Thin Ice (30 page)

Emily's eyes began to tear. She gritted her teeth against the burning pain in her scalp.

Ryan only chuckled. “The irony of it amuses me. You, and Eric Cameron. The social mismatch of the year.” His hand tightened again. “What were you thinking, Emily? Don't you know the man has a wel-documented temper?"

"That doesn't make him abusive."

"Ah, Emmie. Your ignorance never fails to astound me. Catherine's father owns the Saints, remember? Stump keeps extensive files on his players. I know al there is to know about Cameron—which is obviously a hel of a lot more than you do. You're whoring with a man who's no better than a gutter rat.” His voice hardened. “Stop man who's no better than a gutter rat.” His voice hardened. “Stop seeing him, Emily. If you don't, I'l sue for custody of Robbie."

Emily felt the blood drain from her heart. Ryan laughed, knowing he'd scored a direct hit. “I'l win, you know. Especialy when I tel the judge you deliberately kept knowledge of my son's existence from me for nine years."

"It ... won't work. You've ... admitted to knowing about him al along.” Pain was stealing her voice.

"I'm prepared to swear under oath that I only recently learned I had a son, and when I tried to see him, you refused me."

"I'l ... tel them you're lying."

"No one wil believe you after I've proven you're an unfit mother.

What else would you cal a woman who leaves her only child with sitters at al hours of the day and night? Or a woman who places him in moral jeopardy by exposing him to a man who's spent time in jail for—"

"For God's sake, Ryan! Let go of my hair!"

Surprisingly, he did. For the longest time they stood there, facing each other in the streetlamp's halogen haze, both breathing hard.

Emily's scalp burned, her legs felt like rubber. Slowly she lowered her arms and backed away a step. Ryan made no move to stop her.

"As I was saying,” he continued cooly, “You're subjecting my son

"As I was saying,” he continued cooly, “You're subjecting my son to a man who's spent time in jail for—"

"It was only for a few hours, and he wasn't even guilty,” she said tightly, thinking of the night she and Eric had met.

"Try a few days, Emmie. Twenty, to be exact. It might have been twenty years if his wife hadn't dropped the charges."

Emily blinked. “His wife?"

"His wife. The woman he supposedly worshipped. He beat her so badly she had to be hospitalized. If she'd died, he could have been tried for murder."

Emily's mind reeled. Murder? Eric? Unthinkable. “Eric wouldn't hit a woman,” she said fiercely. “Any woman."

"Grow up, Emily. It was in al the papers. Cal your new friend Martinez if you don't believe me. I'm sure she knows al about it.

She'd have to be as stupid as you are not to."

She turned away in confusion, a fist pressed against the pain in her heart. “No. It's not possible. Eric isn't like that."

Ryan laughed again, the harsh sound al too familiar. He had the upper hand and knew it. “You sure can pick them, Emily. First your father, now Cameron. But what can you expect from poor white trash? If he'd stayed a no-name rink rat, I'd say you belong together."

Emily tried to think. Eric wouldn't have beaten his wife. Ryan was lying. He had to be.

"What's the matter, Emmie? The truth hurt?"

Enough was enough. She glared at Ryan, her voice low with hatred.

“I'd rather be poor white trash than the scum of St. Paul society."

Ryan blinked, his expression incredulous. Emily gave him a hard backward shove, her only thought to get past him and put something large and solid like a car—any car—between them. She didn't make it. His fingers clamped onto her arm, biting into her flesh. Her scream was cut off as he swung her around and slammed her into the van, knocking the wind from her. Before she could recover, he backhanded her across the face. She stumbled and fel, landing on her hands and knees on the concrete. He grabbed a handful of hair and jerked her upward. She screamed again, but his fist hurtled into her stomach and silenced her. Doubling over with pain, she crumpled to the ground. The first kick caught her in the breast, the second in the hip. The third barely missed her head as she roled to avoid it—and found herself trapped between the wheel of the van and Ryan's booted feet.

