Authors: Donna Gallagher
Mandy raced up the stairs to discover her front door slightly ajar. As she stormed inside her home, angry at the thought that someone had been inside, Mandy realised at once that she had made what could end up being a fatal mistake.
Standing in amongst the rubble of what had been her studio stood Con. The look on his face was enough to make Mandy’s blood instantly run cold.
Chapter Twenty-One
“Well, what do you know… The big hero didn’t take you with him to Brisbane after all? When you weren’t home I thought maybe he had.” Con’s voice was full of malice. He grabbed Mandy by her arm, dragging her closer to him, close enough that she could feel his breath on her cheek.
“This is a pleasant surprise, Amanda, although you are looking a bit different these days.” Con’s gaze roamed over her body. Just the feel of him looking at her made Mandy nauseous.
“Look at how you’re dressed, Amanda. You really have let yourself go. You’re looking like quite the slob. Still, it won’t matter to me. I know how to make it so you will arouse me, and I promise it will hurt—a lot. You owe me some pain after all you’ve put me through. I did warn you.”
Con’s voice was creating continuous shivers of fear that rippled along Mandy’s spine. She tried to struggle out of his grasp, striking out at her cruel captor, slashing at his face with her fingernails and drawing blood as they found their target.
But her fight just angered Con even more, resulting in him backhanding her hard across the cheek, the force rattling her teeth and knocking her to the ground. Mandy fell hard, desperately trying to protect her stomach with her arms as she hit the floor, her cheek burning with pain.
I have to stay calm,
Mandy thought, as she tried to fight off the paralysing fear beginning to overwhelm her. Thinking that maybe, if she gave Con what he wanted, he would eventually let her go and maybe her baby would survive.
Let us live through this,
she silently prayed
.
Con grabbed her by the hair, using his grip on it to roughly pull her back to her feet. Just as Mandy managed to steady herself, he punched her.
Hard.
In the stomach.
“You think I can’t read? You fucking slut. Do you think I like seeing your photo plastered everywhere I look…and with that ox? Are you trying to make me look stupid, like I wasn’t man enough for you? I’m going to hurt you, Amanda. Use you in every way, until I’m completely satisfied. Then, and only then—after I’ve used you all up—I am going to kill both you and that maggot growing inside you, leave you here for that fucking interfering ox to find you. You were all mine, Amanda, and if I can’t have you, sure as I’m standing here, no one else will.” The anger, hatred and obvious insanity were very clear in Con’s voice.
His intent was plain. He was there to kill her.
Mandy lost her colours, becoming strangely calm as her mind went pure white. An image of JT’s face filled the once vibrant space. She was going to die and so was her baby, JT’s baby. Mandy, so truly sorry for the man she loved, knew JT would be devastated because of her reckless behaviour. JT, having already lost his mother when he was so young, was now never going to get the opportunity to meet his child. And it was all her fault. Mandy, completely disassociated from reality, didn’t even register the pain as Con kicked her with his metal-toed boots, shattering the bones in the arm that she’d wrapped around her abdomen in an effort to protect her unborn child.
She could not give up! She had to fight. She had so much to live for and some insane arsehole was
not
going to take that away from her. With a stunning moment of clarity, devoid of the pain from her shattered arm, Mandy spotted the glass bottle of turpentine on the floor not far from where she lay. She carefully inched her hand closer to the bottle, trying to mask the movement as best she could, never once taking her eyes off Con. Mandy’s fingers finally reached their destination and she wrapped them round the cool body of the bottle.
As he lunged for her hair, ready to grab a handful and inflict another torturous blow, Mandy struck. With all the strength she could muster, she slammed the bottle straight into Con’s face, resulting in a direct upward hit to his nose.
Mandy heard the crack as something broke, then felt the rush of cool liquid splash down her arm. The strong scent of the turpentine was familiar, surprisingly comforting.
She heard the agonised, high-pitched wail from Con as the strong, alcohol-based cleaning astringent splashed into his eyes and shattered nose.
