“I’m sorry. I’l pay for any damage or cleaning of your house,” I said.
He ignored my total y stupid comment.
“You told me you weren’t in danger.”
Shit.
I had said that.
“I wouldn’t have left you alone if I’d known you were in danger,” he went on.
Good God, he thought it was his fault.
“It wasn’t your fault, Hank. I didn’t think I was in danger,” I told him.
And it was true, I didn’t think I was.
I thought Bil y loved me. He was crazy and possessive, not to mention crazy possessive, but I never thought he’d even hit me, much less beat me up and threaten to rape me on another man’s bed. I never thought he’d drag me across country, on the run from what had to be bad guys and put me in even worse danger from them than I had from him.
How lucky was I that they didn’t take me with them or shoot me on the spot?
How f**king lucky was I that they left me cuffed to a sink?
I never thought, growing up with dreams of being a corporate goddess with two closets ful of clothes and another one dedicated to shoes, that I’d end up like this.
My tense body started shaking.
“Oh shit,” I said.
He felt it coming and he turned me. I resisted but he did it anyway.
“Shit,” I repeated as it came over me. “Shit, shit, shit.” I was face-to-face with him and both Hank’s arms went round me as the tears arrived; great, wracking sobs.
Dammit, I hated when I cried. I was so f**king weak.
And anyway, crying hurt my ribs.
I put my hands over my face and, pain or not, had no choice but to let loose.
“I’m so s-s-stupid,” I stammered, between crying hiccoughs, taking my hands away from my face. “Bil y scared me, what with the sledgehammer and al , but I was so stupid. I thought I could play games.”
“Sledgehammer?” Hank asked but I ignored him.
“I thought I was smarter than him. Uncle Tex said my plan would go south. It’s so south, it’s in the next f**king galaxy!” I shouted.
“Let’s go back to the sledgehammer,” Hank suggested.
I pul ed away and started to rol out of bed. I was nearly out when Hank tagged the camisole top of my pajamas and pul ed me back into bed.
“Let go!”
“Roxanne, calm down.”
I struggled against him, “Hank, let me go!” Surprisingly, I won the struggle. It didn’t occur to me he wasn’t going to wrestle with me when I had three cracked ribs. I jumped out of bed and ran to my suitcases, my breathing labored with that minimal effort.
“I have to go, like, now,” I announced even though I was in no shape to go anywhere.
Hank was out of bed and getting in my space.