The Queen B* Strikes Back (24 page)

“No problem. I have some upstairs.”

As we pushed our way through the party, the effects of the beer became evident. I was drunk. Maybe not falling on my face, puking my guts out drunk, but definitely out of control and unsteady. And definitely at the point where I might need to take the bus home. My legs felt like rubber, and I clung to Gavin with each step.

Of course, he didn’t seem to mind the closeness, and his hand strayed to my bottom as we moved through the house to the stairs.

“My room’s up here,” he said as he helped me up to the second floor. “It’ll be nice and quiet in there.”

My head throbbed in time with the bass beat of the music. All I wanted was someplace quiet enough to hear my own thoughts, even if it meant going to his room and suffering a discussion of philosophy with him. Maybe after an hour or so, I’d be sober enough to attempt to go home.

Of course, the fact that I thought I saw Brett in the crowd below only confirmed I was drunk. It had to have been a beer-induced hallucination.

Gavin led me to a room and closed the door behind us. It was small, containing a lone twin bed in the corner and walls covered with posters from indie rock bands and pictures of beaches. A small bookshelf caught my attention, and I gravitated toward that. Sure enough, all three of my dad’s books were on it. I flipped one open, surprised at how well worn the pages were.

“Told you I was a big fan of your dad’s,” Gavin said just before he came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. He pressed his lips to the nape of my neck.

I stiffened and drew in a sharp breath. It was one thing to come up to talk, but something in the way his hands moved across my bare stomach told me he wasn’t interested in talking. And I’d been stupid drunk enough to take him at his word.

Scrambling for a distraction, I blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “So, do you want to talk about my dad’s theories on intimacy?”

“I’d much rather test them out.” He spun me around and covered my mouth with his.

The first thought that crossed my mind was,
Holy crap!

The next was,
Ew!

Gavin kissed with a drunken sloppiness that matched his baggy clothes. It was wet and uncoordinated and way too invasive for my tastes.

I shoved him back. “I think you have the wrong idea about me.”

“Oh, come on, Alexis. I bet you’re as easy as your friend.”

His insult about Morgan lit a fire of anger within me, and I started for the door. “I’m out of here.”

He grabbed me by the waist and pushed me back on his bed. “Don’t be a party pooper. I bet you’re going to like it.”

Panic replaced my anger, but my arms couldn’t move fast enough. The beer slowed my reflexes and dulled my strength. Before I knew what was happening, Gavin had me pinned to the mattress with all of his weight pressed against me.

“Stop,” I ordered.

He chuckled and ran his tongue along my neck. “Playing hard to get, huh?”

“No.” I tried to roll him off of me, but he was heavier than his lanky frame suggested. “I mean, stop it right there. Get off of me.”

“Oh, babe, give me a chance. You know you want it.”

His hand slid to my breasts, and my heart jackhammered in my chest. No matter how hard I struggled, he found a way to hold me down. And the more I told him no, the more aggressive he got. His kiss turned brutal, silencing my pleas for him to stop. He pulled down one strap of my top and shoved his hand into my bra. His hips ground against mine in a threatening tempo that let me know what lay in store if I didn’t get away from him.

I tried to fight him off, but my arms and legs flopped around like limp spaghetti, and my mind was bogged down by too much beer. But I could still scream.

“No! Get your hands off me. Stop it!” I shouted at the top of my lungs, praying someone would hear me over the loud music and dozens of conversations below.

A few seconds later, I heard the sweetest sound I’d heard all night.

Someone knocked on his door and jiggled the locked doorknob.

“Go away,” Gavin snapped, his fingers fumbling with the button on my jeans. “We’re busy.”

“Help me!” I sat up and lunged for the door, but Gavin caught me by the straps of my top. The material ripped free, exposing my bra, but his actions slowed my momentum enough for him to shove me back down on the mattress.

“I’m trying to help you, babe,” he said, unzipping his pants. “You’re so going to thank me after I’m done with you.”

My fear would’ve choked me had it not been for the bang that came from the door. Whoever was out there had heard me, and they were coming to my rescue.

“Open the door,” a guy ordered from the other side.

“You can get some later,” Gavin shouted back.

The guy on the other side rammed the door. The wood around the frame cracked, but the door held.

The next ram splintered the wood.

The third one broke the door free.

Chapter Twenty-One

The next few seconds passed in a blur. A guy ran in, grabbed Gavin by the shoulder, and yanked him off of me. The smack of a fist hitting flesh filled the air. Gavin spun, his expression dazed, and crumpled to the floor.

I finally caught a glimpse of my knight in shining armor.

Brett Pederson.

Only he wasn’t the good-natured, easygoing guy I’d come to know. A snarl of rage twisted his handsome face as he pulled Gavin up by his shirt and punched him in the face again, knocking him down. “Didn’t you hear her, asshole?” he shouted, kicking Gavin in the gut. “No means no.”

I’d never seen Brett this angry before, and the result terrified me. I couldn’t move, and I couldn’t look away as he continued to beat the crap out of Gavin. It was only when someone took my hand and pulled me out of the room that I finally turned away.

An audience had gathered in the hallway, and a chill iced my veins when I realized how close I’d come to being raped. I crossed my arms to hide the trembling in my hands and the ripped front of my top, but I couldn’t stop the shiver that rippled down my spine.

I looked up at the person at my side and wasn’t as surprised to see Josh this time. He glanced over his shoulder inside the room, his expression tight with worry. “That’s enough, Brett.”

I heard one more blow before Brett emerged from the room. The rage had eased from his face, but the moment he saw me, anger flashed again in his eyes. His hands tightened into fists, and he rocked back on his heels like he wanted to go back in there and finish Gavin off.

