I wobbled my head. “Even if you do that, it still won’t change anything between us.”
“But it’s a start. Like how you’re not so mad at me right now.” Tyler grinned, optimistic.
Rolling my eyes, I picked up the Styrofoam cup and the bag with my donut. “I should head back,” I told him.
“I’ll walk you to your car.”
“You don’t have to,” I retorted.
“I want to,” he insisted. Slanting, Tyler waited for me to step past him and then followed as I exited the café.
“So,” he went on, strolling with me to my car parked nearby. “What’s going on with this stalker? Found out who it is yet?”
“No,” I answered, fatigued. “Not yet.”
“Really? I’m surprised. That cop seemed so determined to find the creep. Are you two friends or something?”
“Um,” I gazed ahead, unsure of how to answer. Mason and I had been friends before Friday night, but now that we’d slept together, I had no idea where our relationship stood, if it even was a relationship.
“He’s a great guy,” I heard myself say. “He’s been so kind and helpful.” Remembering Mason’s protective arms made me shiver with desire.
“He really cares about me,” I continued, looking ahead and still thinking about Mason. “He makes me feel safe.”
When I reached my car, Tyler wasn’t beside me. I turned sideways and saw that he’d stopped walking. He was staring at me in an odd way. Hurt. Disappointed.
“What?” I asked, baffled.
His jaw tensed, and he twitched his mouth in anger before he spoke. “You smiled just then, talking about that cop. You look…different. I haven’t seen you like this before.”
“Huh.” I hadn’t realized that I was smiling. Perhaps it was because Mason’s sexy grin had been cemented in my head. I feared he’d never want to be with me again though.
Tyler stayed quiet, observing me. I swiveled back to my car and opened the driver’s door. Getting in, I started the engine. “Bye,” I said, looking at Tyler.
He waved like a zombie, sad and regretful as I pulled onto the road and drove away.
By Wednesday, the whole fundraiser debacle between my dad and Tyler had become old news. Mr. Wilcox and Greg had heard about my “issue” and were understanding of the situation, so I wasn’t reproved when I returned to work on Monday.
I was on my way to lunch with Julian and Seven when Greg Wilcox asked me to join him. Julian winked at me, and I assumed it pertained to the opportunity she’d mentioned at the fundraiser.
Greg brought me to an upscale seafood restaurant downtown. He spared no time getting right to the purpose of taking me to lunch.
“As you’re well aware of, both companies have merged, and as a result of that, my father and I have discussed with Beverly our interest in opening an office in Los Angeles. She’s given us her support.”
“Oh,” I muttered. “That’s great. I still don’t understand why you—”
“I want you to come with me,” he said, and then drank his water. After setting the glass down, he clarified, “I mean, come work with me there.”
My mouth opened in awe. “Y-you want me to move to Los Angeles?”
A cocky grin parted his lips. “Yes. You did a great job with the fundraiser and all the donors you convinced to come out. I’d love to continue working with you in LA. You’ll transition into the creative director position there.”
“And if I stay?” I asked, my voice childlike with worry.
Greg scoffed. “Then you’ll remain as the assistant to Beverly’s event coordinator.”
Wow. I had no idea the full-time position came with an ultimatum. Still, it was Los Angeles. Far away from my stalker, but also far away from my family, friends, and…Mason.
“Um,” I played with my fork. “Can I think about it?”
“Excuse me?” Greg blinked excessively and fell back in his chair as if I were mad. “I’m offering you a great position in a wonderful city and you want to think about it?” He picked up his fork to eat. “Think fast, Bristol. There are others far more desperate for the position.”
Upset by his attitude and feeling queasy all of a sudden, I stood and excused myself to go to the restroom.
Turning on the tap, I leaned over the sink to dab water on my forehead and cheeks. Should I accept Greg’s offer? Could I leave everything? Could I leave Mason?
I shut off the water and reached for a paper towel.
“Ah!” Someone grabbed me from behind and muffled my screams. His strong hand wrapped a dark cloth over my face before I could see him in the mirror, then he pulled me back.
