Crossing Lines: A gripping psychological thriller (Behind Closed Doors Book 3) (28 page)

“I might be here for fucking decoration, but I'm not stupid!” He looks down at me. “Give it to me straight. Who gave her the black eye before you turned up here?”

Aw, hell. How did I miss this!
I can't wrap my head around it, because I’ve seen the changes in her behavior, the accidents she’s shrugged off as nothing, the self-loathing and blame. This has been going on for years. Why haven’t I seen it before?

“Why was I digging pieces of glass from her hand on Sunday?”

“She had a fight with Sean.”

“You sure?”

I nod. “I was there.”

“You know, she turns on that stupid flirty voice and flutters her eyes. ’Oh, you’re just too overprotective!'” He partially mimics her as he rages, “Or my personal favorite: ‘I’m a martial arts expert, and I can look after myself!'” He spins away and curses again.

Suddenly I’m up on my feet.

“Does she think because she's an actress, I don't know when she's lying to me? It's my fucking job to know, and I was the brutal sonofabitch the interrogators came to when they needed a man to squeal. A ghost. We never existed. But she offered me too much money, and the opportunity to stay here with my kids. So, I’d say it’s time I got some real fucking answers about why!”

My head is still spinning as I follow him across the driveway. He swipes the card across the security lock; it releases and lets us inside.

“Ashleigh!” I yell.

She doesn't reply.

I wouldn't normally raise my voice to a victim of abuse, but I know with her it’s different. She’s angry, and not in control of this, and I know she'd would rather hurt someone than admit she didn't have control.
How many times has she said ‘It should have been me’?

She'd said that just last week after we’d settled Lisa into her room. I’d told her it would never be her, because she was too strong for Wayne. How had I missed it? Because it was so much clearer now that Rylan had shown me the root-cause of her anger. Wayne has found a way to control her.

The rhythmic pounding of fists punching and pounding rises up from the gym below us. I push against the door. Locked. “Ashleigh!” I pound my fist against the door. “Let me in!”

“She'll hurt you,” Rylan warns from behind me.

“Just let me in there, Rylan,” I demand. No reply. I thump my fist harder against the door a half-dozen more times. “Ashleigh, goddammit, let me in!"

The drumming from the room continues uninterrupted as I spin a glare over my shoulder. “I'm not fucking messing around with you. She needs me. So let me fucking in.”

“No.”

“I’m her fucking shrink!” I snap at him. “Now let me in.”

“I know,” he shrugs. “But she’s going to hurt anyone who goes anywhere near her right now. And you have no martial arts experience, so this is for your own good.”

“But it’s not good for her.” I’m one hundred percent sure she won't hurt me unless I push her too far. She might lash out. In fact, if I want her to talk to me, I might have to force her hand. “You could take her on in combat, right?” I already know the answer before he nods. “Then you’re coming in there with me.”

* * *

I watch Ashleigh's fist pound into the head of a martial arts dummy as its mechanical voice gives her instructions to hook and jab. She follows each and every one without hesitation, hands and feet coordinated with exact precision. She shows no awareness of me as my bare feet pad across the cushioned floor designed for combat training. But I know she knows I’m there.

“Get out!”
See, she knows.

Despite the order, I continue to approach with care until I’m now close enough that she can’t ignore my presence, yet far enough away that if she swings a fist at me she'll miss.

I don’t speak, I just wait.

She keeps on fighting her rubber-skinned opponent with gloved fists. Every now and then, when her left fist connects with the dummy, she winces. It’s not her sheer determination to ignore me that worries me now. It’s the hand print around her neck. Already it’s blackish purple. How hard must Wayne have held her, for those bruises to come out so quick? Instinctually I rub my own hand against my neck, with the memory of the vise-like grip just a few moments ago. It feels like a lifetime.

“If I wanted a shrink, I wouldn't have left you downtown.”

“You're my patient, and you and I have to deal with whatever Wayne did to you.”

“You’re fired!”

