Fire and Rain, Season 2, Episode 5 (Rising Storm) (9 page)

“Dakota is right,” he said, voice low and mean. “You’ve tainted the Alvarez name. I can barely stand to think about what you’ve been up to while I’ve been gone. And poor Dakota. That girl needed her mother, meanwhile you were off working—”

“Someone had to pay the bills.”

He blinked. Once, twice, three times. His arm cocked back and then slammed into the wall.

Joanne cowered appropriately.

“Did you just interrupt me?” he breathed. “Who the
hell
do you think you are?”

“I was just explaining myself. I had to work. I had to keep the bills paid.”

“Meanwhile, your sheriff boyfriend kicked me out of town.” He saw the way she flinched when he said boyfriend, and knew he’d be coming back to that later. “And you basically stopped being a mother to poor Dakota.”

“I did not,” Joanne defended. “I tried my best. She’s a grown woman, and she doesn’t listen to me.”

Her tone was so impertinent that he couldn’t hold himself back. He took a step toward her.

She took a step back. And another. Every foot he advanced she retreated until her back was to the wall.

“You let that bastard senator take advantage of our little girl!” he shouted into her face.

“I had no idea that was happening!” she retorted in the wrong fucking tone.

Snapping, he let his foot sweep out, taking her legs out from under her.

She almost fell to the ground, but caught herself on her small project table in the corner, causing her sewing machine to crash to the ground, hitting her leg on the way down.

She whimpered.

He sneered at her. “Are you that stupid? Did you think there wouldn’t be consequences for the way you acted while I was gone?”

Her eyes were appropriately on the floor, her voice
finally
submissive, “I never thought that, Hector. I always knew you’d be back.”

“Damn fucking right,” he said. “This is my house. Your little boyfriend”—again he noticed how that made her flinch—“managed to get me out of town once, but that will not be happening again.”

She didn’t say anything, and perversely that made him want to lash out even more.

“Not even going to deny that he’s your boyfriend?” he growled. “Have you become that shameless?”

She shook her head furiously, eyes still downcast. “Of course not. I knew you weren’t serious.”

“Did you now? Why do you suppose, then, that the sheriff wanted me out of town so bad?”

She flinched and he noticed. Oh yes, he noticed.

“You think I don’t know that he has a thing for you? That he
always
has?”

“I don’t know what he has,” she said meekly. “It’s none of my business and it’s not returned by me if he does.”

That appeased him but only a small amount. “Dakota said he came over all the time. Why did you let him do that?”

There it was. The proper amount of fear in her eyes. About goddamn time.

“She was exaggerating. It wasn’t all the time, and when we did see him, he was usually here for Marcus.”

“Usually? And what about the other times?”

“Work related. He was helping with work stuff for Tate. Remember, they’re cousins.”

He’d forgotten that. It did explain a bit about why the sheriff would help with that sort of thing. “Good,” he said, somewhat satisfied on the subject. For now. “Now what about that other man?”

“What other man?” she asked. The dumb woman looked genuinely confounded.

“Tate Johnson. That asshole on the phone. The one you
work
for,” he shot back, tone mocking hers. “What do you
really
do for him?”

* * * *

Joanne swallowed, trying to hold back her fear as she stared up at her husband.  “I told you. I’m his campaign manager.”

“Bullshit.” She jumped at the anger in his voice, wishing, not for the first time, that she had the strength to fight back. “You can’t even keep this house running, let alone a political campaign.”

It was her turn to grow angry. Joanne felt something inside of herself come alive again at his taunts. Because he was wrong. There were a lot of things she could do. A lot of things she hadn’t given herself enough credit for.

She wasn’t an idiot. She wasn’t worthless. She wasn’t incompetent.

Hector was wrong about her.

“I do run his campaign,” she said with grim determination. “And I’m good at it. I’m organized. I’m resourceful. I’m hardworking. There are a lot of things I can do that you’ve never given me credit for, but that doesn’t mean I can’t do them.”

“You can’t even make a meal on time, or has that changed?”

“I made you breakfast this morning,” she pointed out calmly. “And I’m in the middle of making you dinner now.”

“That’s funny,” he barked back. “I didn’t eat any breakfast. Why the hell would anyone want cold bacon and eggs? And I’m guessing that if I go look, the next meal will be ruined.”

“That’s my fault?” she cried.

His face moved so close to hers that she felt herself begin to tremble. “Are you saying it’s
my
fault?” He growled the question.

She took a few trembling breaths, trying to recall what had her standing up for herself with such determination.

He’d been terrorizing her for so long that she’d conditioned herself to go on autopilot the second she felt threatened, and autopilot meant forgetting any ideas in her head that did not involve submitting to his brutal will.

But she was not forgetting today. She’d found a new version of herself while he was away, or perhaps rediscovered an old one. Whatever the case, it was a stronger, better version. One not ruled by his heavy hand. And she refused to forget that, no matter what he did to her, that part of her was still there.

“I didn’t say that,” said the self-preserving part of herself.

“You know what?” he said, his mood suddenly changing. “I’m starved! Go salvage what you can of that meal, or make a new one, but do it fast.”

She left the room without a word.

