by Brenda Novak
Now that her hands were free, she rubbed her own breasts. “I’m not big enough?”
“Not by a long shot.” His nose wrinkled in apparent disgust as his eyes swept over the rest of her. “Or maybe it’s the weight you’ve gained. It’s a turnoff.”
She hadn’t gained any weight. She checked every day. “You want me to weigh less than a hundred and twenty?”
“I want you to make me come just by looking at you.” Instead of untying her ankles, he shrugged and left it up to her. “You’d better hurry and get to the gym. I want an extra thirty minutes of cardio today.”
She let go of her aching breasts, but her hands trembled so badly she had difficulty untying her ankles.
When she was free, she could barely walk because the bonds had cut off the flow of blood. She wouldn’t have minded these minor injuries if the evening had gone the way it normally did. When Colin was happy, no one could be more charming. She loved it when she was able to please him. There’d been times he’d wept on her bare stomach while telling her how much he appreciated her love and patience.
“Are you dressed yet?” he called from the shower.
“Almost.”
“When you’re out today, get a choke chain for Sam, like the one we used for Rover.”
Tiffany instantly forgot about her aches and pains. She’d hoped Colin wouldn’t notice that their old one had gone missing. “Where’s Rover’s?” she asked.
“I can’t find it. That’s what I was looking for last night when I decided to do the wax instead.”
She had burn marks on her belly and between her thighs where he’d dripped the hot wax, but she preferred the wax to the collar. Last time he made her wear it, she’d passed out. It had scared her enough that she’d hidden it during the chaos surrounding Rover. Sometimes Colin got so excited, he didn’t know what he was doing.
“You’re planning to have some fun with her?” she asked, relieved to think they might be back on familiar ground despite his request for another collar.
“Yeah. I’m taking the two of you up to my dad’s cabin Saturday night. We’ll spend Mother’s Day there. It’ll help us forget Rover.”
“How will we get Sam out of the house?”
“The same way we did Rover. We’ll drug her, put her in a box and carry her out as if she’s part of our supplies.”
“And what will we do with her once we get up there? We can’t touch her ’cause of the mono, remember?”
“We can get her high. Remember how funny Rover was when we made him smoke crack?”
Rover had provided some of their biggest laughs. “That sounds like fun.” She finished tying her tennis shoes. “I’m off to the gym.”
“Tiffany?”
She paused at the door. “Yeah?”
“Sorry about last night. I think I was more upset about Rover than I wanted to admit.”
“I understand.”
“You love me?”
Suddenly her breasts didn’t hurt quite so much. “Of course.”
“If you’d rather not have the guys over tomorrow night, that’s okay.”
She didn’t like competing with Colin’s friends for his attention. But she was the one who’d let Rover escape, and after last night she wanted to prove to her husband that she could still excite him. Maybe after that big a sacrifice, he’d forget about Zoe. “It’s okay. I’ll show them such a good time they’ll be thanking you for months afterward.”
“Really?” The eagerness in his voice eliminated the last of her reservations. She could get through one night. Like Colin said, she’d probably have fun, too. She always had a good time when her husband was at his best.
“Really,” she replied and discovered a dozen roses waiting for her on the doorstep when she returned from the gym.
The card read:
I could never find anyone else like you.You’re perfect. Love, Colin
CHAPTER 16
“I’m going with you.”
Holding the keys to the rental car, Jonathan studied the stubborn expression on Zoe’s face. She’d just hung up with Skye, but Skye hadn’t been able to talk her out of it, either. “What if we find him?”
The sleep had done her some good. Dressed in a sundress with a little white sweater over it, she looked slightly recovered—and prettier than ever. Jonathan wished he hadn’t become so acutely aware of her attractiveness, but after last night he knew that wasn’t likely to change. He could still smell her scent, still feel the silky texture of her skin against his lips….
Next to Sheridan, Zoe was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
And equally off limits.
“That’s the whole point, isn’t it?” she said. “We want to find him.”
“A confrontation with him wouldn’t be easy for you.”
“None of this is easy for me.” She finished packing her cosmetics case and zipped her bag. “Ready?”
Blocking her path to the door, he touched her arm—which he might’ve done to get any woman’s attention. But the energy that passed between them made him very much aware that he couldn’t go back to believing she was just another client. She meant something to him, something more. And he didn’t want to see her hurt or frightened. “Zoe, trust me to handle this.”
“I trust you. But you and I both know my decision has nothing to do with that.”
He dropped his hand because he was afraid he’d let it slide up her arm. “You want to confront him?”
“I have to speak to him myself, evaluate his response and draw my own conclusions in order to feel comfortable that we’ve done everything we can where he’s concerned. I can’t rely on you or anyone else to do that for me. This need…it’s instinctual…a—a mother’s prerogative. You understand, don’t you?”
Unfortunately, he did. He even saw some value in having her along. She knew Franky, or at least she had at one time.
She smiled, but it was obviously forced because the expression in her eyes remained wary. “Besides, maybe it’ll do me good to see him from an adult’s perspective. To finally meet him on an equal footing. Maybe he won’t seem so all-powerful and threatening.”
“When was the last time you saw him?”
