“Not so fast, Missy. We have unfinished business. How about that blow job? Or maybe you’d like me to bend you over and fuck you.”
With her right, Anna smacked his face as hard as she could, stinging her hand, the impact jarring her arm. Her engagement ring must have spun to face her palm as it left a bloody gouge on his cheek. The expression on his hardened face turned her insides to jelly. The blow only seemed to have made him angry. She quaked inside. She’d be lucky if he didn’t hurt her this time.
He backhanded her across the face. The impact stung like fire and the metallic taste of blood filled her mouth. Her lip split and her cheek smarted. She was having trouble breathing and felt like her chest was being squeezed in a vice. Her breath came in gasps, and it became difficult to focus as the panic took over. Flailing, she made contact, scratching the side of his face, leaving at least three angry tracks.
Spencer grabbed her hair and dragged her to the counter, smashing her forehead hard enough to leave her dazed, seeing stars. She went limp, but he held her in place. He fumbled first with the zipper of her shorts, then his, as he kept her pinned down. Her sobs made it difficult to breathe, and his voice grew far away as his rough hands shoved her into position.
“I like it rough,” he whispered in her ear, his hot breath on her face. “Resist if you want.”
That was the last straw. She was losing control fast. If she didn’t fight harder, it would be too late. Her shorts and underwear had pooled near her ankles. Now or never. She struggled and tried to push herself away, succeeding enough to draw a full breath for the first time.
“This is going to be quick. I want you so bad.” He smacked her ass again.
Inside she fought to maintain enough of presence of mind to continue to fight. She screamed loud enough it hurt her throatand rattled the mirror on the wall—a long continuous sound she couldn’t control.
The intensity must have startled him. As his grip loosened, still screaming, she elbowed him in the gut, driving her arm back with force as she launched away from the counter. As he staggered away, she slid down the wall and sat, hugging her knees, still screaming and sobbing—her meltdown in full swing.
Spencer stepped back, a look of revulsion on his face. “Freaky bitch. You’re not worth it.” He pulled up his shorts, crouched down, his nose almost touching hers. Squeezing her face, he wrenched it up to force eye contact. “If you tell anyone, next time I find you alone, you’ll be sorry.” Releasing her, he fixed his clothes, and looking like nothing had happened, he strode out the door.
Unable to stop, she continued to cry and scream, her throat raw and painful.
She wanted to lock the door and hide, but her legs wouldn’t move from where she was frozen in place. Sometime later, struggling to cover herself, she tugged up her shorts, even if she couldn’t fasten the zipper with her trembling hands. Later, she would be grateful she hadn’t beenraped. Right now, she couldn’t think or do anything except cry and shake.
CHAPTER 22
Isaac
Isaac finished his debrief with Angel and sat watching the TV screen in the Honda garage as the Moto3 riders finished their FP1 session. Once they cleared the track, he’d have ten minutes before his session started. He and Angel had discussed strategy for the practice and determined which types of tires they would use, and now his crew chief was busy doing the scheduled interview.
With a few minutes to kill, Isaac absently picked up his phone. There were several text notifications from Catarina. That was odd. He seldom got messages from her. Maybe to congratulate him on the engagement, but the timing was off. She would know he was about to be on track. Checking the latest, he grew alarmed. Holding his breath, he scrolled back to read from the start—sent over thirty minutes ago.
“Anna’s late for breakfast. Any idea if she’s running late?”
“She’s not answering her phone.”
“Did she forget our breakfast plans and go to the track with you?”
“What room are you in? I’ll go knock.”He checked the time signature with growing concern. That one had been sent twenty minutes ago. The updates continued every couple of minutes.
“I can’t find her anywhere. Not sure what to do. Still no answer.”
“I missed the second shuttle. I’m getting worried.”
Five minutes ago. Catarina must be frantic that not only was Anna missing, but she also hadn’t gotten a hold of him.
“She’s not here. We’re Room 923,”he sent back, his forehead tightening as his disquiet grew.
Isaac called Anna, but she didn’t answer—it went straight to voicemail. He hung up and sent her a quick text.“Call me. It’s urgent.”
Clutching his phone, he set off through the garage to the service lane where the emptied second shuttle was leaving. No Anna. Where could she be? Something was wrong.
It was a long shot, but maybe she’d forgotten her phone in the room and missed her messages. Maybe she’d arrived and headed into his trailer, though it wasn’t like her to have left without meeting Catarina. He trotted up the stairs, unlocked the door, and stuck his head into the darkened interior. She wasn’t there.
“Not on the shuttle. Checked the trailer. Not here.”Biting his lip, he updated Catarina.
He thought for a second.“Did you try the washroom?”
“Three sets. Nothing.”came her speedy response.“I’m out of ideas.”
