The Navigator (Mountains Series Book 5)

by Phoebe Alexander

  I want to make up for it now, she decided.

  And that led to her meeting Michael, and Jason, and Jose...

  Then Stephan, Alexi, and Greg.

  And then, on that fateful day at the liquor store two weeks ago: Garrett.

  “So what, he’s like a janitor?” Scott asked, shaking his head incredulously. He had been following Anjuli’s conquests ever since she decided to bite the bullet, so to speak.

  “Uh, ‘maintenance guy’ is what he told me,” she answered. “Not that there’s anything wrong with being a maintenance man.”

  “Of course not,” Scott agreed.

  “You met him at the party, though, right? Did you get a maintenance guy vibe from him?”

  “Uh, no. Absolutely not,” Scott agreed. He squinted and pursed his lips, his brain working to figure out the puzzle. “I want to say he quoted Thoreau at one point...”

  “Maybe he’s just a well-read maintenance man, then. Nothing wrong with that!” Anjuli laughed before taking a sip of her tea. “Oh! And I forgot to tell you the best part...well, one of the best parts.” Scott’s eyes lit up in anticipation as she spilled out the news, “He’s Clark’s understudy!”

  “Oh, you hate Clark,” Scott said with a grin. He apparently loved hearing all about Anjuli’s life because, as he fully admitted, his own was dull by comparison. Anjuli’s had been too until she shipped her daughter off to Penn State last year. Scott still had all four of his kids at home and told Anjuli regularly that his greatest fear was going broke putting his kids through school to the point where he’d never get a chance to enjoy life beyond parenthood.

  “Well, I’m not a big fan of Clark, but I wouldn’t kick him out of bed.” She giggled as she took another sip of her tea. She and Scott were in the breakroom at work between clients. They were both independent contractors, hired by the same company to work with the veterans in this particular grant-funded program.

  “Is that so?”

  She nodded. “Yeah, I want to know if he has a big dick,” she explained wistfully. “Oh!” Her eyes grew wide with the realization of what her next confession would be. “Speaking of big dicks...”

  “Let me guess...’maintenance guy’?” Scott asked.

  “Oh my god. Scott, that thing is like a fucking baseball bat!”

  “Shhh, Anjuli!” He laughed as he tried to quiet her down. The door to the lounge swung open, and a nurse popped in to put a tray in the microwave.

  Anjuli’s cheeks glowed with embarrassment as she wondered if the nurse heard her last colorful statement. Oh, well. Judging by her sour demeanor, she could probably use a big dick in her life, Anjuli thought, but didn’t dare say it out loud, even though she knew Scott would be laughing his ass off if she did.

  “So, I basically told him I was DTF,” she whispered. She could have sworn she saw the nurse’s ears prick up.

  “DTF?” Scott whispered back. “Sorry, I don’t know all your...lingo.”

  Anjuli rolled her eyes as she waited for the nurse to retrieve her meal from the microwave and leave the room. “Down to fuck,” she finally exhaled, as if it had been physically painful to keep those words shoved down her throat.

  “Let me guess, he was pretty intrigued by that arrangement?” Scott was literally hanging on his chair. He’s kind of cute himself, Anjuli thought. But he’s married. And that’s a no-go...but I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d be down with it anyway...

  “Oh, yeah, I think I have his interest,” she answered, licking her lips. She hadn’t felt this confident or exuberant...well, ever, if she was being honest.

  Scott chuckled. “I have no doubt. Good for you, Juli. I’m happy for you.”

  Nigel looked at her with an eyebrow raised in curiosity when she took her time packing up her things after rehearsal. “Not rushing home tonight?” he asked as he stuffed his script and notepad into his messenger bag and slung it over his shoulder.

  She smiled. “Not in a big hurry to go back to my apartment and be alone.” The truth was that she was hoping to run into Garrett again. She wondered how he’d gotten the understudy part when he was the maintenance guy. He and Nigel seemed to know each other. She was even more curious about his voice and acting abilities, but truth be told, the vast majority of her interest lay in something of a more carnal nature.

