by RJ Heaton
“Excuse me beautiful.” Ethan scoots his chair out but doesn’t leave without giving me a kiss. He has been staking his claim all evening … just another kiss to add to that ownership.
“Oh my god, Nicole Cooper, why did you not tell me you found yourself a hot little stuff muffin?” I blush, hearing my sister call Ethan a stud muffin.
“Well … it’s umm, new.” I look up and see Sean’s pupils contracting, his mind clearly plotting something. He stands as he smirks at me. How was I so naive? How did I not see how evil he is? His eyes are locked on me until he rounds the corner. Where is he going? A few minutes pass and neither Ethan nor Sean, are back yet. I wonder where they are. I’m relieved when Ethan comes up and sets both of his hands on my shoulders. He leans down, and I feel his lips connect to the top of my head. A feeling of relief settles over me. I don’t see his goofy smirk until he sits down.
“What?” I ask, smiling myself now.
“Your ex thinks that I’ll be stepping aside.”
“What?” I find myself asking again, but this time I am not wearing a smile.
Across the table, Sean is sliding onto his seat. He winks at me, and places his hand over Sarah’s. What the hell? The man has seriously lost his mind.
Twenty-three
“You didn’t have to pay for my dinner.”
“I was not about to let that ass heap pay for our dinner.”
“True, but you didn’t have to cover mine.”
He sighs heavily, “I wanted to.”
I smile at him not sure if he can see me in the dark minivan, “Thank you.”
“Would you like to come over? Maybe we could just relax and watch a movie or something.” My body instantly heats. The idea of going to his place to hang out elicits all sorts of ideas … none of which includes relaxing.
“Do you live with your mom?” I joke.
Ethan shakes his head at me, smirking. “I assure you we will be completely alone.” His hand slowly draws circles on my thigh. The sensation ricochets tremors of pleasure under every inch of my skin.
“Okay,” I softly agree.
It doesn’t take long and we pull up to a fair size home in a nice neighborhood near the hospital. Ethan easily pulls me and my chair up the few steps to the porch landing. I still haven’t gotten used to his ease with me in a wheelchair. It doesn’t bother him at all—that I know of.
I’m not sure if I am expecting a bachelor pad, or what. It’s far from a bachelor pad. The lay out is very open. The living room smoothly transitions into the dining room and then into a gourmet kitchen. “Your home is beautiful.”
“Thank you. Here let me help you with your coat.” Awkwardly, Ethan helps me shrug out of my jacket. “Did I tell you how beautiful you are today?”
I blush, not accustomed to compliments. When I first saw Heather lifting up the dress, I was skeptical. It is a color of plum I would never normally wear, and the front cuts very low; much lower than I’m comfortable with, and the material hugs tighter than my usual choice. “Have I mentioned how sexy you look in that suit?” I turn the attention around on him. Damn that smile. My heart melts every time he flashes it at me.
“Averting?”
“Who me?” I play innocent.
“Here, let’s get you more comfortable.” Ethan pushes me to an overstuffed chocolate colored sofa and helps me onto the couch. “Do you want something to drink?” I feel a loss for words. I’m at a man’s home. He’s paying me unbelievable compliments. I haven’t been in this situation since I was a teenager. What now? “How about I pick?” I just nod.
After Ethan leaves the room, I’m able to breathe again. How the hell does he turn me into such a bottled up mess. I shake my head trying to gain some clarity. My eyes wander over his living space, and I get the overwhelming feeling that a woman added her touch. It’s too feminine to be just a males home. I have been to many of our friend’s homes. The single men never have their homes decorated with pictures and figurines. A guitar would adorn their corners, not thigh high candlesticks. A sense of uneasiness travels down my spine.
“Here you go.” Ethan hands me a pale pink glass of wine.
“What is it?”
