Rose

by Sydney Landon

  3

  Rose

  My mood remains upbeat as I make the drive from my parents’ house to my apartment. I stop just short of singing, “I Am Woman.” I park in my assigned space in the garage before walking to the main door and swiping my keycard through the scanner. I try it at least a dozen times and the light continues to flash red. The temperature has really dropped outside and a light mist of rain is now falling. It’s only been a few moments, but I’m already half-frozen.

  I pound on the door, but obviously, no one is close enough to hear it. I’m just turning to go back to my car when an older woman I recognize from my floor approaches with her key and gives me a curious look. I hold up the piece of plastic in my hand. “Mine’s not working. I’m glad you came along.”

  We ride the elevator together and part ways in the hall. Our keycards are coded for both the main entrance and our apartment doors. Therefore, it’s not exactly a surprise when the damn thing doesn’t work yet again. “Shit!” I snap, before stalking back into the elevator and getting off on the second floor where the building manager, Shirley, lives. I buzz her doorbell impatiently, just barely keeping my temper in check. My clothes are damp, and my teeth are chattering. I remember the late hour fleetingly but can’t bring myself to care. It’s not my fault their keys are junk.

  The door finally opens and Shirley stands there in a pair of floral pajamas with a serious case of bed head. If I weren’t so freaking miserably cold, it would almost be funny. As it is, she gives me an impatient look as she asks, “Surely you could have waited until tomorrow to pick up whatever you’ve forgotten. It’s not like I was going to rent the place out again overnight.”

  I stare, trying to decipher her words. “What’re you talking about? My key’s not working, so I need you to fix it,” I say, extending the card to her.

  She puts her hands on her hips as she looks from it to me. Finally, she huffs out an impatient sigh and says, “You can’t just come and go as you please after you’ve moved out. If you left something, then give me a call during regular business hours tomorrow and I’ll go up with you to get it.” Before I can reply, she plucks the card from my hand and steps back to close the door.

  “Wait!” I throw an arm out to keep from her shutting the door in my face. “I live here. Why would you think I’ve moved out?”

  She shakes her head, and then her expression softens as my confusion finally registers with her. “Your father called me several hours ago and wanted to cancel the lease immediately. He paid the fine for the early termination and a crew of movers was here less than an hour later.” She gives me an apologetic look and adds, “The paperwork was in his name, so there was no reason for me to question him. He said you were moving somewhere more affordable since you were er … supporting yourself now.”

  “That bastard,” I whisper in a daze. “I can’t believe he did this to me.” I stand there dripping in the hallway, not knowing what to do next. I have nowhere to sleep tonight and nothing but the clothing on my back.

  I feel a touch on my arm and jump as Shirley asks, “Do you want to come in and call someone?” At her look of pity, I want to collapse to my knees and give in to the sobs building in my throat. I’m sure I’ll hear from you soon. My father’s parting words now make perfect sense to me. He fully expects that I’ll come crawling home tonight. Apparently, he made quite a few calls when he excused himself from dinner.

  I gather what’s left of my pride and give Shirley a wobbly smile. “I’ll be fine.” I turn and walk away, knowing if I stay a moment longer, I’ll break down. I’m determined to hold it together until I get to Lia’s. Thank God I have one friend in the world that will help me make sense out of this evening.

  I’m walking through the lobby when it hits me. Lia and Lucian aren’t home. She said earlier that they were taking some time away this week before she was immersed in her new job. “It’s okay. I’ll just get a hotel room for the night. No need to panic,” I say to myself as I trudge through the now heavy rain toward where my car is parked. Only—when I reach the space, nothing is there. Where is my Prius? I look around, thinking maybe I’ve stopped at the wrong space—but I haven’t. No, surely, he wouldn’t have taken my car. I pull my cell phone from my purse to call my father, only to find a text waiting on the screen from him.

