Unspoken Promises (The Unspoken Love Series Book 2)

by H. P. Davenport

  “There are cameras throughout the entire club. Each monitor rolls the footage from each camera.” I blink my eyes to clear the double vision. We both sit silently for an ungodly amount of time, our eyes focused on the screens.

  All of a sudden, something catches my eye and I sit forward to get a better look. My stomach churns and bile rises up my throat. I quickly grab the trash can from under the desk and lose the little water I drank.

  I stand and my chair skids across the floor, slamming into the wall before tipping over. My lips thin with fury and I slam my fists on the desk. “What the fuck!”

  I was already blaming myself for lack of security and the fact that it occurred at my club, but now after seeing this, the finger can’t be pointed directly at me. I would have preferred to bear this cross on my own. I share this guilt with someone else.

  MORGAN

  “Life is full of tragedies. It’s how we survive them and is what defines us.”

  – H.P. Davenport

  It’s almost five o’clock in the morning when I walk into the dark, quiet apartment. The only sound I hear is the faint buzz of the city below. Lincoln must still be at Redemption with the detectives. I toss my keys on the table near the door and walk down the hallway to our bedroom. I strip out of my clothes and head to the bathroom.

  After a quick shower, I make my way over to my dresser and pull out a pair of pajamas. My legs feel like jelly when I crawl into our king-size bed and grab my phone to see if I missed a call from Lincoln. Nothing. I haven’t spoken to him since I left for the hospital to see Camryn. Scrolling through my Facebook newsfeed, I see that the local news station already posted a story regarding Camryn’s attack. The headline reads “Sexual Assault Occurs at Club Redemption” but doesn’t give any further details.

  I can’t read anymore and throw back the covers as I make my way to the kitchen. I need something light to help settle my stomach. Searching the kitchen, I decide on toast. After popping a piece of bread in the toaster I grab a bottle of water and the butter from the fridge.

  Leaning against the counter, my feet crossed at my ankles I realize that I’m forcing myself to blink my eyes quickly to keep the tears at bay…tilting my head back, I stare at the ceiling. Visions of Camryn on the floor of the storage room flash in my mind. My eyes dart around the room in frustration.

  My throat tightens in an attempt to hold back the tears. It’s as if hands are grasping at my throat, leaving me without air. The walls are closing in, there’s not enough oxygen in the room for me to breathe. The ticking of the clock is deafening as it echoes throughout the apartment.

  The noise from the bread popping up startles me. Once I have my toast buttered and on my plate, I head back to bed. The sound of the front door opening lets me know Lincoln is home.

  “Morgan, you home?” Lincoln hollers.

  “In here.”

  Lincoln walks into the bedroom and I set my plate on the nightstand and sit down on the edge of the bed.

  He sits beside me and strokes the damp hair from my face. His expression is that of complete concern. He tilts his head. “I didn’t really get a chance to talk to you. Are you okay?”

  I shake my head. “No, I’m not okay. It’s the worst thing that could ever happen to any of us, especially Camryn. Shit like this isn’t supposed to penetrate our walls, isn’t supposed to even be a blip on our radar.” A tear slides down my cheek and I quickly bat it away.

  “Camryn’s attack is already on social media. Thank God her name hasn’t been mentioned. Just the club.”

  His blue eyes widen. “It didn’t take long for news to spread. I saw a few TV crews outside when I left. I ducked out the back to avoid them and hailed a cab.”

  “How did things go with the detective?”

  Lincoln stands and removes his shirt, tossing it in the corner by the window. He kicks off his shoes, and sits back on the bed next to me.

  “We went through the security videos. I made him a copy. I also gave him a print out of all the licenses scanned into the system.”

  “Did you see anything on the video footage?” I ask as I get up and pace back and forth.

  His brows draw together in an agonized expression. “Yeah.” I almost can’t hear his voice it’s so low.

  His facial expression is showing me a thousand different emotions all at once. He pinches the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. One thing is for certain, Lincoln is hiding something. I know my man and he is definitely keeping information from me.

