Rampant (Condemned Book 2)

by Gemma James

Her pen scraped across the page, stroke after stroke, nicking my sanity. I imagined jumping from the couch and ripping that pen from her hands. Tearing the paper to shreds.

  “Alexandra—”

  “It’s Alex.” I clenched my hands. “My dad is the only one who calls me that.”

  The lines around her mouth softened. “Alex, why don’t you tell me about what happened at the cabin?”

  I tugged at my sleeves, making sure they still covered my arms and the hideous destruction marring my skin. “I told you last week I wasn’t talking about that.”

  She lifted a hand in my direction. “Yet here you are again.”

  “I don’t have a choice.”

  “You always have a choice. You’re not court ordered to be here. I believe I can help you, but I can’t do it alone. You have to put some effort in too.” She tilted her head. “Okay?”

  I nodded, but my throat swelled, preventing me from saying anything.

  “Why did you try to kill yourself?”

  “You won’t believe me.”

  “You won’t know until you try.”

  I pulled a hand through my curls, yanking my fingers through the tangles. “I didn’t do it because I wanted to end my life. I just wanted him to stop.”

  She sat up straighter. “Someone was hurting you?”

  Chewing on my lip, I nodded. “I can’t say who.”

  “Whatever you tell me is confidential, Alex.”

  “I can’t say.”

  Scribble, scribble, scribble.

  “Do you have to write everything down?” Regretting the bite of my tone, I winced.

  “This bothers you?” She lifted the notepad.

  “Haven’t you switched to an iPad or something by now?” I crossed my arms. “You know, something password protected?”

  Her tiny mouth curved up. “I find the simple task of writing soothing. Maybe you should try it. Jotting down your thoughts and feelings can be very therapeutic.”

  I thought of the letters I’d written to Rafe while he was in prison, the ones Dad found after I disappeared. Those words, written with the intent that they never be read, had given him ammunition. He’d discovered how Rafe was my biggest weakness. It was a reminder that nothing was private. Anything and everything could be used against you. My fingers brushed the purse beside me, where the letters were now safely tucked inside.

  I pointed at the notepad. “I don’t want you writing down the stuff I say. Can’t we just talk?”

  “Sure.” She set the pad and pen aside. “You don’t have to tell me anything you’re not comfortable disclosing. And you don’t have to give names either.”

  I let out a breath and stood. Strolling to the window, left partially open to allow a warm breeze in, I tried to ignore the tingles going down my spine, but her scrutiny blasted my back like a physical blow. Only once I stopped at the window, mindlessly gazing at the tree-lined street below, did I speak.

  “He did things to me, bad, shameful things, and part of me liked it.” I folded my arms around myself, cold despite the nice weather. “He made me do things that ruined another man’s life.” I shook my head as tears pooled in my eyes. “No, that’s not entirely true. He made me, but I could have stopped it. I was too weak.”

  “You don’t strike me as being weak.”

  “I was a coward. Label it however you want. When I think about saying the words out loud, my throat tightens”—I swallowed hard—“and I can’t say shit. My silence enabled him for years.”

  “Speaking out and standing up for yourself is hard. It’s brave. Is he still hurting you, Alex?”

  “No.” The single word came out strangled. I hadn’t seen or heard from Zach since the night he carved his name into my stomach. Dad assured me he was far away receiving treatment for his alcoholism. Just because he wasn’t physically hurting me any longer didn’t mean my wounds had stopped bleeding. They still existed, as tangible as the wind—felt but not seen.

  “I think you’re a survivor,” she said. “Your self-worth has taken a hit, but I believe you have what it takes to heal. The first step is asking for help, and you’ve done that. You’re here.”

  I turned around, her words causing a spark of empowerment inside me. “You think so?”

  “Most definitely.” She shifted, crossing her legs on the other side. “You have a right to feel safe in your own skin. If the abuse starts again—”

  “It won’t.” Not because Zach would never come back, not because my father would keep him away. I was done. Done being his silent victim. Done being a fucking coward. Now that the fog was clearing from my head, I had a lot to think about.

