By the Pale Moonlight (Book One of the Moonlight Series) Read online

  "As you wish." David's voice was so close I jumped and loosened my grip on Ty. I caught movement out of the corner of my eye.

  Ty tried to dodge, but failed to move fast enough. The bat grazed his shoulder. It was enough to put distance between us. David wrapped an arm around my waist and wrenched me backwards.

  "Ty!"

  He jerked his head in my direction, but I lost sight of him as the group converged. He disappeared behind a solid line of bodies.

  "Stop it!" I screamed when the first punch made contact with a meaty slap. The sounds continued, punctuated by an occasional grunt of pain and scuffle of shoes along the pavement. I couldn't see anything, and my worst fears took root in my mind.

  "Please stop!" I choked on my words and strained against David's hold, trying to jockey for a clear line of sight into the middle of the pack.

  David pressed his lips close to my ear, his breath hot and wet. "Sssh. You behave, and I'll make sure nothing happens to you."

  My body stiffened at the intimacy of his voice. I struggled uselessly, first going limp in hopes I would throw him off, and then clawing at his arms when that failed to weaken his hold. Each second that ticked by served to ignite and then stoke the anger and frustration building inside of me. I needed to get away, get help.

  Desperate, I thrust my head back; it made contact with a sharp crunch. David's hold on me loosened, giving me just enough room to get my feet planted on the car parked in front of me. I kicked off, my weight causing us both to fall on the ground, me on top of him. His breath expelled in a loud gush. I was on my feet and stumbling away before he could regain his bearings.

  Wide-eyed and frantic, I found the fight still underway. I searched the mass of bodies undulating before my eyes for any sign of Ty. I couldn't see him.

  Then I was screaming, my voice hoarse and useless. The clang of a bottle scuttling across the concrete behind me spurred me into motion, afraid David would catch me. I ran, scanning the deserted streets for life—anyone who could help. Just as panic inched up my throat, I saw a flicker of movement inside a small gas station. I tripped past the pump islands and pounded on the door, the small window rattling under my hands.

  "Help! We need help!"

  Each strike of my fist released a sob from within my chest, my helplessness sinking into my knees, weighing them down until I feared they might buckle. But still I pounded.

  At last someone's figure came into view. My eyes struggled to focus on him through the dirt smudged glass.

  "Please help me!" I continued to beat the door, even after I heard the tumbling lock being disengaged. When the door swung inward, I fell across the threshold. A warm body caught me, and I looked up into the face of Caleb Martin.

  "What the hell are you do..." He paused and took hold of my hands, flipping them over to stare at my knuckles. "Are you crazy?"

  I could barely breathe, and my words stumbled over each other. "Please—they're going to kill him! I need you to come!" I dragged him outside with me. "Hurry!"

  A look of hesitation flashed across his features, then melted into one of annoyance. "Shit," he muttered before heading inside. He emerged with a tire iron in hand. "Where?"

  "Down the street. Hurry!"

  "How many are there?" He took off at a quick jog. I struggled to keep up.

  "Eight." I barely expelled the word. "No—nine!"

  I ended up falling far behind. His white T-shirt disappeared, and I prayed he wouldn't be too late.

  When at last I caught sight of him again, his lone figure standing out of the path of the headlights, my heart jumped into my throat.

  "Ty!" I screamed, rushing forward.

  Caleb's arm shot out, catching me around the waist. My legs fell away beneath me, swinging like a doll's.

  "I wouldn't do that if I were you." Caleb released me and cupped his hand around the flame of his lighter to spark a cigarette. "Don't worry. I don't think he's the one in trouble."

  He took a drag and leaned against a street lamp.

  Momentarily stunned, it took a moment for my eyes to focus on the scene before me. Only then did I understand his words. My jaw dropped open, relief and horror—both in equal measure—causing my heart to freeze up. I took a few halting steps, unable to go any farther.

  A blur of white rushed at me. Jenna. Tears trailed down her cheeks and her eyes were wide with fright. She grabbed hold, shaking me until my teeth clacked together.

