I was glad to have the diversion of the upcoming Meet & Greet. I filled the days with minutiae, double-checking with the hotel and publicity department on every last detail. With the approaching deadline, I made sure I was working on the article every chance that I wasn’t party planning. By Thursday I was already feeling much lighter as I made my way back from a nearby interview.
“Hi, Jenny,” I said into my cell phone when it rang.
“David Dylan is here to see you about the article.” She lowered her voice. “I told him I could direct him to Lisa, but he seems to want to speak with you.”
“Did you tell him I’m out?”
“Yes. He says he’ll wait.” The phone beeped in my ear, and I pulled it back to see that Bill was calling.
“Actually, I’ll be there soon.”
“Great,” she answered immediately.
I hung up and let Bill go to voicemail. My lightness began to fade. Maybe he just meant to apologize for . . . for what? I hadn’t thought of the kiss all day, purposefully. The elevator ride felt longer than usual as questions floated in my head. I wondered how I could ask about Gretchen without coming off as nosy or jealous. I considered not asking at all, but how could I not? The thought had hounded me for days.
When I exited the elevator, I smoothed an invisible wrinkle from my skirt before entering the foyer. David was glaring at Jenny from his chair while she wrote furiously.
“Oh, here she is now, one second,” she said, covering the mouthpiece with her hand. “It’s your husband. He has an emergency trip to New York tonight for work. He wants to know if you want him to book you a ticket for the weekend.”
“Tell him I’m in a meeting, and I’ll call him back,” I said shortly. “Hi, Mr. Dylan.”
“He says it’s an emergency though,” Jenny piped.
I leaned over her desk, aware that I was giving David an eyeful. “No ticket,” I whispered in a clipped tone. I turned to David then and put on an unconvincing smile. My heart thumped with the memory of our last meeting and with the questions I was afraid to ask him.
“Can we talk in your office?” he asked, getting up.
“Sure,” I agreed, leaving Jenny to look after us.
Once we were alone, I shut the door behind him. “Sorry to make you wait. I just finished up with another Bachelor,” I said, picking up a paperclip from the floor.
“Exactly how many men are you interviewing?” he asked, curling a fist into his other hand. “Never mind. I wanted to say thanks for the help with the tuxedo, I appreciate the last minute scramble.” He paused. “I returned it to Lucy already.”
“Great,” I said flatly, sitting against my desk. “How was the event?”
“Olivia, I came to find out if you need anything else from me for the article.” His expression was unreadable, but I thought he looked icier than I’d ever seen. Guarded.
“Ah,” I said, mildly confused by his brush off. “We’ll need to take a photo unless you have something of your own.”
“I can provide that if necessary.”
“I think I have good gist of what you’re about, but I need more hard details and - ”
“Can I arrange that with someone else? I think it’s best that we end our personal and professional relationship.”
I cleared my throat and looked down, wanting nothing more than to hide my face at that moment. My fingers picked at something on the edge of the desk while my mind raced. It was obvious. His attraction had waned. The game was off. Pushing me away the week before had said as much. Say something, I urged. Anything!
“Is this about Gretchen?” I asked and then recoiled, feeling foolish.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Anything else?” he prompted. I shook my head, feeling strongly indifferent about the article suddenly and at the same time, profoundly sad over what was happening. It’s for the best, things could not continue as they were . . . . Shit. If Beman found out David was displeased, he would definitely have my head on a platter. Normally I would ask what I’d done and squash it, but I preferred to save myself the embarrassment of hearing David say it out loud.
“Should we find someone else?” I asked evenly.
“I’ve made a commitment, and I intend to see it through, but I will work with someone else going forward.”
It was the tone I’d heard him use with others, even Arnaud. But never with me. The thought made my chest contract. I put on a straight face, my practiced mask of apathy. Why I hadn’t been wearing it all along, I didn’t know. The self-preservation skills I’d been honing since I was thirteen and a half had failed me for the first time.
