Crazy Love

by Rachael Tamayo

  “You need back up.”

  “I’m fine. If I need it I’ll call, I promise. I don’t even know if this is where she is. He might have her somewhere else.”

  “I understand your reasoning, but losing one cop this week is enough. We don’t want to lose another one. And on that note, I talked to Agent Barker about all the stuff you told me. He’s going to look into Noah, check into their relationship. He seemed to be very interested.”

  “Good. I hope he meant it. I have another call, I’ll let you know what happens, ok?”

  “All right. Bye.”

  I click over, answering the unknown number on my screen.

  “Penrose.”

  “Isaiah? This is Caroline.”

  My ears perk. I sit forward in my seat. “Yeah, it’s me.”

  “You said to call if I hear from Noah. He called me this morning.”

  This morning. I wonder why she waited all these hours to call me after swearing she would call me right away.

  “What happened?”

  She rattles off a story about him calling and asking her to cover for him on the night of Julie’s murder. Says she just left his house, taking a tour she promised so she would get the details right.

  “What happened that night? Do you know why he wants me to lie?” She sounds scared, even over the phone. Knowing what I know, she should be scared. Damn scared.

  “That’s the night Julie was killed. My Sergeant.”

  She bursts into tears. “Oh God. That’s what I was afraid of. After you said so in my office yesterday, I didn’t know what to think. What have I fallen into?”

  “Something bad. If I were you I’d just quit. Your fiancé has a good job. ”

  “Just up and quit? But he paid me all that money.”

  “Your call. You can give it back. Walk away. He’s dangerous.”

  “I will think about it.”

  “If you hear anything else call.”

  She agrees hang up. For a brief moment wonder what it must be like to be such an awful and selfish person but still have a conscience. It doesn’t even matter right now. Emily matters, and getting to her in time

  ***

  The address is harder to find than I expected. Old, unnamed roads to blame. Finally, I pull into a modern yet somehow still country-style home in the woods, on a lake. Just like she said. No cars in the drive.

  My heart is racing as I circle the house, peeking in windows. No one. I check the doors, locked. With a dry mouth and trembling hand, I break a window and hesitate before gaining entry, making sure that no one is home.

  I fly from room to room as an alarm blares in my ears. Searching for signs of Emily. When I come to the bathroom, inside an all-white bedroom, I’m greeted with a message in lipstick on mirror with a smiley face.

  Las Vegas here we come

  Damn she is smart. He would see that she think she’s excited. I’m on the phone with the airline before I’m out the front door.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Emily

  Noah keeps asking the flight attendant for drinks on the plane. I shake my head, he laughs and ignores me, pushing yet another glass of expensive champagne at me. So I sip on glass number four.

  “Can I have some water? I don’t want to be drunk.”

  “Of course. Anything for my bride. When we get there I’ll buy you dinner and then we can find a chapel.”

  I nod. If Isaiah doesn’t show up I’m going to want to be drunk later.

  I can only hope he saw my message, that he found the house. I was afraid Noah was going to go berserk, but he came out of the bathroom with a smirk. He pulled me tight against him and kissed me. As horrible as that moment was, I was happy. My message was left for Isaiah to find.

  As the buzz from the champagne hits me, the only word I can think of to describe all this is surreal. Weeks ago I thought this guy was just an annoying customer. Now I’m kidnapped and stuck on a plane by him, pretending to be excited about marrying him.

  ***

  What if I have to marry him? What’s he going to do to me if I refuse him his wedding night?

  I down another glass of champagne that’s been set in front of me. I glance over, Noah is watching me with a crooked smile.

  “Where do you want to go for the honeymoon?” he asks me in a low voice, leaning close.

  I didn’t even think about that. Shit. He’s going to want to take me on a honeymoon. He thinks all this is real and we are in love and I’m thrilled. He’d lose his mind if I told him the truth, that is, if he hadn’t already lost it.

  I shrug. “I have no idea. I’ve never been much for traveling. What hotel are we staying in?”

  “The Bellagio. The Tower Suite. Only the best for my Angel on her wedding night.”