“Brett,” Josh warned before jerking his head toward me.

I must’ve been a pitiful sight to behold. My clothing was torn. My hair was a tangled mess, and sometime during all of this, I’d started to cry, which in turn probably meant I had black streaks of mascara running down my cheeks. And no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop shaking.

Brett’s anger evaporated, leaving only concern behind. He shrugged off his jacket and wrapped it around my shoulders. “Let’s get you out here.”

I stumbled down the hallway and the stairs, nestled between Brett and Josh. People pressed against the walls to let us pass, and we were almost at the door before I noticed that the music had stopped. My cheeks burned as I realized it was all due to me. I lowered my eyes and stared at the ground until we reached the sidewalk outside.

Brett stopped me and lifted my chin. “Lexi, are you all right? Did that bastard hurt you? Did he—?”

I silenced him with a lone sob that broke free and shook my head.

“Thank God.” Brett pulled me against his chest and hugged me. “You have no idea how scared I was.”

I had a pretty good idea, considering I was the one almost violated, but my tongue lacked its usual sharpness. The shock from the last ten minutes still left me numb and confused.

Josh placed his hand on my shoulder. “Alexis, on behalf of my brothers, I’m so sorry this happened. We’d suspected Gavin of some stuff, but it wasn’t until tonight…” His voice broke, and he removed his hand. “We’ll deal with him.”

I didn’t give a damn what happened. Brett had probably left him so broken and battered that short of tattooing
Rapist
on his forehead, I couldn’t come up with a better punishment for him.

“Give him an extra kick in the ass for me.” Brett squeezed me one more time before stepping back, holding me at arm’s length. “Do you think you can walk a few blocks, or should I leave you here with Josh while I get my truck?”

“I’ll walk,” I mumbled. The further I got away from this place, the better. The last thing I needed was a group of Gavin’s drunken pals coming after me.

“Then we’ll go slowly.” He threaded his fingers through mine. “I can’t thank you enough, Josh.”

“Just looking out for my teammates.”

The ground rolled underneath me as we started down the street, and I grabbed Brett’s arm for balance. He responded by placing a steadying hand on my waist and letting me lean against him. He didn’t have to tell me how messed up I was. I could tell by the way my feet tripped along the cracks in the sidewalk or the way the streetlights blurred together like Van Gogh’s
Starry Night
.

Neither one of us said a word on the way back to his 4Runner. When we got there, he helped me up into the passenger seat and buckled my seatbelt. I huddled under his jacket, unable to stop the shivers that coursed through my body. I worried that I’d never feel warm again.

I’d been so lucky that Brett had been there. So damn lucky…

That still didn’t stop the waves of nausea that grew stronger as we drove across the bridge back into the Eastside suburbs. By the time we got on the lake road that led to our homes, I couldn’t hold it back any longer. “Stop the car!”

Brett pulled over into one of the small parking lots that dotted the shoulders of the road.

I opened the door and managed to get a couple of feet away from the car before I puked. Brett came up behind me and pulled the hair out of my face until I finished.

“Done?” he asked. I nodded, and he handed me a baby wipe. “Then clean up and let’s take a time out.”

I wanted nothing more than to scrub my skin clean under a hot shower, but the cool baby wipe erased the stench of vomit that lingered in my nose and even made me laugh. “Do you always keep baby wipes in your car?

“Have you seen how messy the twins get?” He gave me a weak smile and led me back to his truck. His face grew more serious. “Are you sure he didn’t hurt you?”

“He scared me. He ripped my top. But he didn’t get into my pants.”

He nodded, but still cracked his knuckles. I’m sure if Brett ever saw Gavin again, he’d deck him one more time. “What the hell happened tonight?”

“I was angry at you for making out with Summer, and…” My voice dropped with shame. “And I wanted to get back at you. So I called Gavin.”

“You said he was a douche.”

“I did. He still is, and I knew it would piss you off if you found out I went on a date with him.”

Brett dropped his arms to his sides and stared up at the sky as though he was having a conversation with a complete moron. “You know, if you’d let me get a word in, you might have spared yourself tonight’s drama.”

“If you had just been honest about you and Summer from the beginning, then maybe I wouldn’t have been so upset when I caught you two together last night.”

“But we’re not together. We never have been.” He paced several steps back and forth, his movements tight and jerky with agitation.

“Then why was she straddling your lap and kissing you?”

“Summer set us both up.” He slid to a stop and rubbed his face. “She told me she wanted to talk in private about some stuff, and the next thing I knew, she was all over me.”

“So you aren’t an item?”

“We never have been, and after last night, we never will be.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve, and for a brief moment, I wondered if Summer kissed like Gavin.

One question answered. Time for the next one. “What were you doing at the party?”

“Josh called me when he saw you with Gavin.”

“And you got jealous?”

He snorted. “
Jealous
wasn’t the word I’d use. I was in the middle of chewing out Summer for lying to me when he called, and I almost said good riddance. But when Josh told me about Gavin’s reputation, I realized how damn much I really care about you.”

“You care about me?”

“Far more than I probably should after reading your notes to trash me on your blog.”

That rankled me enough to add some vigor to my words. “You’re not entirely innocent in all this, Football Boy.”

I went to poke him in the chest, but he caught my hand and drew me into his arms. “One of these days, maybe we’ll learn to stop arguing and listen to each other.”

“It’s not about listening, Brett. It’s about trust.”

The strength seemed to bleed from his body, and he let me go, his shoulders hanging at the same downward angle as his head. “I did what you said. I asked around, and I feel like such an idiot for believing Summer’s spin on things instead of you.”