The Hound

by Nikky Kaye

  Where was my goddamn phone? I looked around the room, but didn’t even see my clothes from earlier, much less my purse.

  He cocked his head, stepping in front of me. “Are you looking for the rest? I can’t wait to see the bra and panties on you.”

  No. No.

  When he bent over to take some of the satin by my ankles between his fingers, my mouth went dry. “I nearly went with red, but I think the ivory suits you so much better.”

  Lying on my side, my line of sight was nearly level with the bulge clearly forming in his dress pants. My stomach churned.

  I pushed myself up to a sitting position on the bed, folding my knees to my chest and wrapping my arms around myself. “Thank you for the gifts, John. They were very, um, thoughtful.”

  “You threw them away.”

  Well, no shit. I bit my lip. “I’m sorry the flowers died,” I said carefully. Should have gotten me a potted plant, asshole. “I still have all your beautiful notes. Did you pick out all those quotes yourself?”

  “I love poetry,” he said. “There’s so much there that isn’t said. Just like you and me.”

  I nodded. “Thank you.” What the hell was he talking about?

  He reached his hand out toward my face. I shifted my position before he could touch me.

  “I need to call Evie,” I told him. “She’s picking me up after wo—” I stopped. What time was it?

  He shook his head. “It’s fine. I told her you went home early.”

  But I didn’t! I didn’t go home!

  My chest swelled with panic. If I were home right now, I wouldn’t be here! My arms tightened around my legs as words and ideas and pictures collided in my head.

  Home was with Jake, in his arms. With Stella. Home wasn’t here anymore. It wasn’t a place; it was a person. A feeling. An after.

  He would be looking for me. They would be looking for me. The sudden certainty of it brought a little relief.

  I squirmed, realizing with dread that I was going to have to get off the bed. I was going to have to unfold myself and stand in front of John, covered only by the thin gown and my fear.

  “I have to go to the bathroom,” I announced.

  His eyes widened. “Oh.” Maybe he hadn’t considered that human need.

  “May I?”

  His gaze clung to me like the satin gown that I was trying to stop from riding up my thighs as I stretched my toes to the floor. He was still too close for comfort.

  He watched me move in slow motion, watched me shiver. He’d watched me sleep.

  “I really have to go,” I said, hoping he’d give me more space.

  He stepped back. “Of course.”

  My body relaxed a little, but when I stood up I felt dizzy. Cold. I stumbled, pitching forward until his hand wrapped around my wrist like a manacle.

  “I’ll help you.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Jake

  At first I was confused and irritated. Now I was panicking.

  Actually, panic was not the right word for what I was feeling. It was more like a bone-bleaching lightning strike of pure terror. The mix of fury and guilt helped whip the storm in my head up to paralyzing proportions.

  Annie wasn’t at home.

  My apartment was dark and silent. Everything looked exactly the way it had earlier when I left to spend the rest of the afternoon and evening at the office—even the row of exsanguinated juice boxes on the coffee table.

  By the time we backtracked to the restaurant, it had just closed. One of the remaining staff said something about an accident, and the manager taking Annie to the hospital.

  “What kind of accident?” Dom asked. My heart roared in my ears.

  The guy—a dishwasher—hadn’t seen it happen, but rumor had it that there was lots of blood. Beyond implying that Annie’s arm needed to be sewed back on, he couldn’t give us much more.

  But at least we knew where she was, now. Probably. Hopefully. There were only half a dozen hospitals within a twenty-mile radius—unless she’d gone to some kind of urgent care clinic. Shit.

  She still wasn’t answering her phone, though, and the only result of my other calls was a dirty look from my brother when I chucked my phone at the dashboard.

  “Goddamn hospitals won’t tell me anything, not even if she showed up in the ER. Bullshit privacy laws.”

  “That’s why people get married,” Evie piped up from the back seat.

  “What?”