  My eyebrows go up. “Generous of you.”

  He chuckles. “It’s nothing. You’ll see, you will have the best of everything now. You make me very happy, Emily. I love you very much.”

  I swallow a lump in my throat, suddenly missing Isaiah so much it hurts. It’s only been a couple of days. Two of the longest days of my life. I know what he’s expecting. I blink and smile.

  “I love you too. I’m sure it will be amazing. Can you excuse me? I need to visit the ladies room.”

  He shifts, allowing me access to the aisle. I blow out a breath, feeling his eyes on me as I walk down, behind the curtain that divides the restroom area from the cabin. Pushing forward through another curtain, I find myself in the kitchen area.

  “Pardon me, are you lost?” a young, friendly flight attendant chirps.

  I smile. “My phone battery died and I need to text my boyfriend. He’s freaking out about being alone with our baby for the first time. Can I borrow yours to send him one text? Please?”

  She smiles and shoots me a look of sympathy. “Oh, of course. I understand. My husband was all thumbs with our baby just last year.” She hands me a large, Samsung phone.

  I take it, dialing Isaiah’s number from a memory that I’m surprised still works. I text him.

  “Texting from a flight attendant phone. Headed to Vegas, Bellagio, Tower Suite. I’m not hurt.”

  He texts me back a second later.

  Got it babe. I’m on my way. Hold on tight.

  Relief wraps around me like sunshine on a warm day. I delete the messages and hand the phone back to her with a smile, profuse thank you.

  I’m so happy that I managed to get a text off that I almost forget to stop and use the bathroom. When I get back to my seat. Noah is smiling and there is a bottle of water waiting for me.

  The happiness from my brief contact with Isaiah is short-lived. I manage to struggle through the small talk on the three hour flight with Noah, avoiding talking about the future whenever possible.

  We catch a cab from the airport, and I know that it won’t be long now as I watch the cars go by. We pull into the hotel parking lot and I feel nauseated. He already told me that he has something special for me to wear, then we are off to get married.

  When we walk inside, I scan the lobby. No sign of Isaiah. I’m deflated as Noah drags me eagerly to check in. I so hoped to see him waiting here in the lobby for us. I guess he must be a bit behind. He would’ve had to catch a later flight.

  As Noah presents a credit card to a smiley man behind the desk, I kick at the pattern in the carpet. Isaiah knows where we are staying. He will be here sometime tonight, surely. This will end, one way or the other.

  I look towards the door, contemplate making a run for it. It’s too crowded. I can’t risk being stopped by someone, then beaten in the room upstairs. It’s best to just wait, I guess. If I see an opportunity to run, I will, but this isn’t it.

  The room is the size of an apartment. I gape as I walk in front of Noah. He insisted that I go first. I’m sure he wants to keep his eyes on me now that I’m not contained on an airplane. The entry way is spectacularly, polished marble leading into a large sitting area the size of a full living room. To the right, a wet bar. The far
wall is lined with windows, a grand view of the strip. The carpet is thick and feels expensive, even under my plain Nike’s. Noah calls to me, ushering me into the bedroom.

  I stop in the doorway with heart palpitations when my eyes fall on that bed. I try not to look at him but, for some reason, my eyes are drawn to him when he lifts the suitcase to the bed. He looks up at me as he unzips the case, a smile of anticipation in his eyes.

  God, where is Isaiah.

  I watch, mute, as he pulls a white box out of the case, motioning for me to come to him.

  “This is for you. I want you to wear this for me.”

  I hesitate as if there is a snake inside the box. I sigh, louder than I intend, then I open it. Satin, or silk, I’m not sure which. Lifting it by spaghetti straps, I see a white dress. It’s form fitting, deep V, backless. Inside the box is also a sparkly, barely-there thong. He pulls strappy silver shoes out of the suitcase and hands them to me.

  I guess this is my wedding dress.

