Page 4 of Riding Hard

He tips his head back, and I curl my fingers around the back of his head, holding on to him there before I dip my chin to look down at him. His eyes find mine, and I watch them water almost instantly.

That bitch.

“Wanna tell me what happened?” I grind out.

Cade shakes his head, and when his bottom lip begins to tremble, I have to bite back a curse and tamp down my anger because it’s right there, bubbling against the surface, ready to fucking explode.

And when it does, it’ll all be directed toward Destinee. Because fuck her. Fuck her for being a bitch, fuck her for having my kid, and fuck her to goddamn hell for being a shit mother.

“She’s gone.”

Of course she fucking is.

CHAPTER

TWO

JULIETTE

My exhale is so loud that I’m pretty sure he can hear it on the other side of the door. He found me again. I ran, and he found me, just like he always does. His fist slams against the door, and I jump backward. Leaning forward, I pinch one eye closed to take him in again. He is standing on the front porch, his eyes wild as he searches the peephole. He can’t see me, yet it feels like he can. It feels like he can see into my damn soul.

“I can hear you, bitch,” he growls from the other side of the door.

He’s always on the other side of the door, claiming that he can see me, that he can hear me, that he knows I’m there. I stay where I am, unable to move, unable to breathe. I’m holding my breath, wondering if he can really hear me.

“Bitch,” he grinds out, “it would be wise of you to open the door.”

I refuse. I don’t say anything, but I also don’t open anything. I watch him, waiting for him to walk away from me. I want him to just go away, but I also know him better than that. He’s not going to just disappear. Even if he walks away tonight, he’ll be back.

I trust myself to take the next step. I am stronger than this moment.

I trust myself to take the next step. I am stronger than this moment.

I trust myself to take the next step. I am stronger than this moment.

I don’t say anything as I watch him. I don’t know what the fuck is going to happen next because I know that this man could and would kill me. He doesn’t give a shit about me. It’s about control and nothing else. He wants a toy, a pet to control.

He doesn’t love me, doesn’t give a shit about me.

What he cares about is who he can hurt.

Who he can fuck.

Who he can control.

Who makes him feel good.

That won’t be me, not anymore. So I don’t open the door. In fact, I have the phone set to dial 9-1-1. I’m ready to call it a day and have him hauled away. All I have to do is touch the green talk icon.

Holding my breath, I don’t look away. I keep my gaze on him. I want to watch him walk away, knowing that he can’t hurt me unless he gets into my house. I’ll never invite him in. He can fuck all the way off.

I have been able to get away from him and stay as far away as possible. I am not going back. Not ever. I refuse to let him take me. He doesn’t control me any longer. Not my life, not my body, not my soul.

Never again.

I watch as he brings his foot back and then slams it against my door. Once, twice, three times. Then he screams. And his scream causes me to jump back slightly. He is pissed. His face starts to turn red, and as the minutes pass, he gets redder and louder.

“You better watch your fucking back, you cunt,” he shouts. “I’m coming for you.”