Fighting Back (Mercy's Angels) Read online

  “Please close the door,” she whispered hoarsely, her throat sounding raw and painful. I quietly shut it behind me, reaching through the shock and fog in my brain for something to say. My mouth opened then shut again—no words would come—there was nothing I could say that would make any of this alright. Instead, I moved towards her slowly and reached out until my hand rested gently on her shoulder. She flinched at my touch, but I didn’t pull away, I couldn’t. Her shoulders began to shake and she turned slowly to face me. Her hair was a tangled mess, stark red blood from a cut above her eye was a shocking contrast to the platinum white of her soft hair. I pushed it aside and got my first real glimpse of her face. God, she was a mess. A pained groan escaped my lips. Her hands immediately covered herself as she fell back against the wall and sank to the ground. I fell to my knees before her.

  “Fuck, I’m sorry, baby.” I hated my reaction to seeing her hurt like this, my reaction that forced her to retreat. I needed to hold it together better than this. “Don’t hide from me, I need to see that you’re okay,” I gently whispered, pulling her hands away from her face. Tears fell down her bruised cheeks. One eye was swollen shut, the side of her face an angry shade of purple. The cut above her eye that I had already caught a glimpse of had stopped bleeding, but I could see the trail of blood it made down her face to her chest; there was a nasty cut on her lip that had also stopped bleeding, but it was caked in dried blood. “We need to get you to the hospital,” I murmured, afraid to touch her for fear of hurting her. She shook her head.

  “Please don’t make me,” she sobbed.

  I leaned my forehead against hers. “Why not, baby?” I said, my throat tight, my own tears threatening to fall.

  “I don’t like hospitals,” she murmured.

  I suppressed the urge to smile at the childish defiance in her voice. “I’m not a big fan either, but you really need to be checked out.”

  She shook her head vehemently. “I can’t, Charlie. The first time I went to a hospital my granddad died; the next time was when my mom and dad died; and then ten years later, the last time I visited the hospital, my grandma died. I don’t want to go, I’m not ready to die.”

  Shit! I backed away from her so I could get a better look at her injuries. “You’re not going to die, Betty Boop.” She shook her head again and began to sob harder. “Okay, okay, I’m not going to force you to go, but that means I’m going to check you over.” I gently lifted her head, forcing her gaze back to mine. “If you don’t want me to, there are paramedics outside who can do it.”

  She seemed to take a few deep breaths to compose herself. Her nod was barely noticeable and hesitant. “You,” she whispered.

  I was moving before the word left her lips. I found wash cloths under the sink and I wet one with lukewarm water. Going back to kneel in front of her, I used my finger to raise her chin and began gently wiping away the blood. The cut above her eye looked deep and would probably need a stitch or two, but the one on her lip would be fine. She more than likely had a concussion and I would have felt a whole lot better if I could get her to go to the hospital.

  “Are you hurt anywhere else?” I asked, wiping away the last of the blood from her swollen cheek.

  Her hand moved to her ribs. “It hurts here. If I take a deep breath, it’s pretty painful.”

  “Your ribs could be broken. Will you let me take a look?” She looked scared as hell, but my eyes were set on hers with fixed determination. “Or we can go to the hospital?” She shook her head in defeat and carefully lifted her shirt. A slight discoloration suggested definite bruising, she could easily have a fracture. I gently felt around her ribs and pulled away when she winced. “Rebecca, if your ribs are broken, you could end up with a punctured lung or something. You really do need to go to the hospital.” A tear escaped her eye and I was quick to brush it away, unable to stand seeing her pain.

  “He tried to rape me.” Her words hit me like a fucking truck. “He touched me, Charlie, I tried so hard to fight him off, but he touched me anyway.”

  The wail from her lips was enough to crush the strongest of hearts. I collapsed down beside her, wrapping my arms around her shoulders. She leaned in to me and cried like her soul had been ripped to shreds, and in that moment, I was pretty sure mine had, too.

