Ruby Red 3 - A Romance for All Time (Complete)

Chapter 31

For a split-second, Ali wasn't sure what was happening.

Noah's mouth churned against hers, swallowing her cry of protest. His hand gripped her chin, preventing her from twisting away from the onslaught. Despite her best efforts, her punches had no effect, fists fell mute on his muscular frame. Noah pressed harder against her chest. Lungs screamed for air as her breaths grew shallow. His free hand slid down her hip heading south.

With limited mobility, Ali did the one thing her oxygen-starved brain came up with. She picked up her foot and slammed the spikey heel of her stiletto down as hard as she could. The steel hit something soft and Noah tore his mouth from hers. 

A yelp of pain was her prize. 

Noah bent over, reaching for his injured foot. The movement gave Ali the space she needed. She raised her knee with all the force she could muster and smashed it into the tender spot between his legs.

Noah let out a pitiful low wail and careened across the small hallway. Ali shoved him further away. "Asshole!" With the back of her hand, she wiped the taste of his lips, bitter coffee and betrayal, off her mouth, resisting the urge to spit.

"How could you? You...I... don't...don't you ever come near me again. If I so much as see your face... I'll," Ali kicked Noah once more for good measure, "My stiletto will be the least of your worries."

"A... Ali," Noah squeaked, his deep baritone voice absent.

"Shut it, Noah." She gave her skirt a tug, brushed her hair out of her face and left the pathetic moans of the man she'd once considered a friend behind her. Grabbing her purse and the box of cupcakes, she ran into the street, desperate to be anywhere but there.

Outside her fellow New Yorkers bustled about, the sun shone in a bright blue sky and life carried on without a care for what had just happened. Ali dug out her phone and called Sam. The upbeat tone of his voicemail took some of the edge off. It wasn't enough so she sought solace elsewhere.

Her pulse raced as she walked into the shelter. The woman at reception greeted her with a smile that quickly morphed into a look of concern. "Ali, what's wrong?"

Shock still had her in its grips. She couldn't collect herself in time to put up her walls. Instead, the story spewed from her to the group of women on duty.

"What a bastard!" exclaimed Loraine in her curt Irish accent.

Cheryl tutted at the other woman's language but agreed with the sentiment. "Were there witnesses? Cameras? Can he be charged?"

Ali shook her head. Without evidence, particularly video, there was no point in calling the police. It would be her word against his. They all knew only too well law enforcement would do their best to encourage her to not press charges.

The elevator made a soft dinging noise, bringing Ali out of her recollection. The doors crawled apart, and she was relieved to be home. Thoughts of Sam, their couch and a bottle of wine replaced the unpleasant memory. She'd need the wine to keep Sam calm when she told him about Noah.

The sight of two police officers outside her door caused Ali's stomach to drop. Why were they here? How did they know about Noah? Had they already told Sam? A shiver ran through her.

"Sorry Ma'am," One of them tried to stop her from entering the apartment.

"What's going on?" she demanded.

"Ali?" Charlie called her through the open door. "It's okay officers, she lives here."

The wall of blue parted before her and Ali stepped gingerly into their apartment. She scanned the room for Sam. Charlie was walking towards her, his mouth moving but she couldn't hear anything for the pounding in her ears. This wasn't about Noah. The shiver returned. Something was wrong.

"Sam," she called, desperately searching for his blond curls, his green eyes, him. There was no sign of him in the living room or the kitchen. Charlie tried to catch her hand, but she waved him off. "Sam!" Where was he? The world started to blur, and she swiped at her eyes trying to clear her vision.

Stumbling into the bedroom she called for the love of her life again. No response. Clothes were strewn across the bed, their owner nowhere to be found.

She turned from the bedroom and yelled for him again. "Sam," unable to keep the rising panic out of her voice.

"Ali." There at the end of the hall stood her fiancée. Two men in black suits flanked him on either side. At the sight of him, alive and unharmed, Ali's legs started to give out and she slumped against the wall. Everything was going dark around her. Then Sam was there. His arms around her. His heart beating in her ear as she pressed against his warm chest. His words calming her. "Ali, it's okay. I'm here."

A deep voice commanded, "Sir, we need to finish your statement."

Ali felt Sam bristle, his fingers digging into her skin. "Can't you see my fiancée is upset? Let me get her settled and I'll be right back."

If the detective answered, Ali didn't hear it. Half carrying her, Sam moved Ali into the living room and sat with her on the couch. "Everything's okay Ali. There's nothing to worry about."

Ali was certain that was not the case. She took Sam's face in her hands, studying him for any signs of pain. A chaste kiss landed on her forehead before he tugged her to him once more. She tried to catch her breath, concentrating on the warmth he radiated, the security of his arms around her. Sam was here. Sam was safe.

"What happened?" she whispered.

Charlie answered her question. "It was Vicky."

Ali pressed her eyes closed and reminded herself Sam was right here. Secure in her arms. She concentrated on the soft strokes of his hand on her back.

"She... left rehab and...," Charlie was choosing his words carefully. "She came after Sam..."

"She had a gun, Ali." Sam's voice reverberated through his chest. "Tried to force me to go with her. We were leaving the apartment when Charlie arrived."

"Sam warned me."

"Charlie surprised Vicky, knocking the gun out of her hand."

"And Sam pushed her to the floor."

The two men paused. Despite never wanting to let go of Sam again, Ali forced herself to decamp from her cocoon. An all to familiar crinkle and green eyes met hers. "Where is she?"

"The police arrested her." The tension in Sam's face diminished a little. "There's evidence this time. Video of Vicky pointing the gun... at me. She's being charged."

"She's going to jail?" Ali asked.

Sam nodded.

A soft sob escaped Ali. "At last."

"At last," echoed Charlie.

"Mr. Harrington," that commanding voice interrupted them again. "We need to finish here."

Sam looked at Ali. "Go. Finish this," she half demanded, half begged.

He hesitated for a moment, then after placing another quick kiss on her cheek, Sam stood up and followed the detective back down the hall.

"Let me make you a tea," offered Charlie. The younger man jumped off the couch and made his way into the kitchen. Ali followed him. She reached out and touched his arm. Charlie paused; fingers frozen on the kettle handle. Weary eyes turned and regarded her.

Pulling Charlie into a hug, Ali squeezed her soon-to-be cousin-in-law with everything she had left in her. The other man stiffened in her arms at first, then reluctantly relaxed as he placed a hand on her back.

"Thank you, Charlie."

"It ... it was..."

"It was everything."