I heard a door open and shut, like he’d taken me into a stall. Terror bit me all over my body. I didn’t stop squirming. I knew I had to make a lot of noise if I wanted someone to hear me.
“Stop it or else,” he grunted.
That voice. It was him. My stalker!
“If you keep fighting me, I will hurt you, Bristol.” His lips brushed my ear, and I shuddered in disgust.
“Shh,” he hushed. “I thought we could have a moment alone.”
Panicking, I writhed in his grasp again. He tightened his hold around me and pressed an object into my stomach. “Do you feel that?” he asked. “That is a very sharp knife.”
I stiffened. Oh god. He’s going to kill me!
“Stay still and I won’t hurt you,” he said, as if he’d heard my thoughts.
Trying to calm down, I bobbed my head to show that I would be quiet.
“Good,” he whispered, followed by a conceited chuckle. He breathed sexually against my neck, like he was inhaling me. “I’m going to uncover your mouth, but just your mouth. Will you scream, Bristol?” he asked, shifting the knife at my stomach to warn me.
I turned my head from side to side.
“Good girl.” He pulled the cloth from my mouth, my vision still trapped in darkness.
“Wh-what are you going to do?” I asked, my voice cracked.
“Hmmm…” he drawled. “What am I going to do? I have you so close again, and we’re really alone this time, but it’ll be too hard to get you out of here without drawing attention, so I just want to talk.”
“About what?”
“About us.” He kissed my neck. I flinched, and a short and sensual laugh sputtered from his mouth.
“When are you going back to our home?” he asked sweetly.
“That’s my home,” I fumed through gritted teeth. “And I’m never going back there until you’re caught, you sick piece of—”
“Careful now,” he grunted, pushing the knife more into my stomach. I felt a slight pinch from the blade. “You just don’t get it, Bristol.”
“Get what?” I sniveled.
“How much I love you,” he breathed out, exasperated. “My love for is deeper than any other love in this world.”
“You’re insane. How can you love someone you don’t even know?” I seethed.
He pulled tighter, his arm squeezing me. “I know you inside out, Bristol. I know about the tattoo on your arm. I know how much you desire a life away from your controlling mother. I know why you like the little café near our home, and why you volunteer at that pathetic center. I know why you’re always so concerned for your father. I know your favorite color, favorite dress, and even your favorite TV show. I know these things because I love you, Bristol. I’ll always. Love. You.”
Enraged by his madness, I snapped, “You don’t know what love is. You sneak around like a coward and terrorize my life.”
“Coward?” he repeated, taken aback. “I’m a coward?”
“Yes, coward. You don’t show yourself. You won’t even tell me your name.”
He stayed quiet for a moment. I could hear him breathing hard, boiling with fury. Then suddenly, he grunted at my ear, “Vincent!”
I felt a sharp pain at the back of my head. Limply, I slithered to the floor, still in darkness. A loud ringing echoed in my ears, and then there was nothing, only sil
ence.
When I came to, I was lying in the hospital. Again. Dad peered down at me; it was as if he’d aged a few years since this whole thing started. “Are you… all right, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice breaking.
“How’s your head?” a soothing voice said. I turned and saw it was indeed my mom. She squeezed my hand and looked at the door. Greg was standing there. “Mr. Wilcox was nice enough to bring you here.”
“Please, call me Greg,” he told her.
“Thank you,” I said to him, easing up. Pain erupted at the back of my head and I shrank back on the pillow.
“You should rest. The doctor said you don’t have a concussion but to keep lying down for a while,” Dad explained.
“Did anyone see him?” I asked, staring at Greg with my eyes opened wide. Baffled, he glanced at my parents. They looked just as lost.
“What do you mean, honey?” asked Mom. “Greg told us he sent a waitress to check on you when you didn’t come back to the table, and she said it looked like you fell and hit your head in the bathroom stall.”
“No…no.” I eased up. “He was there. He covered my eyes and held me hostage in the stall.”
Dad’s nostrils flared. “He was there? Why didn’t you scream for help?”
