Free Blue-Eyed Devil by Lisa Kleypas Page B

pills, he would kill me. A strange, sickening resignation settled beneath the fear, and my pulse quieted. I was light-headed and freezing. “I’m going to get dressed,” I said, still calm, even as he broke, ripped, threw, destroyed, liquids and powders spilling, running together in oozing pastel puddles.

    I went to my dresser, pulled out jeans and underwear and a T-shirt even though it was late and I should have reached for pajamas. I guess my subconscious had already figured out I wouldn’t be sleeping that night. As I finished dressing, Nick stormed into the bedroom and shoved me aside. He pulled out drawers and upended them, emptying my clothes into piles.

    “Nick, stop it.”

    “Tell me where they are!”

    “If you’re looking for an excuse to hit me again,” I said, “just go ahead and do it.” I didn’t sound defiant. I wasn’t even scared anymore. I was weary, the kind of weary you get to when your thoughts and emotions dry up to nothing.

    But Nick was determined to find proof that I had betrayed him, and punish me until I would forever be afraid. Finishing with the drawers, he went into the closet and started throwing my shoes and ripping open my purses. I didn’t try to run or hide. I just stood there, numb and expectant, waiting for the execution.

    He came from the closet with the pills in hand, hell in his face. I dimly understood that he was no more in control of his actions than I was. There was a monster in him that had to be fed, and he wouldn’t stop until it was satisfied.

    I was grabbed and slammed against the wall, my head filled with white noise as the back of my skull struck the hard surface. Nick hit me harder than he ever had before, his hand closed this time, and I felt my jaw crack. I only understood a few words, something about the pills, and I was going to have all the goddamn pills I wanted, and he tore some from the package and shoved them into my mouth, and tried to hold my jaw shut as I spat and sputtered. He hit me in the stomach and I doubled over, and he dragged me through the first-floor apartment to the front door.

    I went hurtling to the ground, landing hard on the edge of the from doorstep. A piercing agony shot through me as his foot connected with my ribs. “You stay there till morning,” he snarled. “You think about what you’ve done.”

    The door slammed shut.

    I lay outside on the pavement, the sun-heated asphalt smoking like a stove plate even though it was dark. October in Texas was as hot as high summer. Cicadas creaked and teemed, the vibration of their tymbals filling the air. After a long time I sat up and spat out a mouthful of salty liquid, and evaluated the damage. I hurt in my stomach and ribs and between the legs, and in the back of the head. My mouth was bleeding, and there was searing pain in my jaw.

    My biggest fear was that Nick might open the door and drag me back in.

    Trying to think above the violent pounding in my head, I considered my options. No purse. No money. No driver’s license. No cell phone. No car keys. No shoes either. I looked down at my bare feet, and I had to laugh even though it hurt my swollen mouth. Shit, this was not good. It occurred to me that I might actually have to wait outside all night like a cat Nick had thrown out. Come morning, he would let me in, and I would crawl back, chastened and defeated.

    I wanted to curl up and start crying. But I found myself lurching to my feet, fighting for balance.

    To hell with you, I thought, glancing at the closed door. I could still walk.

    If I could have gone to anyone at that moment, it would have been my best friend, Todd. I needed his understanding and comfort.

    But in these circumstances, there was only one person who could really help me. Gage Everyone from McAllen to El Paso either owed him favors or wanted to do him favors. He could solve a problem quickly, efficiently, with no fanfare. And there was no one in the world I trusted more.

    I walked to the