“A White Zinfandel, nothing too exotic.” He winks, and I hurriedly take a drink feeling anxious. Ethan sits down sinking the couch, and I fall into him. He is so at ease—in his own element. He reaches his arm around my shoulder and pulls me closer. I can’t get my erratic breathing under control. He is causing so many emotions to run wild. “Nikki?” I peek over my shoulder, our eyes meeting. My heart thuds heavy against my chest. “I promise I will be a gentleman.” His words calm me until he presses his lips against mine. My heart soars again. The gesture is so intimate. He kisses so tenderly, but I can feel the need in it. He wants me. He pulls away, leaving me gasping for air. “I promise, let’s just relax and watch a movie.” His eyes are burning with desire as I look into them, but I’m grateful he’s giving me time. He leans back and pushes a button on the remote, turning the TV on above the fireplace.
“Ouch! What the …”
I roll over sleepily; a loud thud and a female’s voice awakens me. My arm flies up to guard my eyes from the burning intrusive light that flicks on.
“What … Why the hell are you in my house?” I force my eyes open to see who is yelling at me. It’s the beautiful young brunette I had seen at the hospital kissing Ethan. I sink.
“Wait. Aren’t you that crippled lady I saw at Ethan’s work?”
Whoever said that words don’t hurt, they were wrong. Tiny missiles are piercing into my chest and splintering on contact.
“What the hell is going on out here?” Ethan rushes into the living room disheveled. All my thoughts of the little twit momentarily disappear. The only thing he is wearing is a pair of silk pajama bottoms, hanging very low. His abdomen flexes as he groggily runs his hands through his hair. Damn—mother of gods he is one sexy man.
Her voice pulls me from my trance, “Are we bringing work home with us now?” She points her finger accusingly at me.
“Simone?” His eyebrows pull together in confusion, “Why the fuck are you here?”
“This is my house! What is she doing here?” Both of them turn to look at me like I’m a circus act … the main attraction.
Feeling like I’m under the spotlight—somewhere I don’t care to be, “I’ll leave,” I say, resolved to get the hell out of this situation.
“No!” Ethan barks, startling me. “She’s leaving.” He turns and glowers at Simone. “Get the hell out of my house.”
She stills, just staring him down. I cringe inwardly and feel very uncomfortable, but she doesn’t even blink. “Ethan baby,” she laughs. “You can’t kick me out. This is our house … both of our names are on it—remember?”
I can’t breathe. I knew this was all too good to be true. I should have listened to the warning signs. I’m not going to be the other woman. Why did he have to be deceptive? I gave him the chance to be open, hadn’t I? After all I told him about Sean and seeing how bad the situation had torn me apart. I push the blanket off my legs—realizing now that it had been draped over me. I’m surprised I’m no longer in my dress, but rather a pair of boxers and an unfamiliar T-shirt. By the look on Simone’s face, she knows exactly who they belong to. “Where’s my dress?” I scan the room and see my plum dress draped over the back of a chair.
If I have ever wanted to be strong—it’s right now. The word ‘crippled’, still ripping through my mind. I push off the couch. Once I’m standing straight, I take a deep breath. You can do this Nicole. Steadily, I step forward with my right leg. I stop—concentrate—I’m terrified. What if my leg doesn’t hold my weight? Willpower, I push my left leg forward. I stay standing. I repeat the motion—continuing to give myself that “you can do it pep talk”—inching closer to my wheelchair that Simone tripped over when she came in.
“Nikki, you don’t have to do this. How will you get home?”
I sit hard in my chair, ex
hausted from the huge feat I just made with those few steps. “Yes, I do.” I shrug, “and I’ll figure the rest out.”
“At least let me take you home.”
“You obviously have other things you need to deal with.” I look at Simone … I want to wipe the smug look right off her face. I wheel myself to my dress and pull it and my purse from the chair. Without looking back I turn for the door. The roll of shame.
“Nikki, please.” His scent envelopes me when he gets behind me. I want to give in and let him help me, but after all of the events, I need to be strong—I need to be strong for me. No more getting walked all over. I shiver, feeling his hands on my shoulders.
