Deserve (12 page)

“She’s a good person.” I make an impatient sound, annoyed at
how stupid my comment sounds. Marc and I are good partners, but we’ve never
delved into our personal lives and it feels as uncomfortable as fuck.

“And you think she’s going to see through your shit and
realize what an asshole you are.”

Wordlessly, I nod.

“I get it. I’m not going to sit here and tell you what a
good person—what a good cop—you are because I get it. I hate to say
it, but that feeling never goes away. Some days I sit there wondering how such
a smart woman like Laurel could be so blind, but the only thing I can do is to
try to be good enough for her.”

“And if I can never be?”

“Then you try again the next day,” he says matter-of-factly.
“Or you stop trying and you lose her.”

***

After dinner with Marc and his wife, I take a cab back to my
apartment, not wanting him to make another trip. As soon as I walk through the
door, I grimace at how cold and silent it feels compared to the hominess of my
partner’s place. Normally I would turn on the TV and let the talking heads
provide background noise, but I can’t get the conversation with Marc out of my
mind.

“Fuck it,” I mutter and take out my phone.

Don’t do it, Rowan.
Cael’s
going to
disembowel you.

The thought doesn’t even give me pause because my primal
instinct is now in the driver’s seat and it has a lead foot on the accelerator,
speeding at two hundred miles-per-hour around deadly curves. I pace, waiting
for the line to connect.

“Hello?”

At the sound of her lilting voice, my chest tightens and I have
to take a few hard breaths.

“Sean? Are you there?”

Realizing I haven’t said anything, I blurt, “Hi, Freckles.
How are you?” I cringe at the inane question.

There’s a slight hesitation before she answers stiltedly,
“I’m well. How are you?”

“Good.” Shit, it’s like my tongue is disconnected from my
brain. I pinch the spot between my brows and blow out a sigh. “So everything’s
going well with you?” Another cringe.

“Sure.”

Awkward silence.

Man up, Rowan.

“There’s a book signing by David Baldacci next Wednesday
night. Do you want to go?” I rush to ask.

A sharp intake of breath and then a slow exhale. “No, it’s
not a good week. Besides I think Cory has tickets to a play that day.”

“Cory Michaels?” I spit out. “Are you dating him?” My gut
twists into a pretzel.

She doesn’t answer my question. “Sean, I’ve got to go.”

I grip my phone harder. “Are you dating him?” I thought I
was doing the noble thing by staying away from her, but now that she’s moved
on, I can’t stand the thought of her in frat boy’s arms.

“Sean, can you give me a reason why it’s any of your
business?” she asks gently.

Words refuse to form on my tongue and Maggie makes a small
sound in the back of her throat. “I didn’t think so.”

“I miss hanging out with you,
Mags
.”

There’s a long stretch of silence and then, “Bye, Sean.”

At the sound of the dial tone, I let out a growl of
frustration.

After I read the same paragraph for the fourth time, I slam
my textbook shut in defeat.

I miss hanging out
with you,
Mags
.

Sean’s soft words wreak
havoc,
churning up emotions I thought I had locked away after last month’s debacle. I
press two fingers against my temple to try to massage my headache away.

Restlessness prickling under my skin, I stand up to stretch,
trying to work out some of the tension, but after a few minutes, I realize I
need to get out of my tiny room. The walls are closing in on me and I feel like
I’m coming out of my skin. Glancing at the clock, I decide to take a brisk walk
to clear my head.

Quickly, I pull on black leggings, a long tee and a fleece
zip-up. The temperature has taken a sharp dive in the last week.

As I exit the elevator, I draw to a stop. Josh is standing several
feet away from the doorway and a chill runs down my spine as his black eyes
follow me. As always, I feel a combination of pity and fear whenever I
encounter him. In the whole semester, he hasn’t made a single friend and I feel
bad for him, but no matter how hard I try, I can’t overcome my uneasiness and
hang out with him.

“Hi, Maggie.”

“Hi, Josh.” My pulse grows more erratic as I get closer to
him. My acute sense of smell picks up the fruity scent of the gum he’s always
chewing.

“Have you seen Hannah?”

I frown, worried about his obsession with
my
floormate
.
“No, not tonight.”
And I wouldn’t tell you if I did.

“I like her.” His words are childlike, but the undertone is
not.

“Um…” I can’t even come up with a response to the
inappropriate statement. Heart pounding, I grasp the door and open it. “Have a
good night.”

As soon as the door opens, I inhale wintry air into my lungs
and my system jolts awake. The area around the front entrance is well lit, but
beyond that, night has fallen. The city lights shine defiantly, turning what
would be inky blackness into misty grey. I step into the shadows, loving how
they embrace me.

I stride quickly out of the front gates and as soon as I am
out of Josh’s sight, I send Hannah a text to warn her about him. She replies that
she’ll have someone walk her back to the dorm from the library and I sigh in
relief. As a self-proclaimed tough girl, Hannah doesn’t always take the most
prudent path.

