Reckless Retribution (West Warriors Book 1) (36 page)

His eyes widened in response. He didn’t like that at all. “Do you really think I’m scared of that little cockroach?” He scowled at me.

His words sliced through me, but I let the feeling wash over me. I was hoping he
was
scared of him. Jamie was all I had to protect me from him. He released his grip on me and took a step back. Warily, I watched him, trying to anticipate what his next move would be. Before I could stop him, he snatched the cell phone from my hand and launched it against the wall. I screamed as I watched it shatter into pieces and fall to the floor.

His fist connected with my right eye then my cheek, taking me by surprise. I tried blocking some of his punches, but his fist just connected with my forearms instead. I couldn’t believe this was happening to me again. Pain tore through me, but this time I was determined to put a stop to it myself. I bent my knee back, and before I could talk myself out of it, I plowed it into his groin. Growling, he buckled, and I shoved him backward as hard as I could, making him fall.

I quickly fled to my room and pushed my dresser across the door before he came after me. Breathless, I sank to the floor, resting my head against the drawers, listening as hard as I could; waiting for him to try to break through the door.

As the minutes passed, I couldn’t hear anything except the pounding of my heartbeat drumming in my ears. Eventually, I stood and climbed into bed, burying myself underneath the covers, waiting for the adrenaline to leave my body. My whole body hurt. I felt drained and weak. With no cell, I was completely alone. I had nothing and no one. I couldn’t call anyone to come and help me, even if I needed it. I didn’t know if Dad would be mad at me retaliating, but he hadn’t followed me upstairs. I felt guilty about what I’d just done to him, but I needed to protect myself and stand up to him.

I lay there for what seemed like ages, and when I glanced at the clock on my wall, it was lunchtime. He’d be asleep now, hopefully. I knew the times he fell asleep by heart. I got out of bed and walked to the dresser, listening for any kind of movement outside my door, but the house seemed silent.

Pushing the dresser away, I opened the door slowly and looked for any kind of shadow to indicate that he was waiting for me. Cautiously, I peered out of my bedroom and into the small narrow hallway, and I was relieved he wasn’t there. Tiptoeing down the stairs, I heard loud rumbles of snores coming from the living room. I closed the door quietly then went to retrieve my cell from the wall where Dad had thrown it. It lay scattered in pieces. I picked up the remnants of it, hoping I could put it back together, but it was broken beyond repair.

My attendance at school deteriorated for a couple of days after Dad hit me again, and when I rang to report my absence, it was difficult getting a lecture about how important attendance was in the final weeks of school. Like I didn’t know that! I did actually want to be in school.

Ringing Taylor and having to lie to her that I was sick was hard, especially because I had to speak to her and not hide behind a text. I felt ashamed lying, and deep down, I wondered if she knew the truth.

I didn’t even know Jamie’s number by heart, so I couldn’t ring him. I wasn’t sure he would even pick up, because he was still avoiding me, so I just had to wait it out until I could venture out again and go see him, or buy myself a new cell.

At dinnertime, I risked seeing Dad. He glared at me as I came down the stairs, but to my relief, he walked into the living room and slammed the door shut behind him. I was thankful he wasn’t going to attack me again for what I did. I began to fix dinner for us.

A heavy-handed knock at the front door startled me. I put the dishcloth down and walked to the door, peering through the privacy glass. My stomach hit the floor. It was Jamie. I froze. I didn’t want him seeing the way I looked. I had yet another black eye, my cheek was sore, and my forearms were bruised. He constantly made threats about Dad, so I knew I needed to get him away from the house quickly.

He banged on the door again, this time with more force, and I was petrified Dad would hear and come out, so I had no other option than to open the door. Taking a deep breath, I turned the handle and pulled it open slightly so I was just visible. His appearance shocked me. He didn’t look well at all; he looked ill. His brown eyes were dull and he had dark circles under them, and he looked pale. He never, ever looked pale.

Seeing me, he took a frantic step closer to the door, and I recoiled. “Lauren, I didn’t want to come here like this, but I’m going out of my mind. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I reacted the way I did,” he said desperately and scrubbed his hands over his face.

I had to ignore his desperate plea. The one I’d been waiting to hear for days while he got his head around the fact I was leaving him. “You need to go,” I whispered loudly, glancing back to the front room door that was still closed.

“Please, I need to talk to you. You need to be honest with me. I don’t understand what’s going on,” he begged. His eyes filled with tears and my own watered in response. I felt his pain immensely. I was hurting too. I wanted to take his pain away. I wanted him to take
my
pain away. But I had to get him away from the house. “Leave now,” I hissed, terrified Dad would hear him. Knowing he wouldn’t leave so easily, I started to close the front door, hoping he would walk away. But never being one to give up without a fight, he was there before I could shut it completely.