  Ever since her last night with him, her pussy had been throbbing, wanting more of him. She’d masturbated every night since her party, but it wasn’t the same. It was as though her lady parts were ruined for toys or wicked fantasies. She wanted nothing but the real thing, the real thing being Garrett Stone. Or Nav, whatever that meant.

  “Is Garrett here tonight?” she asked after completing yet another once-over of the house, looking for him.

  Nigel laughed. “Oh, boy. Don’t tell me you have your sights set on Nav.” He stood with his arms crossed over his chest. At first she thought he was joking, but he looked much more serious the longer she waited to answer him.

  “Oh, it’s not that—I just ran into him the other day at the liquor store near my apartment, and his, I guess...and I—” She thought about making up a story, but really, was it any of this guy’s business? He might be the director for Chicago, but he wasn’t the director of her life. She could do what she wanted. Besides, she was probably ten years his senior. Or more. Sigh. She didn’t want to think about how much older she was.

  He chuckled a deep and melodic laugh that bubbled up from his chest cavity and then out into the silence of the auditorium. “Just be careful with that one, girl. Like playing with fire...from what I understand.” He gave her a wink, then made his way up the aisle, disappearing out one of the side doors.

  She stood there alone until she heard a voice call from the back of the house. “Is it okay for me to turn off these lights?”

  It was his voice. Not as deep as Nigel’s, but it had this unusual quality of being smooth and raspy all at the same time. How could that even be? she wondered, realizing how impossible it sounded. A paradox.

  “Uh, sure, I was just leaving,” she called back, finally spotting him in the loft where the lighting rigs were. “Do you have a sec?”

  He was quiet for just a moment, as if contemplating whether or not he could spare a “sec.” “Uh, sure. Be right down.”

  She walked over to the staircase that went to the loft and waited for him to appear, his long legs first, and then his lean but muscular torso. She’d almost forgotten how handsome he was with his shock of red hair, matching beard and piercing green eyes. She took only a second to reflect on the fact that she felt very brave asking him to talk. She tried to envision the Anjuli of even six months ago doing that and couldn’t possibly bring that image to mind.

  “How was rehearsal?” he questioned when both his feet were firmly planted on the floor.

  “Good, good. I keep waiting for signs that Clark is going to take ill, and you’ll need to swoop in and save the day, but he seems okay so far.” She smiled up at him, searching his eyes for a reaction. “It’s a pity, actually.”

  “Is it?” His eyes sparkled with a devious glint, as if he knew full well she was flirting, and he was going to up the ante. She immediately wondered if the green room was free...

  “I was going to ask you what time you get off work,” she spit out before she lost her nerve. She couldn’t take him away from his work duties every night...could she?

  “Not till midnight...”

  She did some quick calculations in her head. If he got to her house by 12:30, they might be able to have a quick romp, and she could still get to work by 8:00...

  Who needs sleep when sex with Garrett is an option?

  “Wanna come by my place when you get off?” She totally emphasized the words “get off,” and it did not escape his notice.

  He ran his fingers through his beard, which seemed to get just a tiny bit longer every time she saw him. “Sounds like fun...but, I have a guy coming over to check out my apartment first thing in the morning. I probably better get h
ome and get some sleep.”

  “Oh, that doesn’t sound like much fun.” She tried not to pout, but it definitely came out pout-like.

  “Didn’t your parents ever teach you that life isn’t all fun and games?” A little chuckle burst out of him, strong enough to make his shoulders shake just a bit. “Maybe some other time though?”

  “Yeah, that would be nice.” She smiled to hide her disappointment. Looked like she would be breaking out her vibe again tonight...probably an exercise in futility. “Oh, hey, let me give you my number. If nothing else, maybe we can hang out this weekend?” She pulled out a business card from her purse. She hated giving it to him with her business info on it, but it wasn’t like he hadn’t already been at her house. If he were going to stalk her, he already had the means to do so. Much to her dismay, he hadn’t. She scribbled her cell phone on the back of it and handed it to him.