  "Stop him!" she screamed, her fingers digging into my arms. Fresh tears sprang to my eyes as I stumbled forward, unsure of what to do.

  The sickening thud of fists against skin met my ears. Ty stood in the middle of the heaving group of bodies, an epicenter of destruction. Slick with sweat, his body remained remarkably unscathed. His shirt hung in tatters, but that seemed to be the only ill effect he suffered. I couldn't say the same for his opponents. Most were staggering, their half-assed efforts failing to tire the machine they faced. As each lunged forward, Ty batted them away like a giant would a fly.

  Just then, Ty landed a solid kick to Mike's chest, and the tall basketball player flew backward and landed on the hood of David's car with a hollow thud of flesh against metal. Jenna pushed me aside and rushed over to cradle his head in her lap. He let out a choking cough, trying to catch his breath.

  "Do something!" she screamed at me.

  I jerked my attention back to Ty. Having fully expected to find him in trouble, I didn't have the first clue how to stop his rampage now that his rage had been unleashed. The muscles in his back worked smoothly as he threw off his attackers one by one. They stumbled and fell, disbelief etched across their faces as they pushed to their feet to try again—albeit slower each time. Grunts of pain accompanied each hit Ty delivered. I thought I heard a low growl underlying it all. It was coming from Ty.

  Tired and pulverized, the attackers started to retreat one at a time. David's blond head tried to dart toward his car, but Ty tackled him from behind. A strangled cry escaped my throat as Ty continued his assault.

  He clutched David by the scruff of the collar and pummeled him in the face, over and over, each hit muffling what little sounds of protest David made. Soon his features were a bloody mess, one particularly solid strike sending a wet spray across the pavement.

  "Do something," I pleaded with Caleb.

  Caleb flicked his eyes over the scene, but didn't budge from his spot.

  "You bastard."

  I rushed over to Ty and gripped his right arm, mid-swing. It was slick and he easily shrugged me away and continued his attack.

  "Ty, stop! You're going to kill him!"

  A deep growl radiated from his chest when I latched on again. He rounded on me, seemingly unable to tell friend from foe.

  His backhand across my cheek rang out like a gunshot, the force of it knocking me to the ground. My jaw slammed closed, and I tasted blood. Small pebbles and bits of debris cut into my palms at the impact, and my eyes watered as a thousand pinpricks of pain spread from temple to chin, expanding and intense. When I finally managed to straighten up, he stood frozen above me, statute-like and magnificent. A God of war.

  He lunged at me.

  I scurried backward, a small whimper of protest the only sound I could muster.

  He froze, the color slowly draining from his face, muscles slackening as he came back to himself.

  My fingers inched up to cover my cheek, as though to conceal his crime.

  His feverish eyes cleared. "Oh God," he muttered to himself, slowly backing away.

  I shook my head vehemently. "No. It was an accident."

  He turned and ran.

  Chapter 16

  David stirred a few feet from where I sat, my mind unable to comprehend all that had just transpired. I crawled to where he lay, blood running from his nose, lips split, eyes bruised.

  "Don't move," I said. "I'll get you help."

  He moaned a response, legs flailing as he squirmed on his back, shoes scraping along the pavement.

  Vinc
e and the others began to straggle into the light, each looking like they had been in a car accident. A thin stream of blood was flowing from a cut above Vince's right eye, and he scowled at me.

  "Get away from him," he said.

  Jenna and Mike hobbled into the light, his arm draped over her shoulders for support. "You should keep that asshole in a cage. He could've killed someone," Jenna said.

  Oh, how they forget. If I thought it would help to remind her that they had attacked us, I would've been more than happy to clarify the point. But it was clear they'd believe what they wanted to.

  A hand grasped my arm and tried to pull me to my feet. I flinched away, but the person held firm.

  "We need to go," Caleb said. He sounded bored and irritated.

  I scowled, immediately regretting it when shoots of pain erupted across my face.

  He let out a sigh of exasperation. "Now."