“You stupid bitch, I’m gonna make you pay for this. Just wait till I get my hands on you,” Con groaned.
As the fog settled into her brain, Mandy thought she heard another male voice, “Well, boy, I guess I’d better make sure that doesn’t happen, although from what I can make out, Mandy seems to have saved me the trouble. But please, you worthless piece of shit, don’t hesitate to try to get up. I really would like the opportunity to pound your face some as well. That’s it, boy—get to your feet. Try taking on someone your own size.”
Mandy heard a crack and a thump as Con fell to the floor beside her. His swollen, inflamed red eyes rolled back in his head while blood gushed from his flattened nose. Mandy heard the male voice again and tried to put a name to the familiar sound. Her mind was so muddled she was finding it hard to think.
“Riley, call an ambulance. June, help Mandy while I try and get this lowlife to wake up so I can hit him again before the police arrive. Oh, and let me apologise for my use of profanity before.”
Mandy was finally able to put a name and face to the voice. It was JT’s father. It was Jon Senior.
She could sense that June was sitting beside her, could feel the sensations of June’s hands stroking her shoulders, could hear the sounds of June’s positive, reassuring murmuring, the actual words just beyond her comprehension. The whoop-whoop sounds of sirens became louder, but Mandy just wanted to sleep. She was so tired.
* * * *
Jon Senior had nearly had a stroke when young Riley had knocked on June’s door, worried that Mandy had gone alone to her apartment with an intruder possibly inside. What the hell had his future daughter-in-law been thinking, putting herself in such danger? He just could not understand it. Jonathon Thomson Senior was full of remorse. He had been enjoying June’s company so much he had been distracted and had not heard Con break into the upstairs flat—or Mandy go to investigate.
“Must be losing my touch,” the grief-stricken man said to no one in particular as he sat vigil beside Mandy. It was his fault the poor girl was lying broken and bruised in the hospital bed, crying in her sleep. He was beside himself with worry, not knowing what he should do to help her.
Remembering the sense of desperation in his son’s voice as he’d tried to explain what had happened, how the love of JT’s life had been so brutally attacked and hurt before Jon Senior had been able to intervene, was heartbreaking.
Jon Senior had let his son down, and in a big way. JT had asked him to watch over Mandy, but he had let her be hurt. The hours it had taken to confirm the continued pregnancy and health of the unborn child—his grandchild—had been a nightmare. The only other time that Jon Senior had felt this helpless was the time before the death of his beloved Elaina. Having to watch her waste away and not being able to do a damn thing to help her had been a different kind of nightmare.
Jon Senior was grateful his son had been saved from that despair—no thanks to his efforts, though.
Chapter Twenty-Two
JT was furious, beyond furious and frustrated. No plane was available until the morning, not even a private charter. Sydney airport was closed for the night due to the noise curfew—the airport was close to the inner city and highly populated housing areas. How ironic that a government decision that JT had once applauded—because it allowed him to get a good night’s sleep without the constant drone of planes above—now worked against him. It would take too long to drive, at least eleven hours—better to wait for the airport to reopen, he’d been advised.
He paced back and forth in the suffocating hotel room, feeling as if he would explode. His skin felt too tightly stretched over his body, and every nerve was on edge. His jaw was so tight it ached, but the pain was nothing compared to what he felt in his heart. Mandy was hurt and he was trapped in another state. He hadn’t even been able to speak with her—had been told she was sedated from surgery, then during a later attempt, asleep. But JT couldn’t help but wonder whether Mandy was refusing to talk with him. He had, after all, let her down again. All his empty promises to keep her safe, and he hadn’t made good on any of them.
“Fuck…” he said for what was probably around the hundredth time, as he dragged his fingers over his face in exasperation.
Brodie was sitting watching him, his face grim, but he stayed silent, as if knowing no words would help. JT’s friend had booked them on the six a.m. flight, which would arrive in Sydney at around seven-twenty a.m., but the flight was still two hours away.
