Improper

by K NILSSON

  “I didn’t.”

  He picked me up and gently bathed me. I was in no position to refuse. Then he fed me milk and cookies and put me to bed. I went to sleep with a peace I’d never known.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Saint

  Carrie slept like a stone the rest of the night. I was worried that she would have one of her nightmares. I spent the night next to her, listening to her soft snores and thinking.

  A little before dawn, my phone vibrated. I took it out of the bedroom and slipped down the hall to the kitchen.

  “Hi, Max.”

  “Where are you, man?”

  “With Carrie, why?”

  Did I hear him smirk?

  “That’s a relief. Remember when you asked me to check the security tapes at the bar, the night Carrie stumbled back from the ladies’ restroom?”

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “I found something.”

  “Can you send me the clip?”

  “It’s already in your inbox.”

  “I’ll call you right back,” I said.

  The battery on my cell was at one percent, so I looked around for a computer. Carrie’s laptop was open and not password protected. I logged into my email account and pulled up the clip from Max.

  The video quality was poor, as was all the surveillance equipment in older establishments.

  But still, I could make out the shape of a man a full head taller than Carrie. He waited for her outside the restroom. When she came out, she bumped straight into him, almost bouncing off his chest. He put his hands on her to steady her—it was hard to tell because he wasn’t facing the camera, Carrie was—but he said something to her. She reacted. I saw terror in her eyes, then nothing but blank blue eyes.

  I called Max.

  “What’s the story behind this man? Who is he and what’s he want with Carrie?”

  “I don’t know who the man is, but what I do know is that’s not the first time he’s been in the same photos as her.”

  “What?” How could I have missed that?

  “Yeah, unnerving, isn’t it?”

  “See if you can call in some favors at the FBI, and have them run a facial recognition program on him. I’ll see you at the office later.”

  I needed to tell Will so he could share with Margie. I was off the phone with Max and called Will seconds later.

  “Will, Carrie Drazen is in danger. She’s being stalked.”

  “Wait a sec, I’m going outside,” Will said as I heard Margie in the background.

  I waited a moment. “All clear? Can you talk now?”

  “No comment,” he said. “So talk.”

  “Max got hold of a surveillance video showing Carrie being confronted in the hallway of a bar. The same guy is in a bunch of other photos we have of her. He’s been following her everywhere, man, and when he left her at the bar, she stumbled out into the main room, disoriented and upset.”

  “How do you know she was disoriented and upset?”

  “I was there. I had to take her home.”

  “Ohhhh. I see.” He just might see more than me. I was too close to the situation.

  “I think Margie’s going to take some aggressive measures and send her out of the country until this man is caught. Carrie’s too vulnerable right now.”

  “Whoa. How do you know that? Pillow talk?” I teased.

  “Don’t go there, or I’ll talk about your momma,” he joked back. His voice was serious when he continued.

  “Margie said that Carrie's been sheltered as much as possible, considering her promiscuity, but she’s never indicated knowing the identity of her abuser. He may still be around.”

  “Her abuser?” I felt as if someone had stabbed me in the throat. “Talk to Margie, but if you want me to stay on, I want full disclosure. Got that?”

  “Got it.”

  “The clip is in your mailbox as we speak,” I snapped before I hung up.

  I had a plan. When Will uttered the words, “send her out of the country,” I knew there was a backup plan in place, but it wasn’t my backup plan. I’d invested too much of myself into this angel to let someone else take over her safety. I now had a personal stake in her and her safety. Those temporary bruises on her ass weren’t going to make her mine. Carrie needed to know, inside her heart, that I owned her so that she didn’t think of doing anything without thinking of me first. If that sounded possessive, then color me pig.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Saint

  She was sound asleep. I’d almost fucked her into infinity. She looked so sweet that the thought of someone harming her, taking her innocence made me crazy. I lay down next to her and let my breath tickle her ears and sucked skin on her neck into my mouth. The skin on her chest was flushed, and then she arched her back and came spontaneously.

  “Saint?” She sounded sleepy.

  I shoved my hands between her legs and drew out moisture.

  “Carrie, did you just come in your sleep?”

  She grinned. “I guess so.”

  Thinking the better of taking her again, I said, “We have to talk right now. I’m making coffee.”

  I heard her muttering, so I asked, “Are you a grouch in the morning?”

  She stumbled into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes, her red hair tousled. I handed her a cup of coffee, hoping it would bring a little clarity to the sexual haze she was still hiding behind.

  “What’s going on?” she asked.

  Rather than ease into it, I blurted, “Baby, I found a video with a man in it. I think he’s been stalking you.”

  She froze. Maybe telling her this way wasn’t a good idea, but I thought the girl should be aware of danger.