  My father’s actions.

  Zach’s actions.

  My actions.

  “But if it does, you can tell me, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Her eyes veered to the clock on the wall, a circular piece of art crafted with gold numbers. “We’re out of time for now,” she said, rising to stand, “but I’d like to see you again next week. I hope you’ll come, and not because your father wants you to.”

  “I’ll think about it.” I shuffled my feet, itching to escape the confines of this room and the eerie way she had of pulling information from me, of making me look at myself differently. I followed her to the door. She pulled it open but hovered.

  “This other man you talked about? Consider giving him another chance to forgive you. Maybe then you can forgive yourself.”

  “I’m so glad you called.”

  I pushed the lettuce around on my plate until I found another cherry tomato. “It’s been ages,” I said. After my appointment with my therapist, I hadn’t been ready to go home to my father, so I’d called Evelyn. The last time I remembered seeing her was…

  I couldn’t remember the last time. Not in specific detail, anyway. We were never really close. Not like friends should be, but we’d spent occasional afternoons together having coffee or lunch. She’d talk my ear off about her latest boyfriends, and I’d quietly listen. That was the interesting thing about people who liked to talk a lot—they never expected me to contribute much because they were too busy going on about their own lives.

  Their men.

  Their new jobs.

  Their gossip.

  Their life-altering moments.

  They, they, they. Most people would probably get tired of it, and Evelyn was especially self-focused. But I wouldn’t call her selfish. Out of the few friends I’d managed to keep over the years, she was the first one willing to listen whenever I did get the inkling to unload something.

  I had that inkling now, but the words lodged in my throat and refused to be spoken, so I continued to sit in silence and let her catch me up on her life.

  She was going on about her latest boyfriend’s prowess in bed, in particular, the size of his cock and some super-powered move he did with it, when she paused mid-sentence and gave me a funny look. “Are you going to chase that tomato around your plate all day, or are you going to eat it?”

  I stabbed it with a fork, and a piece of lettuce fell victim to its spilled guts. Gutted. That’s how I felt. Unloading on Sandra had been a dangerous thing. An addictive thing, because I wanted to do it again, only I didn’t want to stick to vague answers this time. I wanted to tell someone all the shit life had thrown at me.

  Besides Rafe, Evelyn was the closest thing I had to a real friend. Weren’t friends supposed to tell each other their secrets? I wouldn’t know. My secret had been too huge, too horrific, to share with anyone for years.

  Until Rafe had tortured it out of me.

  “Okay, something’s on your mind. It was weird enough that you called out of the blue, but you’re never this quiet, and that’s saying a lot.” She sipped her iced tea and settled back in the chair. “I heard about what happened in the papers. I wanted to call you. Truth is, I didn’t know what to say. We’d drifted apart, and I just…”

  “It’s okay,” I whispered.

  “No,” she said, her mouth set in a firm l
ine as she shook her head. “It’s not okay. My friend had a mental breakdown of epic proportions and I couldn’t even bring myself to pick up the goddamn phone. I’m sorry, Alex. I’m here now.”

  “I didn’t have a mental breakdown.”

  Her brows crinkled in confusion. “What happened then? Everyone thought you were dead.”

  A sheen of sweat broke out on my skin, and I felt a trickle sliding down my temple. I opened my mouth, commanded my tongue to work right and spill the words my brother kidnapped and raped me, but I couldn’t. I had many reasons to keep it bottled inside, mainly, the threat my father held over my head. Over Rafe’s head.

  I’d been protecting him in some way or another for a nearly a decade, but he wanted nothing to do with me. Hurt infiltrated my chest and choked the life from my heart. How could he walk away so easily after what we’d shared? After what he’d done? Wasn’t he afraid I’d turn him in?

  Don’t be stupid. He knows he has you wrapped.

  “Alex?”

  I jumped, only then noticing the mangled napkin in my hands. I’d managed to shred it while wrestling with my thoughts. Evelyn still waited. Choosing to take the familiar coward’s way out, I was about to make up a story when my cell beeped.