Over this past semester, Josh’s behavior has made many of
the female students feel uncomfortable, but since he hasn’t violated any rules,
we can’t report him to the authorities. Being overfriendly isn’t a crime, after
all.

I start to walk toward my favorite late night café, suddenly
craving a shot of caffeine. The little French bakery is packed and there is no
place to sit. With a large cup of coffee in hand, I decide to wander around the
area and let myself enjoy the night.

This is my favorite time of the day, the hour right before
the clubs and bars come to life. I like to picture men and women, hyped up on
anticipation and excitement, getting ready to go out on a Saturday night. Then,
dressed in their sexiest outfits, they spill into the streets and the frenetic
energy of the city spikes. As they walk by, laughing and chattering, I enjoy
making up stories about them in my head.

But tonight nothing seems to be able to distract me from
thoughts of Sean. For the last few weeks, I have done everything to try to put
the kiss behind me, but one phone call has unraveled all of my progress. His
mixed signals send my emotions seesawing from one extreme to another. One second,
my heart soars with hope at the jealousy in his voice when he asks about Cory
and the next, it plunges with disappointment when he can’t articulate why he’s
interested in my love life.

Damn the man.

Scowling in frustration, I dump my cold coffee into the
trash and turn around to head back to the dorm. I halt at the next corner. If I
walk straight ahead, I will have to backtrack half a block, but if I make a
turn, I can reach the back entrance of my dorm. Staring into the narrow street,
I bite my lip in hesitation.

Shaking off the trepidation snaking down my spine, I throw
back my shoulders and stride confidently down the empty street. Being in the
dark has never bothered me before, but I feel a chill crawl through my body as
I stare at the sinuous dark shapes cast by the buildings. Despite my calming
breaths, I feel my pulse hammering at the base of my throat and my palms
getting sweaty.

 
“It’s all in
your head, Maggie,” I tell myself and tug my zipper higher on my jacket. Defiantly,
I continue to walk, refusing to let irrational fear drive my actions. Halfway down
the block, I grimace at my own stupidity.

“Damn it,” I mutter, knowing I’m freaking myself out, but I
swing on my heels to go back the way I came. I stop in my tracks when I hear a muffled
noise from a gap between two of the buildings. I squint, trying to see if
there’s anyone there, but it’s too dark. Just as I think it’s my imagination, a
rustling reaches my ears. This time it’s too loud to dismiss and it doesn’t
sound like a newspaper blowing in the wind.

Even as I’m telling myself to scream, I can’t get my throat
to work. I stick my hand into my pocket, frantically looking for my pepper
spray, but I realize I didn’t bring it. I only have my phone and my keys with
me.

Shit!
Heart
thumping, I slither closer to the recess, straining my eyes to see something.

There
. I gasp when
I see a large shadowy shape looming over someone on the ground. Legs are
kicking in struggle and I hear a smothered sob. There is no doubt that it’s a
woman.

When I see her thrash wildly, I act on instinct. I don’t
realize I’m moving until I am running full tilt. In one motion, I clasp my
hands together and swing my fists onto the perpetrator’s back. He releases a
low grunt at the impact, but my blow doesn’t seem to have any other visible
effect.

“Stop! Stop it!” I scream, hitting him again and kicking out
with my legs. “The cops are on their way!” I lie while cursing myself for not
calling 911 before I decided to play Batgirl.

When the man smacks the victim’s head against the ground and
turns to lunge at me, I comprehend how stupid I am. With a hoarse cry for help,
I turn to run, but he yanks on my jacket and drags me against him, banding his
arm around my middle. He slaps a hand over my mouth and the lower part of my
nose before I can scream again.

“Stuck-up bitch,” he spits venomously. There is something
about his voice that nags at my memory, but I’m too scared to think clearly.

Terror pumps through my veins. The smell of stale sweat and
desperation permeates the air. I buck and twist, trying to free myself, but he
is strong.
So strong.
My arms are pinned at my sides
and I try to kick him, but the angle is too awkward to do any damage. I sob,
but no sound can escape the tight seal he has on my mouth. Tears seep from my
eyes as he drags me into the deep shadows.

I fight harder, knowing my time is limited, but he is
cutting off my oxygen supply and I can already feel myself weakening.

No! NO!
I scream
inside my head as I feel my world tilt.

He is turning his body to get me to lie down. At the corner
of my eye, I see the unconscious body of the first victim.
Please don’t be dead
, I pray and I fight harder. I forcefully bring
my knee up, hoping to hit something and I make contact with a part of his body.
He grunts and his hands loosen for a second.

Pushing his hand violently away, I suck in air, taking in
the smell of garbage and alcohol, and scream, “Help” in an inhuman shriek and
start to scrabble away. Just when I think my feet have purchase to make a run
for it, a vicious hand grabs my hair.

“
Ahhh
!” Keening in pain, my head
bends backwards. I manage one more cry for help before his hand slaps over my
mouth and nose again, cutting off all sounds. Despair fills me when he roughly
knocks my feet from under me, making me drop like a rag doll. Even when I put
out my hands to break my fall, I land hard on my side. Dazed, I whimper as
stabs of pain travel from my hip and shoulder to my brain. The taste of iron
fills my mouth.