“Drop the avoidance bullshit. It isn’t going to work and you know it!” I wait for her to deny it. I honestly think she will, but she doesn't. She just keeps hitting the dummy. "You need to deal with this, Ashleigh, or he's just going to keep doing it.”

“He's never touched me.”

“How long has this been going on?”

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Yes. You do.” Her eyes flash and her blue padded fists thump into the solid chest of the dummy. Harder. Faster. She ignores me. She makes it clear she’s determined not to listen to anything I have to say. But I’m going to say it anyway, when the time is right. I wait for what feels like an age for her to tire, but she continues to ignore me, just keeps punching and kicking the dummy.

So I try a different tactic. “Don't you want to know how the meeting with Amelia Rose went?”

An angry grunt is her reply. She beats the poor robot’s head three more times in quick succession.

“Well, I'm going to tell you. Amelia proved to me that you're lying to me about Wayne. She has proof that you are having an affair with him.”

She spins in my direction, so fast that I flinch. My arms go up as I duck and close my eyes. I know I’m not quick enough. I brace for it. I wait. A loud, heavy thud bounces off the walls. The floor vibrates beneath my feet and yet I’m not in pain. Slowly, I open my eyes and let out the breath I’m holding.
I honestly thought I was on the receiving end.
But instead, her mechanical combat partner lies on the other side of the room, its voice fading away until the lights go out.

Ashleigh bounces on her toes. She turns her attention to the punching bag hanging in the corner of the room. I get the impression she’s going through me if I don’t get out of her way, so I do.

“Smartest thing you've done all day, ” she mutters, bouncing forward. A one-two punch hits the bag before she dances back, waiting for the bag to return. She goes in for another one-two, over and over again.

“You know, I wonder if you brought me here to help Julia, because deep down you thought getting Wayne out of Julia's life, gets him out of yours. I think you needed—”

“I don't need anyone.” She throws a right hook at the punching bag. It swings out as she dances on the balls of her feet, then steps into a left jab as it returns. The punch is so powerful it launches the bag back the other way. "I'm not the one being abused.”

“No?” I scoff. “What would you call it then?”

“He’s a bully, Darryl, nothing more.”

“Bullying is still classed as abuse.”

“Then he’s testing my temper.” She says it so matter-of-factly, I almost reconsider my assessment of what I think has been going on here. Her anger snaps the enunciation of each word as she launches her fist into the punching bag again and again. Who in their right mind would ever believe someone as strong as Krystal Valentina would be a victim of abuse? But she’s not Krystal, is she? Krystal’s a character Ashleigh Jordan performs very well, but deep down she's still Ashleigh. And Wayne has found a way to exploit that.

“AJ?” Rylan's voice calls from above. I glance at the stairwell as he appears. He's changed from his uniform of black cargo pants and a black tee, into training gear. “I want to talk to you.”

“Get! Out!” She hits the bag again. “Both of you, leave me alone before I'm forced to hurt you.” No one moves. “I don't want to talk to either of you, so go away!”

“You want to hurt someone?” Rylan says, slipping his hands into the padded hook and jab mitts. He walks toward us. “Okay, so hurt me!" She turns and looks at him, as he loosens his neck muscles and rolls his shoulders. “It’s time me and you renegotiated the rules, anyway.” Then he lifts up the mitts. “And
don't
expect me to play nice just because you’re a girl!”

“I don’t expect you to play at all,” she snaps as she turns to look at him. “You’re responsible for watching Lisa’s back now, and you can’t do that if you’re watching mine. We had an agreement, if I marry Dex, then you don’t want to protect me anymore. He asked me to marry him, Rylan, and I’m seriously considering it.”

“You can’t.” He steps a little closer. “He's a loser. He told me all about his plans for a Kardashian-style documentary about your path to matrimony.” She shakes her head and turns back to the punching bag. “I do not want to get involved in your relationship with him, but he’s only in it for the money.” She blanches but doesn’t stop with the punches. “He told me that when I asked if he was okay about Darryl. And do you know what else he told me? He’s not faithful to you either, and he has no intention of changing that if you marry him!”