“I’ll find my own way, but thanks,” I say, my voice shaky and tears in the midst of breaking through.
“At least let me help you down the stairs.” I nod in agreement, letting him help me down the stairs to the sidewalk. “Nikki,” he pleads again. “It’s the middle of the night, don’t go. Simone—she’s nothing to me … I swear.” I want to believe him, but I can’t get over his secrecy and my internal fight for survival tells me—walk away.
“I’m not going to be the other woman.” I place my hands on my wheels and push off— getting myself away from him.
“You wouldn’t be the other woman … you would be the woman.” I hear him say. I keep going forward. When I know that I have disappeared into the darkness, I let the tears escape. I drag my phone out of my purse. The screen lights up, 3:27. I don’t want to call Heather; another fail in the Nicole Cooper novel. I search for a taxi on my phone and dial.
“Where are we going?”
I search the man’s eyes in the rearview mirror.
“The Comfort Inn.”
Pulling from the curb, I briefly turn my head to look at the street fading from my view. I’m a hopeless cause; my husband left me, I lost a best friend, my children are moving on, I’m a deadweight to my sister, and the hope of ever finding someone to love me is nothing, but a fantasy.
There is no point. Nothing will bring my tomorrow.
###
Free Sample:
Broken Again
By
RJ Heaton
Chapter One
Ronin
Thirty-six hours … It’s been thirty-six long grueling hours. The mind is a funny thing when it’s left on its own accord. Of course, mine has had every worse case scenario … sometimes twice, repeating over and over.
Thirty-six and a half hours ... No one has seen, or heard from Treva in thirty-six and a half hours.
I can’t shake that first phone call from Seth. His voice had sounded fairly calm as he asked if Treva was with me. Initially, I thought nothing of the phone call. Now, I’m agitated, pissed and a feeling of worry I have never felt in my life is consuming me. My mind reels back to how upset she had been with me. How I had pushed her; asking those personal questions about that bastard brother-in-law of hers. Eric Manchester, the man who had kidnapped her and held her prisoner for two years when she was a young girl. What a sick dickweed. How could someone possibly do those unfathomable things to her? The thought of it runs shivers down my spine. Slowly, I push the oxygen from my lungs in a long, deep sigh. I shouldn’t have pressed her. I feel responsible for her being gone. If I had been stronger … no—if I had been more compassionate, maybe she’d be nestled in my arms right now. I have to find her.
Irritated, I shift around to get more comfortable causing the metal chair to squeak acoustically across the concrete floor. Seth doesn’t even look over at me. He just paces back and forth holding what I think may be his seventh cup of coffee. I wish he would sit down. He’s making me more irritated. Officers mill about and a pungent smell of sweat and pine needles loom in the air. My jaw tightens and my muscles twitch with unease.
“Can I get you anything, Mr. Hollister?” A woman officer in her mid-thirties asks.
I need to play it cool. Keep my temper in check. I rub my hands over my pants, like I’m straightening the crease. In reality, it’s a distraction so my hands don’t ball into fists. My lips set in a grim line, I look over the officer staring down at me—a position I’m not accustomed to. She’s smiling at me. She may know who I am, or my appearance might be making her slightly nervous, but I feel like she might be giving me a little — extra attention. I suppose she isn’t bad looking maybe under different circumstances — before Treva—the old me, might have taken her and given her a good fuck, but now … now I just want to know where the hell Treva is.
“Yes. I’d like it if you and your fellow officers would find my girlfriend!” I snap.
“Yeah, about that. How long did you say you two have been dating?” Her smile is fading, and this circle talk interrogation is getting beyond irritating. They have asked me the same questions over and over to see if I will change or alter my story, but that’s not going to happen. I’m bored of all of this. Leverage, I need to find some leverage.
“Why are we in here?” I stare the officer down, trying to get a read on their true intentions. When I get no response to my questions, I comply … for now. “Like I said, we’ve been dating for about nine days. Please Officer Fuentes; can you be clear on how the number of days we’ve been dating is relevant?” I circle back around, again asking my question … why are we here?