Both of her daughters were absent as she entered the kitchen, and she was relieved. She just couldn’t read Hector’s mood. She had no idea if he was going to come after her again, or if he’d gotten it out of his system.

She tossed out the food. The chicken was far too greasy. The biscuits weren’t warm from the oven anymore, and the gravy had begun to stiffen up. The corn was overcooked and mushy. Still, technically, everything was still good. Certainly, if it was up to her, she’d have eaten it as it was, but it was all unsalvageable by Hector’s exacting standards. He liked his food a very particular way.

So she started from scratch. It was a pain, but if cooking dinner twice was the worst this day had to offer, she’d consider herself lucky.

She had everything just about perfect again when she felt him enter the kitchen behind her.

He pressed himself against her back, his nose going to her ear.

She froze but tried her best not to flinch away. He would not take it well if she recoiled from his touch, of that she was certain.

“You’re going to quit that job,” he said blandly and moved to sit at the table and wait for his meal.

She decided to ignore his statement if she could, neither confirming nor denying it for the sake of a temporary peace.

She served him a heaping plateful of all of his favorites. He grunted and started eating.

Relieved that he’d let the subject drop, she dished a small portion out for herself, sat in the seat across from him, and began to eat.

The first bite was almost to her mouth when he spoke.

“You’re going to quit that job,” he stated, tone vicious, eyes malevolent on her.

Feeling sick, she put the food in her mouth and began to chew.

Maybe if she just ignored him, he would drop it this time.

She saw him move, lightning fast, just a second before he leaned forward, reached his arm across the table, and jammed the edge of her plate with direct, blunt force into her ribs.

The breath whooshed out of her, followed immediately by her food shooting everywhere. Racking coughs shook her body until she’d gotten all of the half-swallowed food out of her throat.

“That’s what you get for pretending not to hear me,” he snarled. “Now let’s try this again. Repeat after me: I am going to quit my job.”

She took a long swallow of water to clear her throat, hoping that he wouldn’t take exception and use it against her.

She apparently took too long of a drink. Hector let her know by slapping it sideways out of her hand.

It shattered against the wall, glass and water spraying in every direction. She felt a few drops hit her face and hoped that there weren’t any glass shards doing the same.

His eyes were wild with his rage. It was like meeting the gaze of a rabid animal.

Joanne’s entire body was shaking like a leaf.

“Say it now,” he gritted out.

“I won’t,” she said, voice trembling in fear.

Trembling or not, she was proud of herself for getting the words out.

“What did you say to me?” His voice was high with incredulity. He really couldn’t believe what he’d just heard.

“I’m not quitting,” she said stubbornly, praying all the while that her children weren’t home.

Please let them have gone somewhere else,
she prayed.
Please don’t let them walk out at the wrong time and catch his attention.

Hector stood, both hands clenched into fists.

She knew all of the signs. Every little violent tell he had. This was it. She was in for it. She’d made him lose his temper, and he would not hold back on her.

“We should go into the bedroom if we’re going to have this talk right now,” she said in her best effort at a calm voice, which was not calm at all, but unsteady and undeniably terrified.

It was the wrong thing to say. His eye began to twitch, his upper lip to tremble.

“Quit fucking telling me what to do!” he roared at her, raising his fist.

She closed her eyes, her mind going a little hazy. One of these times he’d kill her.

Her eyes snapped open at the sound of the doorbell ringing.

The noise seemed to snap him back into himself somewhat, as well. He went from enraged to highly annoyed, from trembling and twitching, to glaring and sneering.

It was a marked improvement.

“Expecting company?” He asked the question tauntingly.

“No,” she answered, her mind going to Dillon, instinctively wishing it was him for a few moments before her mind shied away from the thought of him. He couldn’t save her.

She’d been so sure of him, of his character and his honesty, while all along he’d been lying to her face.

She’d begun to think of him as someone she could trust, only to have that belief come crashing down around her. She didn’t know what to do with where that distrust left them, only that it let her know that she couldn’t count on him.

Still, whoever was at the door, it was possible they’d just saved her life.

* * * *

The story continues with Episode 6, Quiet Storm by Julie Kenner. Click
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Storm, Texas.

Where passion runs hot, desire runs deep, and secrets have the power to destroy…

Nestled among rolling hills and painted with vibrant wildflowers, the bucolic town of Storm, Texas, seems like nothing short of perfection.

But there are secrets beneath the facade. Dark secrets. Powerful secrets. The kind that can destroy lives and tear families apart. The kind that can cut through a town like a tempest, leaving jealousy and destruction in its wake, along with shattered hopes and broken dreams. All it takes is one little thing to shatter that polish.

Rising Storm
is a series conceived by Julie Kenner and Dee Davis to read like an on-going drama. Set in a small Texas town,
Rising Storm
is full of scandal, deceit, romance, passion, and secrets. Lots of secrets.

Look for other Rising Storm Season 2 titles, now available! (And if you missed Season 1 and the midseason episodes, you can find those titles here!)

Click to purchase.

Rising Storm, Season Two

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As Tate Johnson works to find a balance between his ambitions for political office and the fallout of his brother’s betrayal, Zeke is confronted with his brother Chase’s return home. And while Bryce and Tara Daniels try to hold onto their marriage, Kristin continues to entice Travis into breaking his vows…