Don’t panic. I tell myself as I devise a plan to save me and my baby. He’s between me and the panel with the panic button, but I have the panic necklace in my robe pocket. I just need to hit it before he turns into the lunatic I know him to be.
“What are you doing here,” I question him, calmly while casually sliding my left hand in my pocket.
Wes reaches around and grabs my throat, squeezing hard as he pulls me back against him. Tears sting my eyes, but I can’t let him win. He sniffs my hair then rubs his nose along my ear. When he speaks, his lips brush my skin with every syllable.
“I told you I’d have you again,” he announces with sick satisfaction as he rubs his erection against my ass. “There’s no point in begging to come home; you’re dying after I fuck you.”
My mind races to remember some of the self-defense tactics I’d learned while we were separated. The problem is, Wes is unpredictable. My forehead collides with the microwave above the stove when he pushes my head forward. The pain stuns me for a moment and forces my eyes closed.
“But first, I need to reteach you some fucking manners, bitch.”
I yelp from the pain of him yanking me back to him by my hair. Elbowing him in the side, I get him off me long enough to grab the pot of boiling rice and fling it in his direction. He yells in pain, but I don’t look back as I dash to the front door. He grabs my ankle before I can open it. I fall forward, bracing with my palms on the door to shield my baby from impact. I pivot to face him, preferring to fall on my ass. He pulls me toward him, and I kick him in the nose. My bare foot doesn’t make much of an impact, but it hurts him enough for me to hit the panic button in my robe.
“You bitch!”
He draws back like he’s about to punch me. I roll to the right in a fetal position to shield my face and baby. Wes’ sudden stillness makes me peek between my fingers. He’s frozen in place with pure hatred on his face as he stares at my hand.
His fingers bruise my wrist when he wrenches it toward him. “You’re fucking married?” He snarls inches from my face. He uses his opposite hand to backhand me. “You filthy slut. Now I know why you were desperate for a divorce”
Pain makes me sob when he bites my hand as if he’s trying to remove my pinky and ring finger with his teeth. One of Beau’s law books is within reach, and I swing it spine first at his temple. It hurts him enough to dislodge his teeth from my hand. He grins at me and wipes my blood from his lips.
“That’s enough foreplay, baby.”
I roll back to the fetal position just as the front door crashes open. Beau rushes in and lands a punch hard enough to knock out a sane person, but Wes is unhinged. They trade blows, breaking stuff as I try to slide out of the way. My hand is killing me, and my adrenaline has skyrocketed. My baby kicks wildly inside of me like he’s trying to run a marathon. I take a few deep breaths to try to calm us. I hear Beau groan after a loud crash. I turn to see him climbing off the broken table, but Wes is already on me again ripping at my robe.
The click of a gun cocking silences the room. Brett is standing at the door in full uniform. He has his gun trained on Wes. Brett’s blond hair is slicked back out of his face, and his blue eyes shine with deadly promises. He clenches his jaw, silently begging Wes to keep acting like an animal.
“Freeze,” he grits out. “Don’t make any sudden moves, Mr. Chesterfield. You’re rather far from home, so let’s make this easy, okay?”
To the outside world, he sounds cool and collected, but I know he's furious. He side-steps, flanking right, while keeping his eye trained on Wes.
“Fuck you, I’ll get you fired! This bitch got married without my permission. No one can have her.”
“You’re trespassing and actively committing assault in front of an officer, Sir.” They stare at each other for a moment and Brett’s eyes flash with challenge. I don’t know how, but I know he’s going to incite Wes on purpose. “You’re endangering two lives. Think about the baby.”
“Baby?” Wes snarls as his mind breaks. He rips my robe open and stares at my naked belly.
“Step away from the pregnant woman! Please don’t make me fire.”
Wes doesn’t hear a damn thing because I’m everything he hates—pregnant and married to another man.
His face contorts in rage. “Bitch, I’ll kill you!” Brett fires twice when Wes wraps his hands around my neck.
Wes grabs his arm with the gun wound, rolls off me, and rises to his feet.
“Get down, Mr. Chesterfield! Last warning.”
“I’ll kill you, too, asshole,” Wes threatens before he charges Brett. I see a trace of a smile on Brett’s face before he opens fire on Wes.
Beau grabs me and wraps me in his arms as Wes falls to the floor and takes his last breath.
Beau
Celeste has finally fallen asleep.After stitching her hand and running tests, the doctor determined that she and our baby will be fine, but they are keeping her overnight for observation. The bruises on her forehead, cheek, neck, wrists along with her bandaged hand send me into another fit of rage with each passing look. If Wes wasn’t dead, I’d want to kill him.
Visitors have come and gone for the day. Visiting hours aren’t over, but there wasn’t any point in our families crowding us. We’ll go to the mansion once she’s discharged, and both sets of parents can stare at us all day if they’d like. Right now, my only concern is keeping her calm, so she can rest.
“You did this!” Senior yells from the door, startling Celeste awake.
