The After Party (A Badboys Boxset)

by Karr, Kim

He took the money. “Not a problem.”

  In less than twenty minutes, I was running through the lobby, past the front desk, and stepping onto the same elevator Sundance had practically seduced me in last night.

  While the car rose, I searched my purse for a piece of paper and found an old receipt.

  On the back, I wrote two words. Two words I knew would never be enough.

  I’m sorry.

  The elevator dinged just as I slid the pen back into my purse. The plush corridor was vacant except for the one maid with a housekeeping cart.

  A bead of sweat dripped down my neck as I pulled another fifty from my purse and stopped beside the maid to point to the room I had shared with Sundance. “Do you know if the man behind that door has checked out yet?”

  The memory of our night, the way he had taken me against the window, the wall, the door, the mirror in the bathroom, whirled through my mind.

  I hated what I had done to him.

  The maid plucked the fifty from my fingers without a word, and I focused on her as she tucked the money inside her bra, and then glanced at the clipboard attached to her cart. Walking into the room beside the one I had asked about, she answered, “No, he hasn’t,” in a whisper.

  With my heart slamming against my rib cage, I searched for the EXIT sign and then set the bag, along with all of the money I hadn’t spent to return his things back to him, in front of his door.

  Holding my breath, I knocked loudly and then took off for the stairwell. I heard the clack of the lock just as the door clicked closed behind me.

  Pounding down the steps, I felt claustrophobic. I had to get out of this enclosed place. I used the push bar at the next door I came to and punched it open. I found myself in the main concourse of the airport.

  Sitting down at the first vacant bench I could find, I pulled my phone from my purse. I wanted to call Simon, to make sure he was going to finish what we’d started, but my phone was dead.

  Dropping it back inside the bag he’d stolen, I pulled my wallet out and sighed when I saw I had four twenty-dollar bills left to my name. Peering into my bag for loose change, I spotted two stray hundred dollar bills that must have fallen loose from Sundance’s roll of money when I pulled the fifties out. I also spotted the airline ticket to Antigua in the name of SARAH BARNES.

  It was then I knew what I had to do.

  I had to run.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  SADIE

  FROM THE AIR—THE SEA looked turquoise, the island shape appeared long and narrow, the ground was a little scrubby, but the sky bluer than blue with only a few scattered clouds here and there.

  Getting through security was easier than the first time since shifts hadn’t changed. After that, I easily got a seat on the plane, well not me, but Sarah.

  I didn’t know anything about Antigua other than what the pilot had informed the cabin of during our four hours in the air. He’d told us that Antigua was pronounced, “An-Tee’-ga,” that the island was only fourteen miles by eleven miles, that Oprah Winfrey owned a home there, and that Cricket was more of a religion than a sport.

  It was early afternoon when the plane touched down at V.C. Bird International Airport. Stepping off the runway, I felt the cool breeze on my skin and smelled the scent of hibiscus in the air.

  “Good afternoon,” the woman standing in a black uniform at the edge of the terminal said as I approached.

  “Good afternoon,” I said back, and I felt my heart in my throat. Why was I being singled out? Did they know I wasn’t who I said I was? Had I been caught?

  “You must be Sarah?” she said.

  I wasn’t sure if I should nod a yes or shake my head no. “How’d you know?” I asked instead.

  “The airline notified us that your seat had been occupied.” There was sympathy in her voice, and I wondered why.

  “Oh, how wonderful of them.”

  She smiled. The petite dark-haired woman wore a gold nametag that read, “GALLERY,” and as if she knew what she was doing, she took me by the elbow. “Come right this way, Miss Barnes.”

  The knot in my stomach tightened.

  What was going on?

  Why was I being escorted off the runway?

  Inside Immigration, I was surprised to be rushed through without a problem and even more surprised to see someone holding up a sign on the other side that read, “SARAH BARNES.”