  Chapter 3

  Rebecca

  I sat on the bathroom floor and felt myself break into a million pieces. The horror of what had happened to me bled deep in my soul and I cried so hard, I thought I was going to be sick. Then, much to my embarrassment, I was. I scrambled from the floor to the toilet bowl and threw up what little food I had in me, while Charlie held my hair back. When I was finished he painstakingly wiped my face with a warm washcloth, whispering words that I couldn’t hear over my own fucking sobs. He wrapped his arms around me and held me so close and tight it actually hurt, but I didn’t care. I felt safe and protected in these strong arms. Whatever history Charlie and I had, whatever lay beyond this moment, I could care less about. All that mattered was his strength alone was keeping the soul eating fears at bay.

  “Shhhh, take a deep breath, Betty Boop. Nice long deep breaths, come on, breathe with me.”

  I found the hypnotic quality of his voice lull me into some resemblance of calm again.

  “You’re going to go to the hospital,” he gently ordered me.

  I knew it was an order, even though his voice was tender. I knew he was worried as hell and wasn’t going to take no for an answer this time. I was terrified of hospitals, I hated them—the smell, the sounds, the sights. I hadn’t stepped foot in a hospital since the night my grandma died, but I knew my injuries really did require professional medical attention. I had to suck it up and stop being such a baby.

  “I’ll be there with you,” Charlie hesitated, “or Mercy, if you would prefer. The doctors are going to check you over, then you can come home and get some rest, okay?”

  I shook my head as panic began to flood my body. I couldn’t control it; it simply washed over me like a tsunami. “I don’t want to be here, I don’t want to be in that room,” I whispered. The thought of stepping a foot back in my bedroom flooded my body with fear.

  “Okay, no problem. You can stay with me, or even Mercy. You know she’d be happy to have you.”

  Right now the thought of not being with Charlie filled me with a peculiar sense of dread and the thought confused me. I haven’t even spoken to Charlie in a year, and now I felt completely reliant on him all of the sudden. I had been sitting on the floor of this fucking bathroom for God knows how long, scared out of my mind and it had been Charlie’s whispered voice from the other side of the door that had calmed me. His presence alone settled me, made me believe that everything might be okay. But there was also a hint of fear at being alone with a man—any man. Even though I knew Charlie wouldn’t hurt me, even though I felt safe in his arms, the thought of spending the night alone with him was unsettling.

  “You think Mercy wouldn’t mind if I stayed with her?” I whispered. I felt so weak and pathetic, and if I didn’t hurt so much, I would kick my own ass. But no matter how much I wanted to feel strong, I couldn’t, I was terrified.

  “You know she wouldn’t mind,” Charlie said easily.

  “Dave is away, she’s all alone in her house,” I whispered, realizing that too made me a little uncomfortable.

  “If it makes you feel better, I’ll crash there too. You, me, and Mercy, we’ll have one big happy sleepover. For me it will be like old times, except Jax won’t be there breaking wind every five minutes.” I tried to smile but my lip stung like a bitch. “Here’s what we’re going to do. Mercy’s going to sit with you while I get some materials from my truck and leave it with Frank to secure the broken window. Then you can pack a bag and we’ll go to the hospital, all three of us together.” I nodded, grateful that he was doing the thinking for me. I didn’t want to think, I didn’t want to feel for that matter. Then the thought of packing a bag sent a jolt of panic through my veins once more.


  “I can’t,” I whimpered.

  “Can’t what, baby? he asked, still sitting beside me, his arms around me, holding me, protecting me.

  “I can’t go in my room, I can’t pack my bag.” I started crying again and it pissed me off. I haven’t cried since my grandma died over nine years ago.

  Charlie pulled away to look me straight in the eye. He cupped my cheeks gently. “Not a problem, Betty Boop. I’ll pack your bag while Mercy sits with you, okay?” I nodded. “Anyway, I’m dying to see what else you’ve got in that top drawer with those pretty red lacey things you wore the last time I was here.”

  A small smile tugged at the corner of my mouth and my stinging lip made me wince. A tear slipped free again, a reminder of how quickly my life had descended from peaceful to chaotic.

  “I’m sorry, honey, it really isn’t the time for jokes. I’m a prick.”

