Trevor Reese: His Protective Love

by Mallory Monroe

  She just sat there? That made no sense to Trevor. “What do you mean?”

  “I went to her automobile to see what was happening,” the guard said, “and I saw that she was sitting in her car crying, sir.”

  Trevor frowned. “Crying?”

  “And shaking, yes, sir,” the guard said, and he didn’t have to say anymore. Trevor took off running.

  He ran outside, down the steps, and all the way down his long driveway until he was on the outside of the opened gate.

  And there was Carly’s Jag with the top up, and with Carly sitting behind the wheel. He walked over to the car and attempted to open the door. But it was locked. He tapped on the window, but he got no response. Carly wasn’t even looking at him. She was staring forward. And his grounds chief was right. She was crying and shaking like a leaf.

  He pulled out the key fob he had for her car, and unlocked the door. Then he opened it.

  It wasn’t until the door was opened did Carly look his way. And when she saw him, she broke down into great sobbing and got out of the car. Trevor pulled her into his arms. She was sobbing so hysterically that he didn’t bother to ask her anything.

  The grounds chief, who had run behind Trevor, made it up to him. Trevor looked at him as he began walking Carly toward the house. “Bring her car up,” he said to the head guard.

  “Yes, sir,” the guard said and began doing as he was told.

  But then Trevor looked at Carly’s emotionalism. She was not that kind of girl! “And call Doctor Seinfeld,” he said to his grounds chief. “Then call my son. Tell him to get over here too.”

  “Right away,” said the chief, and immediately pulled out his cell phone.

  When it was clear that Carly barely had the strength to walk, Trevor lifted her into his arms and carried her all the way up the driveway, up the steps, and into their home. He didn’t stop carrying her until he had her upstairs and in their bed.

  But she wouldn’t release him. She kept her arms around his neck.

  “Babe, what’s wrong?” he asked with a distressed look still on his face. He was worried sick. But he couldn’t even pull back and look at her because she was clinging to him so tightly. “Babe, what’s the matter?”

  But Carly just kept on sobbing.

  Trevor managed to remove her hands from around his neck so that he could look at her. “Love, I know you’re upset. But you need to tell me what happened. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what happened.”

  She finally eased up on her sob and began sniffling. Trevor reached into his pocket and handed her a handkerchief. She blew her nose.

  Although tears were still in her eyes, and her eyes were swollen from so much crying, they were still as clear as day. Trevor couldn’t even imagine what had happened while he was out of town. And he was already hating himself for not being in town when it happened.

  “Tell me what’s going on, Carly, please,” he begged her.

  Carly was sitting up on their bed, and she sat her handkerchief-clasped hands on her lap. She looked so innocent to Trevor in that moment.

  Then she spoke.

  “I saw him,” she said.

  But that hardly answered Trevor’s question. “You saw who?” he asked her. His face looked worn with worry.

  “I saw,” Carly said, and then she looked down and began balling up his handkerchief. He waited for her to continue. And she did. “I saw,” she said again as if just saying it would break her down. Then she looked into Trevor’s big, violet-blue eyes. And she found the courage there. “I saw one of those men,” she finally said.

  Trevor was about to ask her one of what men, but he stopped himself. He knew what men she were talking about. When she was a young girl, her sadistic biological father used to sell her body for cash. And he had many takers.

  “Where did you see him?” he asked her.

  “At the grocery store. At Ames Grocery Store. He was hurrying inside the store, and I was walking out. We bumped into each other.”

  “Did he follow you?”

  She shook her head. “I think I left too fast for him to follow me.” She continued to nervously ball up that handkerchief. “I had to get home to you.” Then she looked at him.

  Trevor’s heart broke for her. His sweet, innocent wife. And that fucking monster! “And you’re sure it was him?” He didn’t want to fuck up the wrong man. And he was absolutely going to fuck him up. “You told me you didn’t remember any of those bastards.”