  Although relieved I wasn’t going to prison, alarm still swept through me, and I tried to hurry past. I had no idea where I was going, or what I was going to do with not even three hundred dollars to my name, but I knew anywhere was better than where I had been.

  “Miss Barnes!” The woman from the terminal was hurrying after me. My heart started to pound again. This was where it was all ending. I’d been found out. “Miss Barnes!”

  I didn’t want to turn around, but I had no choice.

  “I wanted to let you know you did the right thing,” she said, squeezing my arm. “You’ll feel better about everything after you’ve had some time in the sun.”

  I blinked a few times. Having no idea what she was talking about, I somehow managed to say, “Thank you,” because it seemed appropriate.

  She gave me a sympathetic nod, and then before I knew it, I was being ushered into a car.

  “The airline said your baggage hasn’t arrived,” the older gentleman with the Caribbean accent told me. “Don’t worry, as soon as it does we’ll have it delivered.”

  I nodded, knowing there would be no luggage.

  This had gone way past what I had expected, and still, I said nothing about who I was or wasn’t.

  I wasn’t Sarah Barnes, but no one seemed to notice this, and telling anyone otherwise would only get me thrown into a jail cell I might have deserved to be in but was terrified of, so I went with it.

  Inside the car, I leaned my head against the tinted glass in relief and watched the world go by as the driver made his way eastward, slowing for potholes, speed bumps, goats, and people.

  The insides of my thighs burned reminding me about last night. The sex. The man. Everything.

  I sighed and turned my head toward the cool glass. Closing my eyes, I wished things could have been different. That the intense chemistry we shared could have been explored further.

  The place we pulled into was called Gallery Bay Resort and it looked criminally luxurious. Peering down at myself, at the shambles I was in, I couldn’t help but wonder at what point I’d be called out as an imposter. It wasn’t a matter of if, but when, and yet I didn’t stop myself from falling even further down the rabbit hole.

  After everything I’d done . . . what did it matter anymore?

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  SADIE

  THE BEACHFRONT BUNGALOW WASN’T SOMETHING you’d find in a typical hotel. It was a villa.

  Gleaming granite, tropical photographs, and dark acacia wood furnishings surrounded me. I stepped down into the sunken living room and poured myself a Merlot from the minibar. With my glass in hand, I pulled open the sliding, floor-to-ceiling doors that provided the most amazing view.

  Feeling exhausted, I perched down on the stylish sofa and pulled the wig from my head.

  What the hell was I doing?

  What the hell was I going to do?

  Should I take a cab back to the airport and fly back to the States? Stay here? I was lost. I didn’t know what to do.

  Sip after sip, I thought about nothing because I forced myself to push what I’d done to Riley, and how I’d abandoned him, and what I’d done to Sundance out of my mind.

  Throwing my one-drink rule out the window once again, I went for a second glass and then a third. Knowing I should eat, I couldn’t conjure up enough energy to move, so when I filled my glass up one more time, I grabbed the small tin of Pringles.

  Somehow, I ended up in my underwear between the four-hundred-thread-count sheets in the king bed thinking about him—Sundance—Jaxson Cassidy. Cassidy. The link between his nickname and himself. I wish I c
ould have stuck around long enough for him to have shared that information with me. Then again, he wasn’t looking for anything other than what we’d had. A one-night stand. A fast fuck. He made that very clear. I couldn’t blame him.

  As I started to fade into sleep, resolve set in.

  Step 4: Make a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves.

  I squeezed my eyes closed.

  I knew what I had to do.

  I would go back to the States. Turn myself in and face what I’d done because I knew I couldn’t live like this.

  Couldn’t live with myself.

  Couldn’t live with all the bad.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  SADIE

  THREADS OF MOONLIGHT STOLE IN around the blinds.

  I glanced at the clock on the bedside table. It read nine seventeen p.m. I couldn’t believe I’d slept for almost six hours.

  Irritated with myself, I sat up in bed and threw back the sheets. It took me a moment to gain my bearings, but once I did, all the bad came rushing back.

  I was a mess.

