The Righteous and The Wicked (29 page)

Emma sees Eric stuff a forkful of food in his mouth in an effort to hold his tongue.

“Um, it’s not about money for me. That’s not why I do it. I enjoy helping children.”

“You should just have a child of your own and give it up. You’re just a professional babysitter anyway, right? You know what they say, ‘those who can, do—those who can’t, teach.’ ”

She has heard that stupid expression a million times from many small-minded people.
That
is something she can shake off, but the jab about having a baby hurts her so much she struggles to refrain from crying. Her chin trembles and tears prickle in her eyes at the memory of the child she lost. Eric’s fists clench and he pushes back from the table. He jumps up and looms over Ian, struggling to keep his demon contained.

“I think you need to apologize to my girl for being such a rude fucking prick.” He’s about to boil over, but his appearance is still calm.

Ian stands, rising to Eric’s challenge. “Why don’t you fuck off? I’m talking to her—not you.”

Eric draws his clenched fist back and it flies. He tolerated Ian’s bullshit out of respect for Sean and Danielle, but now this asshole has crossed the line. He feels himself fading away—any semblance of decorum, calm, or sanity evaporates and is replaced with an acidic, corrosive, and violent impulse. The black takes over and he has no control over himself. He doesn’t feel the sharp impact of his fist meeting Ian’s face. A thud assaults his stomach. His pulse pounds, he hears screams, glass breaking . . . and Emma’s voice. The sweet sound almost pulls him back; it almost drags him out of the blackest depths. But even she can’t save him now. The monster he struggles to constrain has risen to the surface. The need to feel release is suffocating him. He wants to kill Ian for hurting the person he loves. All of the injuries she has suffered in the past are something he can’t change, but he can
change this.
This
moment. He can break this motherfucker’s bones, and split his flesh, and make him bleed. He can repair all the wrongs that have even been done to himself and to Emma by beating this enemy senseless.

Something wet splatters on his face and then he’s on the floor. He feels a quick, sharp pain to his head and then he’s on top of a lumpy mass. His fist flies an innumerable amount of times as he kneels over Ian’s distorted flesh and jabs and jabs over and over again. Bones crack, and his knuckles sink deep into the object of his hate. All he hears are screaming voices.

“Stop it!”

“No!”

“Eric! Eric! Eric!”

Emma shrieks in pain, then a hand grabs him and the light spins around him, and he can’t move.

Emma knew this would happen, but it’s no less shocking when it does. Eric moves like a rabid animal. Glasses fall and shatter on the floor. Someone screams—is that her own voice? The whole world slows and sounds are muffled. Ian throws a punch at Eric, and Emma wants to rush to him, but she’s frozen. Eric tackles Ian, and they slam to the floor. Emma cannot believe her eyes as Eric beats Ian. It’s barbaric. He has lost control. He’s a different person, a remorseless delinquent. A mess of fists and grunts crumple together. He throws punches without mercy, blood splatters all around him, and still he doesn’t stop. Ian has his arms crossed in front of him in an effort to shield his face and defend himself. He’s no longer trying to fight back, but that does not affect Eric’s destructive hands. So violent, so cruel.

It feels like forever, but it has been just seconds. Emma snaps out of her shocked trance and her feet move. She rushes toward the men and tries to grab Eric. If he looks in her eyes, he will come out of his rage and stop this unwavering assault. She reaches for him, but Eric will
not
be stopped. He swings at Ian again and again; his elbow flies back and slugs Emma in the eye. She staggers back in pain, her palm pressed against her aching eye socket. It begins to swell. She’s dizzy, but through her blurred vision, she sees Sean pull Eric off the bloody, mangled mess that was Ian’s face. She’s sick. Disgusted by what Eric has done. He has betrayed her. Though it was unintentional, she never dreamed he would hurt her this way. She never thought he was capable of inflicting this kind of pain on anyone. She falters and someone grabs her, shielding her and dragging her out of harm’s way. The arms that hold her are familiar.

“It’s okay, baby. I’ve got you.”

The voice is familiar. She knows that voice.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Aaron enters the restaurant alone. Emma’s lovely friend, Deborah, directed him here by drawing a map on a scrap of paper he found in the rental car. She was so sweet and helpful, and he’s thankful she was there waiting for him. Otherwise, he would have been forced to stay at the house, waiting for God knows how long.

