Fierce (27 page)

On a day that meant nothing to most people in Mitre, a sleepy, overcast Thursday late in the summer, a woman that few would recognize marched up to a house that looked like any other in its street. She rang the doorbell and stepped back, ready for an unkind reception.

It all depended on who answered.

To her relief, a pretty blonde girl opened the door and, seeing who it was—but having to look twice in disbelief—suddenly burst into tears. They hugged each other for longer than the visitor would like, but the relief was so great and the joy so filling, she let the reunion play out at its own natural pace. This was the day, the time, the moment they’d been waiting for. For years now. This was the moment Rose had arrived to free Cate. And it was happening, really happening. Once Rose set foot inside, there could be no turning back.

“I knew you’d come.” Cate’s voice broke, and she started sobbing again.

“Is he in?”

“Yes.”

“Is he alone?”

“Yes.”

“Have you packed?”

Cate let go. She nodded and wiped her nose with her hand at the same time.

“Does he know you’ve packed?”

Cate whispered, “No. He doesn’t suspect a thing. Maybe if we’re really quiet…”

“Not this time. I have to confront him,” said Rose. “He has to know it’s over, that you’re leaving for good, and that I took you away from him.

Cate sighed. They touched foreheads. “Please be careful. You know what he’s like, Rosie.”

“I know. That’s why I’ve not come alone.” She gestured to the old pickup parked two doors down, and the two men sat inside.

“Is that…
him
?” In Cate’s whisper, a note of excitement, of expectation.

Rose smiled. “He’s looking forward to meeting you to.”

“Who’s that with him?”

“His brother, Luca.”

Cate stepped back from the doorway self-consciously, straightened her hair. “I don’t want them to see me like this.”

“Too late.” Rose stepped in after her. “He’s probably in love already. You look
good.
” And she did. She really did. Not exactly grown up—no, with a floral summer dress that colorful, a sweet blonde like Cate would always look a little girly—but she’d put on a bit of weight and now boasted the full curves of a woman. The kind Rose would have killed to have.

“What about
you
?” Cate asked. “Is that what you dress like for work? I didn’t recognize you.”

“It is now. I’m not just an assistant anymore; I’m the office manager while Luca’s away.” So she got to wear a smart blouse and pants that fit snugly but also breathed in the gym—it was all about the material. These were the most expensive clothes she’d ever owned.

“And I like your hair,” said Cate. “How long you have slicked it back like that?”

“About a week. Shall we?”

Cate composed herself, pursed her lips, and nodded. “Let’s do this.”

The smell of cigarettes hit Rose as she crossed into the living room. Odd, that, as he’d never smoked after Mom had died. He’d sworn off it, and he’d never let any of his friends smoke in here either.

“You’ve got some nerve coming back here, girl. And all dolled up like that.” Mike was standing behind the TV, fiddling with the cables. He immediately stepped out and picked up his cigarette from the ashtray, taking a few tugs. He watched Cate from the corner of his eye. “Come to wish her happy birthday, Rose?”

He wore his checkered shirt and his gray trousers with suspenders. A few days’ stubble bristled his chin. He was a big man, bigger than she’d remembered, but much of his former muscle was now flab. Even so, he would still be dangerous.

“Not here. We’ve a party to go to, me and Cate. And she won’t be coming back.”

“Is that so?”

“I reckon.”

Mike picked up one of the birthday cards from the mantel, the one that said,
TO MY DARLING DAUGHTER ON HER 18
TH
BIRTHDAY.
He read the message he’d written inside, then carefully set the card down again. “So you’re running out on me, huh?” he addressed Cate without a shred of emotion. “You think you’re a woman now, is that it?”

“Dad, I
am
a woman,” replied Cate. “The law says so. And it’s time I left.”

“Left me, you mean?”

“You don’t treat me right, Dad. You never have.” Cate bravely stood up to him, fists on hips. “Me and Rose are leaving together, and that’s that.”

Mike calmly stubbed his cigarette. “I see. What about your birthday meal? It’s all booked. All the guys are coming with their wives for your big day. You want to embarrass me like that?”

“Those are your friends. I’d rather celebrate with my own. Rose has—”

“Don’t mention that whore to me! Not in this house. I know all about her—her and that jock playboy she spreads her legs for.”

“All right. That’s enough,” said Rose. “We’re not here to listen to any more of that shit. Cate, go get your things. We’re out of here.”

“The hell you are.” Mike darted in front of his daughter, blocking her exit. He was surprisingly nimble for someone so out of shape. “So you think you’re a woman, huh? Think you can talk to me any way you like? Think you’re ready to go off and whore with your sister?” He tore Cate’s dress open at the front, then shoved her down onto the sofa. “I’ll show you what happens to a woman who whores around like that.”

Even though it wasn’t entirely unexpected, it was still shocking to see. Rose hesitated. A part of her was still that little girl, terrified of him, remembering how much it hurt when he lost his temper like this.