  I pulled him closer and held onto him for dear life until I finally found some control again. “Just don’t open the drawer beside my bed, please.” Somewhere in the panic and fear, embarrassment over Charlie finding Big Red seemed about as bad as it could get.

  “I’m intrigued, but I promise I won’t go near it,” he whispered.

  I could hear the smile in his voice, and as much as I wanted to give him a playful punch and make him pinky promise, my heart just wasn’t light enough.

  “Thank you,” I simply whispered. My throat was so sore from screaming that I would have given anything for some warm tea with a dash of honey right now. Tea? Since when did Rebecca Donovan drink fucking tea? Coffee, yes. Wine, hell yeah. Vodka, most definitely. But tea? Never!

  “No need to thank me, we are friends after all.” Friends. Yes, that’s what we were. The word actually hurt as I let the idea roll around in my mind. I had always wanted more with Charlie, even when I denied it like a cold hearted bitch to anyone who would listen. I couldn’t lie to myself though. I couldn’t refute that my heart adored this man and wanted more. Over the past year I thought perhaps ‘friends’ was even a stretch, so I should be grateful we are at least that.

  “Come on, sweetheart.”

  I shivered at the term of endearment. Suddenly I was back against the front door, that monster’s body pressed against mine, his hands ripping at my clothing.

  “Rebecca?” Charlie said sternly.

  My gaze returned to his; he looked worried, confused. “Please don’t call me that,” I whispered, tears falling in a steady cadence.

  “Rebecca?” he asked, his brow furrowed with worry.

  I shook my head. “Sweetheart,” I managed to say without throwing up, “he called me that,” I explained.

  Charlie’s nostrils flared with what I assumed was anger before he gave me a sharp nod and scooped me up from the floor. My ribs ached in protest, but I would deal with it just so I could stay nestled in the warm safety of Charlie’s arms. He walked me out into the living room where Mercy immediately began to fuss over me. The paramedics swooped in and wrapped a brace around my neck and began shining things in my one good eye, asking me questions, inspecting my ribs. Frank stood close by and I could see he was eager to ask me his own questions. I couldn’t handle all this attention on me; it was just too much. The tears began to fall again and Mercy gripped my hand tightly. My eyes searched for Charlie and panic threatened to consume me when I didn’t see him. Then he appeared, tall and strong, my bag thrown over his shoulder. His green eyes found mine and never left them, not even as Frank stood and talked to him. That alone gave me the strength I needed to focus and get through this.

  As I was wheeled into the hospital, I kept my eyes closed. Charlie still had hold of one hand, Mercy the other, but I didn’t dare open my eyes. I didn’t want to see where I was. The sounds and smells were enough to make my breathing labored, opening my eyes would destroy me. Finally, the gurney became still and I heard the sound of curtain hooks sliding over metal.

  “You can open your eyes, Rebecca, the curtains are closed and the doctor is here to check you out,” Mercy whispered from beside me.

  Trusting her word, I opened my eyes. The curtains had been pulled closed. I saw that the room was small and bright with standard medical equipment spread strategically around the room. A kindly looking female doctor smiled down at me and I clutched Charlie’s hand tighter when she began to check my injuries. I felt so lost, so broken, so not me. Rebecca Fucking Donovan didn’t cry, she didn’t beg and she sure as hell didn’t find herself completely dependent on a man. Rebecca Donovan was a free spirited, liberated, self-reliant woman. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t some sort of snooty feminist. I liked a man to open doors for me, I wanted my chair pulled out for me, I wanted romance, to be wined and dined. I knew that wasn’t necessarily real though, so, I opened my own doors and pulled out my own chair. I took home my own bouquets of flowers and cooked my own dinner. Right now I didn’t feel like that girl anymore though. I felt frail, I felt weak and I hated it.

