muttering shit I can’t understand and then screaming at me.  My eyes dart to the door – my only exit – but he’s blocking it.

It wasn’t always like this; in the beginning, Jake was charismatic and charming.  A gentleman.  He was sweet, thoughtful, and considerate. 

And then, he wasn’t.

The abuse didn’t start out slowly – a name-calling or a slap here and there.  Nope, he went all out from the get-go.  We’d been together for about three months the first time he ever hit me.  His work had required him to go a function, and he asked me to be his date.  As a girl who loves getting dolled up, naturally I was excited.  He picked me up and we went to the dinner, where I mingled politely with his colleagues and chatted with other wives and girlfriends in attendance.  During the night, another male had asked me for a dance, which I respectfully declined, but from that moment on, Jake’s demeanour changed.  His face wasn’t soft and his words weren’t affectionate.  Suddenly, he became snappy with me and soon after, he demanded we leave.

He waited until we got back to his house before he set upon me.  Slamming the front door shut behind me, he grabbed me around the throat and pushed me into the wall.  After calling me a bunch of names and telling me how much of a slut I was, he hit me and kicked me until I passed out, slumped down on the floor near the front door.

I woke sometime during the night, and of course I was disorientated.  This meant, unfortunately for me, I crashed into some furniture while I was trying to make a hasty escape.  Well, as hasty as my two broken ribs and severely bruised body would allow.  Alas, I had woken him up and he came out, rushing to me, apologising profusely and begging me not to leave him.  He was adamant someone must have put something in his drink to make him act that way.  He pleaded it was out of character for him and he’d never do it again.

Like a stupid idiot, I believed him.  I gave in, relented to his pleas, and forgave him.

He promised.  He
swore
he’d never do it again.

He lied.

I can’t tell you why I never left him after each time it happened.  I guess he eventually beat my confidence down so far, I started to believe him.  With every snide comment, every derogatory remark, every hateful sneer, my will to fight back diminished until eventually I started to believe the words he was spewing.

But tonight was different.  And, he knew it. 
He knew it
.  Tonight, if I didn’t get up and fight, he was going to kill me.

Ignoring the burning pain in my lower back, I crawl across the floor.  If I can reach the bed, I can use it to help me to my feet.

“Answer me, you fucking whore,” he screams.  Gritting my teeth, I drag my body the few feet to the foot of the bed.

“I said,
fucking answer me
.”  His shriek makes my ears ring, and I cry out when his hands go to the back of my head and he lifts me up by my hair.  My body flails in the air before he tosses me on the bed and comes down hard on top of me.  His hands wrap around my throat and I look through my swollen eyelids at the murderous expression on his face.

“I’m going to ask you one more time, Sienna.  Did you call the fucking cops?”

“Yes,” I rasp, as his hand begins to squeeze around my throat, cutting of my air and making my eyes feel like they’re bulging.  “You’re a sicko,” I snarl.

“You stupid fucking idiot.  Do you even know what you’ve done?” he squeaks.

Oh, yeah. I know what I’ve done
.  As ridiculous as it seems, I have to swallow down the hysterical laughter making its way up my throat.  I want to laugh at his fear.  But, I won’t.  Not only because he has his hand wrapped firmly around my throat, but also because I know there is absolutely nothing funny about this situation.  And, I have to keep my wits about me if I want to make it out alive.  Because I know he is not going to let me go easily.  He won’t.  He’ll fight tooth and nail now that he knows I know what kind of monster he is.

Just hours ago, I found a box in the far corner at the top of the closet.  I don’t know why I looked there, considering I had never looked there before, but today for whatever reason, I did.  And, what I found made me vomit in my hands before I could even make it to the bathroom.

Pictures.

Lots of them.

All of them of young girls. 

Naked
young girls.

My heart simultaneously broke for them and hardened against Jake. 

After I cleaned myself up, I made the decision to call the police.  I was scared – though I’m not sure why.  I hadn’t done anything wrong.  Still, I felt like I had, for reasons I can’t explain.  But, I hadn’t even finished the phone call when I heard the front door open and Jake come in from work.  He was home early.  I ended the call without another a word and scrambled to put the box back before he came in and found me.

Of course, I wasn’t quick enough, and he walked in to see me fumbling with my phone, the pictures out of their box on the bed, and that’s when he came at me.

“Get the fuck off me,” I scream, finding a renewed sense of force when he releases my throat to come at me again with his fists.  My knee comes up hard, making contact with his groin and he falls off me and onto the floor, clutching his manhood.  I make a dash for the bedroom door, towards freedom, ignoring the searing pain shooting throughout my body.

He reaches out, tagging my leg as I pass and I fall to the ground, heavily.  I scramble across the floor, commando crawling in an effort to get away from him.

“Come back here, you little fucking bitch.  I’m going to kill you.  I’m going to fucking kill you.”  He launches himself forward and lands on my back, knocking the wind right out of me. 

We both hear sirens at the same time and I say a silent thank you to whoever is listening that the police despatch officer I spoke to not half an hour ago took my hushed words of warning seriously.

They were coming.

