He pinned her wrist between their bodies again, and she felt her bra wrap around it. Then he groped around for the other. Damn, he was going to bind her with her own clothing. Hell, no. Never!
Not caring if he broke her arm or slipped it from its socket, she reached back. He had her face turned right, and her left hand was free, so she couldn’t see. She’d have one chance to score on this. Thank God she kept her fingernails sharp.
She reached back, aiming high and dead center. On the first try, she grabbed his balls. And squeezed mercilessly.
He grunted and tried to back off, but she held tight, edged off the desk, and turned to him.
“You bitch! I’ll fucking hurt you for that.”
Alyssa stood over his crouched form, anger pounding her. “I’ll hurt you first.”
She jammed her heel into his instep. Though he wore tennis shoes, she figured she’d made a bull’s-eye when he howled and began hopping on one foot. Then, just for fun, she twisted his balls.
He screamed like a little girl. And she smiled.
Suddenly, he reared up and roared, his fist coming at her like a barreling semi. She feinted out of the way and released him, running for the door. He was on her before she could take a step, pulling her by the hair to face him, then shoving her down again. The back of her skull hit the desk with an audible crack. Pain exploded through her head, and she gasped.
That wasn’t enough for Peter. He made sure her head banged the concrete floor as he dragged her to it. An aching band of abused nerves throbbed across her skull, in her temples. She felt sick. But then he grabbed her hand and took her forearm in the other—and jerked. She heard a snap and felt pain blast down to her hand, radiate through her wrist. She cried out, and he smiled.
“That was for grabbing my balls, bitch. Now, lie still and take it like the slut you are.”
Roughly, he grabbed her arms and restrained them above her head. She whimpered against the pain.
Psycho. He was completely mental. And she had no idea how she was going to get free as he pinned her body to the ground and worked his hips between her thighs, his hard cock bare between them. Oh, God . . .
Alyssa knew the nightmare she was about to endure.
Despite knowing her office was soundproof and it would do no good, she screamed.
Peter took his cock in his hand and pushed against her swollen opening. “That’s it. I like the screamers. You’ll scream a lot for me before I’m done.”
A moment later, she heard pounding on the door, and Peter stilled. “Fuck!”
Shaking his head, he reared back and tried to stab his way into her body. A moment later, the door burst open.
Tyler and Luc charged Peter like madmen. Her bouncer grabbed him by the hair and the ass of his jeans and threw him across the room. Luc ran after him and kicked the frat boy in the ribs, then followed with ferocious punches that made Peter scream. Tyler joined in, grabbing his hair and slamming his face into the concrete.
She drifted out for a moment until two sets of feet skidded to a stop beside her.
“I’m calling nine-one-one.”
Luc sounded concerned. And angry. She frowned. Why? He didn’t really care about her. Then again, he wasn’t mean. He wouldn’t like to see people hurt.
Afraid. And cold. As much as she hated to admit, Alyssa knew she needed help. Someone she knew cared about her.
“Tyler,” she cried, her voice broken.
“I’m here, baby.”
Carefully, Tyler gathered her against his warm body. She choked against the pain when he jostled her wrist, but finally he stilled. Ah, warmth.
“Paramedics are on the way,” Luc assured her, holding the phone to his ear. “Police, too. Peter is out cold.”
“Tell me what’s wrong,” Tyler demanded softly.
“H-he . . .” She wasn’t talking coherently between tears. “Rape—”
“Ah, damn . . . ” Tyler pressed his finger to her lips. “Don’t think about it now. It’s over.”
“Not again.” Her voice trembled, her insides shredding at the memories of Peter hovering over her, overpowering her, forcing his way inside her. “N-never again.”
Identical looks of shock and horror crossed Tyler’s and Luc’s faces as the edges of her consciousness began to turn black. The truth dawned on Luc’s tortured face. She closed her eyes, hating the fact he now understood her eternal shame.
LUC paced the emergency room’s waiting area. Three long hours, and not a word. Over and over in his head, he saw Peter restrain Alyssa’s struggling form with his larger body, the promise of violence on his face. For the hundredth time, Luc chastised himself for treating her so badly and letting her walk out of the bedroom alone. No matter how angry she’d been, how crushed he’d been, he should have followed her until she was safe. He hardly needed Tyler’s glare to tell him that. Instead, Peter had gotten to her and—
Luc sank into an uncomfortable green chair and buried his head in his hands. God, what had he done? Because of the way he’d behaved, she’d run from him—and straight into Peter’s trap.
In the anxious din of the ER’s waiting room, the automatic doors whooshed open, and in walked three familiar figures.
“Deke.” Luc rose and accepted his cousin’s handshake and hug. “What are you doing here?”
“After I got your call, I figured I was coming tomorrow anyway. I thought you could use the support. Jack insisted on tagging along.”
“Thanks for coming.” Luc stuck his hand out to Jack. “Especially at three thirty in the morning.”
Jack shook it. “Alyssa is my friend, too.”
And probably a former lover. Luc couldn’t let that matter now. Jack was happily married. Alyssa . . . Luc knew she wanted nothing more to do with him.
Taking a deep breath, he turned to the third man, Kimber’s older brother Hunter. To say the soldier had never been a fan of Luc’s was a gross understatement.
“How are you, Hunter?” He stuck out his hand.
Hunter Edgington stared pointedly at Luc’s outstretched hand until he dropped it. “Fucked up another woman’s life, huh?”
Luc sucked in a breath and closed his eyes. Hunter was right and had never been one to pull his punches.
Deke slapped Hunter on the back. “Come on, buddy. Now’s not the time.”
Mercifully, Hunter dropped the subject. “Who wants coffee?”