The Look of Love (The Sullivans #1)(63)

He was even angrier today than he’d been at her apartment. His pride had to be pretty badly battered at the way she’d knocked him out with the paint can. And after living with him for so many years, Chloe knew how his brain worked: He figured since she hadn’t gone to the cops yet that she must be too scared to tell anyone what he’d tried to do to her.

She knew what he expected her to do. He expected her to take what he gave her. He expected her to cower. Just like she must have all those years they were together. He hadn’t even needed to use force during their marriage to get her to surrender her power to him. All he’d needed to do was look at her like she wasn’t worth a damn thing...and she’d believed him.

Well, she knew a hell of a lot better now what she was worth. And who she was.

Using his underestimation of her to her benefit, Chloe bit down on his palm as hard as she could. She tasted his blood in her mouth as he screamed in pain.

Taking her chance, she kicked behind her, hoping she was nailing his family jewels, and dove for the scissors.

Chloe almost had them when her hair was yanked back, hard enough for tears to spring to her eyes. Somehow she bit back her whimper of pain, knowing now that Dean would get off on that.

“I tracked down your car and bribed the tow truck driver to tell me where he picked it up,” he bragged. “But I didn't think you'd already be in the sack with some guy when I got here.” He yanked her hair again, hard enough that her vision almost went black with pain. “Tell me what he's doing to you. Now!”

She knew what would happen if she told him the truth. He’d hit her again. She could see how much he wanted to do it.

Oh God, it had hurt so much the first time, but Chloe knew all she needed was to get a few inches closer to the scissors. And then she’d make damn sure the tables were turned.

Permanently.

Moving her mouth up into an insolent smirk, she said, “You couldn't handle knowing how good he is. How much better than you.”

Just as she’d expected, his fist came at her. Only this time, she wasn’t afraid, wasn’t simply trying to get away like she had that horrible night when he’d come at her in his apartment. She wasn’t able to move far enough to avoid his punch, but the shock of being hit paled against the victory of grasping the scissors in her fingers a few seconds later.

His fist was halfway to her face again when she ducked, turned, and aimed the sharp tip of the blades at the man she’d once made vows to in front of her family, all because she hadn’t been brave enough to trust her own heart.

She finally trusted it, damn it. And she wasn’t going to let anyone take the love she deserved away from her.

As she nailed him with the tip of the sharp scissors right beside the dark bruise and cut she’d left him with when he’d attacked her in her apartment, Dean’s screech of pain had him stumbling back…straight into Chase’s path.

Chase’s fist landed square in the middle of her ex-husband’s jaw, the crack of bone against bone sounding loud and horrible in the once tranquil vineyard.

Dean’s eyes actually crossed as he stumbled back, but Chase didn’t stop there, just kept slamming his fist into her ex-husband’s face again and again until he looked like a bobble-head doll with his head wobbling around on top of his skinny neck.

A voice in Chloe’s head—a fairly small, quiet voice—told her she should stop Chase before he did permanent damage. But before she could, Dean’s legs fell out from beneath him.

He hit the ground hard and she expected him to be unconscious, given the loud sound his skull made when it landed in the dirt, but he still blinked up at her, groaning as a line of blood trailed from his mouth.

Chase was down on the ground beside him, his hand around Dean's throat, a moment later. “Apologize to Chloe.”

She’d never seen Chase like this, with his control frayed and torn. Yes, she’d known all along just how strong, how powerful her lover was, but it was still amazing to watch him protect her like this.

When her ex didn’t say sorry fast enough, Chase tightened his hand around his throat to the point where he started coughing.

“I’m going to give you one last chance to apologize to her.”

Dean’s eyes started to roll back in his head, but Chase wouldn’t let him pass out, shaking him until he groaned again.

“Apologize right now. Or else.”

The menace in Chase’s low-pitched voice had Dean’s eyes opening and his gaze locking with hers.

“I’m sorry, Chloe.”

She couldn’t speak, could only nod.

Dean started to pass out again, but Chase shook him. “You’re not done yet, ass**le.”

She’d never seen her ex-husband look so miserable. His face was bloody and bruised, he was crying, and he had dirt smeared in with the snot running from his nose.

“Are you ever going to come near her again?”

Chase emphasized his question by banging Dean’s skull into the dirt a few times.

“No.” Dean was sniveling now. “Never. I’ll never bother her again.”

His eyes finally rolled all the way back in his head and he went out. Cold.

Chloe was staring down at her ex-husband, lying on the ground, looking smaller to her than he ever had before, when Chase’s fingers brushed warm and gentle across her smarting cheek.