CHAPTER FIVE
The hand gripping Julia’s bare shoulder kept her quiet.
She wished the front door wasn’t locked.
If she screamed, it would take a while for Conor to break the door down, and, based on past experience, it would be a stretch of pain for her.
She trembled. The hand on her shoulder pulled her toward the living room.
She clutched her bath towel against her chest as she walked, feeling the cold linoleum kitchen tile under her feet turn to soft carpet as she stepped into her living room.
A shove knocked her forward. She fell on the couch, the bath towel riding up her hips.
“Cover yourself,” said James, pacing in front of her coffee table. “You can strip for your boyfriend later.”
“I don’t have a boyfriend,” said Julia, adjusting the towel. Knees together, she looked at her ex, James. “Can I get dressed?”
“I wish you could,” said James, pulling the coffee table away from the couch. “But I found out what happens when I’m nice, so the answer is no.”
She watched him sit on the table then scoot it forward until his knees were an inch from hers. He placed a clammy hand on her knee, then slid his hand up her thigh. The smell of his stale sweat filled her head.
“I paid a lot of money to find you, so now you’re going to sit there and listen to me,” he said, his voice booming. “Do you understand?”
She nodded, wishing she hadn’t jumped out of the shower and opened the door when he’d knocked.
Just ten more seconds and it would’ve been Conor.
How bad could a person’s luck be? She looked down, willing her hands to stop trembling.
His voice scared the shit out of her, which was funny because it was what had attracted her to him.
The first time she’d heard him, voice echoing through the halls she mopped at Massey High School, she’d thought his volume made him important.
It had taken one date in a dark corner booth of a French restaurant—nearly an hour’s drive from Massey—to understand that he talked loudly because he thought loud equaled important.
He bellowed that whole night, ordering the waitress around in a voice that everyone in the restaurant could hear.
She had a feeling right then that he was a narcissistic ass, but she’d ignored her intuition.
A month later she’d seen enough to know he was an arrogant pig, but she’d decided to stick it out, convinced that the lifestyle he’d lavished on her was worth the sacrifice.
It had been a bad bargain, and it had given loud-mouthed James Stockton—upstanding citizen and superintendent of Woodlands Public Schools—time to roll out his whole bag of tricks.
She winced, feeling the scar on her cheek.
Yeah, he’d really enjoyed showing her he was boss in more ways than one. She flinched as he slapped her thigh.
“People look up to me,” he said. “I’ve been asked more than once to run for state office. Then there’s you. No family. No prospects. Cleaning toilets for a living. You don’t leave a man like me. How do you think that makes me feel?”
“I don’t know.”
He gripped her thigh. “I said listen. I didn’t say talk. You need to learn how to listen. Understand?”
“Yes. I—”
The slap came out of nowhere. Her head snapped to the side. She went limp for a moment. Stars flashed and popped in a field of black. His voice surrounded her.
“That’s disgusting. Get your towel on. I’m not going to sit here and have you flash your tits at me. If I’d known you were a whore, I never would have had you in my bed.”
The room spun. She fought to keep her head up. She wrapped the towel around her.
“Now let’s start again. And this time, listen.”
She nodded.
“See? You don’t have to interrupt me. That’s not so hard, is it?”
She shook her head and smiled. Her mouth was so dry that her lips stuck to her teeth.
“Here’s the thing,” he said. “I gave you everything, and you repaid me by sneaking away. Maybe I got a little rough, but that was your fault. A girl from your background needs to know her place.”
She nodded, her cheeks aching from holding the smile.
He stroked her hair, then stood and paced. “I shouldn’t tell you this, but you scared me.”
She rubbed the numb spot where he’d slapped her, tensing as his voice sharpened.
“I thought you were going to talk to somebody. Can you imagine how embarrassing that would have been? To admit I’d been seeing you?
And in the condition you were in, people would’ve gotten all kinds of crazy ideas.
But everyone knows a girl like you will lie to take advantage of someone like me.
You would’ve been laughed out of town. The problem is you left without telling me what you were going to do.
You have no idea what that did to me. It was hell on me. Absolute hell.”
The words at this point didn’t mean a thing to Julia.
She’d been around James long enough to know his body language.
And she could see he was at a tipping point.
Puffing his chest out. Banging a fist on his thigh.
Breathing through an open mouth. She pulled the towel around herself as tightly as possible.
Unless she did something, it was going to happen again.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
James stopped pacing. “What did you say?”
“I said I’m sorry.”
