When he’s done taking a shower, he almost trips over me in the doorway as he comes into my bedroom.
“Let me help you to bed.” He reaches a hand down to help me up.
“You’re not leaving, are you?” I start to panic gripping his fingers.
“No, but I’m going to sleep on the couch.”
I furiously shake my head no.
“Then the chair in here?”
“No.” I’m adamant. “Will you sleep in my bed?”
His eyes widen. I can tell there’s a war going on in his head, as he decides if that’s the right thing to do.
“I snore.” He grins.
“I drool.” A small smile on my face.
He helps me to bed propping pillows up, arranging the covers over me, this place as foreign to me as a hotel room, like a stranger I’ve just met. I’m still amazed Jake found me in time, the whirring in my brain a snapshot of the week.
“Will you stay with me?” The drowsiness in my voice apparent, and he gets in beside me tucking me in the crook of his arm.
“Goodnight, Levin.” He kisses my cheek and my forehead, his lips soft and wet, as I lean my head into the pillows.
After a few moments in his arms, my body starts to relax into his, and I start to settle, finally feeling safe. He brushes my hair back from my face, avoiding the wounded areas, and holds my hand in his anchoring me to his body.
I fall asleep almost instantaneously tethered to Jake, my body enveloped under the covers, the day’s events hopefully behind me, even in my mind.
The feeling of peacefulness doesn’t last, and I wake up in the middle of the night. I feel a coldness like someone rubbed an icicle down my cheek.
I touch it, the spot chilled where I felt it.
My body tenses in the dark as I figure out where I am. My eyes are searching the darkness, spotting a pile of clothes I thought was a person.
I slacken when I realize I’m in bed with Jake.
He’s snoring, the faint rise and fall of his chest matching the rhythm of his grunts, and though he’s loosened his grip on me, he’s still behind me, spooning me.
My muscles unwind, and I settle back into his arms.
I fall back into a deep slumber and am lucky enough that Alec doesn’t haunt my dreams tonight.
Eric does, though, almost like it was his touch on my face. A reminder he’s watching out for me. I miss him so much, it hurts in a way that goes beyond everything I experienced in the past seventy-two hours.
He’s sitting with me in our old apartment, and we’re talking about our lives, all the changes since we’ve been apart, and the past.
It’s one of my favorite times with him—us sprawled out on the sofa, my legs laying over his lap while we watched episodes of Will & Grace or re-runs of Seinfeld.
Usually, we just laid in companionable silence or would joke around, but this time, the mood has changed.
We aren’t wearing comfortable pajamas or sweats. In fact, he’s wearing the suit he was buried in at his funeral, pinstriped with a high collar to hide the belt marks.
He looks over at me, and though it scares me at first, he whispers, “You saved my life.”
I wake up, and I feel Eric standing in the room, his presence like a warm blanket, like the robe I can’t dispose of.
I know he’s there, watching over me. I smile and snuggle back down into Jake’s arms.
The next morning, I awake to find Jake asleep with his mouth hanging open, catching flies, and he’s managed to roll back over onto me while taking up a majority of the bed. I laugh.
I kiss his cheek and move in closer to him. His eyelids flicker open as I smirk at him.
“Jake?”
“Yes, Levin?”
“Thanks for saving my life.”
“You’re welcome, my miracle babe. I’m glad I decided you were worth it.” He smiles at me, the mega one that stretches across his face.
He’s cognizant of my bruises and traces his finger across my face. I close my eyes relaxing into his touch.
“What now?” he asks.
I don’t bother opening my eyes. “I guess back to San Diego.”
“Where’s home for you?” I ask him.
He’s been staying at the villa, but I didn’t know where he even lived.
“I’m renovating a property here.” Jake’s leaning on his side, facing me. “Hence, the resort stay.”
The idea of going back to a house that’s not even my home, shared with a madman, makes my heart pound in my chest.
“Levin,” Jake interrupts my thoughts. “Come stay with me. You shouldn’t be alone.”
I search his hazel eyes and put my hands on either side of his face. I nod in agreement.