  I want to throw it at him, and run out the door. I don’t want to marry him. Thing is, I’m terrified. He’s holding me prisoner and he doesn’t have a gun. I know that he has that huge knife somewhere. I don’t know how he got it past airport security, but I know that he did somehow. Maybe a healthy bribe or two? A man with money like this, there is no telling where he his people stashed. Not to mention the knowledge that he has no problem “punishing” me if I’m “bad.”

  I look up at him and see distinct lust on his face.

  “Do you like it? I saw it and knew that you would look amazing. I’ve been saving it.”

  Bile rises in my throat. I swallow it back down as the fabric slips between my fingers back into the box.

  “Thank you. I’ll go get changed.”

  I take the box, the shoes, and vanish into the bathroom. It’s huge. Big bathtub, massive shower. I’m surrounded by granite and marble and shades of tan and brown. Rich, thick towels. I don’t give one hot damn about any of it. Tears fill my eyes as I sit down on the edge of the toilet. My face in my hands, I try to regain my composure. He might know if I was crying.

  My hands are shaking. I look into my reflection’s brown eyes. I’m pale. My red hair is stark against the unusual whiteness of my skin. Carefully, I pull off my clothes. The designer jeans. The yellow blouse. My bra, panties.

  I put on this obscene thong. It doesn’t even really cover anything. The dress goes on over my head. The material is cold against my skin.

  I can’t wear a bra with a dress like this. Unfortunately, the cloth outlines every curve of my breast. The deep v dips well below my breast.

  I feel naked.

  It hugs me, and leaves almost nothing to the imagination. The back is so low my ass almost comes out the top.

  When I put on the shoes, look at my reflection, I roll my eyes. I feel like a hooker.

  There is a gentle knock on the bathroom door. His voice comes through muffled. “Are you all right?”

  No, no I’m not even close to all right. “Yes. I’m coming.”

  The look on his face when I open the door is just what I was afraid it would be. Pure sex. A look that tells me he wants nothing more than to fuck me, in this dress, right now. My first instinct is to back away, but I can’t.

  He’s got his arm around my waist and I’m pulled tight against his body. His lips find my ear. Breath on my neck, I fight a cringe.

  “You look sexy.”

  I feel his lips on my jawline and blink back tears. I hate this. I hate him. I want my life back.

  ***

  I’m so miserable and scared that when he takes me for dinner, I’m not even paying attention to where we end up. All I know is it’s fancy, and men keep looking at me. I eat slowly, dreading what’s coming. I order dessert, and he watches me with a smile as I force it into my sick stomach as something to kill the time between this moment and the altar.

  When I can’t think of anything else to stall with, I ask to go to the bathroom, planning to run out while he’s paying.

  He follows me to the bathroom.

  When I come out he’s leaning against the wall opposite with his hands in his trouser pockets.

  He keeps a hand on me for the rest of the night. The cab ride, the chapel. I assume he’s afraid I’m going to run.

  Smart man.

  At the altar, some little old man reads out of a book. A ring is put on my finger, then his. I promise to love, cherish, obey, all that bullshit. Man and wife. You may kiss the bride.

  Fuck you. Fuck this moment. Fuck being married to a damn psychopath.

  He gives me a kiss. There isn’t as much tongue as I imagined, but I know that’s only temporary. I have the whole cab ride back to the hotel to deal with.

  Feigning modesty, I motion towards the cab driver when he lunges at me in the cab, trying to stick his hands up my dress. I manage to keep his hands off of me, but just barely. I contemplate making myself vomit as we walk into the elevator, thinking maybe if I’m sick it will be enough of a turn off to stall him. I’ve never tried. I wonder how far down my throat I have to stick my finger.

  The elevator doors close and he turns, closing in on me after he pushes the button for the sixteenth floor.

  I look up, my heart about to implode. My breath catches in a lump in my chest, as if my lungs refuse to expand. I’ve never been so afraid in my life as I am in this moment. I’m only minutes away from being raped. I know better than to show it, I just look up into his face. He hugs me, presses his lips to my neck. I feel his growing arousal rubbing me as the elevator stops and the doors open directly across from our suite.

  A squeak escapes my lips. Isaiah.