  Congratulations, Rose. You’re now a fully self-supporting adult. I’ve taken the liberty of removing the things from your life that were a burden. Your apartment lease has been terminated and the clothing and furniture donated to charity. Your car will be sold and your phone service will be switched off within the hour. I’ve also closed our joint checking account and canceled your credit cards. If you would like to reconsider your stance, feel free to contact me.

  In a daze, I walk out of the garage and onto the street. It’s nearly deserted at this time of the night. Then, almost in slow motion, my body seems to keep going, while my feet lock in place. A startled cry flies from my mouth as I fall so suddenly that I’m unable to brace myself for the impact. My hands burn and my knees throb. Even my face feels raw as I lay there, taking a silent inventory of my injuries. I slowly pull myself up until I’m on my knees. I rub a hand over my damp face, wincing as pain shoots through my body.

  The rain is coming down in sheets now, and I’m shaking as it seems to penetrate my very bones. I see an awning up ahead and get slowly to my feet. I stagger toward the shelter, almost sagging in relief as I’m shielded from the worst of the downpour now.

  I have little doubt I resemble a homeless person as I rest my back against the door behind me before sinking to my ass on the cold cement. I drop my head into my hands and start to cry. What am I going to do? I literally have the clothes on my back and the few dollars in my purse. I hate to bother Lia, but maybe either she or Lucian can wire me some money until they return. I don’t know what else to do at this point.

  A noise nearby draws my attention and I see a group of guys on the opposite side of the street staring at me. They probably saw my tumble a few moments ago and stayed around to enjoy my humiliation. My breath catches in fear as I take stock of my surroundings. Other than the stray car passing by, there is no one around to help me. I get shakily to my feet, keeping a wary eye on them. He’s going to cut off my phone in less than an hour. Shit. I scroll my contacts list, intending to hit the button for Lia when I see Max’s name a few entries below. My finger hovers uncertainly, just as a clap of thunder shakes the earth. Fuck it; I’d call Satan himself if he’d help me. The call connects just as the guys from across the street begin yelling words I can’t quite decipher.

  Suddenly, a raspy male voice sounds in my ear. “Rose?”

  My hands are shaking and my teeth are chattering as I manage to whisper, “Max—please.”

  “What’s wrong?” he asks, sounding instantly alert and so very Max that I begin to sob again. “Honey, where are you? Are you hurt?”

  His voice soothes my hysteria enough for me to croak out, “I’m on the street. I … my father took my car and apartment. And there are some men ... looking at me.” Sniffing, I add, “I’m scared, Max.”

  “I’m on my way, sweetheart. Just take a deep breath and release it,” he says slowly. I do as he instructs, focusing on nothing but his words. “Now, what’s the name of the street you’re on?”

  My mind draws a blank. I begin to panic again as I admit, “I—God, I can’t remember. It’s near my apartment.” Then in a moment of clarity, it comes to me. “Wait, it’s Pine Street,” I call out. Then I realize there is nothing but silence in my ear. “Hello … Max, are you there? Hello?” I yell out before pulling the phone from my ear and looking at it. Instead of “Lost Call,” the display says, “No Service.” No, dammit, no! True to his word, my father has disconnected my phone, leaving me on a deserted street in the middle of the night with no way to call for help. What kind of man does that to his daughter? At that moment, I fucking hate him with everything that I am. Would it even bother him to hear that something bad had hap
pened to me? No doubt in his mind, it would all be my fault for daring to challenge his plan for my life. He’s never been a doting father, but even I’m shocked that he would do something like this. I wonder almost idly how he would have explained my gun collection to the movers. He probably had one of his personal lackeys take those away.

  When I finally look around me again, I’m surprised to see that the guys from across the street are nowhere in sight. Apparently, the weather was too bad for them to stay any longer to taunt me. The sad part is that I feel even more alone with them gone. Will Max be able to find me from what little information I gave him? Did he even hear me say I was near my apartment before my phone line disconnected?

  I’m trembling unbearably now, and I’m so tired I can no longer remain upright. I lower myself back to my butt and slump against the storefront once again. I’m hurting so much by this point that the numbing effect of the cold concrete is like a balm for my aches and pains. “Max,” I whisper just as my body slips away.