  “Thanks,” he said, taking it and stuffing it into his pocket.

  She furrowed her brow. He didn’t seem the slightest bit excited by having her number. She’d practically thrown herself at him, and he wasn’t even fazed. Maybe I’m trying too hard, she determined, stepping back from him. “Okay, then. Have a good night.”

  She thought it would be so wonderful if he’d throw his arms around her, shove her up against the wall and sear a kiss onto her lips, sending her into a dizzying tailspin of desire. But instead, he gave her the tiniest wave and smirk, followed by, “You too.”

  Had he forgotten the steam and passion they’d brewed together in the green room just a few nights before? What the hell was wrong with this guy?

  Seven

  Where the fuck is this dude? Garrett wondered as he paced between his tiny living room and kitchen. With his long legs, it only took him about three strides to get from one side to the other. Outside, the October wind was picking up, swirling some newly fallen leaves through the air like red and orange kites. Then, finally, twenty minutes after the appointed time: a knock.

  Well, if he’s this late showing up to see the place, I can’t imagine how late his rent will be every month...

  Already feeling like this was a no-go, Garrett pulled open the door to reveal a handsome man in his early twenties with midnight brown hair, bronze skin, and the bluest eyes he’d ever seen. They popped off his face with such an electric jolt, they didn’t even seem real.

  “Chase Alvarez,” he said, extending his hand. Garrett swallowed all the air that had filled his mouth as he raked his eyes up and down his guest’s body, then he slowly pumped the man’s hand up and down.

  “I’m Garrett Stone, but everyone calls me Nav. Please, please, come in!” he finally said, regaining control of his tongue.

  “Nav?” Chase asked, his blue eyes twinkling. “Interesting nickname.”

  “Yeah, I suppose it is. Let me show you the place.”

  His earlier misgivings had already disappeared, but it didn’t hurt that Chase sheepishly apologized, “I’m so sorry I’m late. I got held over at work last night, so—”

  “Where do you work?” Garrett asked him as he gestured to the right. “Here’s the living room. I’m sure you figured that out.”

  “Oh, I work nights at the liquor store down the street. Last night, the cops came right at closing wanting our videos from the day before because some suspect supposedly shopped there, and they needed to know what time. It was a pain to deal with.” He flashed Garrett a smile, revealing perfectly straight white teeth. “But during the day I’m trying to get my modeling and acting career off the ground. So, yeah, after this it’s the gym, and then I’ll go meet with my agent.”

  Oh, for fuck’s sake, he’s a model? Garrett could envision some things he wouldn’t mind Chase modeling. Just thinking about it made his cock hard. I’m not getting the vibe that he’s into men, though. Not even with the modeling thing. That’s a shame.

  “Oh, I know that store well,” Garrett said, realizing it was the one where he’d bumped into Anjuli. “This is the kitchen. Nothing fancy, but everything works, so that’s a plus.” He felt like a complete idiot giving this tour. He led Chase down the single hallway. It was a simple layout, a bedroom on each side and the bathroom at the far end. “I’ve been using this room as an office, but I’ll clear all this shit out, of course.”

  “Office. That sounds fancy,” Chase retorted with a chuckle. “What kind of work do you do?”

  “Oh, I’m a building engineer at the DuPont over in DC. The theatre,” he clarified, as there were a lot of things bearing the name DuPont in that area. He was duly impressed how he remembered to throw in the word engineer instead of his usual “maintenance guy” title.

  “Nice. Well, my liquor store job may not be glamorous, but I get a nice discount, if that means anything to ya.”

  Garrett stood there for a second, smiling and nodding. His imagination had gotten the better of him, already envisioning Chase walking around the apartment half-naked.

  Chase narrowed his eyes as he looked Garrett up and down, trying to read him. “So, Nav, what do you think?”

  Garrett felt like a bubble had burst in his head. “Oh, yeah. Well, it’s yours if you want it. Does $750 a month sound okay?”

  “Yeah, man, that sounds great!” Chase beamed and held his hand out again to give Garrett a firm shake. He did that man thing of squeezing harder than he really needed to. “So when can I move in?”

