Stripped: A Dark Bad Boy Romance

by Brook Wilder

  It didn’t matter though, she had a name and if there was anyone who knew something about it, it would be Honey. With a curse on her lips, she dialed Honey’s number, hoping that there was finally something, anything she could do to help Joel. She just prayed she wouldn’t be too late.

  The phone rang and rang and she held her breath but finally Honey picked up. After a rushed explanation of what had happened, she asked if he knew who Mr. Smithe was and after a brief, confused argument about why she would need the number of the attorney that was on the club’s payroll, he finally gave it up. Carla hung up the phone before he could ask any more questions, immediately dialing the number Honey had given her with trembling fingers.

  “Hello, this is James Smithe, how can I help you?” the voice came over the phone smooth and cultured but with an innate strength that allowed her a calm breath for the first time since earlier that morning.

  “Mr. Smithe, my name is Carla, Carla Jensen. I’m calling on behalf of a client of yours, Joel Lasseter–”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, interrupting her quickly, “Hold on a moment.” There was the sound of shuffling around and movement that came over the other line before he finally spoke again. “I needed to get to a more…private location before speaking to you. Now, what is this about Joel?” There was a new note in his voice that made her speak up instantly.

  “I’m assuming you were notified by the police that Joel is being held for questioning? He’s been arrested.”

  “Shit,” the curse sounded so foreign coming from him that it took her aback for a moment,but he kept on talking, “they must have delayed getting ahold of me. It doesn’t help that I’m out of the office today, so they would have the perfect excuse if they called and I wasn’t in. Where is he?”

  Carla quickly rattled off the address of the police station before starting to tell him what had happened before stopping her.

  “I’m sorry, miss. Thanks for calling me, really, I mean that. But believe me, the less I know the better, for you, and for Joel. I’ll be in touch.”

  “Just…just promise me you’ll help him. Please?” Carla pleaded softly and there was a moment of heavy silence before he answered.

  “I’ll do what I can. That’s what I’m paid to do, and I’m good at my job, Miss Jensen. Very, very good,” with that, he hung up the line and she was left listening to nothing before she finally lowered her phone and stared blankly into space.

  Guilt and worry and fear twisted all together inside of her, eating away at her, and she hated that there was nothing else she could do for him. Nothing but stay there and wait and pray.

  Chapter 27

  Carla gripped the steering wheel of her truck in a white-knuckled grip. She was still not even sure who got it back to her, either the police or someone from the club, but there it was sitting parked in her driveway that morning when she woke up. She was too numb still to question it too much further other than to be grateful that it was there. Maybe in a few days she would be up to solving that mystery, but right now, the only thing on her mind was making through the next eight hours.

  It was going to be hell. She was sure of that. How could it be anything else? Maurice had made it clear that he had obliterated all of her other choices and now she was going to have to keep playing his sick game of cat and mouse. The only problem was that she was most definitely the mouse.

  Her heart thudded slowly and painfully in her chest. What the hell was she going to do? How could Maurice possible expect her to show up to work and pretend that everything was normal? That her life hadn’t suddenly been flipped upside down and he had been the one responsible for it all.

  She shook her head. No. It was past the point of blaming anyone else for what had happened. She had played her own part. She had known going in, Joel had made sure that she had known, that she’d been taking a risk, knowing things could go south. But even with all of that, she also knew that Maurice held hers, and in some part Joel’s, life in his pudgy, fat hands.

  Carla shuddered as she pulled down the long drive of Honey Bud Farm, feeling an odd sense of déjà vu. She parked, sitting there for a long moment just trying to make sense of how her life had led her back to this place, back to this time. It was only a short time ago but she felt like she was such a different person than she had been before meeting Joel. She was stronger now. She knew it. Now, she just had to prove it to herself and that started with her getting out of the damned truck.

  With a deep breath, she forced her shaking fingers to grasp the door handle and push it open and she took a deep breath of the crisp Colorado air. It calmed her. The scent of pinecones and evergreens soothing her and the sweet smell of rich soil did its part as well.

  She sank her booted feet deep into its softness and drew on the familiarity to calm her racing nerves. She didn’t know what to expect, she wasn’t even sure if she was supposed to just go back to her old job, but it was easy and Carla hoped the repetition would distract her thoughts from everything in her life that seemed to be spiraling out of control. It certainly hadn’t helped that she’d returned home to find that her rent was overdue and the landlord was only giving her a few days to pay. But she didn’t have any money, and honestly with everything else that had happened, it seemed so insignificant in comparison that it was just a drop in the ocean of worry that ate at her gut as she clocked in.

  Carla swept into the greenhouse, instantly soothed as she looked around at the space full of thriving life and she sank easily back into her old job of caring for the marijuana plants and propagating seedlings and new varieties. It was such a simple thing, but it helped to ease a little of the ache that had been her constant companion since Joel had been taken. Her heart was still breaking for him, her mind constantly turning to thoughts of what he was being forced to go through because of her.

