Billionaire Protector - Alexa Hart Page 0,64

go than to endure the hell Tim had in store for me.

The knife was close enough. I could slit my own throat, given a few seconds. If I could bend a leg up backwards between his, maybe get in a decent donkey kick to his groin. I could end this torture before it started.

Murphy.

My poor little boy was hiding somewhere, listening and terrified.

It didn’t matter what Tim did to me. As long as there was breath in my lungs, I couldn’t give up. I had to fight, even if that meant simply surviving.

Tim shoved me against the counter, and I heard the distinct sound of his pants zipper coming down. His hand around my throat guaranteed that I didn’t fight back. As soon as I did, the grip tightened.

Knocking at the front door.

I was so elated I almost burst into tears. Someone was here.

“Valerie Johnson? This is Officer Miller, just here to do a follow-up visit, ma’am. Make sure everything is okay.” The deep voice boomed through the trailer, and Tim gritted his teeth in anger.

He abruptly let go of me, and I gasped for air, feeling the life come back into me along with the oxygen.

“You’re getting off easy this time, girlie. But that officer ain’t gonna stay here. Ain’t gonna live here. I will be back. You and I got a hot date waiting.” He picked up the knife and stabbed it straight into the counter. “And then I guess I got a funeral to plan, although I’m guessin’ a burn barrel will do the trick.”

Tim planted a repulsive kiss on my cheek and took off through the trailer, exiting out the shitty back door.

I attempted to pull myself together, knowing the officer was waiting.

I wiped the tears that had built up in my eyes, put the knife back in the drawer, and walked calmly to the front door.

I’d simply tell them. Tim couldn’t have gotten too far – he was on foot and he was drunk. He’d broken in. Harassed me. Surely I could get him put away for a few days.

Feeling as if his hand was still around my neck, I let the officer in, and proceeded to share what had just taken place.

While the cops searched for Tim, I took Murphy, gathered a few things that would fit into my purse, got us into my piece of shit car, and drove to the bus station.

I woke up the following morning hating myself more than I’d previously thought possible.

Leaving Penn like that... the entire conversation was a blur. Something in me had broken, and immediately, all I’d wanted was to grab Murphy and go.

So badly, I wanted my past to stay in the past. I didn’t want the poison of everything I’d experienced to seep into my new life... or my possible new relationship.

But Penn was so insistent. He just couldn’t help himself. And I knew it was from a place of genuine concern, of protectiveness, of... love. If he actually got all of the information he was seeking, he would more than likely no longer care to know.

The Hardicks were good people. They’d been kind to me. Even Preston with his abrasive and mildly inebriated speech had meant well, in his own way.

Maybe if I was just an orphan. Maybe being a dirt-poor girl from out east would have been okay, if that had been the extent of my shame.

But the full picture was much worse. Randall and the abuse and the death and the investigation and Tim and the fleeing...

It was a circus – an absolute shit show. That was what I had to bring to the Hardick family table.

And as nice as they all were, none of them deserved to be associated with such an overtly disturbing history as mine.

I was a fucking pariah.

Murphy squirmed next to me, still deep in dreamland, and I pulled him close.

Murphy adored Penn, and I knew that the feeling was mutual.

Penn hadn’t even flinched at the idea of me being a mother.

He wanted a family. He’d said so, of course, but more importantly, I could clearly see the desire in his actions. He wasn’t playing.

When he’d raised his voice... Everything had gone black. Suddenly I was somewhere else getting yelled at by someone else and what happened next was going to be horrible, just as it always was.

Humans got upset. Humans raised their voices. That was normal.

I was just so conditioned to expect physical harm to follow any escalation in volume. I’d instantly been scared, and then