Behind the Lyrics by Melissa Riddell

Chapter 41

Angela Morales

I ran away, and the next day, deep guilt ate at me for leaving Viktor that way. But his unexpected proposal had stolen my breath and backed me into a corner. He couldn’t just pop the question and expect me to be okay with it.

Unlocking my apartment door after a long day at work, I’d tried to pretend everything was normal. From dealing with listeners’ constant speculations about Viktor and me to working on more new commercials, all I’d really wanted to do was hide in my apartment and never come out again.

I didn’t text him, and he didn’t text me. Throughout the day, I’d almost given in, wondering what he was doing or if I’d scared him off, but I stopped myself. Shame covered my heart. He’d been so gentle and sweet, and for the first time in years, I wasn’t a damaged, broken woman. I’d been cherished, worshipped…and loved. So, why had I bolted at his confession and impromptu proposal?

Just the thought of marriage scared me. Look at how my last one turned out. I didn’t want to go through that again. I couldn’t. Yet, without great risk, how would I find great love?

You can’t. Viktor’s the real deal. Sure, he’s not perfect, but he’s perfect for you, and you know he’s serious about staying clean. Hasn’t he already proven he’s capable of doing it before he even met you? I waved my annoying voice of conscience back into her box, not ready to listen to her know-it-all advice.

After shutting and locking the front door, I tossed my purse onto the couch and stumbled into the kitchen.

Marky rubbed against my feet. “Meow?” His bright, orange eyes followed me, and he seemed to be waiting for my answer.

“Yes.” I picked him up and gave him cuddles. His purring chest grew louder and more insistent. “I’ve got the good stuff right here.” After setting him down, I grabbed his favorite food, popped the top, and dumped the contents into his bowl.

Tail twitching, he went to work.

I dropped onto the couch, content to sit in the peace and too tired to move.

My purse buzzed, so I fished my phone from the side pocket.

Another unknown call, and I sent it straight to voicemail. I can’t deal with the credit card company right now. I’d sent them their money, so I didn’t understand why they kept calling. Ten unanswered voicemails flashed, and I tossed the phone to the coffee table.

Can’t squeeze blood from a turnip was what my Abuela would’ve said if she’d still been alive, and I had to agree with the old, quaint saying. They could squeeze me all they wanted, but until my raise kicked in, I was doing well to make minimum payments.

Bam-bam-bam.

The banging on my door shattered the quiet, and I clutched my chest, sitting forward. For a moment, crazy excitement raced through me, wondering if it was Viktor, then I squashed it down.

After the last time he’d barged in here, and how last night went, I had a hard time seeing him showing up unannounced. Wouldn’t be the first time, though.

The banging started over. I stood and tried to burn a hole through the door with my gaze. Whoever was on the other side wasn’t giving up.

“I know you’re in there.” The knob rattled. “We need to talk.”

That was not Viktor’s voice. Cold dread settled over me like a plastic tarp, choking off my air supply. Jeff. His voice, mid-range with a slight nasal pitch, would always be one I’d recognize. How many times had I listened to him ranting after he’d knocked a few back?

Too many.

Stepping to the peephole as quietly as possible, I squinted, praying I was wrong, but still needing to verify what my brain already knew.

He seemed sober at first glance, but I peered deeper.

His nostrils flared, and a line burrowed between his brows. “Come on, Angie. I just want 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.

Work what out? 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 my job because 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 would not do 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 you touch me.” Screaming, I clenched my fists and swung, hoping to connect with his jaw, his eye, his nose—hell, anything.

He ducked backward, and I missed completely.

With a hiss, Marky sprang into the air and landed on his shoulder, his tiny little razor claws digging into Jeff’s skin.

Blood welled through the dingy white shirt. The attached cat was a striped, orange ball of fur filled with sharp teeth and high screeches.

“Damn you.” With a rough shove, he pushed me to the floor and made a grab at Marky, who gleefully shredded his shirt and shoulder with extended claws and low growls.

I scrambled forward, stood, and slapped Jeff’s cheek as hard as I could, hoping to give Marky time to let go and run away.

A twisted smile split Jeff’s face in two, and with one hand, he grabbed my little buddy by the scruff of his neck and shook.

Marky’s eyes rolled in their sockets. His hissing stopped, and he struggled to breathe. Orange front paws, which seconds before had torn with vicious fury, now limply waved in the air, as if pleading for his life.

A strangled cry broke from my mouth. Terror thrummed through my body and sweat oozed from every pore. I can’t risk his little life. “Stop, Jeff. Please don’t hurt him.” My voice cracked. “I’ll do whatever you want if you’ll just let him go. Unharmed.” My bottom lip trembled, and I hated feeling so helpless. “Please?”

I lowered my hands and gave up. Please, God, don’t let himhurt my cat.

He must’ve seen my desperation because he gave a dark chuckle. “I never figured you for a cat person, Angie.” Holding the ball of fur at arm’s length, he narrowed his eyes. “This little fucker tore up my shoulder. He’ll pay, too.” With his free hand, he wrapped it around Marky’s stomach and began squeezing.

My cat couldn’t even cry.

Red fury colored my vision and I lunged forward. He will not hurt anyone else. Never. Again.