  “But when I saw his tattoo, I remembered him,” Carly said. “When he used to come, he used to pin me down and cover my mouth because I used to be crying so much. And I would just look at his arm, because it was so big and he was hurting me. He had a tattoo. It was a red sportscar, and a lady was driving it, but the car had no wheels on it. And I used to stare at that car while he did it. I used to wonder why would anybody want a tattoo of a car with no wheels on it. Then I realized why. Because it meant he possessed her. That woman wanted freedom, but she couldn’t have it. She had no wheels to get free. And I decided that woman was me. I wanted to break free from my father’s clutches, but I couldn’t. I had no wheels either.”

  Trevor’s heart squeezed in agony for her. He grabbed her hands and squeezed them affectionately. A single tear dropped down her left cheek.

  “And I used to look into his eyes when he would always ask me what was wrong with me because I was crying. I used to look into his eyes because I couldn’t believe he didn’t understand why I would hate what he was doing. He was acting like I was supposed to like it when I hated it with a passion. And I remembered how dark his eyes were. Like there was nothing inside of them. And I remembered the scar over his eyebrow. I didn’t remember any of it, until I saw him again today. And it all came back to me. I’m certain it was him.”

  Trevor nodded. Carly was a bright girl. She’d remember details like that. “What was he wearing?” he asked her for his own specific reason.

  “A big blue Hawaiian-like shirt,” she said.

  Trevor nodded, and then pulled her into his arms. No more details for her. She didn’t need to relive that hellish time again. She needed him to hold her, and to protect her. “He’ll never hurt you again, babe,” he said to her as he held her. “On my life, I promise you that,” he added, with the force of a man who aimed to keep that promise.

  Amari arrived just as the doctor was arriving, and they both hurried into the home. While Doctor Seinfeld went upstairs to make sure Carly was alright, Trevor took Amari into his home office and explained to him what was going on. Amari was young and buck-wild when it came to the ladies, but he was as serious as a man Trevor’s age when it came to his father and Carly. He loved them both. And Trevor trusted him.

  When he finished, Amari just sat there. “Wow. What kind of man would sell his own daughter like that?”

  “He was a nasty piece of work, that’s for damn sure. Big Daddy told me horror stories about that man.”

  Amari shook his head. “Poor Carly,” he said. “I can only imagine what it had to have felt like when she saw him again after all these years.”

  Trevor agreed. “She was a nervous wreck, poor kid. That’s why I called our family doctor. He came right over. As did you. Thank you,” Trevor said.

  “After that chewing out you gave me today,” Amari said, “I wasn’t about to hear that all over again. But for Carly, I’ll walk a mile.”

  “A mile?” Trevor asked. “Your ass better walk more miles than that for my wife,” he said.

  Amari laughed. “It was just an expression, Father,” he said. “You are, overall, quite humorless.”

  Trevor gave him a small smile and leaned back. Humor was the last thing on his mind.

  And then Doctor Seinfeld knocked once on the open office door, and walked in.

  Trevor and Amari both rose to their feet. “How is she, Doc?” Trevor asked him.

  “For a certainty, she’s been traumatized. She appears quite emotionally spent. I gave her a sedative, and waited
until she had fallen asleep. Don’t disturbed her. Let her sleep it off. She should be back to her old self when she awakens.”

  Trevor nodded. “Okay, Doc, thanks.”

  “You’re welcome. Hello, Amari,” the doctor added, looking at the younger man. “Still enjoying America?”

  “And its’ people, yes,” he said with that charming smile.

  The doctor smiled too. Trevor could tell that, as a gay man, the doctor found Amari just as attractive as the ladies did. “If you ever need a tour guide,” the doctor said, “I’m your man.”

  “I shall keep that in mind,” said Amari, still smiling, and the doctor left.

  “Interesting,” Amari said playfully after the doctor had gone. He placed his finger to his upper lip as if he was actually contemplating a coupling. “He is a doctor, which means he is rich, no?”

  Trevor gave Amari a hard look. “Get the fuck out of here!” he said.

  Amari laughed that booming laugh again.