“When I testified in court.”
“Maybe seeing him again will only bring back the nightmare.”
She managed a laugh as she shook her head. “I had a baby from that experience, Jon. The knowledge, the memory, is etched on my brain forever. There’s no bringing back something that’s always present.”
She had a point. With a sigh, Jonathan waved her through the door, hoping he wouldn’t regret his decision. She’d suffered so much already. He preferred to shield her, if she’d let him, but he wasn’t patronizing enough to think he knew better than she did. “Have it your way.”
They walked to the car in silence. Jonathan put their bags in the trunk, then slipped on his sunglasses and got behind the wheel. “Ready?” he said once he’d started the car.
She’d put on her own sunglasses and, once again, he got the impression they helped create a barrier between her and the rest of the world. “Ready.”
He hesitated before shifting into Reverse. “There’s one other risk.”
“What’s that?”
“If he’s not the one, if he doesn’t already know about her, he will after today.”
He wished he could see what was going on behind those glasses, but he couldn’t.
“I know.”
* * *
Somehow Zoe had always intuitively understood that the day would come when she’d have to face Franky again—if only because she’d developed such a fear of him. His actions suggested that what he’d done hadn’t been premeditated. He’d raped her because she was home alone and he was on drugs. The crime was opportunistic. At least that was the argument his attorney had claimed at his trial. Franky hadn’t stalked her, and he hadn’t tried to contact her afterward.
The D.A. who’d prosecuted him had even admitted that he seemed contr
ite once he came to his senses. But contrite held no meaning for Zoe. She’d only been fifteen when he’d forced her into her room and pulled up her skirt. She supposed it was natural to think he’d do it again if given the chance, to fear he might start harassing her if she reminded him of her existence.
They stopped at the curb in front of his mother’s house and the radio fell silent as Jonathan cut the engine. Zoe wiped her sweaty palms on her dress and reached for the door latch.
Jonathan stopped her. “Why don’t I go up first?”
“No,” she said and got out.
The house wasn’t really a house. It was one-half of a duplex in a run-down part of town. The yard had no plants, just patches of crabgrass where foot traffic hadn’t worn it into the dirt. An old couch sat on the front porch. It sagged in the middle and had an ashtray on one arm.
“How long has his mother lived here?” she murmured as Jonathan came up behind her.
“Deed I pulled up said she bought it in ’64, so…a while. Why was Franky at your father’s?”
“His girlfriend lived in the park, in unit 5.”
“And he busted into your father’s trailer because he knew you were there?”
“No. Initially, I don’t think it had anything to do with me. He was stoned and looking for more drugs.”
“Your father was selling at that time?”
“He certainly wasn’t working a regular job.”
“Gotcha.”
When he lifted his hand to ring the doorbell, she nearly stopped him. She needed another minute to prepare herself. But Sam was out there somewhere. She didn’t have the luxury of extra time, so she made no move.
A shrunken woman, no more than five feet tall and maybe eighty years old, came to the door wearing a pair of bifocals, a purple polyester shirt with matching pants and orthopedic shoes.
“Mrs. Bates?”
Jonathan did the talking. Zoe’s mouth had gone too dry to speak.
The woman at the door glanced from one to the other. “I’m Eva Norris, Sandra Bates’s mother.”
“We’re looking for Franky.”
Her eyes, the color of melted chocolate, grew darker with worry. “What do you want with him?”
“A young girl’s gone missing. We’d like to see if he knows anything about it.”
“He couldn’t,” she said. “He wouldn’t jeopardize his freedom. He’s straightened out.”
“We just want to talk to him,” Jonathan said. “Can you tell us where to find him?”
She didn’t answer.
“A child’s life is in danger,” he emphasized.
Her gaze shifted to some point behind them, far away on the horizon. Then she yelled into the house. “Franky!”
The answer was immediate. “What, Gran?”
“Get out here.”
This was the moment. Zoe was about to come face-to-face with Sam’s father. The man who’d raped her.
Filled with sudden panic, she longed to grab Jonathan’s hand but didn’t. She had Anton to think of. She had to do this on her own.
He glanced at her, no doubt checking to see how she was holding up. But there was no time to speak. A second later, Franky Bates stood behind his shriveled “gran” and Zoe couldn’t breathe. He looked completely different than she remembered—taller, broader, better groomed. And the shape of his mouth and chin! It was so much like Sam’s!
“What’s up?” He questioned Jonathan first, even accepted a business card but didn’t look at it. His gaze traveled to her, then his eyes widened and his mouth dropped open in disbelief.
“What are you doing here?” he breathed, his cheeks mottled.
Jonathan spoke before Zoe could respond. “I’m a private investigator from Sacramento. I’m here to—”
“Did you take her?” Zoe cut in, too impatient to wait through the explanation.
He raised his eyebrows. “Take who?”
“My daughter.” She wasn’t remotely tempted to say our daughter, despite the marked resemblance….
He lifted both hands as if she held a gun. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I did you wrong thirteen years ago. I—I’ve often hoped I’d have the opportunity to apologize for that, to tell you I’m sorry. Really sorry.”