Instinctively she curled into herself, hands protecting her head. Her heart pounded, blood pumped and lungs burned as she choked back a sob and waited for the attack to continue. She knew better than to try to scoot away or even stand. Ryan liked seeing her down on the ground. He'd only knock her down again and again down on the ground. He'd only knock her down again and again until she quit trying or was dead. For Robbie's sake, she had to stay alive. If Ryan knocked her out and put her in the van, there was no teling what would happen to her.

Suddenly she realized Ryan wasn't kicking her any more. She could hear the distant sounds of traffic and his heavy breathing as he stood over her. An eternity later, his low, satisfied laugh tainted the cooling night air. Slowly she lowered her hands, just as he squatted beside her, his smile malevolent.

"I'm afraid you left out a few details in your story, Emily. Now that your memory's been refreshed, let's just say I trust you'l think twice before you embarrass me like that again. Because next time, I won't stop like I did tonight. Tonight was just a warning. Got that?"

Not waiting for an answer, Ryan rose to his feet, dusted his hands

—and found himself looking into the barrel of a gun.

"I'd aim for your bals,” Carmen Martinez said conversationaly,

“But it's obvious you don't have any."

Ryan paled, then flushed violently and started forward, clearly intent on snatching the gun. Carmen cocked the pistol, her coal black eyes narrowing into slits. “Try it and you'l be lucky to wake up wondering what hit you. One look at what you did to her, and they'l know I acted in self-defense."

they'l know I acted in self-defense."

The truth carried more than enough steel to contain him. That, and the fact that at that range, she couldn't miss. Sweat beaded on his forehead, but Ryan didn't move a muscle. Behind him, Emily slowly puled herself to her feet.

"You okay, Emily?"

Emily wiped the back of her hand across her bloody mouth. “I wil be."

"Then move out of the way before this asshole comes up with any more stupid ideas."

Emily eased past her car door, leaving it open to block Ryan's retreat, then moved around the Suburban to stand beside Carmen.

Ryan glared at them in impotent fury.

"There's a red mustang parked three rows over,” Carmen said. The keys are in my pocket. My cel phone is on the seat inside. Cal the police while I make sure this sonofabitch stays put."

Emily looked at Ryan, felt singed by his virulent hatred, and knew he'd stop at nothing to get his revenge if she had him arrested. If she'd had only herself to think about, she'd have done it in a heartbeat. But the image of her innocent, trusting son rose in her mind and she knew she couldn't take the risk. Not yet. Robbie didn't even know his father was alive. To find out from the newspapers, or worse, the kids in school, that his father was alive newspapers, or worse, the kids in school, that his father was alive and had tried to kil his mother would be too much.

She couldn't do it. “No. Let him go."

"Are you fuckin’ nuts, Emily? You've got the bastard dead to rights."

Emily knew the pattern, and knew it looked like she had falen back into it. But there had to be a better way to deal with Ryan than jail.

He was a Montgomery. The legal and financial backlash his family would inflict on her would be enormous. She didn't even want to think about the emotional, social or professional backlash. Al of her family secrets, laid bare for everyone to see...

The stress of it was more than Emily could handle at the moment.

She might wel go to the police in a few days, but first, she needed to pul herself together. She also needed to talk to Robbie. He was her main concern in al of this.

"I know it seems that way, but I'm not. Let him go."

For a long, taut moment, it looked like Carmen would refuse.

Finaly she spoke, her voice low and gritty. “Get moving, creep, before she comes to her senses and changes her mind."

Ryan opened the door to the van and eased inside, his eyes not leaving Carmen's gun. The instant he revved the engine, Emily reacted. She yanked Carmen out of the way just in time to avoid being sideswiped as the van shot forward. Tires squealing, the van being sideswiped as the van shot forward. Tires squealing, the van careened out of the parking lot.

Adrenaline flowing, hanging on to each other, Carmen and Emily watched the tailights vanish into the night.

"Thank you,” Carmen said finaly, not sounding nearly as confident as she had when she'd been speaking to Ryan. “I ... had no idea he'd try something like that."

"He gets ... fearless when he's angry."