  But then Trevor turned serious. And so did Amari. “I’ve got to make a run,” Trevor said.

  Amari nodded. “I understand,” he said. He knew his father was at least going to look into the matter. “I’ll stay with Carly.”

  “And I mean stay with her, Mari. If I come back and you left my wife alone, I’ll beat your ass until there’s nothing left for the ladies to hold.”

  “Ouch,” Amari said with a smile Trevor didn’t return. The matter was too serious for Trevor. When Amari realized it, his smile left too. He’d never met a man always so serious like his father. “Yes, sir,” he said.

  And Trevor went and checked on Carly, to make sure she was indeed resting comfortably, and then he left.

  CHAPTER TEN

  “Just knock on the door,” the store clerk said, “and wait for him to say you can come in. Don’t just walk in, or he’ll cuss you out,” the young clerk warned, and Trevor nodded. Trevor knew that joker wouldn’t be cussing him out, but he did as the braces-wearing young man told him to do. He knocked on the office door near the last aisle of Ames Neighborhood Grocery Store, and waited. But when he knocked again and the guy still didn’t say anything, he barged on in.

  The manager, who appeared to be sitting behind his desk, with his legs propped up, watching Fox News on a tiny television set atop a file cabinet, dropped his legs to the floor and stood up angrily. “What’s the meaning of this intrusion?” he asked.

  “I need to see some film footage,” Trevor said, without introducing himself, as he walked toward the small desk.

  “And who are you? FBI?” the manager asked. He couldn’t imagine anybody else with the nerve to just barge in his office like that.

  “I’m not FBI. I’m worse. I want a copy of your store’s videos inside and out from between five and seven this evening.”

  “I’m not just going to hand over video to you and you aren’t law enforcement. Who are you?”

  Trevor reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of cash. He threw it on the manager’s desk. “That’s who I am,” he said. “Now get me those tapes.”

  The manager saw all of that money and his tiny eyes went big. And he immediately sat down at his computer and pulled up all the tapes from the timeframe Trevor asked for. Once he produced copies on SD cards, with one card a recording of the interior of the store during that timeframe, and the second card showing the exterior of the store, he handed both to Trevor.

  Trevor stared at him. “If anybody asks, you never gave shit to me. Are we clear?”

  “Crystal,” the manager said. “I won’t tell a living soul for as long as I’m on the face of this earth.”

  Until that living soul paid him money to talk, Trevor knew. But it didn’t matter, anyway. Trevor made the request, not because he believed that greedy bastard could be trusted to keep his word, but because Trevor wanted to see exactly who he was dealing with.

  He left.

  And as soon as he did, the manager, now grinning from ear-to-ear, grabbed up every dollar of that pile of money and pocketed it. He didn’t even bother to count it. He’d do that when he made it home.

  Outside, Trevor didn’t go straight home. He had to see what he needed to see right then and there. He sat in his Mercedes, put the SD card in a slot in his car’s console, and watched the video on his car’s fourteen-inch screen.

  He searched every frame for Carly first, since she apparently made it to the store first, and then for the man in the big blue Hawaiian shirt.

  Trevor saw Carly’s Jaguar drive up and park. Then he saw her get out and began walking toward the store’s entrance. His instincts told him to stay in that frame, even as Carly was already heading toward the entrance. Three other cars drove up. Two white women got out of the first two cars and headed toward the entrance, but then a white man, in a big, blue Hawaiian shirt, got out of the third car. Which surprised Trevor. Carly had said that the man was going into the store while she was coming out, and they bumped into each other. Yet the man arrived right around the same time she had. But then the man remained in his car, and Trevor understood the difference in the timeframe.

  But then, after about only a little over a minute, the man got out of the car and hurried inside of the store.

  Trevor pulled out the exterior SD card, and put in the card that recorded the interior of the store. He frantically searched for the man in the Hawaiian shirt. When he found him, the man appeared to be searching the aisles as if he was looking for somebody. When he apparently found who he was looking for, he backed back, as if he wanted to be undetected. Trevor looked in the direction that the man had been looking and, lo and behold, Carly was on that aisle the man had backed away from! Carly was the only person on that aisle at that time.