  Bringing my palms to my temples, I pressed them against the vibrant ache. Alcohol might have helped me forget, but the aftermath was a bitch to deal with.

  I made my way into the spacious bathroom equipped with his-and-hers showers, a deep soaking tub for two, and double sinks.

  Somehow I managed to brush my teeth with the spare on the counter and shower without thinking about what I’d done.

  There wouldn’t be any flights out of Antigua tonight, I was certain. So, in the morning, I would head to the airport and face my destiny. But as for tonight, I was stranded here. In this giant, gorgeous room that didn’t belong to me. Alone.

  My stomach rumbled.

  I needed to get something to eat.

  Ordering room service was out of the question. I wanted to stay as far away from having to pretend to be Sarah Banks as I could.

  After putting on my wig, I left the bandages off and put the severance clothes that I wanted to burn back on and walked out the back door onto the beach. I followed the torch-lit path to the lobby where I hopped on the resort tram and took it to the farthest point possible. I’d left my purse behind. It contained my identification—my real identity—and I didn’t want to chance having to use it. It was better to go without.

  Charge it to the room.

  Steal some more, which I hated but knew I had to do. I’d pay everyone back. I would.

  Fifteen minutes later I found myself at an intimate restaurant tucked away at the very tip of the resort.

  The wait for a table was over two hours, but there was an outdoor Tiki hut in the back, and I decided a stool at the bar would do.

  The place was loud.

  Music.

  Everyone celebrating something or other.

  Toasting.

  Laughing.

  Smiling.

  “Wanna start a tab?” the bartender asked.

  I nodded. “Room 123.”

  I’d pay this Sarah Barnes back for the airline ticket, the room, and the meal as soon as I could. I would.

  I ordered one of the frozen umbrella drinks with the special rum and the Calypso Chicken. My stomach rumbled again as I took a bite of the fresh banana wedged onto the side of the giant fishbowl glass. It struck me then that I couldn’t remember the last real meal I’d eaten.

  It might have been weeks ago. I knew I’d dropped at least five pounds, maybe ten since this all started. I looked at myself in the reflection of the glass-topped counter and saw hollow cheekbones.

  I hated what I saw, and not just because I looked like shit.

  The big sturdy glass was heavy, and as I sipped it I watched the happy couples all around me. They seemed overjoyed about their vacation destination. I’d never gone on a real vacation. They also seemed elated to be with the one they were with. I’d never been in love. Never wanted to be. I saw what losing it did to my father. Yet all of these people seemed overjoyed. They’d somehow managed to make it work. Then again, they hadn’t grown up on Moon Island, where heroes turned into rebels and rebels turned into villains in the blink of an eye.

  For the hundredth, or maybe millionth time, I tried to figure out how I’d ended up where I was and wondered what I could have done to change it.

  It went back. Way back. To when I was twelve? Seventeen? Twenty-eight? I couldn’t be certain, but I was certain of three things:

  1. I should have never let my father back into my life.

  2. I should have never thought he could actually stay sober.

  3. I should have never let him tell me his secrets.

  By the time I finished eating, I had drank two more fruity concoctions and decided I wasn’t going to stop there. I had the night to get through, and trying to do it sober felt like an impossible feat.

  With getting drunk in mind, I ordered another drink and continued to watch the couples in mad love.

  Kissing.

  Touching.

  Whispering sweet nothings into each other’s ears.

  It was beautiful to watch.

  Tomorrow I’d be going to jail, and I’d never have anything like that. Maybe I should have opened my heart up to someone so I could have experienced true love.

  Even just once.

  Even just for a little while.

  I didn’t know why Sundance came to mind.

  Jaxson Cassidy.

  A beautiful man with a tortured soul, like mine.

  The ocean scent should have given it away, but I was lost in the memory of last night and I thought I was imagining it.

  “I have no idea what you’re doing on this island, if you’re following me or if this is just karma, but either way I’ll give you one minute to convince me why I shouldn’t call the police right now,” growled the deep, raspy voice in my ear.