That stops her. “He’s your brother, Rylan. Why would you lie about something like this?”

“It’s not a lie. You deserve better and my brother is a fucking loser who thinks he can milk you because you’re trying to move on with your life, when in truth, you can't. You’re in love with—”

“Do. Not. Go there!” she speaks through her teeth. “I will hurt you if you go there.”

Rylan sends a questioning look in my direction. I nod my head in reply. Yes, I want him to continue pressing these buttons. I
need
him to push through her defense mechanism, that wall of ice and anger. “Apparently, you talk about Sean in your sleep.” Her eyes bug out and she hits the bag hard enough to cause her to wince this time. “You know, you promised to tell me the truth, Ashleigh. But I guess that’s a little hard, when you can’t even admit that to yourself.”

She spins so fast, her eyes ablaze with anger, as she roars and throws her fist straight toward his gut. To my surprise, he’s ready for it. He blocks her with the mitts and rocks on his back foot to absorb the blow. “You're fooling no one, you know!”

She doesn't reply, just throws another fist at him. For a long moment, the only sounds are her fists pounding into his hands. I know she’s in pain. It's etched in the hard lines of her face. But Ashleigh doesn't do pain. She’s always ignored it, pushed through it, and learned from a lifetime of training to never give in, to never let her pain get the better of her. No one can hurt her.

When she slows, as her expression softens and I feel she has worked out enough of her anger, I finally speak again. “Wayne knows you're scared of him.”

“I'm scared of no one.”

“But you are,” I counter. “We’ve spoken about this, Ashleigh. You're scared of yourself.”

She thumps at Rylan's hands harder, and faster.

“You're scared you’re reaching your limit, and you’re scared because Wayne knows it. Any day now you’re going to seriously hurt someone, and he wants that person to be him.”

Her left fist slams into Rylan’s chest before she cries out. I’m not sure if her pain is physical from the unhealed glass injury of a week ago or emotional. But she doesn't wait to acknowledge either. She regains her concentration and follows through with a right jab, square into Rylan’s gut. He stumbles backward, then over, and his backside hits the deck.

She doesn't give him time to recover. She tears off her gloves, tosses them to the floor, and begins to bounce. “Get up!” she commands. “You said you wanted me to hurt you. Now get up and let me hurt you!”

That’s how I know I’m reaching her. She’s getting angrier. She isn’t fighting Rylan anymore. She’s fighting me, but she can’t physically fight with me, so she’s ignoring me, and when it stops working she changes tactics.
I’m getting through to her.

I nod at Rylan and he flips from his shoulders onto his feet, drops the hook and jab mitts on the floor, and joins her, bouncing in a circle around the padded floor. “You're not big enough to hurt me.”

Hands and feet slice through the gap between them as Ashleigh lashes out and Rylan blocks, ducks, or leaps over her every move.

“Don't hold back, Rylan!” I goad, more for her ears than his. I can't believe I’m doing this to her, but I have to break through the armor somehow, or I’ll never get to the truth. “She deserves it!” Ashleigh stumbles and lands on her knees. She looks up at me, shocked I’d even say that. “Well, don't you?”

She charges at Rylan, and for the first time he shows the pain from her blow. But he doesn't retaliate. “You let this happen, Ashleigh!” I shout above her roar. “You let him convince everyone you’re lying.” Her eyes flash again, but she launches another round of fists at Rylan. “You gave him control, and now there’s no one to stop him, because no one will ever believe this could happen to
you
.” I pause to assess for a moment and then add, “He’s winning, Ashleigh. You’re playing right into his hands. She’ll be back with him before you know it, and then it's sayonara for you.”

“Over my dead body!”

“Exactly. He’s enjoying this.”
Of that, I’m sure.
In just one encounter with Wayne he’d almost convinced me he was innocent, and this was all her doing. "When you think he can’t hurt you anymore, he's going to progress to something else.”