  Trevor frowned. What the fuck?

  Trevor pulled out a pair of prescription glasses, put them on, and leaned forward, to make sure his suspicion was right. And that was when he saw that the man was actually following Carly from aisle to aisle to aisle. Even as one of Carly’s girlfriends, Melissa Cohen, stopped to talk with her, the Hawaiian shirt was taking peeps at Carly. And when Carly headed for the checkout counter, he headed in that direction too.

  Trevor was floored. The man in that Hawaiian shirt was stalking Carly? That bastard was stalking his wife?

  But then the man left the store. As Carly was checking out, he walked on out. Which didn’t make sense. How did they bump into each other?

  The answer came because Trevor could see from the interior camera angle that the man didn’t go far. Trevor could see the man lurking outside. And when Trevor saw his innocent, unsuspecting wife grab her two grocery bags and head for the exit, he knew that the stalker was going to “accidentally” bump into her as if he was just coming into the store.

  And that was exactly what he did.

  Trevor’s heart ached when Carly, bending down to pick back up the bag she had dropped, recognized the man. And how she backed away from him like a scared kid when he touched her arm. And then she fled.

  Trevor stared at the man as Carly ran away from the store’s entrance and out of the interior camera’s frame. When he saw that smirk on that man’s face, and how that man didn’t bother to follow Carly, Trevor’s heart squeezed in anger. He was going to knock that smirk off of that asshole’s face if it was the last thing he did, he vowed.

  Then the man headed back out of the store, as if his mission had been accomplished, and was out of the interior camera’s frame too.

  Trevor quickly reloaded the exterior SD card into his car’s SD slot. And he saw Carly running away from the store and to her car. He also saw the man walk casually to his car. Everybody coming and going in the parking lot were looking at Carly, as if she was the crazy one, and nobody seemed to pay attention to her stalker at all.

  Carly didn’t immediately drive away, as Trevor had expected her to. She sat in her car for a few moments. But when she did drive away, she sped away. As if she was in terror getting out of that parking lot.

  The man in the Hawa
iian shirt sat in his car for a little over a minute himself, and then he drove away too. Only very slowly and very casually.

  But Trevor was pleased that he did. Because the camera got a perfect view of the smug bastard’s car.

  And his license plate.

  “Bingo,” Trevor said, and removed his glasses.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  It was after ten that night when Carly finally woke up. She woke up to the sound of Trevor’s voice downstairs. She laid there momentarily, still trying to focus in the dark room, and then she threw back the covers from over her, turned her body outward and sat her bare feet on the floor. She looked down at the big white dress shirt she wore, one of Trevor’s, and didn’t remember putting it on, or him putting it on her more likely. She didn’t remember any of it. But as she ran her hands through her unruly curly hair, she did remember that bastard.

  It almost caused her to want to get back in bed, pull the covers over her entire body, and go right back to sleep.

  But she didn’t. She let that asshole get away from her earlier. She wasn’t going to let it happen again.

  She was woke.

  She was wide awake.

  She got off of the bed and went downstairs. She followed Trevor’s voice to his big home office. The door was open, and she went inside.

  Trevor was seated behind his desk on his desk phone. He was leaned back in his swivel chair with his eyes closed because Carly knew he had to be tired. And he was rocking.

  “We’ll coordinate it,” he was saying on the phone to who Carly figured was probably a client. “But no lawyers,” he added. “You want it to be a heart-to-heart between you and your fans only.”

  A pause as he listened. Then he chimed back in. “It’ll be scripted from start to finish, don’t worry about that. But you have to make it look as if you’re speaking straight from the heart. Oh, yes, you can. You can do it. I have total confidence in you.”

  Carly leaned against the door frame and watched the master work. There was no better PR person on the planet, she felt, than Trevor. But he only worked with their wealthiest, most well-connected clients.