Baby Come Back(47)

“Let’s see,” he said, “I need to find a stick for you, Gina. Have you ever been brought to painful pleasure with a thick, nubby tree stick?”

(Oh good God. There is no f*cking way.)

“I pleasured Teresa with a nice knotty, tree branch, one time. She didn’t find enjoyment in it, though. She thought it would hurt the baby. That was the whole point, the stupid bitch.”

He laughed derisively as he evidently was reliving the incident in his twisted mind. He moved up off of me now, but he was still only inches away. He was looking for a stick. There was no way I could jump up and get past him. He was blocking the only way out. My other hand frantically searched the pavement; it was halfway under the dumpster. My fingers closed around something. It was a brick! I inched it out little by little. I had it clasped in my hand now. My hand was still out of site, just under the outside edge of the dumpster.

“I suppose this will have to do, Gina. No sticks or branches readily available. As luck would have it, it seems your establishment tossed out a perfectly good broom.”

I heard his sick laugh again, and from under my lashes, I watched as he broke the broom stick in half over his muscular thigh.

“Yes, this will work quite nicely,” he crooned, once again lowering himself down to straddle my torso. This time, one of his thighs remained inside my legs in order to spread it further. I could feel the cold breeze roll across my private area. Damn that sick son-of-a-bitch!

“Which end would you like in first, Gina? The smooth rounded tip, or the splintered, raggedy edge where it broke; it is your choice. Well, I guess since you are giving me the silent treatment, then I’ll decide. I say we go with . . . the splintered end, for shits and giggles.”

(Oh hell, no!)

I willed my adrenaline to hit top speed. I had once chance at this. One, small window of opportunity was all that I had to make sure that the brick clutched in my trembling hand connected with this bastard’s skull.

I watched beneath nearly closed eyes as Nick scooted back so that he could get the ragged-edge of the broom stick aligned with my crotch before he shoved it in full force.

I counted to three in my head. Just as Nick clasped his hand firmly around the stick to guide his missile of torture into me, I pulled my hand from beneath the dumpster and slammed the brick against the side of Nick’s head.

He dropped the stick and screamed in pain. I hadn’t knocked him out; I had thoroughly pissed him off. The brick was still in my hand. I raised it again to take another crack at his skull.

Just then there were voices in the alley. Someone hollered my name. It was Tristan. Nick was still cursing me, and trying to hold me down. I screamed for Tristan. In a flash, I felt the weight of Nick being lifted off of me. Jo Jo was there beside me, helping me to sit up.

Tristan had Nick in his grasp. I watched as he flung him down onto the pavement. Tristan was enraged as he proceeded to beat the hell out of him. He was slamming his head into the pavement again and again. Nick was kicking and flailing his arms about, but he never got a clean shot at Tristan. Not once.

Finally, I found my voice.

“Tristan, stop! I don’t want you going to prison for that sick son-of-a-bitch, please!”

Tristan stopped. He looked over at me and I saw the fury in his eyes slowly calm. He got off of Nick and pulled him up, flinging him aside like a rag doll as he came over to see about me.

By this time, a small crowd had gathered in the alley. Jo Jo had called the police; one of the bouncers came out and was given the responsibility of detaining Nick until the authorities arrived. Tristan gathered me up in his arms and took me inside the club. He wrapped his coat around me. I buried my face in his neck. I didn’t want anyone to see me cry.





CHAPTER 25




It had been a week since the altercation with Nick. He was in jail for several felony counts. His arraignment had taken place. He had a public defender assigned to the case.

My bruises were healing up nicely; luckily, he hadn’t broken my jaw. My family now knew the specifics of not only what happened a week ago, but what had happened twelve years ago. My mother had not taken it well. She said she felt ignorant and guilty.

“Nick fooled a lot of people, Mom.”

“He never fooled your father,” she confessed to me, “He always told me that there was something inside of Nick that was evil. That was why your father was so happy when you left him and moved out of state. Even though we didn’t see you much, your father said he knew you were better off far away from Nick. I guess I just assumed your father was worried you two would reconcile. I never dreamed he thought Nick could be a physical threat to you.”

“Oh Mom. I feel guilty too, you know? I should have told you and Daddy what happened back then.”

“Water under the bridge, Gina Marie. Water under the bridge.”

“How is Leo doing with all of this?”

“Frankly, Gina, I think perhaps Leo knew Nick had problems. He hasn’t admitted as much, it is just a suspicion on my part. Of course, he wants justice done. Leo would never condone that type of behavior.”

Mom and I agreed to start getting the wedding preparations going. Our wedding date was six months off, so according to her, we were behind schedule. She had convinced me to get married in the Catholic Church I had attended growing up, and the one that they still attended. Tristan was fine with it.