Bitter Sweet Heart (Lies, Hearts & Truths #2)(113)

The momentary distraction is all it takes. Gabriel darts around the counter, and I raise the champagne bottle. His face is a mask of fury, and he grabs my wrist on the downswing. I lose my grip and the bottle flies out of my hand, smashing on the kitchen floor. Shards of glass skitter across the tile and ping off the cabinets.

At first, I panic, and all those self-defense moves I learned with Maverick fly out the window. Gabriel grabs me by the hair, fingers anchoring near my scalp, and spins me around. When my cheek hits the counter, stars burst in my vision with the pain.

Real fear settles under my skin as Gabriel’s legs bracket mine, feet pressed against my heels, knees on either side of mine, pinning me against the lower cabinets on the island. I’m bent over the edge, chest pressed flat against the granite counter. He grabs my arm with his other hand, fingers digging into the skin as he forces it to the counter, holding me down.

The front door is open a few inches, and I spot the gas can sitting just inside the cabin on the shoe mat.

“What are you doing?” I struggle to keep my voice even.

“Helping you make better decisions.” His fingers slide along the back of my scalp, nails digging in, keeping me pinned to the counter.

Pain shoots across the side of my face. “You’re hurting me,” I grit out.

“I know. How does it feel to be the one with no control, Clover?” I try to shrink away as his lips brush my ear. “Sometimes tough love is the only way to get through to someone like you.”

The teapot on the counter is just beyond my reach. If I were a few inches closer, I could grab it. There’s a pencil next to it. It’s one of Maverick’s mechanical ones. We used it to record our scores when we played Scrabble the last time we were here.

My phone buzzes on the floor again. This time with a call.

“Someone wants your attention. I think he’s had enough of it, don’t you?”

More of Gabriel’s weight presses into my right side, like he’s looking over his shoulder. I take the opportunity and try to grab the pencil. I skim the end with my fingertips, but it’s just out of my reach.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Gabriel’s rage is a roar and a red shroud that blankets me.

He yanks my head back, and in that moment, I realize if I don’t do something now, this may end very badly for me. And I can’t let that happen. I won’t let this man take anything else away from me. Calm washes over me as I reach behind, grabbing hold of Gabriel’s hair. At the same time, I pull his head forward and snap mine back, head-butting him. The muscles in my neck strain with the movement, but it has the desired effect. Gabriel’s hold on my hair loosens, and he rears back, giving me enough room to maneuver.

I elbow him in the side and try to get out from under him, but he manages to grab my arm. I drop my shoulder and jam it into his diaphragm, and on the way up I twist my way out of his grasp. I try to sprint for the door, but he manages to grab me by the hair again, and I go down, landing in the middle of the champagne and shards of glass. My face hits the floor, and my teeth cut into my lip.

I taste copper as sharp pain radiates up my arm, but at least I’m not the only one lying in a pool of champagne and glass. I slam an elbow into Gabriel’s neck. He splutters, choking on a curse, and it gives me enough time to get to my feet and out from behind the counter.

I run for the door, the floor slippery under my feet. I grab the gas can, adrenaline the only thing keeping me going. Gabriel is right on my heels, so I do what I must to stop him. I swing the can around, slamming it into his knee.

The horrible crunching sound is accompanied by Gabriel’s roar of pain. He lands on the floor and clutches his leg.

Just then I hear my name being called from outside.

Maverick.





Thirty-Nine





Down the Hole





Maverick





When I push open the door, it bumps into something, and I quickly realize that something is a someone, and that someone is Clover. Less than ten feet away from her is Gabriel, lying on his side on the floor, clutching his knee. A gas can—the metal kind, not the plastic ones you’d use to fill a riding lawn mower—sits on the floor next to her.

It doesn’t take long for me to process the scene. But the thing that sends me into full-blown panic is the blood. Clover’s lip is bleeding, and the sleeve of her pale green cardigan is tinted dark red.

“The fuck?” I drop to my knees, angling my body so I can still see Gabriel, but my focus is on Clover. “What do I do? What can I do?”

Her eyes—wide with mirroring panic—lock on mine. “I’m okay. Outside. Let’s get outside.” She grabs my shoulders.

“You’re bleeding.”

“I’m fine,” she assures me. “Grab the gas can.”

I help her to her feet and do as she asks, ushering her outside. The sun has nearly set, so I flick on the porch lights, illuminating the space where BJ and Kody are standing.

“What the hell is going on? Are you okay?” Kody’s gaze darts from Clover to me to Gabriel, who is still on the floor, but working to pick himself up.

I point a finger at him. “Stay the fuck down unless you want a whole pile of broken bones.”

I turn my attention back to Clover. She’s shaking, adrenaline probably coursing through her veins. When she crashes, it’s going to be rough. She has a bruise on her cheek that’s quickly turning dark purple, and there’s a thin trail of blood making its way down her chin. I don’t have anything to wipe it away with, and the sight of it takes me back to the night Lavender got locked in the closet. I try to push those memories down, though, and stay in the present, where I’m needed.