“Yes. I understand completely,” I managed with wary regard. It was a struggle to get the words out but I hid it behind my disguise. “I’ll make the arrangements.” I crossed my arms and waited. We were silent for a moment while he looked at me expectantly. “Anything else?” I echoed his words, but was careful not to mock him.
“No,” he said at last. “I guess that’s it then.”
I turned away so I wouldn’t have to watch him leave. After another beat I heard the door close behind him. With a heavy sigh, I dropped my head in my hands. The weight of the world rested on my shoulders; guilt, desire and confusion coursed through my body. The chaotic back-and-forth I’d been putting myself through began to wear on me. Feeling suddenly exhausted, I locked the door and lay down on the couch to think.
~
When I awoke, the office was dark, save amber dots of city light. Groggily, I tried to remember at what point I’d fallen asleep. I squinted at my watch: ten o’clock. I slipped my shoes back on and decided instead to grab the back-up flats from my desk drawer. I threw the heels in my purse and headed for the elevator. Bill must be worried, I thought in my sleepy state. Why didn’t he call the office? I closed my eyes and leaned against the elevator wall, eager to climb back into bed when it hit me that he was in New York.
Unhurriedly, I passed an empty security desk. I pushed out of the building and into an eerily quiet night. It wasn’t uncommon for me to work late, but I was never in the Loop at this time. It was a different area than it was during the day. Aside from a sporadic office light, it was dark and calm, I noticed, still feeling somewhat bleary.
I headed to the curb to flag a cab when something caught my eye across the street. A man casually leaned against a street lamp and although I couldn’t place him, something about him felt familiar. Peering closer, I watched him peel himself from the pole, and I had an acute sense of déjà vu. Mark Alvarez. My mind shuffled through our last meeting, identifying his short stature and inflated chest. I thought his lips curled into an amused smile.
I halted at once, retreating a few steps. Panic froze my feet, and the man languidly began to move toward me. No, I thought. It’s my imagination. I turned casually and started down Adams in the opposite direction. I’m overreacting, I told myself over and over. When I found myself peering down an empty road, I decided to head for the train instead. An elderly woman passed, bundled in her coat, wobbling with weighty groceries. She smiled at me.
Dread filled me as I confirmed with a backward glance that the man was following me. I broke into a sprint without warning, pushing through a surprised couple, propelled forward by fear. My heart pounded in my chest, and my feet beat the pavement as I flew across State Street, narrowly avoiding a passing car. I mentally surveyed the area as I fled, my thoughts jumbling in a panicked mess. My face burned against the cool night, and his heavy footsteps bore down on me as if he realized we were nearing the train. I physically felt the space between us closing.
“Olivia!” he cried.
Oh my God - it’s not my imagination. At the realization, I fumbled for my purse, pulling at my skirt as it inched up, reached for my purse again but it wasn’t there – where is my cell? - and, led by some supernatural force, turned a sharp corner toward Jackson instead of the train. Panic struck as I ran headlong into an alley. This is it, I thought. I’ll never make it
to the other side.
“Olivia! Stop!”
A sudden burst of energy thrust me forward, but it was too late. His surprisingly strong hands caught my shoulders and lifted me from the ground.
CHAPTER 17
I SCREAMED WITH EVERYTHING I HAD, thrashing against the hands that held me in the air. He set me down but detained me, thwarting my escape.
“Olivia!” exclaimed a familiar voice. He relaxed his grip and whirled me around. I blinked my eyes in disbelief as I realized it wasn’t Mark Alvarez’s arms that had captured me. “Olivia?” I was looking into David Dylan’s wide eyes. He reached out suddenly to yank down the hem of my skirt that was halfway up my thighs. “Olivia. What is it? I’ve been behind you since State.”
I was speechless with shock and confusion, furiously looking past his shoulders. He turned his head, but I could see with my own eyes that nothing was there. “Someone . . . I thought – Mark . . . He was following me,” I managed to get out between breaths. Oh, have I become completely paranoid?
“Stay here,” he commanded, retreating to Adams.
