Rampant (Condemned Book 2)

by Gemma James

  Jax slumped his shoulders, and his sigh ruffled his hair. “Dude, this is a bad idea.”

  “Undoubtedly.” I stepped past him, and the sliding doors opened. Jax hurried after, his steps thumping quietly on the polished floors. I didn’t know what had happened to Alex, how or where she’d been found. According to the media, she was in stable condition, but that was all I’d found out.

  After a quick stop at the information desk to ask which floor she was on, my heart pounded as Jax and I waited for the elevator. He shuffled his feet, looking like he wanted to be anywhere but here. The arrow lit up, and the doors opened with a ding. A group of people exited, each giving us weird glances, their eyes roving over our bare arms and the ink on our skin.

  Never failed to get a reaction from some people.

  “I’m telling you, this is a mistake,” Jax said once the heavy doors slid shut and we were the only two that remained.

  “I don’t care. After everything I put her through, I owe her this much.”

  “Bullshit,” he muttered. “What you put her through?” He leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “She screwed you over, man. She had it coming.”

  “No one deserves that.”

  “Her spoiled ass did.”

  “A couple of days ago you cared enough about her ‘spoiled ass’ to look into her whereabouts.”

  Jax sighed. “I did it for you. Not like it did any good though. She must’ve been hiding on the moon.”

  We arrived on the fourth floor, and I stepped out before Jax could further needle me. His footfalls landed with more attitude than usual. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but something about the situation rubbed him the wrong way—besides the whole we-could-go-to-jail aspect. Something about Alex rubbed him the wrong way.

  We turned the corner and headed down another hall. Up ahead, a circular reception desk took up the middle. A woman sat on the other side of the counter, eyeing me behind feminine pink glasses, when a bulky form stepped in the way.

  “You’ve got balls to show up here.”

  I met the hard-as-nails gaze of Abbott De Luca, a man I’d once admired. The calendar told me a lot of time had passed since then, but it seemed like only yesterday his opinion of me mattered. The man I remembered had given me his utmost respect. Time and accusations sure had a way of changing things. Now he stared me down as if I were a cockroach that needed exterminated.

  “I’ve always had balls. You know that.” He’d been impressed with the way I handled myself during fights. Determined with a ruthless edge, was what he used to say about me. Though Zach never admitted it, I knew my relationship with his father had bothered him.

  “What are you doing here, Mason?”

  “I came to see Alex.” I cleared my throat, wondering if she’d told him about the kidnapping. “Is she okay?”

  His gaze darted left then right. “Let’s go into the lounge.” His attention glanced off Jax, and I introduced them as we moved into the vacant room. Abbott closed the door before turning to me with a glare capable of icing the bowels of Lucifer.

  “You’ve got one minute to explain yourself before I have you removed by force.”

  I held up my hands. “I’m not here to cause trouble. I don’t remember shit about the last eight years. Doctor calls it dissociative amnesia.”

  “How convenient.”

  “Just tell me, is she all right?”

  “She’s fine. She’ll recover.”

  His tone hit me in the chest hard. It was so…unfeeling. “I want to see her.” I had to see her. Something wasn’t right about all of this.

  He lifted a brow. “Do you honestly think I’d let my daughter’s convicted rapist anywhere near her? You’re lucky I don’t call the cops.” He stepped forward, bringing his chest inches from mine. I held my ground, refusing to back down.

  I opened my mouth, ready to defend myself, to say how I was innocent…except I didn’t know for sure. How could I know what I was guilty of if I couldn’t remember?

  He poked a finger at my chest. “I want you out of Alexandra’s life.”

  I tilted my head. “I’m not in her life.”

  He thrust his face into mine. “I know you kidnapped her. I don’t give a shit if you remember or not, but if you come anywhere near her again, I’ll do far worse than have you arrested.”

  Jax slumped into a chair. “Told you this was a bad idea.”

  I returned Abbott’s hard stare. “She told you?”