  The car swerved slightly as Dom and I both whipped our heads around to look at her. My phone slid across the dash and fell on my feet. I cursed as I reached down for it; Dom tightened his fingers on the steering wheel.

  “Ignore me,” she said. “I’m delirious from hunger. I’m about ready to gnaw on the headrest.”

  “Shit, baby, I’m sorry.” My pussy-whipped brother pulled into a drive-through and proceeded to order more food than anyone should eat at eleven o’clock at night.

  “No salt on the fries, but extra pickles on the burger,” she reminded him.

  Right. Evie was pregnant. “Maybe we should take you home,” I thought out loud.

  “We could go home and wait for her there,” she suggested.

  No way. I had every intention of driving to emergency rooms to physically see if Annie was there.

  We decided to drop Evie off so she could stretch out on the couch at my place in case Annie came in, and then Dom and I split up to hit the hospitals. It was late—very late—when we got back to find Evie asleep in my guest bedroom.

  “Just stay,” I told my brother, rubbing my eyes. “No point in waking her up now.” He was already stripping down to his boxer briefs and crawling into bed beside her. She sighed as he wrapped himself around her.

  Watching Dom burrow his head into the honey-colored hair at the nape of Evie’s neck made my throat hurt. For the first time in a long time, I physically ached in envy. I wanted that—tonight, tomorrow night, every New Year’s Eve.

  Where the fuck was Annie?

  Staring at my phone, I shuffled back into the living room and fell onto the couch. The knot in my chest that had been pulling tighter and tighter all night now felt as though it was going to rise up my throat and choke me.

  A second wave of panic made my hands shake as I punched out a rapid text to Sheila. As soon as I pressed Send, I said, “Fuck it,” and called instead.

  “Jake? What is it?”

  She sounded pretty awake for two in the morning.

  “Is Stella okay?”

  “Of course she is; she’s fast asleep.” Yawn.

  “Can you just go check on her?” I winced, waiting for her to argue with me and complain.

  The line was silent. Then I heard rustling noises, and Sheila sighed heavily into the phone. “Okay, I’ll call you right back.”

  Time stretched out, thirty seconds feeling like thirty minutes. Even though I was waiting for it, I still jumped when the phone rang in my hand with an incoming video call.

  “See?” Sheila whispered in the background as my screen filled with a dim image of Stella.

  Only her head stuck out from under a blanket that looked like a star-filled night sky. A light shaped like a moon hung on the wall by her bed, casting enough of a glow for me to see the way she pouted in her sleep.

  The knot in my chest loosened a fraction. “Okay. Thanks.”

  The image bobbed and blurred, and I heard a door shutting. Sheila turned the camera back on her as she walked back to her own bedroom. “Everything okay with you?”

  I swallowed carefully. “Yeah. Just had a bad dream and wanted to see her. Sorry for waking you.”

  “She’s fine, Jake. Fast asleep in her bed.”

  After apologizing again and ending the call, I went to my bedroom to think. As soon as I lay down Annie’s scent wafted up from the sheets.

  Fuck.

  The smell of her shampoo was on the pillowcase. If I were to be honest—and an asshole—I’d admit that it was mixed with stale drool from her
sleeping with her mouth open. If I were an honest asshole in love, I’d admit that the verdant, musky scene made me hard as I lay there.

  Where was she?

  My mind went to all sorts of horrible places. I’d seen a lot of shit over the years, and I didn’t need a vivid imagination to think of some sickening situation that Annie could be in.

  I jumped out of bed, trying to escape my own restlessness and worry. I walked around the apartment, thinking.

  Stared at the door to the guest bedroom, remembering her first night there. Our first night.

  “I don’t fall in love.”

  She’d been in my bed every night since.

  Down the hall, I stood in the doorway of Stella’s room. The little string of LED lights roped around her bed glowed in the dark room like a constellation. At least she was safe in her own bed, if not this one.

  Holy shit.

