by T. R. Cupak
“Precious, there is no excuse for what I have done. I should have never opened your notebook. I had no right and I am truly sorry I’ve betrayed your trust.” My words couldn’t be more honest and heartfelt; I only hope she hears the honesty and sees the sincerity on my face.
Seconds tick by, literally. The only sound in the room is a faint tick from a clock somewhere nearby. I’m not even sure it’s coming from Jordan’s apartment since I don’t see a clock anywhere in the vicinity. It’s painfully quiet but I hold my tongue, waiting for some sort of response.
“What did you read in my journal, Hunter?” Her eyes are fixed on me, staring me down, calculating my every movement to see if my body language gives something away.
I tell myself to tread lightly with how I answer her question, because there isn’t going to be a right answer here. What do I confess to reading? What do I confess to already knowing? Do I confess to already knowing everything about her?
“May I?” I ask, gesturing towards the other side of the couch. She answers with a shrug of her shoulders. Without hesitation, I place the diaries next to her new martini glasses and take my seat beside Jordan, and even though she’s put her feet up to separate us, I take pleasure in the fact that we are still touching. The love seat is too small to give her space, which is fine by me.
She has shifted slightly in her spot so she can face me, waiting for the next words to come from my mouth. What the fuck are my next words?
“Jordan, nothing you can say or do will change how I feel about you. There’s a reason you’re in my life, and it’s not just to fuck you. I—.”
Fuck. I what? What the fuck are you going to tell her?
“Hunter, either spit it out or go. I’m really tired and would like to go to bed. We can finish this discussion later,” she yawns out. Jordan’s eyes look heavy and unfocused. She’s fighting the sleep that wants to come and now I feel like an even bigger dick for keeping her awake.
This conversation is done for the night and I know it. I stand, and then bend down to pick up Jordan, cradling her to my chest. She must be borderline comatose because she isn’t fighting me anymore. Instead, she nuzzles into my neck, and holds on tighter as I walk down her narrow hallway trying to avoid smacking her head into the wall or doorjamb. Taking advantage of her cooperative state, I place a kiss gently on her temple before lying her down on the bed, and pulling the thin comforter over her listless body. Just like that, she’s out cold. Standing over Jordan, I watch as she rests peacefully before deciding to lie down beside her, just for a little bit.
She can finish yelling at me in the morning.
Chapter Seven
Hunter
“No, please stop. I won’t tell, I promise. No, no, no—,” Jordan whimpers in her sleep waking me from my own dream world. Her body is stiff as a board, her face marred with the look of a tortured soul, but I’m too chicken-shit to wake her from the obvious nightmare since I’m not supposed to be here.
After bringing Jordan to her bedroom and settling down with her, I had texted Monte that I would be another hour; apparently, it’s been one very long hour since I must have fallen asleep and the sunshine is beginning to shine through her mini blinds.
“Please, don’t,” her childlike voice whispers as tears begin to stream down her cheeks.
Fuck this. I can’t let this dream continue.
“Jordan, you’re safe. You’re home, Precious,” I say in a soothing manner while lightly stroking up and down her arm, trying to ease her awake instead of scaring the shit out of her.
“NO!” she screams out before her right elbow meets my left eye.
“Fuck,” I shout out in a kneejerk reaction.
Well that didn’t go well.
Jordan flails around, legs tangling further into her comforter as she struggles to fully wake up, utterly discombobulated. She kicks me a few times while trying to escape the covers that are holding her prisoner.
“What the fuck are you still doing here, Hunter?” she yells once she’s freed from her blanket and standing against the wall; hands clutched to her chest while she catches her breath.
“I didn’t mean to, but I fell asleep, Precious,” I answer her question cautiously while rubbing the left side of my head.
Jordan shakes her head like one would do when they are dizzy or have that fuzzy, uneasy feeling after a night of heavy drinking. She takes a few deep breaths in before her eyes meet mine.
“I’m only going to ask you once because I don’t have the mental strength to deal with you right now, but please, for the love of god, will you leave me alone. I need some fucking room to breathe.” Her eyes close after she asks me to leave, again.
Her struggle to keep it together is very much apparent, so this time I don’t argue with her; I just get up and grab my coat off of the dresser to give Jordan her much deserved space. Before stepping out of her room I lean in to kiss her cheek but she pulls away, dismissing me completely; another sting straight to the heart.
“Text me when you’re ready to see me, please,” I ask of her before walking out of her room. She gives no indication whether or not she will do as I asked, and with that I leave her apartment, sulking like a child.
It doesn’t surprise me that Monte is still parked by the curb waiting for my sorry ass. I owe the guy some coffee and a really good breakfast. Or maybe a week-long vacation with all expenses paid.
This time I climb into the front seat of the Rover. It’s been a long night and I don’t want him to feel like he’s still on the clock, because lord knows he’s not.
“What the fuck happened to you?” Monte asks. I know he’s not asking because my last text message stated that I would be out in an hour and I wasn’t. He’s asking because my left eye is jacked the fuck up. Jordan’s elbow got me good. Too bad she didn’t have that luxury when she was being raped. Maybe then she might have changed at least one of those asshole’s minds.
