bastard!” Quinn screamed.
Her vision clouded with rage, she snatched up a piece of glass and lunged for Travis. Quick as a snake, his huge hand easily caught her wrist, squeezing until Quinn was sure her bones would snap in half. The weapon fell out of her hand, uselessly clattering to the floor.
Travis backhanded her— hard — and her head hit the floor, bouncing off of the strewn remains of her father’s flag case. His fist reared back and landed on her face. Stars exploded behind her eyelids in an overwhelming wave of pain.
Quinn simultaneously wished she’d blackout so this could end and that she would stay awake so she could fight.
“I’m going to teach you, Annie. You’ll learn who’s boss in this house.”
Travis shoved her dress up to her waist and straddled her thighs, pressing his heavy weight down on her.
“No! No, no, no! Travis, don’t do this.” Huge sobs wracked her chest, causing her to sputter and cough.
“Shut up!” He punched her in the face again.
Quinn felt her lip split open, the metallic taste of blood filling her mouth.
Travis tore her panties off in one rough tug. Her eyes too swollen to see, Quinn could hear him unbuckling his belt and lowering his zipper. The sound of each tooth of the zipper unfastening brought her closer to living her worst nightmare.
Travis held her down and entered her roughly, grunting on top of her like a rutting animal. Quinn’s body was unprepared for the intrusion. She could feel the delicate flesh tearing inside. The sheriff’s badge on his shirt jabbed her in the breast with each hard thrust, a reminder of how absolute his power over her was. It took every molecule of strength to keep quiet, to keep from vomiting all over Travis. She did that once. He kicked her so hard she couldn’t take a deep breath for over a month.
Silent tears ran freely down her cheeks, burning a path across her skin.
Funny, Quinn thought, she knew she wouldn’t live much longer if she didn’t do something about Travis. But she wasn’t trained to fight. She didn’t know how to survive situations like this. Quinn was completely and totally helpless.
The first time Travis hit her, a month after they were married, she knew what her future looked like. Today, the beatings she suffered through? This was exactly how she thought she’d eventually die.
Chapter 3
RICK COULD smell the acrid smoke, the singed flesh burning his nostrils. His face was pressed to the ground, debris and rock cutting into his cheek. When he opened his eyes, he could see a halo of fire glowing bright against the pitch-black sky. He vaguely registered the flames that ate through his camos and thermals quickly, seeking out his unblemished skin.
“Staff sergeant!” His earpiece was filled with his teammates’ calls to him. Rick couldn’t move or speak. His brain was too rattled to form words.
“Rick! Ricochet! Come in.”
Leave , he thought to himself. Get Bixby out of here. He knew his team wouldn’t go. They would never leave a man behind. They would find him. Alive or dead, they would find him.
Rick startled awake with a gasp, sweating. Fucking dreams. It’s been over a year since he left the Marines, two since that night on the mountain, and it played in his mind as if it were only yesterday. His own private movie, shown on a never-ending loop.
Christ, it never ends.
Rick glanced over at his bed partner, some blonde chick he picked up at a bar last night. He struggled to remember her name, only recalling that he called her peaches because she tasted like peach Schnapps, most likely because she drank way too much of it at the bar. She was fun, but it was time to go. Rick slid out of bed as quietly as possible, not wanting to have the “thanks it was great, no I’m not going to call you again” conversation. He stretched when he got to his feet, the now familiar pull of tight skin flexing over the back of his left thigh.
Shit . It was late, or early depending how you
Her vision clouded with rage, she snatched up a piece of glass and lunged for Travis. Quick as a snake, his huge hand easily caught her wrist, squeezing until Quinn was sure her bones would snap in half. The weapon fell out of her hand, uselessly clattering to the floor.
Travis backhanded her— hard — and her head hit the floor, bouncing off of the strewn remains of her father’s flag case. His fist reared back and landed on her face. Stars exploded behind her eyelids in an overwhelming wave of pain.
Quinn simultaneously wished she’d blackout so this could end and that she would stay awake so she could fight.
“I’m going to teach you, Annie. You’ll learn who’s boss in this house.”
Travis shoved her dress up to her waist and straddled her thighs, pressing his heavy weight down on her.
“No! No, no, no! Travis, don’t do this.” Huge sobs wracked her chest, causing her to sputter and cough.
“Shut up!” He punched her in the face again.
Quinn felt her lip split open, the metallic taste of blood filling her mouth.
Travis tore her panties off in one rough tug. Her eyes too swollen to see, Quinn could hear him unbuckling his belt and lowering his zipper. The sound of each tooth of the zipper unfastening brought her closer to living her worst nightmare.
Travis held her down and entered her roughly, grunting on top of her like a rutting animal. Quinn’s body was unprepared for the intrusion. She could feel the delicate flesh tearing inside. The sheriff’s badge on his shirt jabbed her in the breast with each hard thrust, a reminder of how absolute his power over her was. It took every molecule of strength to keep quiet, to keep from vomiting all over Travis. She did that once. He kicked her so hard she couldn’t take a deep breath for over a month.
Silent tears ran freely down her cheeks, burning a path across her skin.
Funny, Quinn thought, she knew she wouldn’t live much longer if she didn’t do something about Travis. But she wasn’t trained to fight. She didn’t know how to survive situations like this. Quinn was completely and totally helpless.
The first time Travis hit her, a month after they were married, she knew what her future looked like. Today, the beatings she suffered through? This was exactly how she thought she’d eventually die.
Chapter 3
RICK COULD smell the acrid smoke, the singed flesh burning his nostrils. His face was pressed to the ground, debris and rock cutting into his cheek. When he opened his eyes, he could see a halo of fire glowing bright against the pitch-black sky. He vaguely registered the flames that ate through his camos and thermals quickly, seeking out his unblemished skin.
“Staff sergeant!” His earpiece was filled with his teammates’ calls to him. Rick couldn’t move or speak. His brain was too rattled to form words.
“Rick! Ricochet! Come in.”
Leave , he thought to himself. Get Bixby out of here. He knew his team wouldn’t go. They would never leave a man behind. They would find him. Alive or dead, they would find him.
Rick startled awake with a gasp, sweating. Fucking dreams. It’s been over a year since he left the Marines, two since that night on the mountain, and it played in his mind as if it were only yesterday. His own private movie, shown on a never-ending loop.
Christ, it never ends.
Rick glanced over at his bed partner, some blonde chick he picked up at a bar last night. He struggled to remember her name, only recalling that he called her peaches because she tasted like peach Schnapps, most likely because she drank way too much of it at the bar. She was fun, but it was time to go. Rick slid out of bed as quietly as possible, not wanting to have the “thanks it was great, no I’m not going to call you again” conversation. He stretched when he got to his feet, the now familiar pull of tight skin flexing over the back of his left thigh.
Shit . It was late, or early depending how you
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