“No, David!” I called, still fighting my rational side. “It’s dangerous!”
I watched him exit the alley and struggled with whether or not to follow him despite his instruction. In the same moment that I heard a noise behind me, a coarse hand clamped over my mouth and the smell of alcohol burned my nostrils. I attempted to scream but the fingers dug into my face, and I reared back.
“You’re fast,” a low voice said into my ear.
“Let go!” I muffled into his hand and hurled my elbow into his ribs. He withdrew for a moment before throwing me angrily me onto the concrete ground. Standing over me, Mark Alvarez lifted his shirt to reveal the handle of a small gun.
“Don’t scream,” he hissed, glancing at it in warning. A car whizzed by, and he jerked his head over his shoulder.
I broke into a cold sweat as I realized that I needed to escape, and fast. It became clear that he was not going to let me go like last time. I clambered to get to my feet and seemingly without effort, he shoved me deeper into the alley. The brick wall connected hard and fast with my head, and I cried out in pain. I fought to remain upright as my body slid down the wall.
My courage mounted as I focused on escape, and I used the wall to push back onto my feet. When he came at me, I raised my fist, but he caught my arm and started laughing.
“Cute when you’re mad,” he slurred, tightening his grip. For a man only slightly taller than myself, he was wildly strong, and my knees threatened to give. I struggled to free my wrist from his grasp.
“I’m not afraid of you!” I yelled and spit a sorry wad that landed just below his collarbone.
The wicked grin slid from his face, and the look that replaced it was far more terrifying. He raised his arm and hit me swiftly across the cheek. “Just shut up,” he growled, releasing my arm.
I’d never been so much as slapped, and the sheer force of it shocked me into silence. I held my cheek gingerly, and shrank into the wall behind me. “You’re mine now, mami. Bill fucked with my family and now, he gonna suffer. Lou’s in jail ‘cause of him.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I pleaded. “Bill didn’t do anything!”
“No? Why Lou went away for ten years when we both in the same gang? Sell the same drugs?” He moved in closer, inches from my face. “Your husband fucked us. Yeah, we gonna have fun, you and me. And maybe if you act good, I let you go home to Bill after.”
“Bill’s not home,” I said stupidly.
“I didn’t say it would be tonight,” he said and reached out suddenly, causing me to flinch. A slow smile spread across his face as his fingers gently brushed a strand of hair from my forehead.
“I’ll go to the police,” I said defiantly.
“Baby, you think I’m some sorta rookie bitch? Those puto pigs can’t touch me, jamás.”
“Lou wasn’t so lucky though.”
His eyes fixated on me with menacing focus. He quickly grabbed my shoulders and in one movement, flipped me into the brick wall. He pushed me so my injured cheek was flush against it. “We gonna go down the street here,” he whispered in my ear, pressing his groin against my backside. “Act natural. Put up a fight, and you gonna regret it, I promise.”
He locked my arms behind me in an iron grip, and I whimpered. “Please, stop,” I pleaded, tears pricking my eyes. “I won’t go to the police, just let me go.”
“Relax, guapa. You gonna like it, I promise, I promise,” he hissed. “Soon you gonna be begging for it.” I shuddered at his hot breath on my neck. “But one wrong move and baby, you done. And then I find your bitch husband and - ”
He spun around at the sound of footsteps and relief flooded over me knowing David had returned. But as soon as the relief hit, it was gone and fear resurfaced, only this time it was for his safety.
I turned in time to see Mark fumble for the gun and David lunge at him. Mark fell backward as David tackled him, and I flushed against the wall, narrowly avoiding their entangled bodies. In the dark, David wrested Mark to the ground while I frantically searched for the gun. The clang of metal hitting the ground startled me into action. I scrambled for it and just as I was within reach, a hand shot out and snatched it from the ground.