  * * *

  I’m freaking the fuck out as I frantically yell Rose’s name into my phone. Shit, she said something about her apartment before the phone went dead. I’d pulled on jeans while I was talking to her; now, I quickly push my bare feet into a pair of athletic shoes and throw on a T-shirt. I’m out the door and breaking every speed limit known to man as I push my Mercedes hard toward downtown Asheville. Something’s horribly wrong. My playful, self-assured Rose was completely absent in that call. I recognized her voice almost immediately because, God knows, it’s played in my dreams night after night. But there was nothing but fear present tonight. She was crying, and what the fuck was that about her father taking her car and apartment?

  It’s a long fifteen minutes before I park in front of her building and jump out. I run to the nearest intersection and have no idea which way to go. I take a left and jog the length of the street, seeing nothing. Reversing directions, I pass my starting point and keep going. At first, I almost miss the form slumped against the glass door of a store. I back up a few steps and see her red hair in the dim surrounding light. “Rose!”

  I drop to my haunches, automatically checking her pulse. Thankfully, it’s strong and steady. I then inspect her for any sign of injury. Her arms are wrapped tightly around her knees, and fuck me, there’s blood there. Her dark slacks look shredded as if she’s taken a fall recently. Her hair is wet and stuck to the side of her neck. Her head is down so she’s yet to spot me. I don’t want to startle her, so I gently lay a hand on her shoulder, saying her name softly. “Rose … baby, it’s Max.”

  I begin to worry when there’s no response. I open my mouth to say her name again, when she jerks awake, literally throwing herself at me in what I can only assume is an attempt to flee. “Ahhh,” she screams, trying to push me away. “Let me go!” I move back a few inches, giving her space until she recognizes me.

  “Honey, it’s me—Max. Calm down, I’ve got you, Rose. Shhh, look at me.” She stills and instead of drawing away, she now clutches my arms, pulling me near.

  “Max? You came? You found me,” she chokes out on a sob. Heedless of my clothing, I drop down onto the wet surface in front of her and pull her small form into my arms. I rock her against me as shudders wrack her body. What the fuck has happened to her?

  “Shhh, baby, I’m here,” I coo, trying to calm her. She feels like a block of ice, and I know I need to get her into my car and turn the heat up full blast. “Honey, I’m going to stand now. Just wrap your arms around my neck and hold on, okay?” She nods against my throat before doing as I’ve instructed. Her grip is surprisingly strong, coming damn close to a stranglehold. It’s not easy, but I manage to rise to my feet while holding her steady. I check to make sure we’re leaving nothing behind before walking slowly to where I left my car.

  “Thank you for coming,” she murmurs in my ear as she burrows closer. “I didn’t have anyone else to call.” Her last statement sends a wave of guilt through me. She’s been sitting on a deserted street in the middle of the night, freezing to death, and she’s apologizing for bothering me. Have I been such an asshole to this woman that she thinks for one moment I wouldn’t be here for her anytime she needs me?

  “Rose,” I say, before pulling away enough to drop a kiss on her head, “let’s get you home.”

  I balance her weight carefully before opening the passenger door and lowering her onto the leather seat. I wish I’d thought to bring a blanket with me, but luckily, the car is still warm. I gently buckle the belt around her and as I pull back, I notice the dried blood and the scratches on her face for the first time. I want to lose it, but know now isn’t the time for questions. She needs heat and dry clothing. Everything else can wait.

  When I get into the car, I turn the heat on high before driving home at a much slower speed than my journey here. I keep stealing quick glances at the woman beside me. She appears to be asleep, but I still see her shiver every few minutes. What in the hell happened to her tonight? She shifts slightly, bringing her face more fully into view. There is dried blood at the corner of her mouth and one of her cheeks is scratched. She mentioned some men looking at her before our call had disconnected. Did one of them do that? My hands grip the wheel tighter at the thought. Rage fills me as I imagine some bastard putting his hands on her. I’ve never been a violent man, but maybe I’ve never had a reason to be before. Tonight, though, I know without a shadow of a doubt, that I’d rip anyone apart anyone who tried to hurt her.

