“Shut up.” He pulls me up and throws me on the bed, following suit. My dress keeps riding up, and I pull it down. He looks me over. “Aren’t you the little slutty one? You seemed so prim and proper. Now you fucking reek of sex.” He grabs my knees and pulls my thighs apart. “Did you just fuck? Who had this little piece of hot meat?”
I shake my head, my heart beating wildly. I push him off me and scurry further away. “No.” My voice is weak, shaky. “Please leave me alone. I won’t tell anyone you were here.”
He reaches for me, then clutches his hand into a fist and pulls it back, groaning. “Fuck! I should beat you fucking senseless and punish fuck you.”
‘Should’ is the word I cling on to. “But you won’t. Jim, please just leave. Don’t make things worse than they already are.” My voice breaks on the last words. I glance at the door again. I have to get out of here.
“Oh, they’re bad,” he sneers. “I can’t fucking leave the island. I can’t get away from this fucking place. There’ll be a trial, and they’re pinning other cases on me. Shit I didn’t even do. Have you seen the inside of a prison here? Of course, you haven’t, little Miss Perfect.” I yelp when he’s on me again. “You’re gonna call the cops. That’s what you’re gonna do.” He grips my throat and squeezes. I choke and clutch at his hand. He pushes me down on the bed again, flat on my back. “You’re gonna call them and take back everything. You’re gonna tell them I didn’t do shit.”
I can barely get air and try to pry his hand off me, beating at his arms, tears trickling down my temples.
“You hear me?” He grips my hair and pulls it, but removes the hand from my throat. I inhale a deep breath, then I start coughing. He leans in, nose to nose, his nostrils flaring, rage in his eyes. “I’m not going to fucking jail here! It’s all your fault!”
He pulls my hair so hard I scream from the searing pain.
“I’ll call, I’ll call,” I cry. “Please!”
He looks me over. “Fucking nice cunt. You’re practically begging for a real man to take you.” He licks his lips.
I let go of his hand and pull my skirt down again. “I won’t call any-fucking-one if you touch me,” I scream. “Instead you’ll spend the rest of your life rotting in a cell here! You hear me?”
His eyes narrow. “Not if you can’t tell them.” There’s a sinister tone in his voice, cruelty in his gaze, much more so than I’ve ever seen in Nathan.
My heart thumps so hard that it makes me dizzy. My mouth is dry, my lips so numb I can barely form words. “Please.” My voice breaks. “Please, Jim. Don’t. I’ll call.”
He pushes up off the bed and begins pacing back and forth, muttering, pushing his hand repeatedly through his dirty-blond hair. I count his steps, measuring when he’s furthest away from the door, and then I bolt. He yells and gets ahold of my foot. I fall forward and kick out. He loses his grip and I manage to crawl a few feet toward the exit before he’s on me again. He throws himself over me and pushes me down to the floor.
“Fucking hell,” he snarls. Then he pulls down his zipper and pushes up my dress. I scream and thrash and manage to get him off me for a second before he grabs around my waist and shoves me, making me stumble and fall to my knees.
“I’ll call the cops for you! Please don’t!”
Jim tears at my dress, and pulls down his pants, freeing his cock.
“Don’t!” I wail and throw myself toward the door. I don’t get far. I’m nowhere near the entrance, but when I reach out, I touch my phone. My heart slams in my chest when I wrap my fingers around it. Jim grips my thighs and fights to spread them. I struggle panicky to keep them together as I unlock the phone and tap latest call, tears streaming down my cheeks.
“Hey you. This was—” answers Nathan.
“Nathan!” I scream. “Help!”
I thrash under Jim as he tries to reach my phone.
“I’m at the hot—” My only lifeline is ripped out of my hands and thrown across the room. I don’t know if Nathan hears me anymore, but I keep screaming that it’s Jim, that I’m at the hotel, my room number. I fight for my life, for my dignity, for my soul. Jim gets me on my back. I manage to get a leg up and kick his chest, then I scramble back. He punches my face so hard I nearly black out and my mouth fills with blood. I claw his face, kick and scream and suddenly the door slams open.
Jim’s head whips around, then he flies across the room, kicked off me by a raging Nathan Russo. The most beautiful and the most frightening sight I’ve ever seen. He throws me a glance, looking me over, then he takes a leap over me and slams his boot to Fintan’s chest. The giant blond coughs and curses, throws a punch at Nathan and gets to his knees.
In a blur of limbs and grunts, the two men go at each other with fists and kicks.
I scramble to my feet and back to the door. I don’t know what to do. I should get the hotel to call the police, but something makes me hesitate. A deeply rooted feeling tells me it’d get not only Fintan, but also Nathan in trouble.
I scream as Fintan’s foot connects with Nathan’s chin and his head rocks back, blood splattering across the white wall. With a roar, Nathan pounces and tackles the other man, pummeling him, fists flying so fast I can’t even see them. The oddly muffled thuds from the impacts are sickening. I didn’t know such a sound existed. I can’t compare it to anything else I’ve ever heard. Nathan hits and hits, Fintan’s flailing gets weaker and the wet noises from his throat fainter. My head spins and I stumble back yet another step. I’m so numb I can’t even feel my feet.