  I pivoted so quickly that I stumbled and bounced off the wall. How could I have not thought of it?

  Her own bed.

  Her own bed.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Jake

  Annie still wasn’t answering her phone. Something had to be wrong.

  I didn’t know where her other keys were. And for all that I’d reminded her that her stalker could get into her building, I was having a damn hard time of it. There weren’t as many people going in and out at dark o’clock to make it easy to slip through the doors.

  I bounced on my toes by the front steps, considering what to do next. Fuck! I hated this.

  If I started ringing buzzers of random apartments, there was a chance that someone would let me in. There was a greater chance that someone could call the police—which might not be the worst thing. When they showed up, I might be able to convince them to go upstairs and check the apartment.

  I was on the verge of doing just that when a cab pulled up in front of the building and a drunken, amorous couple got out. They stumbled toward the concrete steps, holding on to each other as they climbed to the door.

  Thank god for a late last call. Thank god for one night stands. Thank god they were too into each other to notice me, or how I shoved my foot in the door to stop it from closing after them.

  I didn’t bother waiting for the elevator, instead taking the stairs two at a time. When I got to her floor, though, I hesitated. It was so damn quiet. If I banged on the door, I’d run the risk of waking the neighbors.

  Then again, for all I knew it was one of the neighbors that was stalking her.

  I put my ear to the door, deciding that if I heard something, I’d start knocking.

  Whump!

  I jerked my head back as I heard a grunt.

  A wordless cry.

  My heart stopped, then restarted at double-time.

  “Annie!” I slammed my fist against the door, adrenaline and fear surging through my body. “Annie!” My hand tugged at the door knob.

  Godfuckingdammit! Of course, the door was locked. On the plus side, it was an older building and the door wasn’t steel. A crash came from inside.

  I started thumping. Kicking. Ramming with my shoulder. The door creaked, but it wasn’t as easy to bust down as movies made it look.

  A door down the hall opened; a head popped out before disappearing again. Breathing hard and my body and brain reverting back to the sandbox, I jumped back and lifted my leg in a powerful front kick.

  Slam! Slam! Slam!

  “Ja—!” I heard her voice inside.

  My frustration burst from my body in a growl and stronger kicks.

  Wham! Wham! Wham!

  Another door—the wrong one—opened, and a middle-aged man stepped into the hallway.

  “Hey!”

  Wham! “Someone’s got my girlfriend in there!”

  He strode down the hall, and when I glanced over he had a “Shit, do I want to get involved?” expression on his face—and a golf club.

  I seized the club out of his hand and started whacking away at the doorknob.

  “What the he—!”

  The shaft vibrated in my hands at the metal on metal contact.

  “Hey! You’re gonna pay for that!”

  I looked down at the glorified tuning fork with disgust. It wasn’t much better than a miniature golf putter. I let out a roar of frustration and gave it all I had—and gouged the doorframe. The man jumped out of the way as I tossed the club aside.

  “Jake! I need you!”

  He stepped toward the door. “Is that her? Did you call the police?”

  I backed up to the opposite wall. “Either help or get the fuck out of my way.” I took two powerful strides and raised my leg again.

  Wham!

  The doorframe splintered.

  Finally.

  I was about to lose my mind, not knowing what was happening inside. I took another run at the door, but this time Golf Club Guy put his shoulder into it as well.

  Whump!

  Two more kicks together and the door bust open.

  When I got inside, I found Annie swinging around on the back of a man like a cape, her arm around his neck.

  My ninja girl.

  Her white dress was bunched up to her waist as she tried to wrap her legs around the guy, her creamy bare ass hanging out.

  If the previous few minutes had been the longest of my life, then time flashed by in a split second as I stomped my foot into the back of the guy’s knee. As he went down, I caught Annie by the waist and pulled her off him.

  She fell against me, trembling and close to hyperventilating. Her skin was chilled, but her face was red.