  "Wait," I said. I turned toward Vince who stood guard above David while the other guys were trying to help their fallen friend sit up. He glowered at me. I mustered my remaining energy to glare back.

  "This never happened," I said.

  "Who the hell do you think you're trying to threaten, bitch?" Vince spat.

  I smiled then, and he seemed to shrink back a little at the sight. I must have been ghastly to behold.

  "It's not a threat. If word gets out about tonight, I guarantee the police will find me a most cooperative witness. I'm sure they'll be interested in hearing all about tonight."

  Vince tried to appear unimpressed, but his telltale Adam's apple bobbed up and down with his deep swallow. He cast a quick glance at David, who was sitting up now, his face looking like it'd had a run-in with a sledgehammer and lost. Big time.

  "If we go down, your boyfriend goes down, too." Vince didn't sound so sure of himself anymore.

  "Sure. Guys get in trouble all the time for trying to defend their girlfriends from a would-be rapist and the pack of dipshits that follow him around."

  Vince paled.

  "Glad we're in agreement." I tried to stand, but my legs wobbled beneath me. Caleb grabbed hold, steadying me.

  "Now you better get him out of..." I swayed, my thoughts scattering like the globe of a dandelion in a strong wind. A dark curtain descended over my eyes. I reached out for a hand that wasn't there. "Ty..."

  The last thing I heard was the high-pitched wail of an approaching siren.

  o0o

  Oh God, I hurt.

  I struggled to open my eyes, but they refused to cooperate, reflexively clenching tight at the bright light I glimpsed through slitted lids. My head felt as though someone had taken a pickaxe to my skull, and my face felt even worse. I moaned when a ripple of pain spread through the area.

  "Hold still," a male voice said. It sounded familiar, but I couldn't place it.

  Something probed along my skin, and then an immense cold pressed down on me.

  "Holy shit!" I smacked the offending object away.

  There was a long pause and then an exasperated sigh.

  "Personally I could care less if your face swells. Your choice."

  Oh God, not him.

  I grimaced when I locked eyes with Caleb, who hovered above me with a bag of ice wrapped in a kitchen towel. He was frowning, a look of immense irritation on his face.

  I was lying on a shabby tan couch that had seen much better days. Yellow foam poked out of several small tears in the upholstery. That's where my eyes stopped. Exploring my surroundings any further wasn't an option because my head refused to budge.

  "Where am I?"

  "We are in my apartment. You decided to take a nosedive into the pavement out there, but I didn't think you'd want to wait around for the police to show." He lifted my hand and slapped the icepack into my palm.

  "Oh," I said, unable to manage anything else.

  He moved away from the couch, and I focused on trying to position the compress against my cheek. My fingers were sore and stiff, and I belatedly realized my hand was wrapped in gauze. I raised the other; it was bandaged in a similar fashion.

  "What happened to my hands?"

  "My front door ran into them." It was the first bit of humor he'd ever displayed, but his words made no sense to me.

  "What?"

  I heard running water and then he was back with a glass that he dangled in front of my face. "You're lucky you didn't break the window. I'd make you clean up your own bloody mess, but you'd probably make it worse."

  He shook the glass impatiently. "Take these. They'll help." He dropped two oval shaped pills in my hand.

  "What are they?"

  He ignored me. I hesitated for a moment, but decided I didn't really care what they were. All that mattered was whether they would take the pain away. I struggled into a sitting position and swallowed them down with the water. They tasted bitter to my tongue.

  When I finished, he placed the glass on a crate beside the couch. Apparently it served as his end table.

  "What happened...to the others?" At the last moment I bit back the name I was about to lay on David and his friends.

  Caleb leaned against the opposite wall, studying me like I was an annoying bug problem he wished to rid himself of.

  "They split before the cops showed up," he said finally.

  "What about—"

  "He didn't come back."

  "Oh." I pressed the icepack to my face and tried to ignore the rush of emotions coursing through me. Ty had left me. No matter how I tried to frame that particular fact, there was no getting away from the hollow ache it left inside my chest. The only thing worse than being abandoned was having Caleb witness my personal nightmare.

