The movie was still on and I was about to switch it off when there was a knock on the door. The peephole gave me a view of the front porch, as did the security camera. It was Stuart. Now might be a good time to talk to him, as we were alone without Easton or Stacey to interrupt us.
I opened the door and he walked in without a word. Alcohol fumes followed him, which wasn’t a good sign.
“We need to discuss our daughter,” he began.
“Fine. Have a seat.” His disheveled appearance clued me in that he must’ve been drinking for a while, not to mention the odor. “Stuart, before we start, how much have you had to drink?”
“Here we go. Are you going to interrogate me?”
“No, it was a simple question.”
“Fine. My simple answer is none of your damn business.”
“If that’s how you want to do this, then we’re not discussing Easton. You can leave.”
A sneer formed on his mouth. “You’re mistaken. I’m not leaving until I see Easton.”
“She’s asleep already.”
“Then wake her up.” Each of his words was a harsh demand. Back was the Stuart I remembered and pinpricks of fear stabbed my spine. I wasn’t afraid for myself, but was dreadfully terrified for my daughter. Somehow, I had to get him out of here before he did something terrible to her.
I rushed to the door and opened it. “Leave now, Stuart, or I’ll call the police.”
For a drunk man, he moved with unexpected speed. His hand wrapped around my arm as he hauled me back toward the couch and then punched me in the gut. I doubled over as the air in my lungs whooshed out. When I did, his other fist met my cheekbone, snapping my head back. I would’ve fallen backwards had his hands not clenched around my neck. He jerked me into an upright position as horror gripped me. Fingers tightened and spots swam before my eyes. I was sure he would strangle me. Things spiraled and the light dimmed, but then I heard a shout in the distance and his hands disappeared as I hit the floor, gasping for oxygen. Relief flooded me as precious air filled my lungs. I lay there, breathing, until my senses returned and it was then I heard the shouting beyond my front door. It wasn’t long before I pushed to my feet to see what the commotion outside was about.
“Get up, you asshole. If you want to fight, take on someone your own size.”
Tristian towered above Stuart, who was on the ground with a bloody face. What was Tristian doing here?
“I said get up or I’ll yank you to your feet myself.”
Stuart swiped at the blood on his face. “You’ll pay for this. My father will see to it.”
“I doubt that, but get up.”
Then I noticed something that had me shuddering. A gun lay several feet from them. I tried to call out to Tristian, but my voice was too hoarse, so I ran inside and called 911 first and then my dad.
“Daddy, get over here. Now!” Again, I tried to shout but my hoarse voice didn’t work. Not giving him time to ask questions, I hung up and went back outside.
Stuart rolled over to his hands and knees, then scrambled for the gun, but Tristian beat him to it and kicked it away. Then he pulled Stuart up by his collar and punched him. “Think about that, you asshole, the next time you lay hands on a woman.”
Sirens sounded in the distance and got louder, thank God.
Tristian towered over Stuart as he berated him for assaulting me. Two police cars came to a screeching halt in the driveway, and four officers jumped out of the cars as soon as they came to a stop. One of the officers tried to put Tristian in a hold, but I stopped him.
“No!” I tugged on the cop’s arm. “Officer, this man saved me.” I pointed to Stuart, saying, “That one tried to kill me. That gun over there is his and I’m sure you’ll find his prints on it.”
Another officer picked it up in a baggy and took it. Then they questioned me, while Stuart screamed about his dad working for the governor.
One of the officers said, “I don’t care who you are. Nothing puts you above the law.” They read him his rights and put him in the car. My parents arrived during this scene and Dad had to be restrained. The situation was such a mess, chaos reigned in my front yard.
Dad struggled to get free, shouting, “This man has a history of beating my daughter. He should go to prison for this.”
“Dad, calm down,” I tried to yell, but I was so hoarse, it sounded more like a whisper.
Dad stared at me, then pulled me into his arms. “Jesus, English. He could’ve killed you.”
When his words sank in, my body viciously trembled and I crumpled in Dad’s arms. He had to hold me up as horror over what had just transpired ripped through me. I latched onto his shirt as beads of sweat broke out all over my body. My heart pounded in my ears like a thousand hooves of horses running through a field.
“My daughter needs an ambulance,” Dad shouted. He touched my face and I winced. “That motherfucker.”
Then the tears came as I thought of my poor baby girl. What had I done? Tristian stood and watched. If it hadn’t been for him, I would’ve died. Our eyes connected and I held out an arm. He came forward.
“How did you know?” I rasped. My raw throat still burned from where Stuart had choked me.
“I didn’t. I came over to try to talk to you.”
“You saved my life.”
Dad handed me off to him and he held me close. “It’s going to be okay now. He’s going to jail and I’ll testify.”
Emotions clogged my throat. Words couldn’t get past them.
“English, I’ll watch Easton while you go to the hospital,” Mom said. The ambulance had arrived and Tristian walked me over.
Dad and Tristian rode together while I was in the ambulance. The EMTs started an IV on the way and gave me something to calm me down. When I got to the hospital, the doctor ordered X-rays of my face, neck and chest and determined there were no fractures. A nurse came in and took plenty of pictures in order for the police to file the assault and battery report.
Stuart was also in the emergency room with a broken nose, courtesy of Tristian. He deserved worse than that, but it would have to do for now. As we were leaving, his father strode in surrounded by an entourage of men in suits. I glanced up when I saw them. He walked in my direction, and I cowered. Every muscle in my body tensed as he approached me, but when he moved closer, the police officer stopped him. “I wouldn’t advise that, sir.”
“I wouldn’t either,” Dad said, his eyes like ice chips.
Stuart’s father had always liked me but that had changed. Cold eyes pierced mine and a chill sent me shivering. I knew I’d made a lifelong enemy tonight.
Chapter Thirteen
Tristian—One Hour Earlier
This impasse between English and me had to end and it would tonight. When I arrived at her house, the door stood cracked open and I heard a man shouting. I raced inside to see his hands around her neck.
No man had a right to lay hands on a woman, ever. I dragged that fucker outside and threw several jabs at him. One landed on his nose and I heard the crack.
“You broke my nose.” His hand covered the protrusion as blood dripped between his fingers.
“That’s not all I’m going to break.” I landed another punch to his ribs. That was when he fell. He was on his stomach and I noticed him reach in his pants. When I saw the gun, he didn’t have time to aim it before I kicked it away. “You fucker. I should’ve expected that. I’ve been in my share of fights before. I’m not naïve and if you think that scares me you’re a fool. Now get up. Fight like a man.”