Hawk (A Stepbrother Romance #3)(19)

My father looked up at him.

"Go to your room and close the door."

Lance stumbled backwards and disappeared.

"Help me," I called after him, "Call somebody!"

My father took me by the collar in one hand, by the belt in the other, and threw me. I didn't even know he was that strong. I went up, and for a sickening moment I was in the air, then came down on top of the massive slab of a mahogany coffee table in the living room. In movies, tables break when you hit them. In real life, the table breaks you. I though the pain was bad before, but it was otherworldly. I started to roll off and he finished the job with his foot.

I tried to get up, but I just laid on my side while he kicked me in the stomach again and again and again until I wretched and loosed a burning hot wad of vomit onto the floor.

Then, very calmly, he took out his phone. I could barely understand what he was saying.

Four men came to the house and walked inside, and didn't say a word.

I remember two of them. One was enormous, like a gorilla in a business suit, his arms like overstuffed sausages in the sleeves. The other was tall, skinny, and he was a goddamn cop. They picked me up by the arms and dragged me outside, my feet sliding over the gravel in the back yard, and lifted me into the bed, and not gently. It hurt like hell when the metal rails in the bed of the truck hit my side. The other two were Amish, I thought, except one was driving the truck.

My father talked to the men alone, then walked over to the bed and stood over me, looking down, the sun behind his head. He was like a great, wavering shadow.

"Listen to me very carefully," he said.

"Fuck, you," I choked out.

"Are you picking up your little girlfriend tonight, or is she coming here?"

I froze, icy terror in my chest, spreading down my limbs. Oh God, Alex.

"She's not, she's…"

"Shut up. This is the deal, Howard. These men are going to take you away. There you’ll stay, and you won’t come back here. You won’t call, write, email, text. You’ll have no contact with anyone from Paradise Falls, that annoying little cunt included. Do you understand?"

I stared up at him and wheezed.

"If you do, I'll have half a dozen men f*ck her to death and leave her in a ditch. Are we clear?"

"Where… where…" I choked out.

"Anywhere but here, Howard. Anywhere but here. You stay away, she'll be just fine. You don't, and I'll make sure you see her before you join her."

He slammed the tailgate shut. Two or three of them got in the truck, I can't remember.

They drove to Philadelphia like that. I was in hell. Every bump carved new trails of agony through my body. By the time we got there, I thought I was going to die.

It was the cop who dropped the tailgate. I didn't know where I was, beyond Philadelphia.

I passed out while they were carrying me.

When I woke up laying on a mattress on a cheap, rickety metal bed, I had nothing but my bloodied, stained clothes, and my wallet. Somebody had stuffed five hundred dollars cash inside. My eye was swollen shut, and every time I moved agony cut through my body. Sitting up was a monumental effort, standing a herculean struggle. I didn't know where I was, except that I was sharing a room with another man who sat up when I got to my feet.

"You best lie back down," he said.

"Where the hell am I?"

"Lutheran mission. Ridge Avenue."

"Where's that?"

"Philadelphia. United States."

"Right. Thanks."

When I stumbled out of the room, I found myself in a narrow hallway. It turned out to be a low, bunker-like building attached to a church. I knew it was a classy place when I saw the churchyard was closed off with barbed wire. People asked me my name, where I came from. I didn't tell them. All I could think about was Alex. Half of me was screaming at the other half. I couldn't leave her alone, I couldn't abandon her and trust my father not to hurt her. The other half screamed louder-if I got back there they'd kick the shit out of me again, maybe kill me, and drop Alex's body on top of me.

I knew my father was a shitheel, but nothing like this.

Alex, Alex, Alex, my every thought was Alex. Every thought was sorrow, my grief sucking all the strength out of my legs. I spent more than a week laying on that bed, eating shitty soup and stale bread, going nowhere. I had some cash in my wallet and that was it, nothing else to my name, not even my truck. When I saw myself in the mirror, I realized I was a mess. The cut in my leg must not have been bad; it healed up okay even if I could tell it was going to scar ugly.

I was still limping when I went into the Navy recruiter's office.

They asked me what in the blue f*ck happened to me and I told them the truth, mostly. Father was abusive, mother dead, no prospects. I took a test, aced it, was told where I'd be going and when. The Lutheran Mission kept me until it was time for me to board a bus.





Alexis





Now





Hawk is so calm, I can barely believe it. He says the last few sentences mechanically, and then it hits me. Part of him is telling me his story. The other part is someplace far away. I think I know where he is. Someplace warm where the cicadas are buzzing, the swimming pond is cool and the air is burning hot, someplace where people we lost are still here, bridges that fell still stand, and the world still turns in its proper place, a good where world where things like this don't happen to us.