  A knot forms in my chest. I know whatever he is about to tell me isn’t good.

  “Tell me,” I whisper softly.

  “The police are going to handle it. There’s nothing we can do.”

  Fear knots inside me. My stomach clenches. He saw something and he’s deliberately avoiding answering me.

  “You didn’t answer the question. I asked you if you saw anything. You said yes. What did you see?”

  “Babe, please.” When he speaks again, his voice is tender, almost a murmur.

  “Lincoln, don’t do this to me, please tell me.”

  Lincoln walks over and takes my hand. He leads me to the foot of the bed.

  “I think you need to sit. What I’m about to tell you is going to be tough.” Panic like I’ve never known before wells in my throat.

  I do as he instructs and my fingers begin to tremble. “Lincoln, you’re scaring me. What did you see?”

  When I walked in the room tonight and found Camryn lying on the floor, her clothes torn, and her body battered, I had to fight the bile rising in my throat. She was attacked in my club, right under my nose. I bear the weight of what occurred in that storage room.

  “The detective and I went over the security footage for the entire night, from the time the doors opened. Remember when I asked you to grab one of the security guys to go to the supply room to grab a few bottles of vodka for me?” He stops mid-sentence because we both know he doesn’t need to finish. My heart drops to my stomach. My chest feels hollow.

  Oh, my God. It’s my fault. I caused this.

  “I… think I’m gonna be sick.” I leap from the bed pushing Lincoln away with such force that he stumbles, losing his footing and falling to the ground. I bolt to the bathroom and fall to my knees, burying my head in the toilet.

  Lincoln’s fingers brush the back of my neck as he gently pulls the strands of my hair back while I dry heave.

  On shaky legs, I manage to get off the floor. His other hand reaches out grabbing my shoulder and he pulls me in to him.

  Tears fall down my face and my entire body shakes as I sob.

  “It’s all my fault,” I cry into his bare chest.

  His protective hands tighten around me. He kisses the top of my head. “It’s not your fault, baby. Camryn will get through this.”

  In shock, I draw back from his embrace. “How can you say that? You have no idea if she will get through this. This could destroy her. I can’t even imagine what she is dealing with right now. My best friend wouldn’t even allow me to see her tonight. What do you think she’ll say when I tell her she was raped because of me?”

  Lincoln clutches my hands with both of his. “Stop. Please, stop.”

  Unspoken pain was alive and glowing in his eyes. This must be tearing him apart, too. But the rational side of me can’t process it. I was the last one in that room. Not him.

  I yank my hands free to gain space. I need time to think this through. I decide I’ll go to the rooftop for some air and make my way to the bedroom door.

  I’m halted by an iron grip on my wrist. “Morgan, don’t. Do not blame yourself. This. Is. Not. Your. Fault!” His words are cool and clear as ice water.

  I snatch my hand from his. “Don’t! Just don’t. Do not tell me what to feel. How can you even tell me not to blame myself? For fuck’s sake, I was the last one in that room. I was the one who didn’t pay attention when I exited the storage room.” I jab my finger into my chest.

  “If I had taken the time to mak
e sure the door locked behind me, Camryn wouldn’t have had her world shattered tonight. She wouldn’t be lying in a hospital bed with bruises all over her body. She wouldn’t have been raped if it wasn’t for me!” I scream.

  “Morgan, don’t do this,” his voice barely above a whisper.

  “I’m the one who left the door unlocked.” I press my finger against my chest again. “ME! Not you, ME!”

  The morning sun shines through the curtains in the living room, awakening me. I stretch my arms above my head and circle my head around to free the kinks. After returning from the rooftop last night, I couldn’t face Lincoln. So rather than snuggling in bed with him, the couch looked more appealing.

  My head spins with the news Lincoln delivered last night. I need to go to Redemption and view the tapes for myself. It’s essential for me to see what happened with my own eyes. Not that it will change anything. The tapes won’t help Camryn’s recovery or turn back the hands of the clock. This is all my fault.