“Look at me when you talk.”
Julia twisted a handful of towel against her chest and looked at James. “You deserve better,” she said. “I’m not good enough for you.”
She inhaled quickly as he stepped toward her and grabbed her by the ears, sticking his face close to hers. “That’s my choice to make, not yours. And by the time I’m done, you’ll be good enough, whether you like it or not. But, like everything else, it’s going to be up to me to make it happen.”
He gave her ears a twist before straightening. Hands on hips, he loomed over her. She wanted to rub her burning ears, but she kept still while he talked.
“First off, you’re staying in Brannigan.
No one knows you’re here, so no one can get in my business.
I’ll visit—might be every night for a while—and teach you how to treat a man.
And you’ll learn how to be a proper, traditional woman.
One who takes care of her man, cooks for him, cleans for him. And handles his physical needs.”
She watched him hook his thumbs into his chinos under the overhang of his belly.
“But there’s a problem,” he said. “You ran. And you might think you can do it again.”
She shook her head, mouthing, “No.”
“And there’s also the notion of payback,” he continued. “You have no idea what you put me through. My stomach was in knots, thinking how you’d blabber some wild story of how I assaulted you before I could find you and get your head right.”
“Please,” she whispered.
“So, here’s what we’re going to do,” he said, undoing his belt. “You sit there and take what I give you. Some of it will feel good and some won’t, but you brought it on yourself. It’ll give you something to remember if you ever think about running again.”
Julia listened to the soft clink of the buckle being undone and the slip of leather through belt loops as he pulled his belt free.
James was as tall as Conor, but much heavier, and his hand was huge and doughy as he wrapped the belt around his palm.
She looked at the front door, twisting the towel in her lap, wishing that Conor would break in and beat James to a pulp.
“We’ll start with something you’ll like and move on from there,” said James, unzipping his pants.
She inhaled sharply as he grabbed her hair and pulled her forward, fumbling with his boxers. She looked at the door.
“Stop fighting. You’re just making it harder,” he said, yanking her hair.
Pain shot down her neck as he twisted her head. The belt buckle in his hand cut into her scalp as he held her, forcing her to watch him pull down his boxers. They fell to his ankles. He grabbed her head with both hands. She tried to pull away, but he was too strong.
As James wrestled to hold her head still, she let go of the towel and arched back. James stepped forward, spreading his legs for balance. She punched him in the crotch.
He let out a strangled moan and dropped his belt on the couch.
Then he collapsed on her, blotting out light, sound, and air.
She could feel his belt buckle under the back of her neck.
She tried to breathe and got nothing. She bucked and shrieked.
His dead weight muffled her scream. Panic rose through her.
She dug her left hand behind her head, grabbed the belt, and pulled.
The buckle cut the back of her neck as she yanked the belt free.
Her lungs screamed for air. She whipped the belt as hard as she could, feeling the solid whack of the buckle hit James’ back. Again and again and again...
Blackness descended.
Then air rushed into her lungs.
At first, she couldn’t move. She stared at the ceiling, her chest rising and falling.
The urge to lie there naked and do nothing but breathe was overwhelming.
Every part of her body felt heavier than she could ever imagine.
She turned her head. James rocked on his side on the floor, holding his groin.
In an instant she was on her feet. She swung the belt and caught the buckle in her free hand. The sound was slight. A mere clink. James opened his eyes.
She jumped on his chest, looped the belt around his neck, and then pressed all her weight down.
His face turned bright red as the belt tightened.
Her body shook. A thread of her saliva fell on James’ chin as she stared into his eyes.
He clawed at her back, then got a grip on her right elbow.
The belt began to slip from her hand as he pulled.
She clamped her thighs on his chest and lowered her face to his, shaking from the strain.
His eyes dimmed. His grip on her elbow loosened. His pupils dilated. He went slack.
She unlooped the belt from his neck, looked at the ceiling, and breathed deeply, taking her time before coming to a decision.
Raising her right hand, she slapped him.
It took three more loud, stinging slaps before he inhaled his first shuddering breath.
Then she got off his chest and walked into the kitchen.
She came back holding cooking shears. James groaned.
She kept an eye on him as she unplugged the floor lamp next to the couch and cut off its electrical cord.
A drop of blood fell from her nose to the carpet.
She cut the cord in half. Another drop of blood fell on the carpet.
She kept her gaze on James and held up the two lengths of electrical cord.
The blood would have to be cleaned up later.
There was work to do.