  “Please,” he scoffed. “She didn’t have to.”

  “Why aren’t you pressing charges?”

  “Alexandra has been through enough. The last thing she needs right now is another trial. She needs treatment. Because of you, she almost killed herself, just like her mother.”

  His words punched me in the gut. I turned away, unable to return his disgusted gaze. Or maybe the disgust I saw in his eyes was a reflection of my own. Jax hadn’t given me details on what I’d put her through after we’d taken her, but for her to feel the need to end her life…

  “Please, just let me see her once. I need to know she’s okay.” I needed to fucking tell her how sorry I was. I faced him again, but my plea didn’t soften his stance.

  “You want her to be ‘okay’? Then give her a clean break. She has some sort of misplaced infatuation with you because of the kidnapping. If I let you in to see her, make it clear whatever this thing is between the two of you is over. Can you do that?”

  I nodded.

  “She’s in room 427.”

  I traded a glance with Jax before exiting the lounge, which was really just a space where families waited in agony to hear news on their loved ones. Other than a middle-aged couple speaking to the woman at the reception desk, the area was empty. She pushed her glasses up on her nose and eyed me. I gave her my I’m-a-nice-guy smile, but I wasn’t sure she bought it. Spanning the hall in seconds, I slowed as the numbers climbed. 423, 424, 425, 426…

  Once I reached her closed door, my feet refused to move. Something told me to turn around and run. Never look back. Did I really want to open that door and look inside? I lifted a hand, curled my fingers around the handle, and prepared for the worst.

  She’d scream at me, say I was the reason she was in the hospital. She probably hated me.

  I pushed the heavy door open and was unprepared for the sight of the frail girl swallowed up by the bed. Her eyes were closed, long lashes fanning over pale cheeks. Her curly hair lacked the vibrancy I remembered. Even the flash of her I’d seen in the cellar didn’t compare to the brokenness of the girl…woman lying in that bed.

  Moving slowly so I wouldn’t startle her, I pushed the door shut until it made the slightest click, then I stepped to her side. Her chest rose and fell in perfect rhythm. My gaze landed on her delicate collarbone and an intense vision of choking her hit me. To my horror, my dick hardened, straining against the zipper of my jeans. I clenched my hands at my sides. The mental picture was so vivid it could have been straight from my fantasies.

  I knew it wasn’t. It was a memory. I retreated several steps, my heartbeat pulsing in my ears. Alex was laid up in the hospital, and my fucking cock wanted out to play. What the fuck was wrong with me?

  “Rafe?”

  My gaze shot to her wide, green eyes. God, those eyes…I remembered them well. Still full of mystery and shining with innate strength. I wanted to delve in and unearth all her secrets.

  Her mouth parted slightly, as if she wanted to say something, or maybe, like me, she was having trouble drawing in a deep breath. She lifted an arm, covered in white bandages from wrist to just below her elbow. An identical bandage wrapped her other arm. My heart dropped to my stomach, landing somewhere in the dregs of my gut.

  “What happened to you?” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them, my feet across the floor and at her bedside before the second hand on the clock above the door could move two spots. I took her arm in my hands, my fingers sliding along the bandages.

  And I forgot that
I didn’t remember, that I was supposed to tell her to move on with her life and forget about me. Getting into the subject of my amnesia wasn’t part of the clean break Abbott insisted on.

  “Alex?” My gaze landed on her face. Hurt and something else pooled in her eyes. It could have been so many things, a plethora of emotion all vying for residence in that stare.

  Which told me shit, except that my presence made her cry.

  She grabbed my hand in hers and squeezed hard, as if she feared I’d slip away. A tear slipped down her colorless cheek. “I thought you were dead. When he told me you weren’t, I wanted to believe it, but I was scared.”

  “What happened?” How the fuck had she ended up in the hospital with bandages that suggested she’d slit her wrists? Why was she not furious or terrified of me? “Where have you been?”