“Lauren, please let me….” He opened the door wider with his hand and tugged me through the gap, pulling me outside with the other. I froze again as I stood before him, and a look of pure horror crept over his face. His mouth gaped open and he froze as he looked at my bruised face. His eyes traveled to the marks on my neck, and then he looked down at my arm he was holding, which had big purple bruises on it. He dropped it instantly, and after what seemed like forever, he spoke. “He did this
again
?”

Anger replaced his shock, and I didn’t know what he was going to do. I needed to get him away and fast. I thought of the only thing I could say to hurt him. “We can’t do this anymore, Jamie. I’m leaving soon. It’s over.”

Before he could react, I turned and walked back inside, shutting the door behind me, trying to suppress the huge sob in my throat. It tore me up that I had to turn away the person I needed the most, but I had to protect him.

I’d waited so long to hear from him, and he’d come apologizing to
me
when I should’ve been the one apologizing to him. It hurt that I didn’t get the chance to explain why I was leaving because he wasn’t safe here. Turning him away was the only option. I looked back at him through the glass in the door, and he was standing on the lawn, bent over, hands resting on his knees like he was trying to catch his breath. I wanted to run to him, tell him that I loved him, but I couldn’t. Instead, I was willing him to walk away.

After a few minutes, he stood up straight and ran his hands agitatedly over his face, and then he patted his sweatpants’ pockets before fishing his cellphone out. He tapped away with his thumb on the glass then held the phone to his ear and walked away from the house. I breathed a heavy sigh of relief that he’d walked away. I needed to go to his house after dinner to explain everything. I walked back into the kitchen, feeling horrible at what I’d just told him, and I couldn’t get his pale appearance out of my mind. He looked like that, because of me.

A deafening crack and the sound of something crashing had me jumping out of my skin. Turning to where the sound had come from, the front door had been forcefully kicked off its hinges. Taking up the entire doorway, Jamie was standing there with the door in his hands, and he tossed it to the side. His eyes darted around. “Where is he?” he growled. The veins in his neck were bulging.

I frantically ran to him. “No, Jamie,” I shouted, pleading with him, and I tried to push him back outside, but he wouldn’t move. He was rigid like he was made out of stone.

“Not this time, Lauren.” His voice had a scary calmness to it, and his words petrified me. His chest heaved up and down and his veins were bulging. I was terrified. I couldn’t control him on my own; he was too big and powerful. A quick idea sprang to mind, and I gently took his face in my hands and softly rubbed his cheeks with my thumbs, expecting his eyes to flutter, but they didn’t. He stared straight ahead. I tried placing a soft kiss on his lips, but he gently moved me away with his arm. He wasn’t responding to me in any way, and I was getting more desperate by the second.

All of a sudden, the front room door opened, and Dad appeared, coming face-to-face with Jamie. He looked at the front door lying in the hallway, and his face went red with rage. Jamie’s expression darkened as he glared at him, and his hands began to twitch. “Jamie, go now!” I screamed, terrified of what he was going to do. I knew Dad was in serious danger. Ignoring me, Jamie took a step toward him, and I drove my palms into his chest, pushing him, sobbing, and begging him to leave, but he was having none of it.

“Leave the house now, Lauren,” he said icily. His eyes were still fixed on Dad.

“No!” I cried. I wasn’t going to leave. He’d have to take me out kicking and screaming.

“Leave now!” he shouted deeply, looking at me with the same dead eyes he was giving Dad. I didn’t recognize the person who was standing in front of me anymore. It wasn’t Jamie; it was a monster. Jamie’s hands curled like he was in the cage and he stalked up to Dad.

“You’ve done that to her for the last time.”

Firstly, I would like to thank you, the reader, for taking a chance on me and choosing my book to read. As a new author it means everything and enables me to carry on with my passion for writing.

Secondly, I want to thank my wonderful husband and two beautiful sons, thank you for being so patient with me. I love you more than words could ever say.

Gemma Pennington lives in leafy England with her husband, two sons and a very self-centred cat.

Having always been one for an overactive imagination it has been a dream come true to finally put pen to paper and let her imagination run wild with the characters she creates. Her stories tend to be full of passion and angst with the odd bad boy thrown in for good measure, because who can resist a bad boy right?

When she isn’t chasing her sons around or trying to win over the affections of her fur baby, you can find her holed up reading a steamy book or writing her next romance novel.

You can stay connected with Gemma and hear more about upcoming book releases via:

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