by Kim Karr
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.
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.
Time 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.
Relieved to be safe, I slid down the slick glass to the ground. Pulling my knees to my chest, I let the tears fall. Tears for what I’d done. Who I’d become. What was going to happen to me.
“Okay, let’s try this again. Why did you steal my things?”
Terrified, I almost jumped out of my skin.
Sundance.
Sucking in a shocked breath, I managed, “How did you find me?”
His laugh was harsh. “It wasn’t hard. The bartender told me your room number, and your full name, Sarah Barnes.”
He sounded so incredibly pissed that I flinched from the anger in his voice.
“The problem with that, Sarah Barnes, is your passport clearly states your name is Sadie Banks. So which is it? Sarah or Sadie or neither?”
Trembling, I ran my hands down my legs, which were covered in dirt and sand and spoke to the dark. “Sarah,” I lied.
“You sure about that?” The lamp clicked on, and in the dim light, I could see Sundance sitting in the chair next to the sofa with a tumbler of whiskey in his hand. On the table in front of him sat my purse and my passport.
I was beyond screwed.
“I am Sarah. The passport is fake,” I lied. No idea why I kept insisting on it, but it had gotten me to this place, to this room, and I wanted it to get me out of this country.
He raised a dark brow. He didn’t believe me.
“Did you call the police?” I asked.
“Not yet, but you have thirty seconds to convince me why I shouldn’t.”
The deep voice should have sent me back out the door, but it didn’t. Besides, I didn’t think I could have run even if I wanted to. My legs felt like jelly. “Thirty seconds isn’t enough,” I stammered.
“Well, that’s all you’ve got,” he ground out, slamming his glass down.
I swiped the stray tears from my cheeks and exhaled a large, calming breath. I hated that I was crying. I was stronger than that. “I’m sorry,” I said again. “I didn’t want—”
Cutting me off, he sliced a hand through the air and his nostrils flared. “Stop with the ‘I’m sorry’ crap and start by telling me who you really are and why you’re following me. You have twenty seconds.”
Slowly, I rose to my feet, but I didn’t move from the place they were firmly planted. “My name is Sarah. And I’m not following you, I swear.”
“I’m here for work, and you’re,” he lifted up the magazine, “here on your honeymoon with no husband. Very interesting.”
On the front of the publication was a picture of a couple, and the headline read, “Heiress to wed local schoolteacher. The story of how Sarah Barnes met the love of her life.”
That knot in my stomach twisted violently. Clearly, the girl on the cover was not me. “Okay, so I’m not Sarah. I’m Sadie. But you have to believe me when I tell you that I didn’t want to steal your things.”
“I’d stop lying if I were you.” His tone was guttural.
Humiliation consumed me. “I’m not lying. My name is Sadie, and I had to steal your things. I needed the money.”
He laughed a dark, harsh sound. “Of course, you did.”
Shame coursed through me. “It’s not like that. It wasn’t for me, I swear it wasn’t.”
“Then who was it for—your pimp?”
That shame turned to anger. “Fuck you,” I cursed.
He laughed again. “No, Sadie, fuck you,” he said, as he reached for his phone.
Clearly, I didn’t have much time. “I’m not a prostitute. I swear.” I dropped my gaze and closed my eyes. “The money was for a little boy whose family has to pay for his surgery, or he might never walk again.”
“A humanitarian. Nice touch.”
I still couldn’t look at him. “I’m hardly that.”
“Look at me,” he said firmly.
My eyes snapped open.
Fast as lightning, he got to his feet. “I told you to stop lying.”
“I’m not lying. Check it out for yourself. There’s a little boy back in Atlanta with a spinal condition that needs surgery. Call and find out for yourself.”
Something about what I’d said got his attention.
I went on. “And it’s because of me.”
“He needs surgery because of you?” The doubt was still evident.
“Yes, I accidentally ran him over and then because I was afraid, I left him outside a clinic without even going in. And now I just want to help him. To make things right. To make certain he’s all okay.”
Sundance strode in my direction. “Are you fucking joking, trying to feed me this line of bullshit? Do I look stupid to you?”
All the blood drained from my face. “Please, just listen—”
He was right up on me. “Look, Sadie, or whoever the fuck you are, I’ve had a really rough couple of days, and my patience is wearing thin.”
A tear leaked from the corner of my eye. “I’m trying to tell you the truth.”