  “Doesn’t matter. Oh God…you’re real, right? I’m not dreaming?”

  Something about the desperation in her tone fucked with my head. I pulled my hand away and stepped back. “I just came to make sure you were okay.”

  She blinked, her expression blanking for a few seconds before confusion took hold of her features. “What are you saying?”

  I dropped my gaze to my feet. “You’re better off without me. What I did, what you did, whatever we did together, we need to move on.”

  “No,” she said with a resolved shake of her head. “Before Zach showed up, things were finally settling between us. I wanted to be with you. I still want that, more than anything.”

  I almost asked what Zach had to do with any of this. Maybe he was responsible for shooting me. He’d always been protective of her. I bit my tongue, holding back those questions and more. I didn’t want to say anything that could give away my memory loss. She’d been through enough. I didn’t know much else, but I knew I wanted to stay out of jail, and I wanted her to be whole again. Somehow, I got the feeling those two things contradicted each other.

  “My father knows you were involved in my disappearance.”

  Inevitability was a bitch. I knew this was coming. I wanted to ask her if I’d raped her all those years ago, but I didn’t want to burden her with my issues. She’d been through hell, and I’d put her there. I didn’t know the details of how or why, but she was in that hospital bed because of me.

  She’d tried to kill herself because of me.

  “I’ll turn myself in, if that’s what you want.”

  Her startled gaze punched me in the gut. “No! Why would you think I’d want that?”

  “After what I did to you, how can you not want me locked up?”

  “You know how I feel about you. I want to be with you so badly, it hurts.” She reached a hand out and curled her tiny fingers around my larger ones. “I thought you were dead, then Zach said you weren’t. He said you couldn’t forgive me, and I fell for it, Rafe. He had me so far out of my mind that I believed you didn’t care enough to come after me.”

  I didn’t know what she was talking about, so I treaded carefully. “Alex, what do you need me to do?”

  “Forgive me. Take me away from here.” She started sobbing, and the sound clashed in my chest, two warring emotions. Part of me glorified in those tears, a feeling that disturbed me on such a deep level, I thought I might vomit. The other part wanted to wrestle away her demons and pound them to dust.

  “Alex.” Her name escaped the vise strangling my throat. “I don’t wanna hurt you.”

  She rolled to her side, her back facing me, and curled into a tight, protective ball. “You can’t forgive me. I understand.”

  I clenched my teeth, wanting to ask what she wanted forgiveness for. I wanted to ask her about the night I was shot. Had she shot me? Had Zach? I needed those answers, but faced with the situation, with how much I’d fucked up when it came to her, the only thing left to do was say goodbye and end this. Let her move on and heal without the memory of me hanging over her shoulder.

  Leaning over, I brushed my lips beneath her ear, inhaled a scent that sparked a memory my stubborn mind believed took place just a few months ago, when I’d held her as she cried over her mother’s death. Even grief smelled good on her.

  She twisted her head and pressed her mouth to mine. Breath stalled in my lungs, and the need to pin her to the bed nearly outweighed my sense of decency. Whatever my head didn’t remember, being this close to her, our mouths moving together in hunger, the taste of her rioting through me, revived something primal inside my being.

  A snarling beast that wanted to claim.

  I tore my lips from hers. “I can’t do this. I’m sorry.” I stumbled across the room and wrenched the door open, and a heavy weight pressed on my chest, urging me to get the fuck out of there while I still could.

  Her gut-splitting wails haunted me down the hall, long after I shut the door.

  “How are you sleeping, Alexandra?”

  I sat in one corner of the shrink’s couch, feet curled under me. Feigning indifference, I shrugged. “Same.” I’d left the hospital eleven days ago. The first few had been pure hell while my mind and body adjusted to going without a daily dose of ecstasy. I’d barely left my bed, despite feeling restless and unable to sleep much. Every part of me hurt, from the pieces of my fractured heart to the deep ache in my muscles.