  “I should get this. I’ll be right back.” I scooted back from the table with a sigh of relief. My phone continued to chirp as I walked through the busy restaurant, out the front doors, and into the summer heat. The instant I answered the call and heard his breathing, I couldn’t move.

  “Don’t hang up.”

  Hang up? I could barely function. My gaze darted around, studying the bystanders and taking a modicum of comfort in their presence. I tightened my fingers around the phone, willed my hand to pull it away from my ear and hit the end button, but somewhere between thought and action, the signal in my brain got its wires crossed.

  “I miss you,” he said, making my fingers freeze. “And I’m so, so sorry.” His voice cracked on the last word. He sniffled, and I was pretty certain the bastard was crying.

  “Dad said you’d leave me alone.” I cleared my throat and infused my tone with a dauntless edge I didn’t feel. “You can’t hurt me anymore. Too many people are watching.”

  “Especially the guy to your right. The one in the Beaver’s hat and dark sunglasses? He’s practically got his tongue hanging out.”

  Standing in ninety-degree weather, I shivered as if snow blanketed the ground. I’d meant the public in general, even the police, since they suspected I’d left out parts of the story. Slowly, I turned and found a man matching Zach’s description watching me. He looked away the instant he realized I’d caught him staring. But he wasn’t the real threat.

  The real threat lingered somewhere nearby, preying on my fear. I scoured both sides of the street but found nothing. Just normal people going about their business. Numerous shops, cafes, and businesses lined the row, and Zach could be in any one of them right now, ogling me with the eyes of a wolf.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” he said. “But I’m not here to hurt you. I just had to see you. I had to know you were okay.”

  “Why?” I fisted my left hand. “You didn’t care if I was ‘okay’ when you beat me, when you raped me, when you sliced me up with your fucking knife.”

  “I fucked up, Lex. I know I went too far.”

  “You went too far ten years ago. What you did in that cabin was a hundred levels past deranged.”

  I heard him suck in a breath. “It wasn’t always bad between us. After Rafe went away, you wanted me.”

  “I never wanted that. Get that through your head.” My gaze veered left and right, cheeks flaming at having this conversation in public, but there was no way in hell I’d do this in an isolated area. “I despise myself for what we did, for what I did to him. I couldn’t even control my own damn body, Zach.”

  “Please, Lex. I’m dying without you. It’ll be different this time. Dad’s making sure I’m getting treatment. I haven’t had a drink since that night. Please—”

  “Stop!” I began pacing, though I never stopped searching my surroundings. A group of college-aged kids came out of the restaurant and bumped into me. Instead of becoming irritated, I welcomed their proximity.

  Stupid, Alex. Go back inside and tell Evelyn. Get help.

  “You can’t just say ‘I’m sorry’ after everything. It doesn’t work like that.” I should know—sorry hadn’t worked on Rafe.

  “I know.” He sighed. “But I love you. I want you back. Can we just sit down somewhere and talk?”

  “Even if I didn’t think of you like my brother”—I lowered my voice—“I could never be with someone who did what you did.” The hypocrisy of my words pinged through my head. Rafe had done acts deemed unforgivable too, but I didn’t feel the same way toward him. My heart wanted what it wanted, despite logic or reason, despite right or wrong. I supposed in that aspect, I could relate to Zach.

  My chest tightened, squeezing the air from my lungs. I also understood why Rafe couldn’t forgive me.

  “I’ll do anything,” he said, his plea high-pitched and awash with regret. “Please, forgive me. You’re the only thing in this world I care about.”

  Unable to speak, I ended the call with a press of a button then walked inside the restaurant, passing by people that blurred around me. They didn’t seem real. I didn’t seem real.

  “Everything okay?” Evelyn asked.

  I shook my head. “My dad…” I cleared the fear constricting my throat. “My dad needs me home. He’s got the flu or something.” I let out an awkward laugh. “He’s a big baby.” For perfecting the art of lying, I sure sucked at it now.