A sibilant whisper sounds in my ear. “Think you can ignore
me, you little redheaded bitch?”

I furrow my brow, trying to process what he’s saying, but my
whole body is in agony and fear is clouding everything. I know I have to
continue to fight, but my strength is flagging and his lower body pins me down.

To my horror and disgust, I feel his arousal stabbing into
my thigh. Nausea rises in me.

No. No. No.
I will
not go down until I have nothing left in me.

Jabbing my elbow backwards, I hit his side, but that only
enrages him and he twists my arm so hard, I feel like it’s going to pull out of
my socket. Tears are streaming so copiously from my eyes, everything is
swimming. He thrusts his crotch against me and my stomach heaves in revulsion.
I writhe, but that only seems to excite him more and I wail in helplessness.

My blood roars in my ears, drowning out everything. He’s
heavy and I can’t move under him. I try to breath rapidly through my nose, but there
is not enough oxygen seeping in between the cracks of his fingers. The edges of
my vision start to dim.

Fight, Maggie! If you
pass out, he’d—

Refusing to finish the abhorrent thought, I gather the last
shreds of my energy and buck against him with all my might. His grip over my
face tightens, cutting off the little air I could inhale and my limbs grow
weaker with every second.

Then abruptly all the pressure is gone. My mouth gulps in
air, feeding starved cells. It takes a few seconds for my body to process that
I’m free.

Move, Maggie! Move!

I grit my teeth against the pain and push up from the floor,
letting out a little sob. My arms are shaking so hard, I almost do a face-plant,
but I stiffen my muscles. Behind me I hear the sounds of flesh hitting flesh,
low vicious curses, and scuffling. I look over my shoulder and there are two
shapes grappling with each other.

I blink to clear my vision as I pull my legs under me in
preparation to run for help when one of the men breaks away and rockets down
the street, while the other gives chase.

“Call 911!” shouts my rescuer over his shoulder.

Loud curses and thundering footsteps recede into the
distance.

Fumbling in my pocket, I take out my phone, but it takes me
a few tries before I can punch in my password and make the call. I sound
incoherent and hysterical, but the dispatcher seems to understand
me and promises to send help
.

As soon as I hang up the phone, I remember the other woman
and I stand up on unsteady feet. I rush to the recess as fast as I can on and
lower myself to my knees. Up close, I can make out her features and I gasp,
“Hannah.” It’s impossible to see her injuries in the dark, but I smell blood.
Fingers shaking, I touch the side of her neck and slump in relief when I detect
a reedy pulse.

“Please be okay. Please be okay,” I whisper fervently.

I jerk around in alarm and scream when I hear approaching
footsteps. My blood pressure shoots up, making me feel light-headed. I skitter
away on my hands until I encounter a wall.

“It’s okay. I’m NYPD.” A gentle voice comes out of the dark.

At the sound of the familiar timbre, I start shaking
uncontrollably. “Sean?”

“Jesus! Is that you,
Mags
?” The
rhythm of his steps increases and then he’s kneeling next to me.

Recognizing his scent and silhouette, I throw myself into
his arms and my trembling gets worse until my teeth are chattering.

“
Mags
, angel, are you okay? Where
are you hurt?” Sean asks urgently to me, his arms warm and secure around me.

Fighting the fuzziness in my brain, I try to catalog my
injuries. My left hip and shoulders are throbbing, but I don’t think I’ve broken
anything. I answer in a wavering voice, “I think I’m okay. I’m just sore.”

He crushes me against him, pressing my face into his chest
and kissing the top of my head. “Thank God!”

For long moments, I revel in how safe he makes me feel, but
my conscience prods me. “Hannah…” I gasp and turn to look at her still figure.

He must have noticed her for the first time because he
swears and lets go of me. “Stay here.” He moves over to her prone body and
tries to assess her injuries.

I crawl over to them. “I think she has a head wound. We
can’t risk moving her.” I cringe, remembering the sound of her skull hitting
the pavement.

“Damn it, woman, didn’t I tell you to stay put?” He mutters
angrily. When I ignore him, he sighs, “Did you call 911?”

“Yes.” Remembering the chase, I ask, “Did you catch…?”

“No!” There’s a world of impotent rage in his voice. “Fucker
got away. Lost him in the subway.”

Thinking about the attacker running free in the city sends
ice through my veins. What if he attacks someone else?

Just then the welcome sounds of sirens reaches us and grows
louder with each passing second. Within seconds, the area is lit by flashing
lights and surrounded by uniformed professionals. I close my eyes against the
brightness and I jolt in fear when someone touches my arm.

“I’m sorry for startling you, ma’am.”

I open my eyes to see an African American woman in an EMT
uniform regarding me with kind eyes. Her voice gentles. “I need to examine you
to make sure you’re okay.”

“My friend…” I turn to look at Hannah, but
she’s surrounded by other first responders
. They already
have a gurney standing at the ready.