  “Still having nightmares?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Sandra crossed her legs. “Do you want to talk about them?”

  I shook my head. I still had a difficult time addressing her by her first name, but she’d insisted. This was my second visit and I didn’t want to be there, but my father made it clear I didn’t have a choice. The hospital discharged me under his care, especially after I fed his bullshit to the police. My years of lying had worked in my favor; they’d bought the story.

  Alexandra De Luca had suffered an episodic break, just like her mother. With shame, I remembered how I’d confessed to pushing my car into the river before hiding out at a cabin I’d heard my brother talk about. I’d even confessed to carving Zach’s name into my stomach.

  There were holes in my story, of course. Like how I’d arrived at the cabin, or how someone just happened to find me in time to call 9-1-1. They accused me of withholding information, of protecting an accomplice in my disappearance. But ultimately, they believed what my father wanted them to, and because of my warped version of the truth that didn’t point the finger at anyone other than myself, Zach was safe from prosecution. So was Rafe.

  So long as I cooperated and did everything my father asked, which included weekly appointments with the stranger sitting across from me. Anything to perpetuate the facade of a mental breakdown. At least I’d gotten to choose the shrink studying me, trying to read me with her analytical stare.

  “How are you doing on the anti-depressants?”

  I shrugged again. “Okay, I guess.” I was starting to feel like me again, so that was probably a good thing, though being me wasn’t much better than the version of myself who’d hit rock bottom while Zach held me captive.

  “I’m here to help you,” Sandra said, as if I needed to be reminded. “Part of you must want my help, or you wouldn’t have sought treatment.”

  “I don’t want to be here.”

  “Then why are you here?”

  “It’s complicated. My father thought I should come.”

  She wrote something down on the annoying notepad propped on her knee. A long black and white skirt flowed down her legs, the hem brushing her sandaled heels. From the decor in her office to the hip clothing she wore, she displayed a chic and competent style.

  “Are you close to your father?”

  A bitter laugh escaped. “Definitely not.”

  “But you’d like to be.”

  “Why would you think that?”

  “Coming to see me on your father’s wish indicates a need to please him. It sounds like you’re seeking his attention and approval.” She leaned forward, chin propped in one hand, and an auburn curl fell across her forehead. “But what do you want, Alexandra?
”

  “I want to turn back time.”

  “What would you change?”

  “Everything.”

  “How about we start with the one thing you’d want to change most?”

  I eyed her, some part of me yearning to spill. It would be a relief to tell my story and have someone listen, believe me, maybe even reassure me it was okay to cry, okay to scream in the middle of the night after another nightmare in which I still lived trapped inside Zach’s madness. Most of all, I wanted her to tell me it was okay to forgive myself for nearly taking the easy way out, the way my mom had.

  “I wish…”

  Our eyes met, and in hers I found quiet patience. She waited, giving me room to forge ahead when I was ready. Rafe’s rejection edged to the forefront of my mind. The ache in my chest became unbearable, only this time I couldn’t push it aside.

  I sucked in a breath then cleared my throat. “I wish I could undo the hurt I caused someone.”

  “If that person was here right now, willing to listen, what would you say?”

  Cursing the tremble in my lips, I hid behind a fist and closed my eyes, taking deep breaths through my nose until the burn of tears subsided. “I’d beg his forgiveness.”

  “Have you asked him for it?”

  I nodded.

  “What did he say?”

  “Which time?”

  She raised a brow. “So you’ve asked more than once?”

  I thought back to the island, but all I remembered was the raging need he’d ignited inside me. I remembered his hands on me, his mouth, his body sheltering mine. The breathless quality of his words as he’d slid inside my soul, where even now, he still resided. I couldn’t bear to relive those fleeting minutes in the hospital when his kiss had breathed life into me.

  “I don’t remember.” I didn’t know this woman, and I wasn’t about to tell her my most intimate moments.