Twisting around, I scratch my acrylic nails deep into the side of Jake’s cheek and pull down roughly, gouging his face.

He howls in pain, right before slamming his fist into the side of my face. 

That’s when, with the sirens in the distance sounding closer and Jake hovering over me with deep red gashes down his face dripping with blood, I pass out.

***

My eyes flutter open and I’m met with stark white walls, the smell of disinfectant and the incessant beeping of monitors right near my head.

“Water,” I croak, hoping someone is in the room with me.

“Here you go.  Glad to see you awake.”  A man leans over me, a kind smile tugging at his lips.  The first thing I notice is the police uniform he’s wearing and I relax a little into the bed.

“I’m in hospital?” I ask, even though I know the answer.

“You are.  When we arrived at the scene you were unconscious.  Paramedics were called and they transported you here.”

“Ah, you’re awake,” a nurse says, bustling into the room with a doctor following behind her.  “How are you feeling, Sienna?”  The smile accompanying her words is kind.

“Wonderful,” I say, deadpan.  “I bet I look it, too.”

She grimaces.  “You’ll be back to yourself before you know it.”

“Hi, Sienna, I’m Doctor Michaels.  It’s nice to see you awake.  We checked you over in Emergency when you were brought in, and I’m glad to report you have no broken bones.  You do, however, have a lot of bruising.  Your ribs and kidneys, in particular, are badly bruised and you have some large haematomas in that area.  There’s not a lot we can do for that type of injury, unfortunately.  We’ll give you a painkiller prescription to ease your discomfort, and just try to take it easy for the next week or so until the tenderness eases.  You have a butterfly stich in your lip, which I expect will heal without scarring.  I’m pleased to report there is no damage to your eye socket - which concerned the ER doctors when you first came in - but X-rays showed no bone damage.  I suspect your wrists will also be tender for a few days.  They’re fairly badly bruised, but again, no fractures.  You’re very lucky, Miss Jones.”

“Thank you.  When can I go home?” I ask on a whisper.

“Because of the concussion, we’ll keep you in overnight.  You’ll be free to go in the morning.” He smiles gently.

“What time is it?” I ask, catching a glimpse of outside through the window, and seeing it is fully dark out.  It was dusk when Jake arrived home.

The doctor glances at his watch.  “Just after eight pm,” he answers, and I realize I’ve only been in hospital for about two hours.  For some reason, it feels like longer.  “We’ll leave you now, and you can speak with the police.  If you need anything at all, just ring your buzzer.”

“Thank you both.”

With one final smile they leave. 

“Jake?” I ask the officer hesitantly.

“Mr Craye has been remanded in police custody.  I realize you gave the despatch officer some information over the phone, but I will need to take a full statement from you when you’re ready.”

“I’d like to do that now, if that’s okay?”

He pauses, hesitating.  “If you’re sure?  Please don’t feel you have to do this now if you’re not up to it, ma’am.  I’m sure it’s not lost on you that you’ve been through a hell of an ordeal.”  He flicks his eyes over my face and I can only imagine how terrible I look. 

“I’m fine, I swear. I want to do this now.  Once I do this, it’ll all be behind me, right? I can move forward?”  Just as I say the words, my hospital door opens again and another officer – a female – walks through holding two cardboard coffee cups.  She glances to me and her eyes widen fractionally. 

“Hi there, Sienna.  I’m Constable Griffith.”  She looks kind enough.

“Hi,” I reply.

I turn my attention back to her partner - Constable Clarke - and he nods.  “Of course.  Once we take your statement, I doubt we’ll need you again. However, depending on how things with Mr Craye go, there is a possibility we will need you in the future.  Between you and me, though, I don’t believe the case will go to trial.  What that means for you is, you give your statement now, and if Mr Craye takes a plea, your part will be done.  In the unlikely event he doesn’t and the case goes to trial, the prosecutor may subpoena you and you’ll be required to give evidence in front of the judge at the trial.  But, like I said, I don’t believe that will happen,” he explains.

I swallow hard and then nod gingerly, wincing when the slight movement causing my head to throb.  “Okay.  I’m ready.”

Twenty minutes later, I’ve told the police everything I know – which isn’t much, really, considering I only found the photos before Jake beat me up.  But, they both assure me I’ve helped the case.

“You’re safe now, Sienna,” he implores.  “Do you have somewhere you can go when you’re released from hospital? Family, perhaps? Officers are still at the house searching for more evidence. I’m not sure how long that will take,” he says gently.

“It’s Jake’s house.  I don’t want to go back there, anyhow.  Um, am I allowed to leave town?  Or, the state?” I ask hopefully.

“Absolutely. There’s nothing holding you here.  You’re free to go as you please.  I have your mobile number if we need you for anything further,” Clarke answers.

“Thank you,” I sigh, relieved.

“Where are you heading?” Griffith asks.

There is only one place I can think of, only one place I want to be.

“Pine Creek, Northern Territory.” 

Officer Clarke raises his eyebrows in surprise.  “Long way from Melbourne,” Clarke mutters.  “What’s in Pine Creek?”