He slammed a h
and against the glass above my head and for the first time since I’d met him, I wondered if he was dangerous? If he’d hurt me? But something inside me told me he wouldn’t. “You stole both of my cameras and all of my money and then returned only part of what you’d taken. And I want to know why?”
“Why I returned your things?” My voice was shaking.
“Yes! Why you stole them and then returned part of them. What is this to you, a game? Is that it? Something you did for fun, because if it is, you should know it almost cost me my new job, and it did cost me my assistant.”
“No! It’s not a game. I brought your things back because I couldn’t go through with it. Couldn’t take what wasn’t mine. That’s why. I wanted to return it all, but I wasn’t able to.”
His face was so close to mine, I felt his puff of warm breath on my lips. “Bullshit! That’s it. I’m done.”
Abruptly, he pushed away from the glass and marched toward the front door.
I hurried after him and pulled at his arm. “Please, Jaxson, let me finish. Please,” I cried.
Whipping around, he glowered at my hand, and when he tried to yank it away, I pulled harder. The struggle caused me to fall to my knees. He glared down at me. “How do you know my real name?”
I let go of his arm. “I saw an article about you in Hotlanta this morning, that you were a photographer, and I knew I couldn’t live with myself if I jeopardized your livelihood. I couldn’t bring despair on anyone else. I just couldn’t.”
There was a darkness in his eyes that looked like hatred, and I had done that, caused it. “Well, you did.”
I felt sick.
My stomach twisted viciously, and shame crawled over my shoulders and grabbed me by the neck. Choking me. I knew I was going to throw up my dinner. This time when I flexed my toes, it was to get to my feet and run. However, I wasn’t running away, but rather to the bathroom. I pulled my wig off and dropped it in the bedroom as I tore through it.
Jaxson was shouting at me, but I couldn’t stop. I made it just in time. I wretched. And wretched. And wretched. Everything I’d eaten and drank coming back.
When I was finished, I fell against the wall beside the toilet and started to cry.
“Here.” Jaxson was standing in the doorway and offering me a wet towel.
With trembling fingers, I took it and wiped my mouth. “I thought you’d gone to call the police.”
He leaned against the doorframe. “No, not yet. First you owe me thirty-five grand for the camera you didn’t return and answers to all my questions.”
“I’ll get you the money for a new camera. I have property to sell on Moon Island. I just need some time.”
He shook his head. “That will be too late. My insurance company is stalling, telling me they need time to review the claim, so I had to go ahead and buy a camera. I’m broke now. I have no money left. I used all my savings and maxed out my credit.”
My heart sank. “It’s all I can offer.” I wiped my mouth again.
Both of his brows rose. “No, it’s not. Maybe I want you.”
My eyes went wide, and my mouth hung open. I clinched my fists. Did he still think I was a prostitute? Anger flooded my veins. “Screw you! I won’t pay off what I owe you, or anyone for that matter, on my back.”
His head fell back in laughter. “Says the thief.”
“I’m not a thief.”
“Really? I beg to differ, and just in case you’ve forgotten, I’ve already had you on your back, and against the wall, and on your knees, but that isn’t what I mean. I don’t want to fuck you. I need an assistant, and since I had to use all of my money to purchase another camera, I can’t afford one.”
I stared at him in disbelief. “You want me to be your assistant?”
“I said maybe. The one Sports Illustrated hired for me quit because of you, and if I want anyone else, it’s out of my own pocket, and I’m broke.”
I knew why. “And you want me?” I asked again.
“I said maybe,” he repeated. “It depends on how truthful you can be.”
“I’m not a liar. I already told you I’d tell you everything.”
“Good, then let’s start with why you’re pretending to be Sarah Barnes?”
“It’s purely out of convenience. I don’t even know who she is. There’s no ulterior motive, I swear.”
His lips thinned and anger glinted in his eyes. “She’s on the fucking cover of Hotlanta, and you just told me you read the article about me. Are you seriously going to tell me you didn’t see her or read about her?”
I shook my head. “I didn’t. I’m not trying to pull some scam. It’s a long story, but I paid some guy at airport security to provide me with an unclaimed ticket, and hers was the one he gave me. I only saw the headline in Hotlanta about you, and that’s when I knew I had to return your things to you.”
“Right, because you saw this article about me after you stole my shit and left me in bed this morning.”
I nodded.
“That’s really hard to believe.”
“It’s the truth.”
