Falling For You (Love In All Seasons #2) - Frankie Love Page 0,51
rolled up, his eyes darting around.
When he lunges for the door as if he has the ability to keep me from coming in, I see Justine spread out on the bed.
Her panties at her ankles, her breasts bare, her fear palpable.
I push my hand through the broken door and unlock it. I kick it in, ready to kick Luther in, too.
And I do. The ax is swung over my head, I raise it with fierce determination.
“You motherfucker,” I growl. “You will pay for this, do you understand?” I shout. He’s an idiot, a fucking fool because he lunges for me with his hand outstretched as if he’s going to choke me.
I use the bottom of the ax and push it in his chest. The blow pushes him to the ground and I kick him while he is down.
Knowing Justine isn’t in imminent danger, I reach for one of the belts hanging on a wall, a belt I don’t want to imagine him using on any woman, let alone my woman.
In a swift movement that I didn’t even need to think twice about, I bind his hands. I intrinsically know what needs to be done. I lean down, looking in his beady eyes. He snarls at me. We both know his words mean nothing now.
But he can glare at me all he likes. It’s not like his face is going to do anything but piss me off even more.
“You’re such a fucking pile of shit,” I tell him, my foot on his chest, his back on the ground, hands behind him.
He begs me to move my foot because it’s crushing at his chest.
“I’ll do what I fucking want,” I spit back at him.
Luther hasn’t learned anything though because he just snaps back, “You think you’re so special, don’t you, Ryder? Such a little momma’s boy. But she’s not here to save you.”
I shake my head at this man who has taken Justine against her will.
“And you’re not able to save yourself,” I tell him, knowing justice will be served. I already hear people charging the house, a police officer shouting making their arrival known.
Knowing that in a moment they will be in this room, I kick Luther one more time, then I run over to Justine and pull up her panties up, not wanting her sweet skin exposed when the officers arrive at the scene. I loosen the gag from her mouth; the tears streaming down her cheeks break me.
“Ryder,” she cries, her eyes so full of sorrow. “I should have listened, I should have believed you.”
“Baby.” I hold her face with my hands. “You’re okay now. You’re safe.”
“The keys are in his pocket,” she gasps.
Luther’s trying to loosen his hold, and I make my way to him, reaching for the keys in his pocket, before rushing back to Justine.
As I move toward her, four police officers with guns raised, enter the room.
My body covers Justine, I don’t want her to be seen like this. She may have wanted to sell her virginity, but she never wanted to be defiled.
As the police officers assess the scene they’ve just walked into, I use the key to unlock Justine from the bed and then I take off my jacket and wrap it around her.
I pick her up, cradling her in my arms.
Cradled right where she belongs.
I look at the officers. “I’m taking my woman outside. If you need to question us, question us there. I’m not staying in this house one moment longer.”
They look at Justine, and she nods. “It’s him. He’s the monster who should be punished.”
They force us to answer a few more questions and we oblige, knowing the sooner Luther is taken care of, the better. They want a statement from Justine about what happened the night she left the convention center. What I did with her. What Luther did too.
But she refuses to say much and instead says she needs a lawyer present.
When the officers realize we aren’t giving them much, they start dealing with Luther. I take Justine outside, as far as possible from the monster who married my mother.
He may have ruined most of this property, but there is one place I know he hasn’t touched.
That’s where I’m taking Justine.
EXPOSÉ
The Gossip Column You Can Sink Your Teeth Into
MILLIONAIRE VILLAINAIRE? By Trista Piper
The story of the auction of Justine Van De Shire’s virginity continues to bewilder Alaskan natives. When questioned, a neighbor of Luther Morris stated that he’s not quite the clean-cut millionaire everyone at EXPOSÉ seemed to