26. Stalker

STALKER

" Y ou need to leave." Again, I try to inject strength into my voice.

Once more, I fail.

"Oh, I'm going to leave." Scott takes two menacing steps toward me. "And you're coming with me."

I back away.

He rushes me, closing the distance. Fingers digging into my arm with punishing force, Scott grabs me.

I instinctively jerk, trying to free myself. He clamps down and pulls me off my feet. I slam into him and bounce off his hard chest.

"Abby?" My uncle's frail voice sounds from his room at the far end of the hall.

"Let me go!" I pry at Scott's fingers, but it does nothing.

Scott grabs me by the throat and slams my back against the front door. The wood rattles. The windows shudder. His grip tightens. I gasp, clutching at his fingers with my free hand.

Scott leans in. His features draw back as fury builds in his gaze.

"You. Belong. To. Me." He crushes his lips against mine. Forcing me to bear a kiss I don't want.

"Abby?" My uncle's voice sounds closer, and that's when I know true fear. If I don't do what Scott says, he'll hurt my uncle. He may kill us both.

"Scott, please." I resort to begging. Anything to get Scott away from my uncle. "I'm sorry."

"Damn straight, you'll be sorry."

"I'll go." Tears streak down my cheeks. "I promise. I'll go." I sag in his grip, surrendering to my fate. "Please. Let's go. I'll go with you." My attention shifts from Scott's thunderous gaze to the hall leading back to my uncle's room. "I promise."

Closing my eyes, I silently beg for my uncle to please, please, please, be too weak to get out of bed.

"As soon as we get home, you're going to regret this." He releases my arm and grabs the buckle of his pants, letting me know exactly how my punishment will start.

Spots of black fill my vision. I squeeze my eyes and gasp for breath. The fist around my throat does not lift up. Scott's got a chokehold on me, and he's not letting up.

"Please…" I gulp for air. "I can't breathe."

"Who the fuck is that guy? The one you couldn't keep your hands off?"

"Scott…" My eyes tear. "I c-can't b-breathe."

Scott's body shifts. Pain rips through me, stealing my breath as Scott punches me in the stomach. He follows with a second. And then a third.

"Who. Is. He?" Each word comes with another punch to my gut.

Blinding pain becomes my universe.

Scott pins me to the door. Hand at my throat, he punches hard. My body lifts each time his fist connects.

My vision turns black. My body jerks as each punch hits home. Caught between his fist and the door, my body absorbs all the terrible power fueled by Scott's jealous rage.

A loud crash sounds in the kitchen. I slip in and out of consciousness. There's a large shape. Moving fast.

Toward me.

The punches to my gut stop.

Agony rips through me.

Scott's nails scrape my skin as his fingers are ripped from my throat. No longer supported, I slump to the floor. Gasping and gulping, I try to escape. Too weak to stand, I make it to my hands and knees. I crawl, even knowing I won't get far.

Another crash. This one directly over my head.

"Oof!" Scott gasps. He trips over me, stumbling backward, but then his weight suddenly lifts. Scott cries out.

"Abby!" That's my uncle. "What's going on?"

I crawl toward the sound of his voice while a fistfight rages around me. By the time I make it to my uncle, I can see again.

And what I see is death incarnate.

Drake goes toe-to-toe with Scott. Fists fly as the men battle it out. My uncle leans against the wall, wheezing from the exertion of walking less than twenty feet.

Drake's a thing of beauty when he fights. All sinuous grace, he moves with single-minded determination.

His objective is clear.

Eliminate the threat.

Scott's head whips to the left as Drake punches him in the jaw. Blood and spittle fly in an arc. Before Scott recovers, Drake's on him again. This time, with a flurry of punches to Scott's midsection, ending with an uppercut to his jaw. His head whips back.

Drake doesn't stop. He's a trained killing machine, and he's going to kill Scott.

I struggle to my feet and clutch my uncle's hand.

"Go back to your room. Call the cops." We need 9-1-1 before this becomes a homicide.

While my uncle retreats to his room, I gather myself together. With a shake of my head, I clear my vision and steady my feet beneath me.

Scott's body bends beneath the force of Drake's punches. He's already lost, no longer fighting back.

"Drake…" Barely over a whisper, I can barely hear my own voice. I rub at the tenderness of my throat and try to ease some of the tightness.

As I swallow, one of Drake's punches sends Scott flying over the back of the sofa. I rush Drake.

My hand goes to his arm, and I flinch as his body tenses.

"The cops are on the way." I tug his arm.

I can only hope Drake understands what I'm trying to say because there's no doubt in my mind, he'll kill Scott.

All the tension in his body suddenly melts. He slings an arm over my shoulder and kisses the crown of my head.

"Are you okay?" His deep voice runs through me, fortifying and lending me strength.

"I'm okay." I'm totally not okay. My entire body shakes with fine tremors as adrenaline rushes through me.

Drake's voice suddenly hardens. "Get up off that sofa and it's the last thing you'll ever do."

I peek over the couch. Fear fills Scott's expression. It vibrates in every molecule of his body. He collapses back on the cushions, heaving and out of breath.

His face is a bloodied mess. His lip's split. One eye is already swollen closed. The other isn't too far behind. Abrasions and bruising along his jaw tell a terrible story.

I grip Drake's bicep with my shaky hand, then run my hand down his arm until our fingers clasp together.

"You saved me." I lean my head against him as we both look down at Scott. "How did you know?"

"When I was leaving, I checked your Jeep. All four tires were slashed. I have a feeling this asshole's been stalking you. No doubt he's behind all of it."

A shiver worms its way down my spine. If that's the case, Scott's been here for well over a week—watching me.

Stalking me.

Bright, blue and red lights flash through the window. Sirens sound a few seconds later. I release Drake and open the door. Two cop cars pull up outside. Down the street, a red and white ambulance follows.

The cops come to the door, take one look at me and draw their guns. The moment they see Drake, the guns go down.

"What's going on?" The question isn't directed to me, but rather to Drake.