And I was mad at myself now, too. By running, I'd made it more fun for Theo. He might've waited a while before deciding he was ready.
Not that waiting would've mattered. He would've raped me eventually, and this time I didn't have Donovan watching from above.
Or did I?
A new flame of hope kindled inside me. There are cameras in my bedroom. I didn't know if they were in the main part of my apartment. I'd made Donovan promise not to watch me on them anymore. But I'd learned tonight that he'd broken promises before—and wouldn't he be more likely to want to watch me when it was the only way he had access to me? When we were fighting, and I wasn't answering his calls?
If I could get Theo to the bedroom, maybe I would have a chance. It was a small chance, but a chance.
"I'm sorry," I said, trying my best to feign obedience. I gave him my other trembling hand voluntarily to demonstrate how sorry I was. "I was just thinking you might like it better in the bedroom."
"I like it better when you don't do any thinking," Theo responded gruffly.
Right. I knew that.
"I meant," oh God, oh God, it was so hard not to sob as I said it, "I thought you'd like it better if you had to chase me."
He had moved his hand from my throat so he could hold my wrists while he undid his jeans. At least, I was guessing that's what he was doing from the sound of the belt and the zipper—I couldn't see him from this position. But at my words, he stilled.
"Sabrina," he said, a note of awe in his tone. "If we play chase, you're likely going to get hurt."
As if I wasn't going to get hurt anyway.
"I'm not advocating against it. I'm just telling you how the game works." He pressed against me, and even though I still had my leggings on, I could feel he was bare. His naked penis rubbed up and down along the crevice of my ass. He felt thick and gross.
I started crying harder. He was going to put that inside me. I didn't even know where he was going to put it inside me. He could put it in so many places. He was going to hurt me. He was going to violate me.
And I had to fight.
He let go of my hands, to maneuver my pants, and with everything I had I pushed up off the sofa, shoving him backward and off of me.
He was slightly surprised, but he knew I was his captive. And he enjoyed the chase. So he was more amused than upset.
Like before, I made a beeline for the bedroom. If I could just get in there, if Donovan could see us, he would call the cops or the doorman—someone who could get here immediately. I believed it. I had to believe it.
But Theo jumped in front of me, cutting off my pathway to the door.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I pivoted and ran in the other direction. Acting as much on instinct as anything else, I bent down as I ran past the fireplace, grabbing the beer bottle that had rolled over there, then circled around the sofa with the item behind my back. Suddenly, I could see his moves in my head. Theo would double back and head me off. I had him pinned, and he didn't know it.
He did exactly as I’d guessed. He doubled back.
And when I came face-to-face with him, I pulled the bottle from behind my back and swung with all my might, hitting him across the face.
Check.
He stumbled backwards, cursing incomprehensibly.
Just then my front door burst open and Donovan stood there. "Get the fuck away from her, Sheridan," he shouted.
Checkmate.
Chapter 21
"Donovan!" I cried. Dropping the beer bottle, I rushed for him.
I could feel a tug on the back of my sweater, but I didn’t give into and I made it safely into Donovan's arms. When I did, I turned back and saw Theo was wielding his knife again. If he’d managed to grab me—if I’d given into that tug—the blade would be in my throat by now, and it wouldn't matter that Donovan was here.
I’d been aware of the danger I was in all night, but now that it was nearly over, it consumed me. I burst into sobs and buried my face in Donovan's chest. He held me tight against his side, angling me so that I was away from my predator.
“Let me out the door," Theo said, as if he had room to bargain now, "and we can forget all of this, Kincaid.”
"You’re not fucking walking out this door. You’re lucky I’m letting you live right now." I'd never heard Donovan so riled.
“I don’t think you’re in the position to bargain. I’m the one with the weapon.” He waved it around a few times, proving he knew how to use the blade. “Let me go. We can forget your mistakes. Forget everything you’ve done to me."
"Done to you? That’s a laugh. But you’re right. I’ve made two mistakes. Not persuading Sabrina to prosecute you the first time and deciding that jail was good enough for you the second time.”
Theo grinned, as though Donovan’s “mistakes” were his war trophies. "I guess I’ll have to go through you. The only question is whether or not I take Sabrina with me when I do.”
I started to scream.
Just then, a voice from behind us shouted, “Drop the weapon!”
I peered around Donovan and found a handful of police officers at the door, guns pointing at Theo. He had no chance, and he knew it. He dropped his knife and fell to his knees, immediately placing his hands behind his head. The officers ran to attend to him. Though he’d surrendered, Theo struggled and spat in the face of an officer as another one placed him in handcuffs.
“Careful, boys,” one of the officers said after reading his rights. “He’s trying to provoke us so he can sue the department.” He addressed Theo directly. “We know your type, and it ain’t gonna work. My men don’t play your games. We’re the good guys here.”
It was satisfying to see Theo deflated, though I personally wouldn’t have minded seeing him roughed up a bit.
Actually, I didn’t want to look at him at all.
I turned away from Theo and the police and into Donovan who was waiting for me when I did.
He tilted my chin up and searched my face. "Are you all right? Tell me you're all right. Tell me I got here in time."
I didn't know how to answer. I wasn't all right, and I was. I would never be all right again, yet he hadn’t gotten to me like he had before. Maybe the question was wrong. Maybe the answer wasn't important.
“He didn't hurt me,” I managed, a compromise on a thousand different levels.
Donovan was inspecting me anyway. His face went white when he reached the bare skin of my torso. "There’s blood…"
I looked down at my wounds. I'd barely felt them; I'd been too afraid of the real damage that could be done with the blade. "They’re scratches," I assured him. "They don't hurt."
"Where did he touch you?" The question sounded almost caught in the back of his throat, forced out by mere will.
"He didn't. I'm fine." I was obviously not fine. Tears kept streaming down my face and I kept shaking even though I felt feverish.
Donovan scraped my cheek with his knuckles, gathering my tears, and then looked at me as if it were a challenge to tell him yet again that I was fine.
I crumpled. "I was so scared. I thought he was going to…" I couldn't even say what I thought he was going to do. "I tried to get him into the bedroom because I knew there were cameras there. I thought maybe if you were watching, you would see us and you'd get help."