  I needed to hold her; to make sure she was okay. The fact that she clearly wasn’t wearing underwear was freaking me out. What the fuck had happened?

  But more importantly, I needed to beat the shit out of… her boss?

  Annie clung to my arm as I kicked the back of his other knee as he moved to get up. Golf Club Guy elbowed us aside and sat down on the fucker’s thighs as he face planted on the wooden floor.

  “I called the police,” he said, huffing a little as he straddled John and held the club to the back of his neck.

  I nodded, sweeping Annie into my arms. She’d never seemed so slight, so tiny as she was right at that moment. I knew she was tough, but the memory of her frightened voice reverberated in my brain. I started to carry her over to the bed, but she yelped and dug her fingers into me.

  “No!”

  I wanted to puke. What. The. Fuck. Happened?

  Cradling her to me like I would Stella, I carried her into the bathroom. Fell back against the door, slamming it shut. Slid to the floor, my legs stretched out, Annie in my lap.

  My head banged against the door. Our chests rose and fell together, as though our hearts beat harder as one.

  “Annie, honey…”

  The silky gown she wore was slippery under my fingers, and I longed to feel her skin. Her whole body stiffened as I ran my hands over her—a marble statue—then she crumpled into gulping sobs.

  “I’m not… hurt…” she managed to get out.

  I didn’t believe her. I buried my face in her hair as she shook against me. “Shhhh.”

  The sound of a siren grew louder, whooping to a finish nearby.

  She sucked in a breath, but it didn’t seem to fill her lungs. “I’m sorry.” Sniffled.

  “It’s okay.” There was nothing to be sorry for, unless she was sorry that she—or I—didn’t get to kill the motherfucker. I bit back a demand to know where her phone was, and sighed.

  Reaching out with one arm, I awkwardly tugged a towel off the bar by the bathtub. Her shudders began to subside as I wrapped it around her. Noises penetrated the door behind us, voices in the living room.

  We held on to each other.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Annie

  “I don’t want to go back to work.”

  “No shit.” Jake snorted as we lay in bed.

  I luxuriated in his arms, feeling no desire to move. I could live here forever.

>   It had been three weeks since… since.

  It took the first two days to finish with the police and assure everyone that I hadn’t been raped. My security had been assaulted, and my self-assurance molested, but John hadn’t really touched me. Or hurt me.

  Just scared the shit out of me.

  Jake had dragged me to the hospital, but other than the GHB in my system and a sore body and soul, there wasn’t anything wrong with me. For the next few days I curled up on the couch in my sweats, under a blanket—at times too hot, but I preferred it to the alternative.

  My nerves were frazzled for the first week. For someone who didn’t like crying, it felt like it had become my new hobby.

  I cried when Evie came over. I cried in the shower. My whole body was sore from the effort of trying not to cry when I saw Stella. I cried when Dominic handed me a bottle of water to rehydrate.

  Now, I was all cried out. And much calmer. I’d started seeing a therapist, at Evie’s insistence, but I really felt better. It was like I got it out of my system, and then closed the door on it. Jake said something about post-traumatic stress, which I waved off.

  I was—would be—fine. I was a survivor. I had a force field of people around me, a restraining order, and an online wish-list full of self-help books.

  John had been charged with assault and unlawful confinement, among a few other things. And he’d been fired. The restaurant’s owners put me on paid sick leave—without tips, of course—but I had given them no return date.

  “You don’t have to go back to work, honey.”

  I hummed. Part of me felt like I should; get back up on that horse and all that stuff—but the rest of me felt like I’d found a new calling in life, just lying in Jake’s arms.

  I’d earned a break, and for the first time I had the breathing room to figure out what I wanted to do next.

  I frowned. “You know that if I don’t go back to the restaurant then Evie’s going to put me to work with wedding planning.” The date had been moved up—a lot—to accommodate Evie’s pregnancy.

  “That reminds me, you still haven’t confirmed as my ‘plus one.’”