  He’s standing outside our door. Our eyes meet over Noah’s shoulder and he puts a finger to his lips to hush me, drawing his gun and moving out of sight.

  Oh God, he’s here. He’s really here. The breath that I’ve been holding comes out in a rush. I’m free of this madman that’s rubbing my ass with both hands.

  “Noah, we’re here.” I say, quietly.

  He smiles, taking my hand and leading me out the door. He doesn’t notice Isaiah standing by the wall, to the right of the elevator. He’s too distracted. As he pulls the keycard out, letting go of my hand for the first time since dinner, Isaiah pulls me back. I crash into his hard chest and hot tears flow instantly at the feel of is familiar chest. He slips a phone into my hand.

  “Run, baby. Just Run. Call 911.”

  He shoves me. Noah turns, coming face to face with the barrel of Isaiah’s Glock.

  I stumble, falling on these stilettos. For a moment, the three of us are frozen in time. I can’t run, I can’t leave Isaiah behind. Knowing how crazy Noah is. I have to stay.

  Now that Isaiah is here, I’m not scared.

  Isaiah has his gun trained on Noah, who is staring at him with a weird smirk. “You aren’t going to shoot me, you’re a cop.” His voice is mocking.

  “Emily, I said run. Go, I can handle this.” Isaiah doesn’t take his eyes off Noah.

  “I can’t leave you here with him, he’s too dangerous.” My voice trembles. I glance down at the phone and remember that I’m supposed to call the police.

  “911 where is your emergency”

  “My name is Emily and I’ve been kidnapped, I’m missing. I’m...” I rattle off the hotel, the details, answer questions.

  As I do, Isaiah shoves Noah into the hotel room and closes the door, leaving me in the hallway alone.

  ***

  Isaiah

  Not shooting this guy is getting harder by the second. I control my breathing as I follow him into the room, pulling my handcuffs out with my other hand. His black eyes watch my every move, but he isn’t fighting. My heart is pounding like a drum in my chest. I can hear it in my ears as I watch him.

  “She’s my wife now, you can’t just barge in here. She agreed to marry me,” he says, finally, sitting down on the arm of a leather chair.

  “She agreed because she had no choice. You kidnapped her
. Man, you need some help. You don’t even know her. Let’s do this quietly, I don’t want to hurt you.” I take a step towards him. Like hell I don’t want to hurt him.

  His eyes flash with rage. “You think I don’t know her? I know everything there is to know about her. Everything. I know more than you ever did. She only fucked you to get to me, she wanted me to prove myself so I did. I saved her. I showed her that she means more to me than anything. I didn’t kidnap her, I brought her home.” He yells. Spit flies off his lips.

  “What you think isn’t important anymore. You’re sick, you need help and medication. Maybe you can’t help it, but....”

  He jumps up off the chair. His body movement telling me that I need to stop this conversation and get hold of this situation before something bad happens.

  “Turn around and put your hands behind your back.” I open the cuffs with one hand.

  He laughs. “Make me.”

  In a flash, he reaches down and pulls a huge knife out of his dress boot. I take a deep breath, telling myself to be smart, remember my training. Don’t think about Emily. He’s just another guy I’m arresting.

  “Listen to me, blondie,” he starts, pacing as he points the blade in my direction, “You don’t understand shit. You’re just a blue collar cop, that doesn’t make you smart. You think you know things? You have no idea. She told me she loves me. She kissed me, laid in my bed and smiled at me and told me that she wanted to marry me. It’s my wedding night, she was waiting for this just like I was. You’ve just got her confused, that’s all. She’s probably scared of you, waiting out there for me to come and tell her that you’re gone and everything is fine now. Don’t get in my way.”

  I blink, watching him pace. His eyes growing ever more frantic as he walks, glancing around the room, watching the door.

  “Did you bring that knife with you? It must have been some trick, getting it past security.” I nod towards the weapon.

  He glances at it, the steel glints in the light as he turns it.

  “I have friends in many places, Detective. Friends that trust me.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “But they trust your money more, am I right?”