Saved by the Devil (Devils Arms Book 3)

Saved By The Devil
By Michelle Woods


Copyright © 2019 Michelle Woods
All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations in critical reviews and articles.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, groups and incidents are products of author’s imagination or are used in a non-factual manner and are not to be construed as real. Any events, organizations, or persons depicted are entirely coincidental.
For more information or to request permission contact: woodspublishingdesign@gmail.com
Edited by: Mary Bogart Crenshaw
Copyright © 2016 Shutterstock/Image
Copyright © 2016 Shutterstock/Image
Publisher: Woods Publishing & Design Inc.
Cover: Woods Publishing & Design Inc.
Contact: woodspublishingdesign@gmail.com


Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Epilogue


Chapter One
Phoebe checked the clock again, her heart sinking as she noted the time. Damn, she wasn’t going to get this done before he arrived. She stirred the noodles again, her hand clenching so tightly around the spoon her knuckles turned white. She tapped it on the side of the pot before setting it in the spoon rest. Why had she tried to save a few dollars by going to the Dollar store? She knew she needed to be back at the apartment by four to make Johnny dinner. He expected it on the table by the time he got home. She should know by now that disappointing him was a bad idea.
She eyed the clock on the wall again and smoothed the dress she’d put on a moment ago. Her heart pounded in her ears as she tried to calm down, taking in deep even breaths like her therapist had advised. Everything had to be perfect. She knew what happened when things weren’t exactly how he liked them. Phoebe grimaced. She closed her eyes and laid her hand over her slightly queasy stomach. She was almost free—another week tops and she’d be finished with this life. Leaning against the counter with her heart still beating a hundred miles a minute, she took in another lungful of air. Despite her constant stirring, the noodles just weren’t ready yet.
Phoebe tensed when the key jiggled in the lock, silently cursing her luck. Of course, he’d be early tonight. She grabbed a beer from the fridge and quickly moved to stand in the hall with a bright smile on her face. Maybe he would be in a good mood tonight. Maybe everything would be okay.
Phoebe knew she was kidding herself, but a girl could hope. She released the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding as she moved towards the front hall. Her insides trembled waiting for him to enter their apartment. She wanted to run and hide, but she knew better. He’d find her and he’d be even more pissed if she did. Johnny shoved the door open and it banged into the wall, making her jump.
“Hi, honey. How was your day?” she asked in the bubbly happy voice that he liked her to use. She smiled brightly, hoping like hell he wasn’t in a bad mood. Johnny stared at her for a long moment, his eyes narrowed as he stood by the door watching her. Hovering at the end of the hall about six feet from him, she could already see the telltale signs she wasn’t getting her wish tonight. Johnny shut the door, a malicious look on his face. He stepped towards her and it took everything she had not to run as she steeled her spine and waited. She clenched the beer bottle tightly, still hoping she could appease him.
“You only use that fake tone when you’ve done shit wrong. What the fuck did you do tonight, you stupid bitch?” Johnny snapped, his eyes glassy and unfocused.
Damn, he was high again. Phoebe took an involuntary step back, her body shaking in anticipation of the blow she knew was coming. Her hands twisted in the skirt of her sundress and her breathing became erratic. She hated when he was high. He became impossible to please when he was, and the night always ended with her in the bathroom trying to hide bruises. Or worse, in the emergency room.
“Here’s your beer, dearest,” Phoebe said sweetly, trying not to get too close as she held it out to him. Her reluctance to get near him wouldn’t help but she couldn’t convince herself to get any closer. Fear coursed through her, making her entire body tremble. Johnny took the remaining steps toward her and reached for the beer. For a second, Phoebe thought things might be all right. With the beer balanced between her hand and his she almost believed for a moment that his mood would change. He jerked the bottle up between them shaking it. She watched dumbly as the unopened beer fizzed. She idly wondered if it would shoot the top off and hit him in the face.
“You think this will save you?” he demanded before he threw the bottle at the wall.
Glass shards shot at her bare legs like tiny little bullets. She cried out as several pieces cut her. She stared down at the blood on her calves trying hard not to run. Things always escalated when she ran. Maybe if she just stood here, he’d leave her alone this time. Phoebe almost laughed hysterically at her own unrealistic idea.
“Stupid cunt! I don’t want a fucking beer. Where the fuck is my dinner, bitch?” Johnny demanded as he loomed closer. Phoebe flinched slightly and tried hard not to enrage him further, but knew she would be fighting a losing battle.
“I-It’s almost finished. I just need to