But she wasn’t that little girl anymore. “Get off her, you sick shit!” Rose kicked the backs of his knees. It toppled him sideways off his feet. He kept hold of Cate, though, and dragged her down with him. She slapped and bit and clawed at him, but Mike wouldn’t take no for an answer. He’d put this off for far too long. He wanted his way with Cate, and now that she’d come of age, he was going to get it.

Rose wrapped her leg around his neck and, using the full pressure of her strong thighs, trapped his head in a scissors hold. He struggled. She fell back onto the carpet, pulling him with her. As his head went back, his chin mashed against her leg. He bared his teeth and spat, hissed. But with Cate on top of him as well, planting her knees on his free arm, he couldn’t move. He was immobilized. If she kept up this pressure, he would soon be out of breath.

But Mike wasn’t done yet. He might be out of shape, but he still knew how to hate with every ounce of his considerable bulk. And his legs were still free. Rose watched in horror as he walked his way up the wall and suddenly threw himself—and them—sidewise. It was enough to spill Cate off him. That freed his arm, which he used to grab hold of Rose’s.

Oh crap.

Inch by inch, he pulled her toward him. He was too strong. When she was close enough, almost bent double, he let go of her arm and grabbed a fistful of her hair.

It hurt like hell. She had to release her hold.

Cate swung a baseball bat at him, but missed his head. She struck him on the shoulder instead. Furious, he tried to snatch it off her, but she flung it away, knowing he’d probably kill them both if he got hold of it. Instead, he slapped Cate across the face, hard. She went down, shaking.

Okay, bastard, it’s time you got yours.

Rose ducked his roundhouse right and suckered him with a biting uppercut. It staggered him back, but it hurt her more. Jesus. Pain splintered up through her wrist, and she was sure it must be broken. But there was no time to find out. Mike jabbed at her. She caught his wrist and hooked him into a quick, powerful wrist throw. It would have worked, too, if he hadn’t thumped the side of her head with his free hand.

She let go and stumbled sideways. Dazed. She lost track of where she was, where he was. Mike grabbed her hair and held her in front of him, at his mercy. He stung her face with two almighty slaps. The left side of her face smarted, throbbed. But the impact snapped her out of her daze. She saw him cocking his arm back, ready to destroy her with his fist, so she kicked him the balls, killing his momentum. Het let go of her and doubled up, sinking to his knees.

Rose knew she had to end it here, while he was emasculated. She noticed Avery’s and Luca’s faces appear at the front window. They looked worried. Rose held out her hand, telling them not to interfere. Avery pointed at Mike’s prostrate body, writhing on the carpet.
Finish him,
Avery seemed to be saying.
Just like I taught you.

She suddenly remembered the rear naked choke, or sleeper hold, one of the first moves Avery had taught her how to escape from. Since then, he’d taught her how to apply it.

Apply it she did. And with him being on the floor already, she found it easier to wrap her legs around him, to incapacitate him. The rest was about tenacity. How much she wanted to hold on, and for how long.

The answer was: all the way, for as long as she had to.

Never again would he assault them, belittle them, make them feel like prisoners in their own home. After this, he’d spend the rest of his life
knowing
she’d beaten him. Rose. The slip of a girl he used to knock around whenever his temper got the better of him, all because she’d tried to defend her little sister. He had to go down, and it had to be now.

His huge hands squeezed at her arms, probably bruising them to hell. But she didn’t let go. He tried prying her fingers loose, but she leaned in, applying more pressure on the back of his neck. She didn’t let go. And when his strained gasps slipped into unconscious, wheezy gurgles, she didn’t let go. His hands fell limp. His obnoxious body odor and his nicotine breath made her want to puke, but still she didn’t let go.

The biggest fight of her life was over, and a part of her didn’t want it to be. A part of her wanted him to keep on struggling, so she could keep on making him suffer.

Finally, Avery touched her shoulder and said softly, “Come on. It’s all over. Let’s go, Rose.”

“Cate! Where’s Cate?”

“Here,” came the weak reply.

Rose looked up and saw her little sister was safe. She was on the sofa with Luca, and was wearing his jacket.

“Come on, Rose,” said Avery. “It’s over. You beat him. Let’s get Cate out of here.”

With that she released her hold. Mike’s head flopped onto the carpet. He was unconscious, but he was still alive. Avery helped her to her feet. And suddenly she felt sore all over; her wounds screamed out, all of them at the same time.

But it was a pain she knew she could bear. “Let’s go,” she said to Cate.

Most of the afternoon went by in a blur. First they went to the hospital, where Rose was treated for a badly bruised wrist and two bruised forearms. The nurse also stitched a cut over her cheekbone, where Mike had caught her with his ring. Meanwhile, a domestic abuse counsellor interviewed Cate, who revealed Mike had never actually raped her. He’d tried twice, and both times Rose had intervened.

She then told the same story to the police when they arrived, and Mike was soon arrested on charges of assault and attempted rape. In her own heated statement, Rose backed up everything her little sister had said. Finally, Avery called Agent Nix and told him what had happened. The FBI hadn’t visited Mitre in over a week—they’d been busy across Nevada—but Nix said he’d call back as soon as he had concrete news of his own to share.