“And, of course, you’re not using the fiasco that took place at Sarah’s wedding for your own benefit,” he muttered under his breath.
I stared, dumbstruck at him. “No, I don’t know what you are talking about.”
He crossed his arms over his chest with an asshole grin on his face. “Let me fill you in, then. Sarah’s soon-to-be husband was caught with his pants down, literally, at the rehearsal dinner, and on tape. It went viral. The wedding was canceled and I assume the honeymoon as well, which left an open room, right here.”
Now it all made sense. The special treatment and the sympathy looks from the staff. They thought I was the jilted bride. Oh, God, I was such a bad person. “I haven’t seen the news in weeks. In fact, I haven’t even been online.”
His don’t-give-a-fuck vibe was gone. “And yet you just told me the news about the little boy you hit was all over the Internet?”
“I didn’t see it myself. The guy I was with when I hit the little boy told me about it. I couldn’t bear to look.”
That doubt in his eyes seemed to radiate with a special kind of hatred.
It was time to explain. To finally tell someone the truth. First, though, I had to establish that thieving wasn’t what I was about, or who I was. Prove I had integrity. Or that there was a time I had integrity. “I’m not a con artist or a prostitute. I’m a blogger, and I used to write for Hotlanta,” I told him.
“Right,” he muttered.
I looked him right in the eye, but disbelief was all I could see in those blue irises. I hated seeing it there. Hated what he thought of me. “It’s true. I swear. Up until two weeks ago, I wrote the “Love Connections” column for Hotlanta.”
He roughed a hand down his face. Blinked. Stared at me. Then finally he spoke. “You’re SB?” he asked, obviously knowing about the column and the anonymity that went with it.
I nodded. “I am. It’s actually Sadie Banks.”
Shock seemed to own him. “You’re SB?”
I nodded again.
“Say I do believe you? How in the hell did you go from writing about finding love to stealing for a living?”
Feeling beyond weak, I used the toilet seat to get to my feet and stood on wobbly legs. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you—I don’t steal for a living. My life is a wreck. I’m in a huge mess. If you’ll give me more than thirty seconds, I’ll explain.”
Jaxson’s eyes raked over me from head to toe, but not in that lustful, full of desire way they had the night before. It was more of a disgusted look than anything else. “You’re bleeding.”
I looked down at the floor and saw the crimson streaks.
“Where are your shoes?” he asked.
“I left them at the bar.”
“What do you mean?”
“I took them off so I could run.”
He looked me over closer. “How did you get back here?”
“I ran th
rough the mangroves.”
“Fuck!” he cursed, and then glanced over his shoulder and into the bedroom. “Say I believe you, how long do you think you have before you get caught?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, I do, and with the issue of Hotlanta hitting the twenty-fourth hour of circulation, I’m going to guess it isn’t long. Where are your bags?”
I sucked in a breath, my eyes going wide to stop the tears. I sunk back against the counter, my knees too weak from the realization that I had nothing left. “I don’t have any.”
Jaxson was staring hard at my filth ridden feet, as if he was having his own private debate in his mind.
Call the police.
Don’t call the police.
Call the police.
Don’t call the police.
Who could blame him? Everything I’d just told him sounded crazy, and yet it was my life. And my messed up life, at that.
Without saying a word, he turned and left me in the bathroom. The call-the-police side must have won. I had no more fight left in me. I felt weak. Broken. Alone. I clutched the counter for support, knowing my legs were going to give out any second, and I’d be on the floor when the police came.
But moments later, Sundance strode back into the bedroom with something in his hand. I couldn’t see what it was. I watched as he picked the blonde wig up off the floor, tossed it into the metal trashcan, and then used what was in his hand to set it on fire.
An odd strength surfaced. A fight I hadn’t needed to summon in a very long time. “Hey, you can’t just destroy my things,” I yelled.
Ignoring me, he disappeared into the living room. The scent of him lingered in the air and reminded me of the night we’d shared. It seemed so long ago, and yet it was just yesterday.
The quiet had my heart pounding out of my chest. Was he gone? Had I ruined my chance at trying to explain by telling him too much and now he was done listening to me? Done with me?
If he was, who could really blame him?
But then I heard his voice. “Hi. I’m calling for Sarah Barnes. She’s decided she can’t stay here, and is very sorry, but she has to leave.”
There was a pause.
“I’m honestly not certain. I don’t really know her that well.”
