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A Matter of Courage: A Sapphire Novel (Volume 1)

By Wendy Holley

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The kitchen door slammed below, echoing through the house. “Irene!”
Irene Brennan cringed as her husband bellowed. Please, don’t do this tonight. She hurried downstairs, her hand gliding over the cool, black iron banister. Her high heels clicked across the marble floor. She met him in the foyer. “Your suit is hanging in the closet. You have thirty minutes to shower and change before the benefit.” Her heart pounded. They couldn’t be late.
He dropped his gym bag on the floor with a thud. His white T-shirt clung to his sweaty chest. “Did you see the grass?” He pointed toward the front of the house.
Her shoulders tensed. “The gardeners just left.” No doubt timing their departure to be gone before the crazy homeowner arrived. “I’m sure it’s fine.”
His bloodshot blue eyes narrowed. “Fine! It’s too short. And what’s with the dead heads on the roses?” He removed his ball cap and wiped his brow on his sleeve. Why didn’t he shower before coming home from the gym?
The smell of rotting onions and dirty socks assaulted her nostrils. “I’ll take care of it. Please, we don’t want to be late for the benefit.”
He grabbed her by the arm and pulled her against him. “It is not fine.” His teeth clenched, glazed eyes looked right through her.
She recoiled, his hand biting into her flesh. Her heels slipped on the smooth floor, his vice grip keeping her upright. “Rick, stop.”
He released her with a shove, and she stumbled into the living room, catching her balance on the couch. “Why don’t you make sure people do their jobs right?”
With trembling fingers, she smoothed her hand over the black cocktail dress. “Rick, please, we don’t want to be late.” Does he not understand people are counting on him?
He swiped the back of his hand under his nose. “What do you do all day around here?”
She squared her shoulders. “For your information, I have a job.” Her breath caught. Too late to stop the words from tumbling past her lips.
He gripped her upper arms and yanked her against him. “Don’t you talk back to me.”
Rancid breath hit her face. Her stomach lurched, and she turned her head.
He thrust her aside, and she stumbled onto the Oriental rug, managing to stay upright on stiletto heels. Her heart hammered against her ribs. “Rick, stop! Please.”
“You’re going to learn to show me some respect.” He swung at her head.
The force of his hand snapped her head back. Her arms flailed. She reached for something, anything, to keep from falling. Her head hit the floor with a hard thud. Air rushed from her lungs. Pain shot through her skull, though the rug cushioned her fall. Rick’s face blurred, and the room tilted. An encroaching blackness framed the white walls and marble floor.
Don’t give in.
Rick gripped her ankle and dragged her across the floor, like a wild animal claiming its prey.
Her sandals knocked from her feet. She kicked at his arm and twisted to break free. “No. Let go!” She grasped a leg of the heavy coffee table.
The table barely budged. Her arm stretched, and her hand burned. She winced.
A blue and white porcelain vase toppled and landed beside her.
She released her grip on the table, grabbed the vase, and swung the antique, hitting his wrist.
Rick released her. Rage reddened his eyes, and he leaned over reaching for her. His broad strong hands going for her neck. Shivers stabbed through her heart. She swung the vase again, cracking it over his head. He collapsed atop her, pinning her beneath him, his weight stealing her breath. The vase shattered.
She pushed against his shoulders, squirming. Shards of broken porcelain cut her thigh.
“God, please help me.” Taking a shallow breath, she pushed against his chest. “Get off!” She shoved harder. Rick rolled off, flopping over onto his back.
She scrambled to her feet, gasping for breath. Pressing her hand to her mouth, she stifled a cry. He sprawled unconscious at her feet. Blood seeped from his head and trickled onto the Oriental rug.
At times like tonight, she didn’t recognize her husband. He was someone else. Something else. Normal one minute, a raging lunatic the next. Set off by the slightest thing. Unpredictable. Terrifying.
It wasn’t the gardener, the housekeeper, or the pool cleaner. He was using again.
“You promised,” she whispered, brushing her hair from her face. “You lied to me.” She rubbed cold fingers against her throbbing temple and blinked at the crimson pool expanding to the white marble.
What had she done?
She moistened her lips. The acrid taste of blood stung her tongue. Her blood.
She trembled. Is he dead?

Download the full Chapter One from the website: BeaconRockPublishing.com

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