“Just like Bullard knew best?” she snapped.
“Was he correct?” Ryland asked.
“Sure, he was correct. But I wasn’t ready to see that.”
“I gather you have had some help getting over the trauma?” Quinn asked.
“Yes,” she said quietly. “Honestly it did help, though I didn’t expect it to, and I fought it all the way. But seeing the doctor helped. It was also his opinion that I needed to clear the air and to make peace with Bullard.”
“And I’m sure he’s right. Did the doc also not say that maybe you needed to find a way to move forward and to leave this boyfriend of yours behind?”
“Ex-boyfriend,” Izzie said, with an extra punch of vitriol. “Sure, but, for any woman who’s been beaten or put through what I went through,” she said, “it’s not such an easy step to face my tormentor.”
“No, but we would be at your side this time,” Quinn said quickly.
She looked at him in surprise. “Why?”
“So you wouldn’t feel like you’d be alone,” Quinn said immediately. “If this asshole did anything now, we would happily beat him to a pulp. Hell, I’m ready to pound him into the ground already from what little you have told us. And, you should know, if you wanted anything, at any time, we could help you do it.” He nodded at Ryland beside him. “Any one of us at the compound will always help you.”
“Well, I wanted Dracon dead for the longest time,” she said. “He’s a bully on drugs. At least that’s where he ended up. At first, he was pretty much a smooth talker, helped me deal with losses in my life. And I fell for it.”
“Where’d you meet him?”
“At university, when I was getting my masters. I buried myself in my books and tried to ignore everything else—dealing with the pain of losing, then finding, then losing my father. … That all compounded after losing my best friend. All my work to recover went up in smoke, and I was a mess all over again. I guess I was ripe to be taken advantage of.”
*
Quinn flinched, on the inside anyway. The conversation had died and became more uncomfortable, until Quinn finally stood, extended his hand, and said, “Come on. Let’s go.”
And he’d half dragged her out of the café. He probably shouldn’t have used any strong-arm tactics, but she had been sitting beside him, her lips pinched, like she hated him. Now all three were in the vehicle, Quinn driving, while she protested being with them.
“Are you always so bullish?”
“Yes,” he said. “Sometimes the soft touch doesn’t work.”
“That’s hardly fair to me.”
“No,” he said, “it isn’t fair at all. And I understand that, from your history, this is probably the worst thing I could have done. But, at the same time, I think it’s important for you to come and to see what a lousy son of a bitch Dracon is—especially from your now-enlightened viewpoint.”
“I already know what a lousy SOB he is,” she snapped.
“Yeah, I get it,” he said.
“But,” she murmured, “he’s just … I mean, just even the place …” And any more words failed her. They pulled up outside the apartment, and, for several long minutes, it looked like she wouldn’t even get out of the vehicle. Quinn opened her door, and she stepped out. She glared at him and said, “So I’m here.”
“Let’s take a look,” Quinn said.
With her chin jutted out belligerently, Quinn hoped it was more defiance and anger at his manhandling than fear, as they walked back up to the same apartment.
When she got here, she took a slow deep breath, and he studied her carefully. She glared at him. “I won’t pass out,” she snapped.
“Good,” Quinn said gently. “I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t think you could handle it and if we didn’t need your help in finding Bullard’s attacker.”
She glared at him initially, and then her shoulders sagged. “Fine,” she said. “For Bullard, anything.” She turned her glare to the front door of her old apartment, right before her, and said, “Dracon’s probably not even home.”
“Maybe not,” Quinn said, “but we need to find out.”
She glanced at Ryland, who had been silent for a long time, yet gave her a short nod.
She shrugged, reached up, and knocked. When she heard a sound inside, she took a step back and pinched her lips together. The door opened, and, sure enough, there was Dracon, staring at her. “Good God,” he said. “You back for round two?”
At that, a punch came out of nowhere and smacked him hard in the jaw. Dracon stepped back, howling. Izzie may have been too shocked to do anything, but Quinn had no such problems. His fist hit the guy square in the jaw. Quinn stepped forward and pushed Dracon back into the apartment, as the other two stepped inside.
Dracon looked at him and glared. “What the fuck, man? I didn’t do anything to you.”
“You beat her up,” he said, his voice intense, as he locked his hand around the asshole’s neck and lifted him, pinning him against the wall. “You took her captive. You beat her up, and you abused her,” he said. “And then you had the audacity, instead of begging her forgiveness and dropping to your knees with apologies, to ask her if she was ready for round two?”
Even Quinn was having a hard time with the wave of red anger that had overtaken him. But the nerve of such an asshole even still living was something else. He felt the anger still vibrating through him. To think that she had been abused by this guy was just something he couldn’t even bear thinking about. His reaction might have been a little on the strong side, but he didn’t give a shit. This punishment was long overdue.
Behind him, a warning came from Ryland. “We still need answers from him.”
“We need him dead afterward,” Quinn snapped, as he dropped the man to the floor. He stepped back, glaring at the piece of shit on the ground. “So now we need something from you,” Quinn said. “I would have asked nicely, until I met piece-of-shit you, so now I don’t give a crap about whether you want to hear about us or what we need or not,” he said. “For what you did to Izzie, I’ll take you apart one night in an alleyway,” he said, “and that’s a promise.”
Dracon literally blubbered on the floor. “Izzie, what did you do to me?” he asked. “I thought you loved me.”
“I never loved you,” she said. “You were an excuse for me not to feel alone. And how sad is that.” She shook her head. “And you deserve to go to jail for what you did to me.”
He looked at her in horror. “You loved it.”
“I was screaming for you to let me go,” she snapped. “You just didn’t want to hear anything I had to say. You were high on drugs most of the time.”
He stared at her, his head shaking violently. “Maybe, some of the time, yes,” he said. “That time, yes.” He was grasping at that, almost with a pathetic gratitude.
“You were high for all of it,” she said. “It was my fault for staying, but you didn’t have to beat the crap out of me.”
“I haven’t seen you since then. Now, out of the blue, you bring these guys?”