Chapter 49 #2
“Or…” Blake continues, and again, he drags his finger up my arm, causing me to flinch. “Maybe we could come to some other agreement?”
“Don’t touch me,” I hiss, slapping his hand away, but this time he doesn’t surrender, grabbing me around the back of my neck, so hard it causes me to cry out as he pulls me flush against him.
“C’mon, Poppy.” He laughs, and the sound reminds me of that night in Carter Stewart’s basement, my blood running cold.
Suddenly, I’m on my back, on the kitchen table, the angle hurting me. Blake hovers over me, holding me down, his face contorted into a look of absolute menace.
“You’re hurting me,” I scream. “Stop, please!”
“How much?” he grits out, spit droplets falling onto me. “I’ve got fuckin’ money. Name your price.” He tosses a bunch of money at me, hitting my face.
“Get off me!” I cry out, trying to use my knee. When I connect with his crotch, he grunts. But then, the look in his eyes flares, and for a moment I’m sure he’s about to kill me.
“You fucking bitch!” he utters, and his hand connects with my face before I can even register him pulling his arm back, the sting exploding across my cheek.
“That’s what whores do, isn’t it? Fuck for money!” he shouts, millimeters from my face. “You’re a whore, aren’t you, Poppy?”
When I hear the telltale sound of a zipper releasing, I can’t breathe.
The panic surging through my body renders me so frozen, I can’t catch the breath I need so badly my lungs are starting to sting.
Not again. Not again. Not again. I close my eyes tight, a silent sob bubbling out of me when I feel his fingers tear at my shorts.
“Please, I promise I’ll—”
“You motherfucker!”
Blake is suddenly ripped off me, his body flailing like a rag doll as he’s shoved, followed by the sound a loud crash.
I catch sight of Brookes from the corner of my eye before a pair of strong arms are wrapping around me, pulling me up, the warmth and familiarity of his scent enveloping me like a bubble.
“Baby?” his gruff voice murmurs into my hair. “Baby, I’m here. It’s okay. I’ve got you.”
Brookes cups my face then, ducking down to meet my eyes, and the look on his face is one I’ve never seen, relief mixed with unbridled rage. Sweeping my hair away from my face, he studies me carefully. “Are you okay?” he presses urgently. “Did he fucking—”
“I’m… I’m okay,” I manage, my body shivering uncontrollably.
Brookes presses a kiss to my forehead before turning, and I watch on as he picks Blake up off the floor by the scruff of his collar, his strong arm rearing back before landing a fist to his face, the sound of bone crunching against bone sending a chill down my spine.
“I fuckin’ warned you,” Brookes mutters, landing another punch.
Blake groans.
“You piece of shit,” Brookes grits, connecting again.
“Brookes!” I cry out, but he doesn’t hear me.
“I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you,” Brookes growls, punching Blake again.
“Brookes!” I yell, stumbling across the room and wrapping my hand around his arm. “Stop, please?”
And he does stop. Immediately. His eyes widen when they see me, like he’d somehow become so consumed by his own rage that he’d forgotten where he was, or that I even was here.
“Shit, Pops,” he huffs, dragging his bloodied-knuckled hand down his face.
I kneel beside him, pulling him into my arms, and he wraps his own around me once again, holding me just as tight.
“It’s okay,” I whisper. “I’m okay.”
“We’re okay,” he whispers back.
“You’re fucking finished, Brookes.” Blake groans, scrambling to his feet.
I look up at him, wincing at his obviously broken nose, blood streaming down his face.
“You are fucking done!” he shouts, pointing an accusatory finger at Brookes.
I hold onto Brookes a little tighter, instinctively cowering away from Blake as he sways unsteady on his feet.
“Expect a call from the cops.” He scoffs, laughing almost manically.
“Sure thing,” Brookes spits back. “I’ll be sure to show them the footage.”
Blake’s smirk falls, his eyebrows bunching together.
Brookes points to the far corner of the room, to a small flashing light that looks like a built-in light. “You’re fucking done, Blake,” he warns. “Now get the fuck outta my house.”
Blake’s narrowed gaze flits to me, and I quickly avert my eyes, unable to look at him again.
Tightening his arm around me, Brookes continues, “And don’t you ever fuckin’ show your face around here. You are fucking dead to me.”
Blake staggers out of the room, knocking into the wall on his way out, his shuffled steps fading before the front door slams.
“Baby, did he hit you?” he asks, his palm gently cupping my cheek that feels like it’s the size of a football.
I nod, a thick swallow working its way down my throat.
With a muttered, “Fuck,” Brookes jumps up, but I stop him, tugging on his hand. “Don’t. Please…”
Crouching down, he steadies me with an earnest look. “I’m just going to get you some ice, baby.”
I sigh, relieved, my shoulders falling as my exhale stammers through me.
Pulling myself up onto the couch, I grab one of the throw pillows, hugging it to me.
And when Brookes returns with an ice pack wrapped in a towel, he sits down next to me, carefully placing it against the side of my face, looking at me with tears glossing his eyes.
“Shit, baby,” he whispers, his voice raw. “I’m so fuckin’ sorry.”
Closing my eyes, I shake my head, dismissing his apology. “It’s not your fault, Brookes. I’m okay.” I look at him, placing my hand over his as he holds my face.
“Thank you for stopping me,” he says after a beat. “I was ready to kill that motherfucker. I just… I saw red.” Shaking his head to himself, he continues, his voice low and laced with danger as he says, “Pops, if… if you hadn’t been here, I-I don’t think I would’ve been able to stop.”
“Shhh…” I touch his arm, tracing one of the many tattoos inked into his skin. “I was here. And I am here. And I’m not going anywhere, okay?”
Sniffling, he nods, leaning in and resting his forehead against mine. “Thank you.”
“Always,” I whisper, closing my eyes and basking in everything Brookes.