Page 114 of Aaron's Patience

Suddenly, we were in front of another brick apartment building. I didn’t recognize it at first; I knew it wasn’t in Williamsport. I looked around and stopped short when a male figure wearing all black passed by us. I caught a glimpse of his face just before he lowered his ski mask. It was him. The night he attacked Patience.

“Seeing her pregnant sent him over the edge.”

My jaw firmed as I watched him patiently wait outside of the front door until someone exited, allowing him to slip in, unnoticed.

“I want to see it,” I told Emma.

She shook her head.

“Emma!” I growled, needing to see the next scene.

“No, Aaron. Seeing him attack her won’t do any good now. You need to get back to help her. Now.” Before I could protest, Emma touched my forehead and I was back out on my bedroom balcony. I wasted no time. I turned from the balcony, moving quickly through the bedroom doors and down the stairs until I reached my office.

“I know who has her,” I blurted out, bursting through the office.

All eyes were on me.

“Who?” Joshua, Carter, and my father shouted in unison.

Chapter Thirty-One

Patience

I can feel the entire left side of my face throbbing in pain, well before I open my eyes. It’s as if that side of my face has grown it’s own heartbeat and each time it pumps, pain lances through my head and down the entire length of my body. I struggle to open my eyes. My right eye eventually opens all the way, but the left is swollen, allowing it to open only a slit. My sight is blurry and I fight to clear my mind. I can’t remember what happened, why my face is in so much pain.

“You’re awake,” a male voice sounds, but not the right male voice.

Aaron’s voice, though always laced with a harsh roughness, always sends a sense of comfort over me. This voice does the opposite. My senses go into high alert. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

“Wh-where am I?” I fight to sit up, but the pain causes me to reach up for my head. My hands are caught, unable to reach. That’s when another source of pain grips my wrists. Peering down, I discover they are tightly bound with rope. I see red marks and cracking. The rope is tearing at the flesh of my wrists.

“What?” I manage to squeak out.

“You like rope, don’t you?” A man emerges from behind me. I realize I’m sitting on a mattress in the middle of an empty room, my hands bound to the rope, tied around a floor-to-ceiling pole in the room. “He used rope in thatdisgustingclub you went to!” the man seethes.

“What? Ah!” I yell when the man smacks me across the face so hard my neck snaps to the right.

My eyes water from the pain.

“Don’t lie to me, Patience! You know what I’m talking about. That club in Chicago. I was there. I saw you go in the club with your little whore friend! You didn’t leave until the next morning in a car thatheordered for you!”

I blinked, wondering how this man…this stranger knew so much of my life. I’d never told anyone what happened that night at The Cage.

The man stepped forward, towering over me. I peered up at him, blinking to clear my vision. He was tall, with mousy brown hair. He wore all black, but I could make out his lanky build. He seemed familiar but I couldn’t place his face. Then I remembered…all black.Just like the man …

“It was you,” I whispered. “You attacked me.”

“I didn’t attack you! I was trying tosaveyou,” he uttered, almost as if he wanted…no, needed me to believe him. “It wasn’t right!” he yelled, pulling me up to stand by my forearms.

I felt sick when he pressed his body against mine.

“You having his babies. They’re supposed to be mine!” he screamed in my face.

Babies.Oh God.I was pregnant. My hands moved to instinctively cover my belly, protecting my unborn child yet again from this monster, but I stopped. I couldn’t let him know I was with child. I just knew that would send him over the edge.

“I-I’m sorry. I-I didn’t know you cared,” I whispered, nearly choking on the lie. I knew aggression wouldn’t work with him. He’d already gotten violent more than once when I returned his aggression with my own. Maybe soft-talking would prolong my life until help arrived. I knew my husband would tear this city apart to find me. That I had little doubt about.

“I cared,” the man stated in a voice that was much more tender. He nodded, moving closer and cupping my face. “We’re supposed to be together. Ever since I saw you that first time you came into the bookstore, I knew,” he breathed out, cupping my face tighter and moving his lips toward mine.