“He threatened to kill me if I did,” I retorted. “He had a knife to my stomach!”
Greg moved closer, hands in his pockets. “But no one saw a thing, Bristol. Are you sure he was there?”
“Yes!” I snapped, not intending to.
He straightened.
Feeling bad, I apologized to him. “Sorry.”
Greg waved me off. “It’s okay.”
“We should call the police,” Mom said, terrified. “What’s the name of the young man that’s been helping?”
“Mason,” Dad answered. A warm feeling engrossed me. I lowered my head, still apprehensive about seeing Mason again. I blamed myself for the murder of his dog.
“I’ll give him a call,” Dad said. I wanted to tell him no, to leave Mason out of it, but he stepped out of the room before I had the chance, leaving me with Mom and a surprised-looking Greg.
“Wow, I had no idea this stalker thing was that serious,” he mumbled to himself. Glancing at me, he said, “I’m going to head back to the office. Bristol, why don’t you take the rest of the week off? I’ll tell Beverly.”
“No,” I refuted. “I’m fine. I’ll feel even better if I’m working.”
“Don’t worry about work. You should get some rest and stay with your family until this guy is found.”
Hesitantly, I nodded, and Greg went on his way after waving lightly to my mom.
I wasn’t surprised that even in a time like this she was giving me her sneaky grin. “He’s a nice man. You know, if it’s really over with Tyler, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to give this Greg Wilcox a try.”
“Mom,” I groaned. “I was just held prisoner and knocked unconscious by a stalker that won’t leave me alone, and you’re more concerned with finding me a boyfriend.”
“Oh honey.” She sat beside me and patted my hand. “I didn’t mean for it to come off that way. I just…” She tucked my disheveled hair behind my ears. I noticed a speck of grief in her eyes. “I don’t want you to be alone like me.”
“I’m not alone,” I told her, forcing a smile. “Neither are you. You have me and Dad.”
She heaved a sigh. “You should come home with me. Your father works a lot and can’t protect you twenty-four seven. I think it’s best you stay with me, at least until this lunatic is caught.”
I looked across at the window. It was still so bright out; sunlight illuminated the room.
“It doesn’t matter where I go,” I whispered. “He’ll follow me anywhere. He won’t stop until I’m…”
“Don’t think that way, sweetheart.” Mom pecked me on the forehead. “I’m going to get some water. Do you want anything?”
“No,” I answered dryly, feeling disheartened.
“Okay. Be right back.”
Lying alone in the room, I replayed what happened at the restaurant in my head. He’d told me his name. I’d almost forgotten. Vincent. But there could be hundreds of Vincents in Newport, not to mention in the state. I needed a last name. I needed something.
Anything.
The door pushed open, interrupting my thoughts. Amber walked into the room and hurried to my side. “Bristol, are you okay?” She leaned over and hugged me, sobbing on my shoulder. “I can’t believe this happened again. When is it going to end?”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Amber, get it together,” Mom scolded as she entered. She meandered over and towed Amber away from me. “I didn’t call you here to break down in front of Bristol.”
That answered my question as to how Amber found out that I was back in the hospital. “I guess I should expect Jules, too.”
“Bristol, you can’t keep something like this from us. We’re your friends,” Amber said, sorrow drenched in her voice.
I lowered my head. “I don’t want to keep dragging you into this. I mean, who knows what Vincent is going to do next.”
“Vincent?” Amber and Mom said at the same time.
Dad strolled into the room then, and to my dismay, Mason entered behind him. He locked his gaze on me as he asked, “Are you okay?”
“I’m still here,” I tittered. My heart was overjoyed to see him; after the ordeal with Marley, I’d been sure he’d stay away.
The room became quiet, almost like everyone else had disappeared except for Mason and me. We continued to stare at each other, unabashed. In spite of what had happened, I wanted so badly to feel his warm lips on mine again, to touch his skin and drown myself in the comfort of his body.
“Ahem,” Dad cleared his throat. Mason looked away. “The doctor said you can go home, but to keep an ice pack at the back of your head.”