  Quietly, I walk into our bedroom trying not to wake Lincoln up as I snatch a pair of yoga pants and a hoodie from the closet.

  “Where are you going?” His hoarse whisper breaks the silence in the room.

  Startled by his voice, I jump. Shit. I wanted to get out of here before he woke up. I know he’ll try and stop me from going.

  “Just go back to sleep, I’ll be back in a little bit,” I blurt, scarcely aware of my own voice.

  “That’s not what I asked. I asked where are you going?” Lincoln sits up against the headboard. The top sheet falling to his waist, exposing his firm muscular chest. My body aches for his touch, the comfort of his strong arms wrapped around me, but I can’t bring myself to climb into bed with him. Lincoln can help me forget the pain temporarily, but I can’t do it knowing the pain that Camryn endured. The pain that she is going through now.

  “I’m going for a walk. I need to clear my head.” I can’t make eye contact with him. He’ll know I’m lying. Biting my lip, I look away.

  “Don’t lie to me, Morgan. I’m going to ask you again. Where are you going?” His voice is hoarse with frustration.

  I fling my hands out in despair. “I’m heading to the club. I need to see the footage.”

  He holds up a hand to silence me. “Morgan, you don’t need to go there. I told you what I saw.”

  “Exactly, you told me what you saw.” I emphasize the word ‘you’. “I need to see it for myself.”

  He throws the covers back and climbs out of bed. Lincoln heads toward the closet, emerging in a pair of grey sweat pants, a black t-shirt with a black hoodie in his hands.

  “I’m going with you,” he says as he pulls the sweatshirt over his head.

  “I don’t need you to go with me. I’ll be fine.” I bite down on my lower lip, irritated with his cold tone.

  “Are you listening to yourself?” he asks impatiently.

  He comes chest-to-chest with me, his burning eyes hold mine still. “Your best friend, one of my closest friends, was raped in my club last night. You’ve lost your mind if you think I’m letting you anywhere near that place without me?”

  I straighten my shoulders and clear my throat. “Fine,” I mutter under my breath and turn to walk out of the bedroom. He has a point. The last thing I want is to be there by myself.

  We arrive at the club a half hour later. Lincoln takes my hand and leads me to the security office. My eyes won’t stop veering to the yellow crime scene tape still blocking access to the storage room.

  “Here, sit,” he says, pushing the chair over to the desk. “Are you sure you want to do this?” His blond left eyebrow rises a fraction.

  I sit down on the chair and nod. “I need to.”

  “Okay.” His jaw clenches.

  Lincoln pulls the footage up on the screen. My throat tightens, I’m having difficulty swallowing. I pick at a piece of string on my shirt avoiding the screen. I hesitate, torn by conflicting emotions. Am I ready to see this? I thought I was, but now I’m second guessing my decision. When I raise my head, I see myself walk past girls lined along the wall waiting for the ladies’ room. No one stands out to me.

  I exit the storage room with arms full of vodka bottles. A gasp leaves my mouth. My body stiffens in shock. I never turned around to double check the door before walking back down the hallway.

  I stare blankly at the screen. I notice the man Camryn described in the Phantom of the Opera costume put his foot in the doorway to stop it from shutting. I begin to shake as the fearful images build in my mind of what happened next. The thought of what Camryn endured tears at my insides.

  I lean down, elbows on my knees, holding my head in my hands, gasping in half-breaths. How could I have been so stupid, so irresponsible?

  Lincoln’s hand slowly moves up and down my back. “Take a deep breath, babe.”

  Camryn doesn’t even know I was the last one in the room. How am I going to tell her? This will destroy her and our friendship.

  That knot in my stomach won’t ever completely untie. This will forever change us. Will Camryn blame me? If she does, will she be able to forgive me? We’ve been best friends since we were five. I don’t know how I will be able to handle it if this ruins our friendship. In my mind, what happened is unforgiveable. My mistake may change her forever. It may change us forever.

  I fear that she will never be able to look at me again, knowing that if I were just a little more careful, Camryn’s attack never would have happened. That my stupidity almost cost Camryn her life.