All of JT’s fellow team mates and the Jets staff had been in and out of the room, getting updates on Mandy and the baby’s condition. It had been unbearable for JT to not have the answer to that question for so long. Seeing the pity in the eyes of his well-meaning mates was more than he could stand. Everyone seemed numb with the shock of what had happened to one of their own.
When his father had confirmed that all was okay with the baby, the feeling of relief had been so overwhelming that JT had fallen to his knees and wept. Mandy was hurt, though, and that was impossible for him to live with. JT hated himself—and rugby league for taking him away from her and the baby. It was over. He was retired, as of now. No way was he ever leaving Mandy’s side again.
Thank God JT and his father had come up with the plan to watch over Mandy. If Jon Senior had not been in June’s flat, as had become usual for JT’s away games, JT hated to think what the outcome would have been. The mere thought brought another wave of fury crashing down over him as he clenched and unclenched his fists, trying to vent the built-up anger without putting his fist through something.
Brodie, clearly seeing the restlessness in JT, tried to distract him.
“Jon, mate—thirty minutes. Just hang in for thirty minutes and we can head for the airport.”
It was unusual for Brodie to use JT’s given name, and the significance was not lost on JT.
“Shit, mate, I’m trying, really I am, but I just feel so useless. I can’t leave her ever again. You know that, don’t you? I’m finished with all this.” He waved his arm around the room, referring to the game he had once loved, his voice full of emotion. “She means more to me than I can put into words. I just hope she can forgive me, forgive me for putting all of this before her safety.”
One minute, the world had been bright and loud, full of celebration. The Jets team had finally done enough to win in what JT had felt was one of the toughest games of his career. He’d been concerned at not being able to reach Mandy on her mobile, had wanted to share with Mandy how good he’d felt about the win, and had needed to hear her voice. He had been confused when the phone had gone to voicemail again.
So he had rung Caitlin’s flat, looking forward to hearing Riley screaming at him with excitement, as well. When that phone had rung out, unanswered, he had asked Brodie to ring Caitlin.
“
Maybe she’s trying to ring me at the same time. How long should I wait before trying again?”
JT had muttered at the phone impatiently, as if waiting for it to answer him. As he’d stood staring at the phone, debating, the device had started to vibrate, indicating an incoming call. The caller ID had informed JT that it was his father. Really wanting the call to have been from Mandy, JT had answered in a clipped, impatient tone, wanting to clear the line quickly.
Then the bottom had fallen out of his world.
* * * *
JT sat aboard the plane, ready to snap, having replayed the scene over and over in his head like a bad movie stuck on repeat. Remembering first the complete and utter desolation as he heard the news about Mandy’s vicious beating, and then the overwhelming relief, as finally the second call had come confirming mother and baby—his future family—were both safe.
It took forever, or so it seemed to JT, for the aircraft to taxi to the terminal. JT was up and out of the door first, impatiently helping the startled stewardess to open it in the process. He could hear Brodie’s footsteps trailing him and knew he didn’t need to wait for his mate to catch up. Just knowing Brodie had his back was a small comfort to JT. He was thankful the ever-dependable Brodie had taken control and made all the arrangements for him.
Caitlin sat waiting in her little green car, parked in a ‘no stopping’ zone, as he and Brodie charged through the exit doors. They swapped seats quickly, and Caitlin handed the keys to Brodie so that he could drive, while the big men squeezed into her little car.
JT couldn’t speak, but just stared out of the back seat’s window as the world whizzed by. A world that thankfully still contained Mandy.
* * * *
Mandy slept fitfully. Her arm ached, but she was happy to feel the pain as she woke from a nightmare, one with a different outcome of the night. One where the baby had been lost and an angry JT had blamed her for her stupidity, calling her nothing more than a murderess and evil. Mandy welcomed the unpleasant sensations stemming from her battered body, as it reinforced that she had been dreaming and that, in reality, JT’s baby was alive and safe. No thanks to her.
The few hours after Mandy’s attack had been a blur of faces, medical tests and discomfort. Mandy had shuddered, remembering the look on poor Riley’s worried face, and felt guilty that she had upset the poor boy. Riley had lived through so much already.