“What’s this about a Vincent?” asked Mason, regarding me again, only this time he had a straight face. This was the cop now.
“Oh,” I refocused. “Yeah, he told me his name. It’s Vincent.”
“That’s all?” Amber yelped, frustrated. “Damn it, there could be tons of Vincents in this town. What if it’s not even his real name?”
“Still,” Mason said, “it’s something. I’ll check the database and see what I can find.”
“Thank you.” Dad lightly slapped him on the shoulder, grateful.
Mason shrugged. “It’s a long shot, but it’s a start.”
He steered back to me and for a second, I could have sworn that I saw the desire in his eyes that had been present on the night we’d made love.
“Let’s get you home then,” Mom piped in.
I looked at Dad to make sure he was okay with me going to Mom’s house instead of the condo.
He smiled and bobbed in agreement. “You’ll probably feel safer in your old home.”
“I’ll ask the precinct to send a patrol car,” Mason said.
Dad hugged me before leaving the room. He nudged Mason to go with him so they could talk. Eyeing me once more, Mason spun and stepped out of the room.
“Well,” Mom sighed. “Shall we?”
When I climbed off the bed, she draped her arm around my waist. Amber stayed close as we left the hospital and Mom drove me home.
Shortly after arriving at Mom’s, Julian stopped by. We gathered in the living room and talked for a while. When my friends took off, I went up to my old bedroom to lie down. It made me smile, seeing the snowdrop blue paint on the walls from my teen years, my homemade seashell table lamps, and the driftwood storage bench below the window.
But Dad was wrong: not even that house could help me relax. I couldn’t shake the fear that Vincent might sneak into my room. My body shivered when I remembered how he’d blindfolded me and held me so close to him. He could have done much worse. Thankfully, he hadn’t.
Mom checked in on me throughout the evening. Before heading off to bed, she came to my room one more time. “Would you like some jasmin
e tea? It might help you fall asleep,” she offered, coming over to the bed.
“No, I’m good.” I placed the ice pack on the nightstand and lay on my side. “I’ll pass out soon.”
Sitting on the side of the bed, she swept my hair off my forehead and smiled at me. “I’m glad you came home.”
Peering up at her, I observed her demeanor. She seemed troubled. “Are you okay, Mom?”
Her chin dipped to her chest. “Yeah. I’m just worried about you.”
“I’ll be all right,” I told her, then remembered how some things were gone from the house. “What happened to the paintings and the piano?”
My question caught her off guard. She released a long sigh before she answered, “I’m thinking about selling the house and downsizing, so I’ve been slowly putting things into storage.”
“Really?” Surprised, I lifted my head from the pillow. “But why? This is where you grew up. My grandparents lived here. I lived here.”
“That’s why I think it’s time to move on.” She explained when I glowered in confusion, “Bristol, I feel so haunted, and I know that even though there are some good memories here, I’m also well aware of the bad ones.”
Mom stood and began pacing the room. I watched her as she strolled over to the window, moving the patterned blue curtain away to gaze up at the sky. “I shouldn’t have put so much pressure on you,” she muttered, turning to face me again. “I was just so… It’s my fault our relationship got this way. You couldn’t even tell me what was happening to you.”
I sat up and leaned against the headboard. “Mom, you don’t have to—”
She cut me off, “I have to talk about this.” The emotional edge in her voice stirred me.
What’s going on with her?
Coming back to the bed, Mom continued talking. “I’m sorry for all I put you through, Bristol. I guess I started to care too much about impressing everyone else and lost sight of the important things. In the midst of that, I lost your father and I drove you away.”
She shook her head in wonder. “He’s a good man. I ruined things because I stopped being supportive and always belittled him when he wouldn’t consider another career. When I realized that he was beginning to have some anger problems, I divorced him. I should have helped. I should have stuck by him and tried harder.” She stopped and exhaled deeply. “That’s all in the past now.”
Chasing Bristol (The Finding Trilogy Book 2) Page 15