She was finally able to draw enough breath to respond, but he pressed on before she could summon the words.
“I don’t expect you to forgive me, but…there wasn’t a day in prison that I didn’t regret it. I was messed up or I never would’ve done it.” No doubt his grandmother heard the contrition in his voice because she put her arm around him, and he acknowledged the gesture with a sad smile. “I’m not saying that as an excuse, but I served my time, and—and I’m hoping for a second chance.”
“Have you been to northern California since you got out?” Jonathan asked.
“No.” He shook his head, adamant. “I haven’t been anywhere but here. Ask Gran. My grandpa passed away ten days ago. The funeral was last week. Since then I’ve been looking for work.” He pointed at a relatively new Ford F-150 parked in the driveway. “Gramps left me his truck so I could continue applying for jobs—you know, get a start. That’s all I been doin.’”
Visibly relieved by Franky’s apparent sincerity, Gran nodded. “It’s true.”
Franky was still nervous, but not the kind of nervous that made Zoe disbelieve him. He felt awkward, remorseful. Licking his lips, he talked faster, trying to convince her. “I wouldn’t target you or—or hurt you again. I didn’t even know you had a daughter—”
Suddenly it seemed to occur to him why they might be contacting him, and he staggered back. “Wait…she’s not mine, is she? I mean, that’s not why you’re here.”
Pivoting, Zoe walked away before the tears welling up could spill over her lashes. He didn’t have Sam; he hadn’t even known Sam existed, just as she’d thought. This trip was a complete waste. Her chest constricted and she had difficulty breathing. It’d been three days since she’d seen her daughter. Where could Sam be?
“Ms…. I don’t know what you call yourself these days. And I don’t want to disrespect you by using your first name, but I’m sorry.”
Zoe didn’t respond. Jonathan exchanged a few words with him. It sounded as if he was taking down Franky’s number. Then he followed her down the walk.
“Is she mine?” Franky called out as they reached the car.
“Of course not,” she said, but she refused to turn around. She didn’t want to see him, didn’t want to give him any more information.
“She is, isn’t she!”
“No.” She opened her door.
“If I don’t have a kid, what’s all this about?”
“Nothing that concerns you anymore.” Jonathan went around to the driver’s side.
Franky squeezed past his grandmother and came halfway down the walk. “What happened to her? Is she okay?”
If only Zoe knew…. “Good luck finding a job.”
“Tell me what’s going on! What can I do to help?”
“Nothing. There’s absolutely nothing you can do,” Zoe said and closed the car door.
Shoulders slumped, he shoved his hands in his pockets. “You can’t drop a bomb like that on me and then just drive away!”
His words filtered through Jonathan’s open door. “If you’re truly sorry for what you did, that’s exactly what you’ll let us do,” Jonathan said and got in.
“Call me,” Franky yelled after them, his voice fainter now that the door was shut. “I’ll help if I can. Just…one of you call me.”
The radio came back on as Jonathan started the engine. Now it sounded far too loud, but he drove off before lowering the volume. “You okay?”
“We’ve got to get back to Sacramento,” she said.
“We’re going to the airport right now.”
She cleared her throat. “He gave you his number?”
“He did. Do you want it?”
“No.” She had nothing more to fear from Franky Bates. She could
close that chapter in her life. But what would have once been a tremendous relief brought little consolation. She wasn’t any closer to finding Sam. She shouldn’t have come here, shouldn’t have wasted the time.
Jonathan took her hand. She knew better than to allow him to comfort her. There was too much going on between them under the surface—too much that confused and tempted her. But somehow the connection felt absolutely vital, and she couldn’t make herself let go, especially when she glanced up and saw him watching her with such an intense expression.
“We can be friends,” he said as if holding her hand was no big deal, as if justifying the contact somehow made it right.
“We can be friends,” she repeated, but that changed nothing. The way he threaded his fingers through hers felt possessive, deeply personal…even sexual. And, at that point, she knew it was a very good thing that they were heading home. She couldn’t fight the attraction between her and Jonathan, not while she was so frightened, so worried about Sam. Without her daughter, she didn’t care enough about her own self-preservation to hang on to anything else. Including her dignity.
CHAPTER 17
Getting home was worse than being gone. The house where she’d lived for ten months looked even more foreign to Zoe than it had yesterday, as foreign as the rest of the houses on the street, most of which were dark because it was nearly midnight on a Thursday. She’d once felt so proud to be part of this neighborhood, this community. She’d studied style magazines, changed her appearance and thought she’d finally “made it.”
Smiling bitterly at the shattered illusion, she collected her purse as Jonathan put the transmission in Park. Because he’d left his car in long-term parking at the airport, he’d offered her a ride. She’d accepted with the excuse that it would save Anton from having to leave the house so late. But the ride wasn’t about convenience. She wasn’t ready to say goodbye to Jonathan. Or maybe she wasn’t ready to see Anton. She couldn’t decide which.
A light gleamed through the living-room window. Her fiancé was waiting up for her. She supposed it was nice of him, but she wished he hadn’t bothered. Maybe by morning she’d be able to figure out why she was so drawn to Jonathan instead of the man she’d agreed to marry.