  She tilted her head. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Yeah.” I forced my lips into a smile. “Just family stuff. Can I get a rain check?”

  “Sure, but I’m holding you to it.” She pulled me into a hug. “You can call me anytime.”

  “I know.”

  We parted ways out front, and as soon as she got in her SUV and pulled away, I scurried back inside the restaurant and reclaimed my seat at the table, body shaking as I deliberated on what to do. I was scared to walk to my own car. I gazed out the window at the new Volvo parked by the curb on the side of the restaurant. Dad bought it last week to replace the one destroyed by the river, once I agreed to the appointments with the shrink.

  Someone slid into the chair Evelyn had vacated, making me jump. Zach’s hazel eyes stared back.

  “Don’t freak out and make a scene,” he said. “I just want to talk to you.” He must have taken my stunned silence as permission to continue. And to touch me. His hand crept across the table and clamped around mine, like a snake constricting the life from my fingers. “I never meant for things to go so far.”

  I opened my mouth but nothing came out. A voice screeched in my head, demanding that I do something. Knock my barely touched salad on the floor, tip over a glass of water. Shout for help. For the love of God, at least remove my hand from his grip.

  Instead, I sat like a statute, barely breathing.

  He leaned forward, closing some of the distance between us, and lowered his voice. “I’ve never been so scared as when I saw what you’d done. Lex…” He let out a breath. “I know you think of me as your brother and that’s why you fight this so much. But your body doesn’t lie. I know there’s room in your heart for me.” He lifted his head, gaze searching mine. “I hate that you love him, but I can accept it because I know you love me too. Please come back to me. I won’t force you. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to. I just need you in my life. Please, Lex. Please.”

  I jerked my hand from his and edged away. “I almost killed myself over you.”

  “Fuck, Lex…” He dropped his face into his hands.

  Clutching my purse, I shot a glance through the window, where the sun beat down on my car, and wished I’d parked out front. I calculated how long it would take to cover the distance if I ran, but Zach looked up.

  “I kn
ow I can’t take it back, but you need to come with me. Please.”

  “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

  “I don’t want you around him,” he said.

  “Leave Rafe out of it!” I stood. “He wants nothing to do with me, so you have no reason to go off the deep end again over him.”

  Zach also rose, his body rigid, mouth tight in a straight line. “I wasn’t talking about Rafe. I’m talking about Dad. Get the fuck out of that house, Lex. He’s the last person you should trust.”

  “If you’re talking about his threat to have me committed, I already know about it.” He’d made that abundantly clear when I’d fought him about seeing the therapist.

  Zach grabbed my bicep. “I’m talking about something much worse. You need to come with me.” He began yanking on my arm.

  “Help!” I screamed, gaze zigzagging around the restaurant before landing on a beefy guy who looked like he could take my brother. He rose, expression startled, and Zach let go of my arm. I backed away as the guy neared. Zach came after me again until my rescuer detained him.

  I whirled, the front door appearing so far away. Someone shouted, and I heard a ruckus indicating a fight had begun. People stood, mouths gaping as I flew past. I didn’t remember leaving the restaurant, didn’t remember rounding the building and getting into my car, or thrusting the key into the ignition. I stomped on the gas and shot into traffic.

  I spent thirty mindless minutes driving east along the Columbia River. Every couple of miles, I gazed into my rearview, but as far as I could tell, Zach’s car wasn’t part of the mid-day traffic. I pulled off at a rest stop, hands shaking too much to drive further, and tried three times to punch in the correct code on my cell. Finally, I unlocked my phone and dialed Dad’s number.

  As soon as he answered, all the adrenaline pumping through me crashed and burned, and I started crying, my whole body trembling.

  “Dad! Zach was there.” A black Beemer pulled into the spot next to me, and I almost jumped out of my skin, fearing it was my brother. But a young redhead exited the vehicle, pushing huge sunglasses on top of her head as she walked to the restrooms, hips swaying. “Dad…I’m really scared right now.” I held my breath, waiting for him to say something.