  She thought of Maurice’s revelation about using the GPS on her phone to track her and just the thought sent chills shooting through her. She had barely been able to sleep the night before knowing that no matter where she went he would be watching her, tracking her like an animal.

  The door to the greenhouse swung open not that much later and she froze in horror for a moment before she looked up and realized it was Eric their driver, not Maurice.

  “Hey, Carla. Good to see you again. How was your vacation?” he asked, as friendly as ever, but Carla just barely kept the confused look off her face.

  “Vacation?”

  “Yeah. Maurice said you had taken a few days off. That’s why you were gone,” he said with a shrug and she let out a shaky breath.

  “Oh, right. Of course. Yeah, um. The vacation was good. What can I help you with?” she asked, desperate to distract him before she had to come up with any lies about her supposed ‘vacation,’ but just then, Maurice swept inside. He cast one narrow-eyed look towards Eric and Carla could read the expression in them easily. He wasn’t happy to see the other man there. Carla didn’t know what he was planning now, but with the threats he had hanging over her she didn’t want to. She’d never been so grateful for the perpetually stoned driver than she was just then.

  “Eric, what are you doing here?” Maurice sneered and Eric opened his mouth to answer but Carla beat him to it.

  “He was, uh, he was just in here asking for my help. For, um, something in the fields. We should probably go, actually.” She hastened forward, giving Maurice a wide berth, but even still, as she passed him he reached out a hand, stopping her in her tracks with his abhorrent touch.

  “Now, Carla, just remember that little chat we had. You don’t want to go and do anything foolish now, right?” His voice was sickeningly sweet and she yanked her arm away without answering. He knew he had won. She could see it in his triumph filled gaze, the same one that swept disgustingly over her body, up and down before finally letting her go. She took a shaky breath as she led Eric outside, finally, blessedly shaking Maurice’s gaze as the greenhouse door shut after them.

  “Hey, is everything alright?” Eric as
ked softly, his expression confused, but concerned as they walked further away from where Maurice was still in the greenhouse. She cast a gaze back over her shoulder, but just shook her head, knowing she couldn’t tell him anything even if she did appreciate it.

  “Yes, Eric. It’s okay. Or at least, it’s nothing you can do anything about. I just have to take care of myself. But maybe,” she said before she could stop herself, “Maybe you could just stay a few extra hours today? I don’t want to–” Carla cut off her words abruptly, but she could still see the understanding that dawned in Eric’s eyes.

  “Yeah. No problem, Carla. Anyway, I don’t actually have a problem in the field,” he said abashed, “But there is something I wanted you to look at with the newest shipment before it goes out.”

  “Of course, Eric. Let’s go take a look.” Anything was perfect as long as it kept her away from Maurice.

  The rest of the day passed quickly after that with Maurice keeping his distance for the most part. There were a few moments where he’d walk close, only to turn away once he saw that Eric was there and every time her nerves ratcheted up another notch. Because she knew that Eric wouldn’t always be there. That someday soon, very soon, she would have to face him alone and she was terrified of what would happen if it came to that.

  By the time five o’clock came around she was practically counting down each second, barely waiting until the hour struck to clock out and run to her truck. She got in and slammed the door, revving the engine and backing out all without even daring to breathe. It was only after she had pulled out of the drive that she looked into her rear view mirror and there he was.

  Maurice was just standing there, not really doing anything at all but there was something about his body language that screamed of barely held back violence and, even at that distance, she could see the rage building in his dark beady eyes.

  Carla bit back a shocked cry. What was she going to do? Her thoughts tumbled torturously over and over but as she drove, they started to firm. She threw back her shoulders and lifted her chin. She had to be strong. For herself, and for Joel.

  It wasn’t until a half hour later that she realized she wasn’t driving towards home. No, she was headed where she always did when life seemed on the brink of overwhelming her, the one person who could make her feel safe and sane and, most importantly, hopeful. That could make her feel like no matter what happened they could take it on. She was running towards him. Towards Joel.

  The drive to the police station where he was still being held seemed to take forever and the sun had dipped below the mountain tops, sending spears of light slashing across the highway as she drove, slowly darkening the sky to a soft indigo. It cast the world in its purple light and she felt like she was walking into a dream as she pulled into the parking lot she’d become terrifyingly familiar with the day before and parked her truck.

  Again, she found herself staring at the same red brick walls and the big, heavy double steel doors that were as intimidating as they were effective. The difference was that this time she was going in of her own free will instead of in handcuffs. But Joel was in there and she had already arranged the night before, in a desperate one AM call to the lawyer Mr. Smithe, that she would be able to see Joel.