He’s anxious to see her. To hold her and beg her for forgiveness. He ambles inside the restaurant and finds some couples dancing to soft music and some seated. He searches for his wife’s fair features: her luminous skin, long shimmering hair . . . and her eyes. He can’t wait to see her angelic eyes.

A commotion catches his attention. A tall man in a black suit is attacking another. The brawl is vicious, the disarray a surreal vision in this elegant location. Aaron walks toward the men, hoping to stop them—and then he sees her.

Emma is distraught. Her hands are on either side of her face as she shrieks and screams. Her shocked and pained expression causes Aaron to rush to her. She attempts to grab one of the men with her tiny hands, but her effort to make peace is futile. An elbow flies and she stumbles, holding onto her head.

Aaron’s lucky enough to pull his pained wife away before she is injured further. The feel of her frame in his arms soothes him. She feels like home. “It’s okay, baby. I’ve got you.”

He will never leave her side again.

“Eric! Fucking stop it! Are you crazy?” Sean shouts in Eric’s ear, snapping him out of his bloodthirsty hysteria.

The adrenaline coursing through Eric’s veins enables him to feel no pain, but he looks down at his battered and blood-covered hands, then at Ian’s smashed face, then at Emma. She’s buried in the chest of another man. A man who wears an expression of what appears to be deep-rooted concern and love. A man that Eric instinctively knows is Emma’s absent husband. They look like a couple who have held each other this way for years and years. They look like they belong together. Aaron slides his hand over Emma’s hair; he whispers to her and tries to comfort her. She looks safe in his arms.

Loving her is not enough. The gift Eric has for Emma in his pocket is a dream. It was all a dream, and now he’s waking up. He surveys the once pleasant room. The scene before him is a chaotic catastrophe and his inability to control himself is the cause of it. Emma’s cheeks are tear-stained; her right eye is bruised and swollen shut. So much pain, all because of him.

A flock of guests are tending to the beaten man on the floor, Jeff and Abby among them. They all look at Eric with disgust.

He deserves it.

A police siren screams in the distance. “You should get out of here,” Sean warns him.

His heart is pounding, and the alcohol in his blood returns in a flood as the adrenaline fades. His stomach convulses with nausea. He’s sickened. He is evil and he will never be good. He will never be right for her. Everything he thought could be true is forgotten. A look of apology and sorrow is all he can give to Emma. Sean releases him from his grasp, and Eric runs.

My Aaron.

She has dreamed of this. She has longed for this moment. When he would return and take her pain,
their
pain away. She prayed for so long that he would come back and want to heal from their loss together. Emma’s prayer has been answered. She breathes in the scent of him, and she is lost in his protective touch. The touch that was absent from her life when she needed it most.

Thunder booms and drags Emma from her memories back to reality.

My Eric.

Her eyes search for his, and she gasps in horror. He’s covered in blood. The Storm that she has witnessed in him so many times before is now dominating his whole being. It pulses through him and he shakes, confined in Sean’s thick arms. His eyes lock with hers. Her head swims, but she’s dying to go to him and take him away from this place. The prison of Aaron’s arms refuses to let her go. The look she saw in Eric’s eyes last night is nothing compared to what she sees now. Whatever fear he had then has been realized. Sean lets him go, and he begins to run.

“Eric! Eric, no! Wait! Wait for me! Please, don’t go, don’t go!” She struggles to escape Aaron’s embrace and she’s successful, but he clutches her hand in his.

“Baby, where are you going? Stay away from that psycho.”

“No! Let me go, Aaron, I have to—”

It’s not his hand or his words that stop her; it’s the feel of something hard pressing into her hand. The object that has bound her to Aaron in so many ways—his wedding ring. It digs into her hand as he grips her. The band of gold holds her to him. It pulls her back; it pulls her down, like an iron anchor dragging her to the bottom of the cold, black sea.

In Aaron’s eyes, she sees the past.
Their
past. Every moment of their life together is reflected there, and she knows she can’t leave. She’s afraid for Eric and angry at her husband, but she won’t turn her back on Aaron the way he turned his back on her. She’s stronger now, she’s better, and she owes it to herself to get some answers from him. An explanation for why he abandoned her in their most sorrowful hour and what he’s doing here now.

She watches Eric disappear through the door and, though it hurts her to let him suffer the night alone, she must. She will go to him tomorrow, but tonight she has to make peace with Aaron, so her heart can truly be free. Once she breaks the chains of her past she’ll be able to give her whole self to the man she now loves.