  “Just give me a day to clear out that room, and then whenever.”

  “Awesome. I’m moving out of my girlfriend’s place—”

  Ah, the truth comes out. Definitely not into men, Garrett thought with a bit of sting. Oh, well. He’ll still be nice to look at.

  The scream and the blood. Whose voice? All the voices, so high, so loud, so—

  The literal embodiment of “bloodcurdling scream.”

  So much blood. Thick, sticky, almost black. Gasps for air. Blood gurgling in throats as lungs fill up. The echo of the gunshot never stops, keeps booming.

  Flashes of panic. Desperation. Then numb. Like ice.

  A voice: “Stay right where you are. Help is on the way. Don’t move. Just stay put.”

  No.

  Sirens. Lights flashing.

  Need to leave. Have to run. Can’t stay here.

  Feet pounding into the soft earth. Heart racing. Gunshot still booming, screams still echoing. Branches snapping, dry leaves crunching. Shaking. Face wet. Tears.

  Hand on shoulder, jerking, jostling.

  “Nav?”

  Something broke through. Fuck. Garrett’s head felt so thick with sleep, he couldn’t process where he was at first. He was still shaking, his throat dry, lips cracked.

  “Hey, it’s me, Chase. You okay, man?”

  It was Chase’s first night in the apartment. He had finished moving his things in only hours before. Garrett had helped him assemble his few pieces of furniture, then they’d both had a couple of beers and gone to bed.

  “What time is it?” he asked, pushing his voice out of his parched mouth.

  “Like 3 AM, man. You were shouting. Bad dream?” Chase’s voice was soft. Compassionate. Surprising.

  Garrett shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs out. “Something like that. Sorry if I woke you up.”

  “No, it’s fine. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. I know I have my share of nightmares from time to time. It’s a real drag.” Chase rested his hand on Garrett’s thigh. Garrett couldn’t see it; the room was still pitch black, and there was not even a tiny flicker of light to adjust to. Not even from the moon. But he could feel his roommate’s palm, resting firmly, warm, on his leg.

  He didn’t know whether to be glad someone was there with him, or embarrassed someone else had to witness his weakness, the ghosts taking the stage in his head, usurping his brain for their macabre nighttime show.

  “Thanks. I’ll be fine. I’m just gonna go grab some water.”

  When Garrett shifted in the bed, Chase withdrew his hand, lifted himself and moved to the doorfr
ame while he waited for Garrett to pull himself out from the tangle of sheets. His thigh felt cold where Chase’s hand had been. He heard his roommate’s footsteps recede into his own room as he made his way toward the kitchen. He couldn’t believe how dry his throat was, like he’d been sleeping in the desert.

  This was the third bad dream he’d had this week. He’d thought the flashbacks were bad after he’d gotten fired from the university, but ever since he’d met Clark Jones, he’d been contending with nightmares too. All because the man’s name was Clark. It wasn’t fair. All the work he’d done in the past fifteen years to get the fuck over his childhood...but apparently he didn’t push it down far enough. It was resurfacing, and the sound of his stepfather’s voice in his ear was driving him to the brink of insanity.

  He wasn’t sure when night had become morning. He hadn’t gone back to sleep—too much threat of starting the nightmare he’d had right where he’d left off. Breakfast vodka, he laughed out loud as he downed another gulp of it, that should be a thing.

  Chase appeared in his doorway at some point, leaning in the jamb just the way Garrett remembered him being in the dark, only this time he could see his features. His electric blue eyes were glowing with concern.

  “I gotta go to the gym.” He was wearing loose mesh basketball shorts and a royal blue hoodie, his dark hair tousled like he’d just woken up. “Do you need anything while I’m out?”

  Garrett’s lips parted, but he wasn’t able to move them. He managed to shake his head.

  Chase shrugged, pursing his lips for just a second before he turned and made his way out of the apartment. Garrett heard the door close and the key turn in the lock. Chase had locked him in the apartment. It was meant to keep others out, but...