“I fell asleep; she was having a bad dream; I woke her; no I scared her; and then she elbowed me in the face.”
“She got you good, Boss.”
“Thanks for the observation, genius.”
“Hey, there’s no need to get your underwear all twisted up your ass. I’m the one who had to sleep in the fucking car, remember?”
Monte’s right. I’m taking out my shitty evening slash morning on him, when there’s no one to blame but my own self.
“You’re right. I apologize.” I seem to be doing that a lot lately. “Let’s get some coffee and head to the hotel for breakfast and some much-needed sleep,” I suggest after putting my sunglasses on. Slight pain resonates from where my glasses rest on my swelling cheek, just below my left eye, causing me to wince.
Note to self; stay clear of Jordan when she’s having a nightmare.
Shortly after Monte pulls away from the curb and heads towards the freeway, I lean my head back against the headrest and close my eyes, taking this relatively short drive time to unwind. I’m exhausted from all of the drama I created last night. Plus, my mind is too busy dwelling on the fact that Jordan kicked me out, once again, and I hated leaving her so upset, but I’ve pushed her far enough in the last twenty-four hours. If I kept pushing, I would have probably pushed myself right out of her life, and that’s not an acceptable option. Now it’s time for the waiting game where I get to sit in a silent freak-out to see how long it takes her text me; hopefully it won’t be too long because we still need to have that looming conversation that has been weighing heavily on me, plus Arthur will be here in two months. Things need to start happening. Two months should be plenty of time to persuade Jordan into executing the first of the three plans of revenge on her attackers, right? At least that’s what I’ve been telling myself since my phone conversation with Arthur.
I’ve been manipulating both Christian and Arthur ever since my father’s death; playing nice when all I wanted to do was end their lives. Now’s the time to finally get the ball rolling, but first, forgiveness; forgiveness for last night,
and then forgiveness for omitting the fact that I’ve known who Jordan is this whole time. Once we get over those fairly difficult hurdles my plan is to move her to the Central Coast house where she will be a lot more comfortable than her tiny apartment. She will have free reign to do whatever decorating she needs to do to make our home a real home and not the current showpiece that it is.
Taking her back to the Texas estate will come with time. Jordan has been there a few times, but because she was blindfolded each time, she hasn’t actually seen my place. Then again, I’m not entirely sure she ever will. My mother hinted that she would like to move to California, which works out for me in the long run. She said she doesn’t want to live in a house filled with memories of my father. Watching her break down on a few occasions, mostly during the holidays and his birthday, is difficult for me. I’ve never had the heart to tell her that her husband was a piece of shit rapist. There’s no real harm in allowing my mom her years of happy memories. Why taint and ruin someone else’s life when two lives have already been rocked because of four men’s heinous and cruel actions on one innocent girl?
Thankfully, the wineries in Texas have strong management and trustworthy staff, so there is no real reason to keep splitting my time between both states. Knight Family Vineyard will thrive no matter where I am. As long as my vineyards continue to produce great crops and my winemakers continue to bottle top-notch wine, that’s all that’s needed to keep the lifestyle my family is accustomed to.
Monte and I ate breakfast in silence. He didn’t press for more information, but he kept glancing across the table like he wanted to talk. I wanted to talk with Jordan first, but I know my conversation with Monte will be much easier. He won’t ask why I need him; he will just do as I ask.
It’s too quiet in the hotel suite, so I finally break the silence by asking Monte what’s been on my mind for the last forty-eight hours, “What do you know of Jordan’s past and my connection to her?”
“Everything, Boss.”
“Could you elaborate a little more?” I get that everything technically means everything, but I want to hear him say it. I want clarification of exactly what he knows or what he thinks he knows.
“I know that Jordan’s real name is Lezleigh. I know that when she was seventeen your father, along with three other men, one being her step-father, tied her to her bed and raped her. I know you found out about it shortly after his return from California. I know that you watched your father take his last breath and showed no remorse. I also know that you need me to help the two of you with your revenge plans.” Monte answers my question clearly, without even batting an eye. Why do I seem surprised that he knows, well, everything?
“I guess that covers it all. When did you find out about my father’s indiscretion?”
“I knew the day he returned. Believe it or not, he felt guilty for what he and those men did. He confided in me and I kept his secret. To say that I was happy you found out is an understatement. I saw those wheels turning and I had already made up my mind that I would help you in any way possible. Just because he felt guilt didn’t mean he regretted what he did. After he confessed he went on with life as if nothing ever happened. He didn’t care about Jordan or what she went through or would still be going through. I want those men to pay for what they did to her. She’s been through a lot and she’s slowly killing herself, whether she realizes it or not. The various drugs and alcoholic beverages she puts into her body on a daily basis are astounding. I’m sure if I took or drank everything she did, it would knock me off my rocker and I’m three times her size.”
“Why didn’t you offer to help find her earlier once you realized I knew?” His admission to knowing all the details have given me some relief, but it has pissed me off at the same time. He should have told me he knew. Yes, I see the irony of that last statement.