  After x-rays, a couple of stitches, and more poking and prodding than I could handle, I was finally given the all clear to leave. The sun was up, the bright cloudless day shone through the window, filling the small room I had stayed in. Charlie handed me some clean clothes and Mercy helped me get changed in the bathroom. He had packed me freakin’ sweats to wear! The man clearly didn’t know me at all. Nevertheless, I didn’t have the energy to argue, and really, the bruised, bloody mess that stared back at me from the mirror was tragic. Pretty clothes were not going to lessen the bruises or make the nightmares of the previous night go away. When Mercy pulled me back into the hospital room, Frank was standing by Charlie, and his sorrowful expression turned my way. I knew he had questions, and the least I could do was attempt to answer them. That’s what a self-reliant, strong woman would do, right? I gave his silent questioning gaze a brisk nod and sat down on the side of the bed. Mercy thankfully stayed close and continued to hold my hand.

  “How bout we start at the beginning. Tell me what you were up to last night before you went to bed,” Frank suggested.

  I almost snorted a laugh. God, he was going to love this, all three of them would. “I had a date,” I murmured huskily. It would have been kinda hot, like Demi Moore hot, if the circumstances of how it came to be this way had been different. I had literally screamed my voice away. Charlie raised a brow but said nothing.

  “With who?” asked Frank.

  I would give anything not to answer this, embarrassment was about to come my middle name. Wow, did I really care? I had just been assaulted in my own home, in my own bed. I had been hit, touched, and a man had attempted to rape me. Did I really care how pathetic my extra-curricular activities had become? “Luke Hollywell.”

  Frank and Mercy did well to contain their surprise. Charlie not so much.

  He groaned loudly and shook his head. “Luke Fucking Hollywell?” he growled.

  “Charlie!” snapped Mercy. Both of us pinned him with a death glare. I guess if my face didn’t look like it had been through a round with Mike Tyson, mine might have been as intimidating as Mercy’s.

  “How did the date go?” Frank ignored Charlie. If he could I could.

  I turned my attention back to Frank. “About how you would imagine. The guy is a walking, talking, self-absorbed ass.” It was Frank’s turn to raise a brow, but before he could say anything, I added, “I left before we even ordered, I told him I felt sick.”

  “How did Luke take that?” he asked.

  I shrugged. I really didn’t think he cared one way or the other. “There was a certain amount of disbelief, but I’m sure he wasn’t too fazed.”

  “He didn’t get angry, make any threats?” Frank was fishing.

  I knew Luke hadn’t done this. He might have been a loser who was renowned for causing trouble at clubs and bars, but hurting women was not Luke’s style. He liked women, he had a certain reputation as a man who loved to pleasure women; he didn’t need to take it by force.

  “No, Frank, he wasn’t angry, he didn’t even break
a sweat.” Frank scribbled furiously in a little notebook held in the palm of his hand. He peered over the glasses that were perched low on his nose.

  “Did Luke leave with you?”

  “No, I left him sitting there. He probably ordered dinner and ate before he left.”

  “What time was this?” Frank glanced up from his notebook.

  “I bailed at around eight. I was home and in bed before nine.”

  Frank nodded. “The 911 call came through at two-fifteen this morning,” he continued. I just sat and stared, feeling suddenly disconnected from the conversation, from this room. This is where things went to shit, this was where my heart began to pound and my mouth became dry. Reaching for the glass of water, I raised it to my lips and winced when the glass brushed the cut there. “Tell me what happened. Did you hear the window break?” I shook my head. It was a known fact amongst my small circle of friends that when Rebecca’s head hit the pillow, nothing could wake her. I was a deep, heavy sleeper.

  “I’m not sure what woke me, maybe it was a noise, but I’m not sure. When I opened my eyes, he was just there,” I choked out the words, and Mercy gripped my hand a bit tighter. Charlie moved to my side, his strong hand rested on my back, helping me regain some of the strength I was fumbling for. I took a deep breath and continued, “He was just standing at the end of the bed, and as soon as I realized he was there, he pretty much threw himself on me and held down my hands.” I took a deep breath, hoping words wouldn’t fail me now.

  “Did you get a good look at him, see any scars, tattoos?” urged Frank.

  I shook my head as a tear slipped free. “He had something over his face, I could only see the whites of his eyes. He looked angry.” Charlie settled down beside me, the warmth of his body at one side and Mercy’s at the other filled me with comfort. “He ripped my top and touched me,” I cried, pulling my hand from Charlie’s and rubbing my chest, careful of the bruises that he left.