  She looks confused for a moment when we arrive at my house, and I gently shake her awake. I help her from the car and place a hand around her waist to steady her as we walk slowly to the front door. We both blink when we enter the brightly lit foyer, adjusting to the glare after the dark interior of the car. I suck in a breath as I really look at her for the first time. “Christ!” I hiss. Clamping my jaw shut to keep from saying more, I lead her down the hallway and through my bedroom to the bathroom beyond. I pause before deciding that she’s in no condition to worry about modesty; not that she ever has with me in the past anyway.

  Rose keeps her head down as I tug the top she’s wearing over her head and try not to feel like a complete pervert at my body’s reaction to her lacy, black bra. Down boy, now’s not the time. The problem is my cock has never been particularly good at listening to me in situations that involve a scantily clad female. Her eyes follow my hands, and I pray she doesn’t notice the slight tremble in them as I move next to her feet. She places a hand on my shoulder without being asked and lifts a leg while I remove one shoe and then we repeat the process until the other is off.

  Then I attempt to carefully blank my mind as I reach for the button on her slacks and fumble to release it. When I lower the zipper next, it sounds so loud in the enclosed space I find myself flinching. “Holy shit,” I blurt out as she kicks her pants away from her ankles and stands before me in the matching black lace panties. I feel hot and cold all at once. Hell, I’m afraid for a moment I might actually pass out. I’m like a horny boy faced with his first nearly naked female body. Then I see her raw, bleeding knees and I feel like five kinds of bastard. I clear my throat, trying to keep my voice level as I ask, “Do you … um, want me to finish doing you?” Her eyes widen as she stares down at me. I wince as I realize my question may have been misconstrued. I begin to stutter out, “I—shit, not like sexually. I mean, not that I was thinking that, because that would make me an asshole. I’m talking about removing your clothes—getting you naked.” I slump forward, shutting my mouth before I can cram yet another foot into it.

  “I know what you were trying to say, Max,” she says lightly. Then I feel something—hands in the damp strands of my hair, stroking me. I allow my head to rest against her stomach as she continues to soothe me. I wrap my arms loosely around her hips and run a hand up and down her thigh, caressing her smooth skin. I’m not certain how long we remain in that position, both giving and receiving comfort before it hits me. She must still be freezing. I abruptly jerk back, breaki
ng the contact between us.

  Getting to my feet, I say, “I’m sorry, honey, let’s get you in the shower.” I pull the door open and turn the dials. Within seconds, steam fills the bathroom. Going into my detached lawyer mode, I ask, “Do you need anything else?” She stares at me as if she wants to say something, but simply shakes her head. I pull a washcloth and towel from the cabinet and lay them near the sink before walking out and closing the door behind me. She is in the process of lowering her panties when I open the door to add, “I’ll be right out here.” Holy. Shit. There’s a tattoo of a rose with a stem of thorns on her shoulder. I can barely keep myself from reaching out to trace the outline with my fingertips—or better yet, my tongue. My heart is thumping loudly as I close the door and lean against the wall outside. And that ass. What I wouldn’t give to squeeze it in my hands. You’re a sick bastard, Decker. She’s been through a trauma, and you’re ogling her. Once again, my dick doesn’t give a damn that he’s being a bad boy. He knows what he likes, and right now, she’s standing in my shower with soap most likely running over her firm tits and between the crevice of ... Fuck! Think of something else—like anything that doesn’t have to do with sex or vaginas.

  I’ve almost talked some sense into the monster in my pants when Rose steps out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her body—leaving a long expanse of thigh and the curve of her breasts visible above and below the terry cloth. No, no, no! In reality, I know that she asks, “Do you have any Band-Aids?” In my mind, it’s more like, “Do you have any condoms?”

  “I—er, pardon?” I manage to get out, trying to keep my eyes focused above her head.