“You needed to work through your shit. I wasn’t going to interject unless you were going to run off and do something stupid, and I wasn’t going to offer my services until asked. You were still dealing with what you found out and you weren’t exactly forthcoming about exactly what it was you wanted from me. To be honest, I don’t think you knew what you wanted from me. Just know that I’m willing to do whatever it is you need me to; for both of you. Get Jordan on board, and we’ll make sure those fuckers pay for what they did to her.”
Monte has stunned me silent. I’m still not sure whether I should be pissed or relieved. He’s kept all of this quiet until now. The only reason he’s talking is because I finally asked the questions. I guess I should be pleased with the fact that I don’t have to coerce him into carrying out his part in this revenge operation. His will be riskier than Jordan’s or my part.
My phone vibrates, taking my attention away from my current conversation. Looking down, I’m relieved to see it’s a message from Jordan. At least she didn’t wait days to contact me.
Jordan: Where are you?
Fuck, this can’t be good.
Me: At the hotel.
Jordan: Which hotel?
Me: I’ll come to you, Precious.
Jordan: No, I want to come to you.
Me: Ok, I will send Monte to come get you.
Jordan: No need, I’m already in a cab and waiting for a fucking answer.
Yeah, this is going to suck.
Me: The W, downtown. Room 2110
Jordan: I’ll see you in 20.
Fuck me.
Jordan
Sitting at home was driving me nuts. The longer I sat on my couch thinking about everything that transpired last night, the angrier I got. Hunter completely ignored my request to be left alone and then he had the nerve to fall asleep in my bed. I knew I took a lot of meds last night, but I didn’t think I took enough to not notice a body sleeping next to me. I needed to go to him. I wasn’t about to let him back into my apartment.
“Miss, we’re here,” the taxi driver informs me before exiting the vehicle.
A bellhop hurries to the car with one of those carts used to carry lots of luggage to your room. I was thankful I didn’t have to go looking for one since I have two garbage bags with me.
After paying taxi driver, I thanked the bellhop, and walked into the hotel, immediately spotting the elevators. I pushed the cart through the spacious lobby towards the elevators. Just as I approached them I was stopped by security.
“Excuse me, Miss, but do you have a room key?”
Fucking rent-a-cops.
“No. I’m here to see a friend.” Most people would be offended by being stopped. I’m not most people. I am, on the other hand, annoyed. I wanted to get in and out of this place; not be held up by this jackass.
“Is this friend, expecting you?” he asks, looking me up and down. I may not be wearing some fancy outfit, but I don’t look like trash either. I get that I have garbage bags on the cart which could be questionable, but the guard hasn’t even looked or asked about the bags. He’s seems to only be concerned with my low-cut top and ripped jeans.
“No, I’m standing here with a cart of clothes for shits and giggles.” Yeah, my sarcasm is going to get me kicked out of this place faster than you can “slippery nipple”.
“Please, come with me,” the security guard instructs.
“I will not. I’m going to room twenty-one-ten. Call up there if you don’t believe me. I am expected, so do us both a favor and stop wasting my time.”
Just when the security officer grabbed my bicep to escort me out the elevator dings, the doors open, and there’s Hunter in all his hotness. He is too damn handsome. His eyes narrow when he notices that the guard has a hold of my arm. He steps between me and the guard, breaking the connection he had on my arm, and then instructing me to get on the elevator.
“Your boss will be hearing from me,” Hunter looks at the badge and follows with, “Diaz.” Hunter then proceeds to enter the elevator, joining me and the large cart on the elevator.
The ride up to his floor felt like an eternity instead of the mere seconds it took to re
ach his floor. All I want is to be done with this madness, go home to my little cave of an apartment, and try to forget everything that is Hunter Knight.
Once we reach his room he unlocks the door and holds it open so I can push my cart into the room.
“How’d you know I was here?” I’m surprised he didn’t say anything to me during the elevator ride being as he wouldn’t shut up last night.
“I was watching for you,” he answers. At this point, I’m not surprised.
“I have to ask, why did you bring garbage into the hotel? It’s no wonder you were stopped.” He gives me a quizzical look while eyeing the garbage bags.
“It’s not garbage, Hunter. It’s everything you’ve given me over the years. I can’t keep all of it since I’m ending our business relationship.”
“Good, I was hoping you would bring that up. I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable about the transition from someone I pay to sleep with to being— mine.”
Be his? Wait, does he think I’m sticking around? Did he not hear the part about me returning everything he has given me? “Hunter, I’m not just ending our business relationship, I’m ending this, whatever this is, was…fuck, just take your stuff,” I tell him before hurrying towards the door.
“Oh, no you don’t, Jordan. This isn’t over. Not by a long shot,” he proclaims when he blocks the pathway to the door.
“God! Can’t you just let me be? I’m done. I can’t see you anymore, okay. I’m all kinds of fucked up. You don’t want this crazy girl in your life. Please, let me go— for good.”
The tears begin to trickle down my face while I silently curse myself. I knew this wouldn’t be easy, but I came here anyway. I could have sent one of my neighbors with the bags, but then again, I don’t know any of them, and I sure as hell wouldn’t trust them with thousands of dollars in merchandise.