"More like certifiable,” Carmen muttered, stepping away from Emily. She gave Emily a startled look. “You know him?"

"He's my ex-husband."

"Holy shit, Emily. Do you know what you just did?"

Emily held up a bloody hand. “Please, Carmen. Not now."

"Jesus. I'm sorry. I'm not thinking straight. C'mon. Let's get you off your feet.” She reached for Emily's arm, but Emily held back.

Carmen's eyes darkened with concern. “Hey, are you okay?"

"I hurt like hel and my knees won't stop shaking, but nothing's broken."

"I should have gotten here sooner. I heard your screams, but couldn't tel where they were coming from at first."

couldn't tel where they were coming from at first."

Emily didn't answer. She was staring at Carmen's gun. Slowly she lifted her gaze to Carmen's. Carmen shrugged. “A woman alone's got to protect herself somehow. There's a lot of crazies in this world. C'mon.” She checked the safety, then put the gun in her coat pocket and nudged Emily toward the Suburban, handing her a wad of tissues to press against her split lip.

Emily slid across the front seat, giving Carmen room to join her. It would be a while before she felt strong enough to drive. The blinking yelow light at the entrance to the hospital underscored their thoughts as the two women fel into a deep silence.

Carmen spoke first. “I should have gotten here sooner,” she repeated quietly. “Warned you there might be trouble."

"Trouble?” Emily's heart sank. Ryan was al the trouble she could handle right now. “From whom?"

"Disgruntled readers. Male readers. I got several harassing phone cals today. Seems we struck a few nerves with our article."

"Come on, Carmen. The information isn't new or confidential. Any woman who wants to know..."

"How many women in abusive relationships have the freedom to go to a library and look it up? Surf the net for some info? Attend a talk or seminar on the subject? How many of them even suspect that what is happening to them is wrong? After al, it's been ground into what is happening to them is wrong? After al, it's been ground into them they're only getting what they deserve.” Carmen grinned. “So this morning we simply delivered the information to their doorstep.

How to recognize your abuser for what he is and leave him in ten easy steps. Wel, not quite, but the point is we didn't have to resort to subterfuge to do it."

Emily couldn't help but grin back. “You're right. We didn't, did we?

We put it right out there for everyone to see."

Carmen reached over and squeezed Emily's hand. “Damn right we did. And now, girlfriend, what do you say we get you cleaned up, find some kind of take-out and—"

"I can't. I promised my son—” Emily froze. “I need to go home."

"Do you think he'l go after him?"

"I don't know. I just—oh, hel, this is such a mess."

"How old is he?"

"Robbie? Eight."

"Is someone with him? Someone you trust?"

"Of course."

"Then he should be al right for the time being. But you'd better cal home and warn your sitter your ex is running loose.” She looked Emily over. “Things were pretty quiet in the ER when I left ten Emily over. “Things were pretty quiet in the ER when I left ten minutes ago. Maybe we can slip you inside and get you cleaned up before—"

"Not a good idea,” Emily interrupted, thinking of the furor her attack would cause among her co-workers, the questions she'd have to answer. They would insist on caling the police.

"You think going home looking like that is a better one? Try it and you'l scare your son into adulthood."

Emily looked down at her soiled clothes, torn and bloodied panty hose, and realized Carmen was right. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and leaned her head back for a moment. “Okay. Pul up to the rear ER entrance, go inside and ask for Sarah Ferguson.

She'l know what to do."

Secreted in the staff lounge minutes later, Emily caled home.

Robbie answered. ‘Lo?"

He sounded so heartbreakingly young Emily wanted to cry. “Hi, honey,” she said, aching with the need to hold him.

"Mom? Where are you? I'm starving."

"I know, honey. I'm at the hospital."

Disappointment colored his voice. “You gonna be late again?"

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. Something came up."

"Aw, Mom. You promised we'd watch Eric's game."

Her heart split in two. “You can stil watch it with Nanna until I get there,” she temporized, before inspiration hit. “In fact, if you ask her real nice, I bet she'd take you over to her house so you can watch it there."