  "You don't live with your parents?" I asked, desperate to put the focus on someone else.

  From my new vantage point, I got a chance to study his apartment—if that's what you could call it. The entire place was no bigger than my bedroom at home. Besides the couch, there wasn't much else in the room. His one form of entertainment seemed to be the books overflowing from several shelves held up with cinderblocks. No TV, no stereo. A small sink and fridge with a hotplate atop it barely passed as a kitchen. The only positive thing about the hovel was that it appeared to be immaculate, despite the rather shabby furnishings.

  He ignored my question, his face blank as he watched me take in the rest, from the shabby brown carpet to the small curtainless window above the sink. The bright sign of the gas station blazed outside, the corner of it visible from where I sat.

  "I didn't realize you lived here," I said finally, the extent of his situation sinking in.

  "Not exactly the American dream, is it?"

  "No, I guess not."

  He laughed, the sound flat and humorless. I could almost believe he hadn't found anything truly funny for a very long time. "No need to feel sorry for me, Princess. Between the two of us, it looks like I got the better deal."

  A warm flush rose up my neck. "I need to use the restroom."

  "It's through there." He tilted his head at the only door in the room. "On the right."

  He didn't attempt to help me as I struggled to my feet.

  The door led to the main gas station. Rows of motor oil and wiper fluid lined the space behind a greasy cash register. It was a far cry from the fancy convenience stores at bigger stations. A dinged up Coke machine provided the only concessions.

  I closed the restroom door behind me, the fluorescent lights humming in the small space. I took a deep breath and looked in the mirror.

  The bruising wasn't as extensive as I expected. The skin on my right cheek was reddened and would most likely turn into a bruise by morning, but at least my eye hadn't been affected by the blow. There was dried blood at the side of my mouth, but it appeared to be coming from a cut on the inside of my lip.

  My blouse was ripped, and my white bra strap showed. I pulled the ends of the material together just as the first tear slid down my cheek.

  I'm not sure how long I was there, but eventually Caleb pounded on the do
or and roused me out of my stupor.

  "You okay?"

  I cleared my throat. "Y-yes. I'll be out in a minute."

  There wasn't much I could do other than wipe away the blood. There would be no hiding the bruises to my face.

  One peek at the split melons that were my knuckles, and I rewrapped them, knowing my stomach wouldn't be able to handle the carnage.

  I zipped my jacket to hide my torn blouse and stepped outside.

  Caleb leaned against the counter near the register, his bored expression back in place.

  "Will you please take me home?" I asked.

  He lifted his hand; keys dangled from his open palm.

  The wind had kicked up outside. I shivered at the night air. It matched how I felt inside—cold and empty. I followed Caleb out to his pick-up truck. He thumbed the proper key from his ring and unlocked the door, holding it open for me. If it were anyone else, it would've seemed an almost romantic gesture.

  I started to climb inside, but froze, my senses alert to a shift in the space around us. I knew he was there before I spied him standing in the deep shadows alongside the gas station.

  "Ty," I whispered.

  Caleb wheeled around and watched with disinterest as Ty stepped into the light.

  If he'd been injured in the fight, he no longer showed any signs of it. Despite that, his face still carried the scars of the evening's events. Self-loathing rolled off of him in thick waves, and he fought to return my gaze.

  "Good. Saves me a trip," Caleb said, slamming the car door. Without another word, he went back inside the station. He flipped the open sign to closed, the bloody smudges on the small window obscuring the word. A second later, the interior lights went off.

  Ty moved to stand before me, his eyes drinking in every little detail of my appearance. He raised his hand, hovering it just above my cheek in a helpless manner. His brows knit together, and his frown deepened even further when he spied my bandaged hands. He held them in his palms, treating them like delicate china he was afraid might break under the pressure.

  "It wasn't your fault," I said. "I shouldn't have interfered. I don't even know why I did it. I wanted you to kill him."