CHAPTER 18
“GET BACK, OLIVIA.” David was on his feet in a flash. “Get back,” he said again, aiming the gun steadily at my attacker. The self-possessed David I knew had returned, his posture straight but at ease with the gun, as though he’d done this a million times before. His suit hung magically untouched, and the only thing that gave him away was his wayward hair and heavy breathing.
“Who the fuck are you?” Mark asked, struggling to his feet.
“David, please,” I implored with halted breath, suppressing my sobs. “Be careful!”
“Get back!” he yelled angrily. I moved obediently, never taking my eyes off the back of his head. Just then I heard the reassuring wail of police sirens in the distance.
Mark retreated toward the other end of the alley holding his hands up in surrender. “Hey, man,” he said to David, looking around nervously. “I don’t want any trouble. I promise to leave the bitch alone, just let me go before the cops get here.”
David took two massive steps toward him, backing him into the wall and wielding the gun assuredly. I gasped as he shoved it into Mark’s neck.
“You go near her again,” he hissed, “and you’re dead, you hear me?”
“I got deals with the cops,” Mark said, changing his tune. He stared David down much more confidently than someone at gunpoint should. I strained to catch their conversation over the noise. “I’ll be there for tonight, maybe. Then, I come back for both yous.” Even in the night, I could see the hatred radiating from his face, and I was relieved to hear the sirens howling down State.
The gun clicked when he cocked it and pushed it into the skin of Mark’s neck. Although I couldn’t see David’s face, his rage was palpable.
“David,” I said as calmly as I could manage. “Stop. The police are here.”
I saw his body relax and back away slightly. With his free hand, he grabbed Mark’s shoulder and turned him against the brick wall as I had just been. He stuck the gun in the waist of Mark’s pants and leaned his forearm across his back. He held him there while three policemen ran up, guns drawn. Following them was a heavyset man dressed in an ill-fitting suit.
My body slackened slightly, and I steadied myself against the wall as the immensity of what was happening washed over me. My cheek smarted and I winced as I touched it, surprised to find blood on my fingertips. The metallic smell rushed into my nose and my head thundered with the pounding of my heart. Blood.
“You good, David?” I heard someone ask. I felt behind me for something to hold on to while I tried to expel the smell from my nostrils.
“Yeah, Cooper,” he replied, releasing Mark to another cop. “He’s armed.” They exchanged hushed words briefly
until David started in my direction, loosening his tie.
“Well, well, Mark Alvarez!” the man called Cooper said gruffly. “Lou’s gonna love that you’re coming for a visit.” Four boisterous laughs filled the alley as one of them cuffed him.
“Are you hurt?” David asked, stopping mere inches from me. I stepped back automatically just as Cooper approached behind him, turning something over in his hand.
“Are you all right, miss?” he inquired, concern etched across his face.
“Yes, I’m fine,” I said mechanically. “Thank you for coming. How did you know?”
“I called him,” David said.
“Is this yours?” another cop called from the street, holding up my purse. My hand went instinctually to my side; I hadn’t even realized I’d dropped it. I thanked him as he passed it to David.
“Detective Cooper. What happened here?” he asked.
I blinked back tears, trying to decide where to start. “He chased me here from my office,” I said.
“Coop,” David said softly. “Can we do this another time?”
He bowed his head into a nod. “This is my card.” He handed it to me, and I struggled to read it in the dark. Detective Cooper, Chief of Detectives. I peered closer. Chicago Police Department, Organized Crime Division. I repeated it to myself, trying to think of why it sounded familiar. “I’ll need a statement so we can book this guy right away,” he continued. “However, it would be acceptable to do it tomorrow, if you’d like.”
“Is it necessary to do it at all?” David asked.
“Yes, I need a witness account. Otherwise I can’t detain him, and I’m sure neither of you want that. I’ll explain more tomorrow, though. I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name,” he said, turning to me.
“Oh, I’m so sorry. I’m Olivia.” I extended my hand.
“Olivia, can I give you a ride somewhere?”
“I’ll take care of it, Cooper,” David cut me off.
“I’m asking her,” Cooper growled.
Come Undone Page 17
