18. Nick #2
“Get up.” He yanked on my shirt.
“Fuck you.” I rolled out of his grip.
He made a strangled sound and lunged at me.
“Ow!” I yelled as he snatched a handful of my hair and wrenched hard. My head snapped back and I was thrown off balance. “Evan!”
“Shut up!” Still holding my hair in a death grip, he slammed my head into the floor.
Pain and a strange cold feeling exploded at the back of my skull. My ears rang, and my brain felt like it was vibrating from the impact. My vision went hazy as the edges went black.
“Fuck,” I muttered, stuck in that weird place between passing out and being awake.
“Get the fuck up.” He yanked on my hair again.
I was too dazed, and at too much of a disadvantage, to fight. I needed to let my head clear before I made my next move. Rolling over, I scrambled to my knees as he dragged me toward a door.
He got the door open and shoved me inside. I landed on my hands and knees in what looked like an office or maybe a library.
“Stay down.” He kicked me in the side.
I’d seen it coming and managed to get my arm between my ribs and his fancy dress shoe as I’d twisted out of the way, turning a direct hit into a glancing blow.
“Fuck you,” I spit out. “What do you think you’re going to accomplish here? Do you really think smacking me around is going to make me forget you’re a cheating asshole who doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air as Emily?”
He looked…deranged. His normally perfect hair was mussed and sticking out in feral cowlicks. His face was red, eyes crazed, and he was panting like he’d just run a two-minute mile and not sprinted down a twenty-foot hallway.
“I knew there was something between you and Imogen—”
“Shut up,” he seethed. “Keep her name out of your filthy whore mouth.”
“ My whore mouth? What the fuck do you think your skank-ass bitch is—”
The slap to my cheek wasn’t nearly as hard as it could have been but was still enough to rattle my already-rattled brain. Pain spread over my skin and my cheekbone ached.
“SHUT. UP!”
I dodged his attempted backhand, another manic slap, and what could have been a right hook, but tripped over an armchair I hadn’t noticed while I’d been distracted by his Rock ’em Sock ’em Robots style of fighting.
I landed on the floor again, my ass and thigh taking the brunt of the impact.
“You ruined everything ,” he shrieked.
“ I ruined everything?” I climbed to my feet, a little slower this time as the multiple hits and falls caught up with me. “How the fuck is it my fault that you’re a cheater who cheats?”
“It doesn’t matter what you think you saw.” He smoothed a hand over his hair, not fixing it at all. “No one will believe a word you say.”
“I think the fact that you just played slappy slap with my face will lend some credibility to my statements.” I pointed to my still-smarting cheek. “How are you going to explain this? Gonna try and convince them I walked into a door?”
“I won’t have to explain anything. No one will fault me for defending myself.”
“Defending yourself after you choked me and bounced my head off the goddamn floor? You attacked me.”
“Did I? That’s not what I remember.” He laughed manically, sounding as unhinged as he looked.
“Evan is going to kill you for this. Not only are you cheating on his sister, but you just put hands on his partner.”
“You’re not his partner.” He primly tucked in his shirt, still red-faced and breathless.
“Newsflash, you unfrosted Pop-Tart. I am his partner.”
“No. You’re not.”
“I’m seriously questioning which one of us just took two hits to the head because you’re talking crazy.”
He snarled at me and adjusted the sleeves of his shirt. “I’ve known Evan for a long time. I know his tastes, his proclivities, and his history. You might think you won the lottery and bagged yourself a rich sugar daddy, but you’re not special, Nick. You’re just one in a long line of boy toys.”
“You’re wrong.”
“Evan has a pattern, did you know that? He finds a young, pretty plaything and uses them for sex until he gets bored. It’s only a matter of time before a shiny new toy catches his eye and you’re right back in the strip club shaking your ass for tips.”
“You’re so far off the mark, my dude.”
“Am I?” He grinned darkly. “Are you saying he hasn’t been showering you with lavish gifts? He’s not paying your bills and he didn’t move you into his house so your ass would be available whenever he wanted it?”
“You’re wrong.”
“He bought you. Plain and simple. You’re the only one dumb enough to not see it.
Do you really think someone like Evan could ever truly be interested in someone like you?
You’re a prop, kid. A pretty piece of eye candy he can parade around.
You’re nothing. You come from nothing, and you will always be nothing. ”
“I don’t know what you’re playing at, but it’s not gonna work. You can’t distract me from the fact you’re a cheater, and I’m going to sing like a damn canary to anyone who’ll listen.”
“I’m not trying to distract you.” He glared at me, the casual cool from a moment ago already gone. “I’m merely explaining why no one will believe a word you say. I’ll deny what you think you saw, and so will Imogen.”
“You can deny it until the cows come home and you’re blue in the face, but you’re not going to get away with any of this.”
“I already have.” He grinned, but it just looked wrong. Like if an alien were trying to recreate what they thought a human smile looked like without ever seeing one.
“You’re insane. Like certifiable.”
“And you’re na?ve if you think anyone in this family gives a shit about you. Evan is using you to get his inheritance. It’s obvious to everyone with eyes. You’re nothing but a means to an end for him.”
“I’m done listening to your villain monologues. I’m out.” Throwing up my hands, I stalked toward the door.
Malcolm’s hand closed down on my shoulder.
I dropped my arm and spun away, forcing him to lose his hold.
He growled and grabbed at me again.
This time I was ready, and caught his arm, using his momentum to take him off his feet. As he was falling, I torqued his arm, got my hip under him, and flipped him onto his back.
He landed on the floor with a high-pitched squawk and a satisfying thud.
Still holding his arm, I twisted his shoulder until he screamed. Then, for good measure, I yanked his hand back and added just enough pressure on his elbow that it hit his max stretch point.
“Let go!”
“Fuck you.” I resisted the urge to kick him square in the ribs, and the balls, as payback. The fucker didn’t deserve my self-restraint, but I refused to fight dirty. “Fuck your stupid face and your shiny hair.”
He hissed and spluttered on the floor, trying to pull out of my grip even as he forced his joints to hyperextend.
“Fuck you for cheating on Emily and fuck you for all that shit you said about me.”
He swiped at my ankle. His fingertips brushed the hem of my slacks.
“Try that again.” I wrenched his arm back, stopping right at the point before it snapped. “I fucking dare you.”
He screamed in what sounded like pain and frustration and made another grab at my ankle.
Shifting so I was holding his arm with one hand, I reached into my pocket and pulled out my fidget spinner knife. Flipping the trigger, I snapped the blade open.
His scream echoed in the room. Loud and bloodcurdling.
SLAM.
The door to the office flew open and a crush of bodies spilled in. A woman screeched and loud male voices shouted over each other as I twisted toward the commotion.
“Help!” Malcolm shrieked from the floor. “He’s trying to kill me!”