“And really, I don’t want you to go.” He kisses my cheek. “You can just recuperate, figure out what you wanna do next, not have any pressure.”
I nestle back into his arms and know that I’m secure. Jake’s mission is mine.
There’s no more running, no more trepidation about what the future holds. Alec has lost his grip on me, I’m no longer his possession.
In my mind, I thought I had known what love was, how it existed, how you grasped it in your hand and then held onto it—a moth to a flame. In reality, Alec had taken advantage of the fact that I lost Eric. I was only ever a pawn.
Now I can stop hiding. Alec had hunted me, but Jake had found me.
Chapter Fifty-Six
Alec
I’m sitting in prison—a 5x5 steel trap. Since the crime is a little more serious than a drunk driving arrest, I’m alone.
My one call is to my attorney.
I ask him to call Mark’s wife, Marian. She is, after all, an accomplice in this. My mind wanders back to the night I met her at a low-key bar after weeks of silence since our first meeting at my office. She left my office in disgust that day, my words unable to placate her. I thought she had made up her mind to ruin our business until she contacted me out of the blue asking me to meet her in a part of town neither of us would have been caught dead in. It seemed to be the type of place you would hire a hitman.
Fitting, really, due to the circumstances.
“I want him gone,” Marian says this conversationally as if she’s discussing fabrics or paint color swatches. “He’s going to take half the house, expect me to stay in this town, and co-parent with him. I want him gone.”
I didn't know how to proceed. Was this a test? Was her phone documenting this conversation? I couldn’t see the benefit in that. I hadn’t wronged her. She knew I did not know of Eric’s relationship with Mark before her visit to my office.
“Gone in what way?” I play dumb, unsure if she’s talking about her husband or Eric.
She shoots a round of tequila, and I’m impressed by her ability to drink the potent stuff. “I want Eric gone.”
“Marian,” I drown my whiskey sour. “Why Eric?”
“Why not him?” Marian looks at me, a sour expression crumbling her face in the dimly-lit bar.
“With all due respect, if Mark is gay, there will be another one… even with Eric out of the picture.” I tug on my ear, the intermittent ringing starting to crowd my thoughts. I can’t hum in this loud honky-tonk bar.
“If Mark disappears, it looks suspect,” Marian says matter-of-factly. “He’s a well-known local, we have lots of money, and it’s known we’ve had problems.”
“But that money is yours, not his.”
“I know.” Marian sighs. “But he still gets his business and half the house. The divorce is imminent, but I want to hurt him. And he loves Eric.”
I consider this for a minute. Before I can answer, she continues, “If not, I will tell my father.”
I stare her down, her oversized lips in a tight line. “You will lose your clientele. Business will go under. Eric will be ruined regardless. But so will you.”
The words ‘uppity Pinocchio bitch’ come to mind, but I let it rest on the tip of my tongue. Her father does refer a significant amo
unt of clients to us. She’s not wrong in the assumption our business will be shattered. Reputations ruined. Affairs are one thing, but Marian is ruthless in her quest to destroy both men, including me in the process.
A guard calls for another inmate down the hall. The noisy din of jail is going to prevent me from sleeping tonight. I click my fingers on the metal bench. If I’m going down for the attempted murder of Levin and the murder of Eric, Marian’s coming with me.
That night she asked me to do Eric in, I was paranoid about her recording me. She should’ve been worried about me getting her on the record.
It’s just in my nature to keep tabs on others.
My mouth moves into a wide smile. I assume I’ll have a phenomenal legal team assigned to me to help get me off.
Paid for by Marian. In exchange for my undying gratitude. And silence.
A short, high-pitched laugh escapes my lips. It’s imperative to have a Plan B.
About Marin Montgomery
Marin Montgomery is a thirty-something Phoenician transplant with champagne taste and the bluest eyes you’ll ever see. When she’s not jet setting across the continent for her job in corporate America, you can find her soaking up the sun and dreaming up her next masterpiece.
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Because You're Mine_Psychological Thriller Page 19