  Shook off the shock and said earnestly, “Talk to me, Saint.”

  “I’ll tell you everything, on the way to the airport. Where’s your passport?”

  She blinked. “Where are we going?”

  “I’m taking you out of the country.

  “I know we had great sex last night—the best I ever had—but I don’t want to go away with you right now. How about a few more dates, maybe have a sleepover, or something.”

  She was a funny girl.

  “That’s not what I mean.”

  Carrie narrowed her eyes.

  “I don’t do relationships.” She said.

  I grabbed her in a vise-like grip and pulled her right up against my chest. My hands were on her biceps, and I held her so close, I could feel her heart beating staccato.

  “Neither do I.”

  She looked at my lips, and I couldn't resist her. My mouth was on hers in an instant. My tongue licked Carrie's mouth before sliding inside. I slanted my head and sucked her tongue. There was no comparison to that feeling, and I needed to kiss her some more.

  She pulled away though. “But I can’t just leave. I must tell my family. Daddy isn’t going to take it well. And forget about Margie. She’ll flip her lid. Dr. Jane is expecting me tomorrow.”

  I put my arms around her, nuzzled her ear, and whispered soft assurances.

  “Don’t worry. It’ll work out. You’ll see.”

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Declan

  “Good morning, Mr. Drazen,” Mary said, as she brought in my cup of coffee, as only she has done for all the years she’s worked for me. If she was sick or can’t come in, the temp had specific orders on how to make my coffee and to bring it in my cup. It must be that way.

  “Good morning.” That was all I said. That was all I said every day.

  She handed me a special delivery envelope addressed to me, accompanied by the words PRIVATE: FOR YOUR EYES ONLY. Redundant. I shook my head. Of course I was the only one who would see the envelope.

  “Close the door behind you, Mary. I’ll call you if I need you.”

  “Yes, Mr. Drazen.”

  I took my time looking at the envelope while sipping my coffee. Who would send this and to what end? There was no handwriting, no postage—must have been hand-delivered. It wasn’t bulk
y, and it was a self-sealing envelope.

  I pulled open my desk drawer and took out a pair of surgical gloves. I’d been in business long enough to know that fingerprints could be lifted off anything, and I had a lot of enemies. Call me paranoid, but I hadn’t gotten this far without being careful.

  Using a letter opener, I slowly sliced open the shorter end of the nine by eleven standard brown legal envelope.

  Photos. I got an instant chest pain. Was it a picture of Rachel? Jon? Fiona?

  Carrie! My poor girl.

  The photos were depraved. My beautiful girl, debauched, corrupted in sinful acts. My stomach roiled as I skimmed most of them, Carrie giving a blow job in a dirty alley, an umbrella lying open beside her. Another showed her fucking drenched at a bukkake party, smiling. She’s fucking smiling!

  Just when I thought I’d seen everything, I lingered at the last photo. My mind couldn’t wrap itself around what I was seeing. It was a shot taken from above her head; she looks young, still in her uniform and ponytail. She’s on her knees, kissing—no, reverently worshiping—a man’s shoe. I didn’t have to see a picture to know what happened next. Who was this animal?

  I pulled out my trash can and vomited.

  “Mary! Get Margie on the phone!”

  To be continued…

  Author’s Note

  Thank you for reading IMPROPER. I can’t believe I got my thoughts down on paper and that you willingly paid to read it. Seriously, I can’t thank Christine Reiss enough for inspiring me to write fan fiction for her Drazen World. She pulled me into caring about this family, each character fascinating and fraught with weighty challenges, imperfections, and redemptions that left us hungry for more.

  I chose Carrie because her family alluded to her molestation before she became a psychiatrist. I don’t know if Christine intended to write a story about Carrie, but I had the opportunity and it was hard to pass up.

  I have no sensational intent or personal insight on the topic of sexual abuse other than what I learned for this story, and only as a part of the story arc. It was hard to write. I regret anyone having emotional setbacks or triggers caused by the content or descriptions of Carrie’s experiences. If you are vulnerable to this topic, don’t go any further.

  My hope was that Carrie moved past this life-altering experience and, with the help of counseling and her metaphorical Saint, created a life for herself, only to be waylaid by her molester, who will be revealed in Book 2, Fall.

  Acknowledgments

  I want to thank Liz Durano, for helping me focus my efforts, support, and cheering me on. Finally, thank you, members of the Drazen World Authors.

  I also want to thank Cassie Cox and her team, who were instrumental in getting this book published. I don’t think I could have done it without your help.

  Special thanks to Wolffie, consistent and supportive, not to mention my long-time bestie.

  To my husband, for everything.

  Feel free to reach out:

  Email: Kimber@kimbernilsson.com

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