  The attorney had assured her that they wouldn’t legally be able to bar her from a simple visitation, but he would have to stay locked up. She could only talk to him through the bars of the temporary cell they had him locked up in and there would be an officer present at all times to supervise. She didn’t care about any of that though. As long as she got to see him. To ask him what she should do next because she felt lost without him. Like a part of her had been locked up right along with him.

  Carla forced herself out of the truck, slamming the door behind her and leaning on its steel frame for a just a moment before she felt like she could walk without her knees giving out from the trembling. It didn’t matter that she was afraid, or that the last thing she wanted to do was walk back into the place where it had all come crashing down. Joel was locked up in there, partially because of her. She recalled the phone, the GPS tracker that had led Maurice straight to them on more than one occasion and that guilt that sat low and hard in her stomach grew even bigger.

  Carla threw her shoulders back, determined not to give in to the fear or the panic or even the guilt as she walked inside and up to the first desk she saw.

  “H–Hello. I’m here to see Joel Lasseter. His attorney arranged the visit,” Carla tried to make her voice sound strong but knew she failed when the officer looked up at her with one eyebrow arched mockingly. It didn’t matter though because, a moment later, he was leading her back through the police station, through one set of iron bars, down a short, cement block hallway where they finally stopped.

  Carla looked at the officer in confusion but he just waved her forward, towards a cell that was just visible from where she was standing.

  “I’ll be right here the whole time,” the cop said shortly before he waved her on again, “You have ten minutes.”

  Carla didn’t waste any more time and she pushed herself onwards the next five or six steps until she could look inside. It was a small cell, no more than a ten foot by ten foot square with a cement floor and cinderblock walls, and the front was open but for the bars painted a chipped blue that separated them.

  Joel was sitting on the only available seat in the jail, a small cot that folded out from the wall and looked about as comfortable as the hard cement floor. He glanced up at her and she gasped at the glare he sent her way.

  “Joel, I…” Carla started, not even knowing what to say, confused by the expression on his too handsome face.

  “You what, Carla. You came to apologize?” he said and there was a sneering quality to his voice that she’d never heard before. “Well, you can just save it, okay? I don’t want it and I sure as fuck don’t need it from you.”

  “But…I don’t understand–”

  “What is so fucking hard to comprehend, Carla? I know everything!” he shot at her and the force of his words sent her reeling back a step before she could catch herself.

  “You do?” she stuttered, shockwave after shockwave of pain hitting her square in the chest at his agonizing words.

  “Of course I do. You didn’t think I would figure it out? The part that you played in all of this? In me ending up in this shit hole?” Joel shook his head and, for a moment when he looked at her, it was almost like looking at the old Joel, but then the anger was back. Carla shook her head, desperate to say anything that would help.

  “Please, Joel, I didn’t mean for this to happen. Not for any of this. I never thought you would end up in here.”

  “What did you expect to happen, Carla? You betrayed me. You betrayed us all.” He shook his head and she swore she was watching his heart break right in front of her eyes. And that’s exactly what she felt like too, like where her heart had been was just a pile of crushed glass, the shards sharp enough to cut.

  “I don’t want to see you again,” he finally bit off the words, turning his head away and she knew there was no point in arguing. Fighting back tears, everything was a wet blur as she spoke but she knew she had to say the words.

  “I…I love you, Joel. No matter what…no matter what happens, we will get through this. Because things get fucked up sometimes, but we’ll figure it out. Together.” She was too blinded by her own pain to see him flinch at her words, but she heard his response, his softly spoken “Never,” and it rang over and over in her head like a gunshot as she turn and fled.

  Chapter 28

  “Carla, open up!” the soft but insistent pounding on the door continued and Carla pressed her hands to her ears to try and block it out, but it was no use. “Carla! I know you’re in there. Open up right now or I’m going to call the cops. I know something’s wrong. You’re blasting the Smiths and you only do that when something is wrong, so open the damn door!”

  Carla didn’t know if it was the threat of any more interactions w
ith the police or the shock at hearing her straight-edged friend Elle curse, but either way she was on her feet and reluctantly dragging herself to the front door. She took a deep breath, grasped the handle and swung it open. Elle met her surly, tear stained glare with a cheerful smile and a platter cookies as she pushed her way inside.

  “I brought cookies,” she juggled the cookie plate for a moment, reaching into her purse and pulling out a bottle wrapped in a brown paper bag, “and whiskey.”

  “Oh my god, I love you,” Carla said, giving in to her urge and grabbing a cookie first, and shoving it into her mouth as she grabbed two tumbler glass from a cupboard before pouring them both a generous drink. Carla picked up one and threw it back in one shot before setting it down and trading it with the other. She dragged herself back to the couch where she had wallowed in misery since she’d fled from the police station. She still wasn’t sure how she made it home, the entire ride she’d been driving blinded by the sting of her own tears, barely able to make out the road in front of her. She was pretty sure it was a miracle that she hadn’t crashed into something.