  Her costume. If I didn’t make her wear that risqué outfit, maybe she wouldn’t have drawn the attention of the monster. But no... I wanted to drive Jamie crazy, I wanted to push Camryn and make her come out of her shell. To feel sexy. To know that she is sexy. Will Camryn be able to look at me the same once I drop this bomb on her?

  Last night, the club was at capacity. When I left Lincoln at the bar, I told him I’d grab a security guy to head to the room to grab the liquor needed. But I figured security was busy keeping everything under control, so I didn’t bother to ask any of them.

  Lincoln stretches his arm across the back of my chair, placing his hand on my shoulder.

  “Can I ask you something?” he asks.

  “Yes.” I lower my head and study my hands on my lap.

  His hand cups my chin, tilting my face up to meet his gaze.

  “Why did you really need to see the video? I told you what was on it.”

  I shrug my shoulders. After a few seconds, I respond. “To be honest, I don’t know. I just needed to.”

  “Baby, please listen to me. This is not your fault. The only one to blame here is the fucker who raped Camryn. This was a crime of opportunity. If the door was locked, he would have found another place to rape Camryn, or someone else, for that matter.”

  How can he say that? It is my fault. I will never forgive myself for what happened to Camryn.

  I swallow the despair in my throat. “I don’t know how I’m going to tell Camryn about this, but she needs to hear it from me.” However I tell her, the words will deliver a blow to her heart and it could possibly destroy our friendship. I don’t know what I’ll do if I lose her.

  “I won’t say anything to the guys until you talk to her.”

  Lincoln stands, taking my hand in his. “Come on, let’s get out of here. Why don’t you call Camryn, maybe we can stop by to see her?”

  “Okay.”

  After viewing the video yesterday, we walked around Central Park and I called Camryn repeatedly. Each time, my call went straight to voicemail. We didn’t want to drop by uninvited, so we came back to Lincoln’s apartment.

  Last night, sleep evaded me. I tossed and turned in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. It’s mid-afternoon now and I can barely keep my eyes open and desperately need a nap. Lincoln sits on the couch and pulls me into his side leaving his muscular arm across my shoulder. He moves his fingers slowly in a circular motion up and down my upper arm. I entwine my fingers in his right hand on his
lap.

  I relax, sinking into his protective embrace. His touch calms me, soothes me. My head and my heart are in a million different places. But the one place I need to be is in Lincoln’s arms tonight.

  “Wanna watch a movie?” he whispers into my hair.

  “Sure.”

  “What do you wanna watch?”

  “Something that doesn’t require me to think. How about mindless TV?”

  “Okay, I think I can suffer through an episode of The New Jersey Housewives.”

  “Thanks, for taking one for the team.”

  “Anything for you. I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  “Have you heard back from Camryn?”

  “It keeps going to her voicemail. She isn’t answering.”

  “Why don’t you call Jamie or Christian? Maybe they’re at the house.” Lincoln recommends.

  I scroll through my contacts until I reach Christian’s number.

  “Hey, sweetie, whatz up?” He answers on the second ring.

  “Um… I’ve been trying to call your sister. She isn’t answering.”

  He lets out a long breath on the other end. “Don’t take it personally. She isn’t talking to anyone. She refuses to come out of her room.”

  “Christian, I’m so sorry, this is all my fault,” my voice breaks.

  “This isn’t your fault. I’ve already gone through this with Camryn. She told me to leave the hospital. She doesn’t want anyone’s pity or for us to blame ourselves for not being there.”

  “I need to talk to her. It’s important.”

  “The only thing I can say is give her some time. She came out of her room last night when she thought the coast was clear. We talked for a few minutes in the kitchen.”

  Thickness forms in my throat and I try to clear it, “This is all my fault.”

  “Morgan, listen to me, it’s not your fault. Camryn knows it’s not your fault.”

  My chest feels as if it is going to burst. “You’re not listening to me. When I say, this is my fault, it is. I need to talk to her. I need to explain.”