“We just need to make sure we cover all of our bases here. How about you look at it from our view point?” I nod my head in a gesture for her to continue. I need to hear their theory. “It’s a little suspicious that Treva comes here on vacation, not knowing you from Adam, and then decides to date you. A guy that lives over a thousand miles away from her …”
A smile creeps over my lips. “Maybe, I’m that good.”
Officer Fuentes’ cheeks blush, “ umm…” she stutters and flips through her small handheld notepad, “and let me look at my notes here, did you not tell us you had gotten into a fight with her the night she went missing?” She looks back up to me a little more composed. “Ronin, you are a new couple. You barely know each other, and now Treva is missing.” She says accusatorily.
“Mr. Hollister.” I retort. “And I wouldn’t call it a fight.”
Her head snaps up and I watch as her face distorts into a twisted smile—she’s enjoying this, “Right,” she drawls. Another officer pokes his head into the room and grabs my annoying interrogators’ attention. “Officer Fuentes a word?” She follows the portly older officer out of the room. They stand just outside of the door talking in lowered voices. I observe the tension in the portly male’s stance while he shows her papers of some sort.
“Dude this is so fucked up.” Seth finally pipes up.
“I’m with you.” I agree.
Officer Fuentes walks in with more purpose—an agenda—she stares at me, from what I gather with an, “I got you” look. “So, I’m a little confused,” she starts. “I thought you said the last time you talked to Treva was when you left her in her Brother Seth’s apartment?”
“Yes, that’s correct. I had NO contact with her after I left Christmas evening.”
“Well, maybe you could shed some light on these then.” She slaps down the papers she received, from old out of shape officer, on the table. I lean down to examine them and realize now that they are phone records. I pick them up and look at the dates highlighted brightly in yellow, and see the text transactions between Treva’s phone number … and my own, the night she disappeared.
Fuck
“I would like my lawyer to be present.” Is all I say. Seth looks at me quizzically and I just shake my head indicating don’t ask.
***
I can’t get that damn evening out of my head. It just keeps replaying over and over like a bad movie. I’m waiting for the plot and the … oh-duh, light bulb moment … that was who was behind all of this, even though I have my suspicions of our creep in this story.
I stare at the pinkish concrete cinder blocks that remind me of Pepto-Bismol. They had decided to escort me to my own personal room after they found my p
hone records. This room is worse than the last one, and I’m hoping my Attorney, Charles, gets here soon.
The door clicks loudly and then swings open to this tiny sweatbox of a room and officer she-woman walks in. “So I was just talking to our friend Mr. Flaggerty, and he also mentioned you and Treva had gotten into a verbal altercation the night Treva went missing.” She wrestles with a folder in her hands and then looks back to me. “He also said you left in a big hurry—very agitated.”
If matt thought I was agitated then … he’s going to definitely notice the agitation I have now, I think to myself. I knew that Matt was trying to move in on Treva, but trying to throw me under the bus here is a low blow for a supposed friend.
“If I remember correctly, I had already informed you of the details of that evening,” I sigh dejectedly. “I feel we are traveling in circles here, Officer Fuentes. With all of this talking, a lot of time is being wasted on not finding Treva.” An urgency, to get the hell out of here, and find Treva pulls at me. What if something horrible is happening to her? I need to get out of here—now.
“Don’t worry we have a lot of good men trying to locater her.” She half smiles at me.
“With all due respect I believe you think you are doing everything on your part, but you are barking up the wrong tree! I hope you will forgive me for my blatancy, but I’m leaving. I’m sure I will be able to help in this search more adequately out there!” I point out the doors and before she can say anything I grab my suit jacket and fling it over my shoulder casually holding it with one hand. She stands abruptly saying that they have more questions when thankfully, my lawyer Charles walks in and verifies what I had just said, “we’re done here.” I hear Officer Fuentes start to say something about sticking around in case they have more questions. I don’t acknowledge her.