  Chills ran up my arms and down my back. I swallowed and then took a deep breath.

  I knew who it was.

  An arm on either side of me had me trapped in my seat. I was caught, and I wasn’t sure I cared because he had been the one to catch me. Tall, dark, gorgeous Sundance, whose arms I longed to hold me just one more time, just not in the malicious way he was doing right now.

  His strong hands gripped the bar’s edge. I felt like a bird in a cage. I hated that feeling and my instincts kicked in.

  Run. Run. Run.

  Like this, in my high heels, I couldn’t though. So, I turned and faced him. “Sundance,” I whispered in a horrified gasp. “What are you doing here?”

  His entire body jerked, but it only took him a moment to recover. “Funny, but I just asked you that very question.”

  “I . . . I . . . I—” I couldn’t get anything out. My entire mind was going haywire.

  “I’m waiting. Tick. Tock.”

  With my heart thumping so loud and beads of sweat running down my neck, my breath caught in my chest when I tried to speak. “I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah, so you said . . . in your note. Tick. Tock.”

  The hairs on my neck stood on end. He was over six-foot tall and a mountain of lean muscle. I was skinny, weak, and in no way a match for him.

  Alarm raced through me. I was petrified. Not of him, but of being turned in on this island. Being locked away in a foreign country. Never getting out. And so I did what I had to do.

  In a bar crowded with so many people, where none of them were paying any attention to me, to us, I arched my toes, allowing my shoes to quietly slide from my feet, and then like a bat out of hell, I ducked under his arm and ran as fast as I could.

  It was, after all, the only thing I knew how to do, and do well.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  SADIE

  I HATED THE DARK, AND still, I raced down the unlit beach toward the sea as fast as I could.

  Looking left and then right, I had no choice but to follow the narrow strip of shore lined with vegetation. It was the only path away from civilization. Away from Sundance. A place to hide and not be seen.

  Ti
me seemed to last forever in the blackness.

  Eventually, the sandy beach ended though, and I was traipsing through overgrowth so thick, it was taller than me. Gnarled branches clawed at my arms and ripped through the lace of my dress, but I didn’t stop. Didn’t slow down. Didn’t look back.

  I was too scared I’d be caught.

  The mangroves grew denser the further into the brush I went, but I couldn’t turn around. Couldn’t risk the police being there and waiting for me with handcuffs at the ready.

  When I heard the sound of an engine in the distance, I froze and fell to my knees. Splotches of moonlight bled through the leaves and scattered across the ground. I followed it, crawling to keep out of sight. My ribs screamed as I did, but I couldn’t get caught. Couldn’t go to prison on foreign soil where they might lock me away forever, and no one would ever know or care.

  The sound passed, and I got to my feet. Stars were shining bright, and soon I spotted the road the tram had taken to the restaurant. Unfamiliar with where I was, I stayed hidden in the brush for at least thirty more minutes, and then I reached a familiar crossing.

  With my arms pumping, I crossed the road as fast as I could. Pain seared the soles of my feet as they made contact with the sharp stones, but I ignored it.

  My lungs were screaming by the time I reached the side of the beach where my villa was located. Or rather, Sarah’s villa. Sundance didn’t know where I was staying. I would be safe there. Besides, I had no choice but to take refuge in the room for the night. I had nowhere else to go. As soon as dawn hit though, I’d head for the airport. I knew I’d end up in jail when I landed, but at least I’d be on US soil.

  The back doors of the villa were open to the beach, just as I’d left them. Twenty yards and I would be safe. Ten yards. Five. I let out a sigh of relief when I pulled the curtain aside and stepped onto the cool marble.

  My feet.

  My legs.

  My arms.

  Everything bare hurt.

  With no time to worry about scrapes and bruises that would heal, I quickly closed the oversized glass doors.

  Still breathing heavy, I inhaled a deep breath and then pushed the latch to lock myself in.