Fintan is still. Quiet. With a final roar, Nathan slams his fist to the other man’s throat and a flood of blood pours from Jim’s mouth. Then everything is still. There’s only Nathan’s harsh, labored breathing and the silence of death.
I sway where I stand, frozen to the spot, looking at the quickly rising and falling shoulders on Nathan where he sits on the floor, his back to me.
He lifts his hands and stares at them, then he turns.
I back up yet another step and jerk as I connect with the wall. His eyes are dark, his face and hands glistening red. The man on the floor is unmoving. My twice-attacker is unrecognizable with his face swollen and bloody, beaten to a pulp.
Nathan gets to his feet and takes a step toward me. He stops flat when a whimper escapes me. He holds out a hand, as if placating a wild animal. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”
I stare at the monster in front of me. Who hurt me more? I don’t know.
“I’m okay,” I whisper and tongue the wound on my lip.
Nathan moves again and I flinch. He looks at his hands, then over at Fintan. “I’m sorry,” he says, his voice rough. “I shouldn’t have left you alone.”
“Yes, you should. You’re not responsible for me,” I say numbly.
“You called me. I…” He tightens his powerful hands into fists and studies them, glances at Fintan, then back at me. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”
“Please just go,” I whisper. “I can’t… Just go.”
His face contorts. In rage? Pain? I don’t know. My heart pounds like mad and I tremble so violently I have to sit before I fall into a heap. I sag along the wall and, before I lose all control, Nathan is there to catch me. I shudder and freeze up. All that blood.
“I’ll call my men, Sydney. We’ll take care of this. It’ll be all right.”
“It won’t be all right! It’ll never be all right again! Just go, Nathan. I gotta call the police. I won’t… you know… mention you. But please go. I don’t want you here.”
I cover my face in my hands, surprised at how wet my cheeks are. I wasn’t even aware I’m crying. I hear nothing but his breathing as he crouches before me. He gently takes one of my hands in his and removes it from my face, pulling it to his lips. Planting the softest of kisses on my palm, he then stands.
“It’s how it is,” he says, his voice dull, his face an emotionless mask, then he leaves.
The door falls closed with a soft thud. My eyes flicker to the obviously dead J
ames Fintan who can never again drug anyone, rob anyone, hurt anyone, then I fall on all fours and vomit on the soft carpet.
Sweaty and trembling, I get to my feet and, with one last glance at the body, I make my way to reception. They take one look at me, then they all drop what they’re doing and come rushing. A family in the lobby stares at me, horrified.
I shake violently as I ask them to call the cops. Tears stream down my face and the remaining content of my stomach threatens to make a reappearance. All I see before me is blood. Dead unseeing eyes. Nathan mutilating the other man. Hear the muffled thuds. I don’t know what Nathan is, or does, but he’s no normal business man. He’s dangerous, dark, and I don’t want to know. I don’t want to see him ever again.
“I‘ll call my men.”
What men? What is this man? What does he do?
The staff puts a throw blanket over my shoulders and helps me to a chair in an office. I shiver despite the hot day. When the cops arrive, I’m prepared and I know what to tell them.
They already know of my history with Fintan. I tell them about this local guy I met and who saved me by beating Fintan. He’s about my height, slim build, curly hair, black eyes. I describe him carefully and then there’s not much more to it. No one mistrusts my story. After recording my testimony, I’ll be free to leave the island tomorrow as planned, and I even get an apology that I’ve had to experience this during my vacation in their country.
I get another room.
I lie awake the whole night, staring at the ceiling with hot, dry eyes.
It’s over.
I forget to eat breakfast. I pack my things and take a cab to the airport. Numb, I barely even register the headlines about a wave of murders on the island and a missing local young woman. On the plane, I shut down. I don’t let any memories of the previous flight slip through.
I refuse to think of Nathan.
I want to get home. I want my life back.
I just want to forget.
Chapter 21
Sydney
My dad waves like a lunatic with a sign that says: ‘Welcome Home, Syd’.
“Dad. Can you embarrass me any more?” My chest tightens at the sight of him. I’m so relieved to be home.
His face falls as he takes a closer look at me, then he pulls me to the side. “My God, my sweet, dear Sydney! What happened?”
There’s still a slight tang of metal in my mouth. I don’t look too bad, but my lower lip is split and swollen, and there’s a bruise on my cheek. Thank God, my dad can’t see my other marks. The bite marks, my bruised ass.
“I tripped over uneven pavement. It’s cool, it was nothing.”
He gapes and keeps scanning my face. To Mom and Dad, I’m a precious doll and they’d probably wrap me in bubble plastic if they could. Nothing can happen to me. Which led to nothing happening to me. Which was shit.
Then everything happened, all at once, and it turned out to be shit too.
“Live a little.”
Right.
I put a hand on his arm. “Dad, I swear, I’m fine. This’ll be gone in a couple of days.”
He hums disapprovingly as I reach for him, and we fall into a warm hug that he holds embarrassingly long. He motions for me to follow. The beige leather seat in his SUV sticks to my thighs, my skin already clammy from the heat. My father jumps into the front and starts up the engine. It hums to life with a soft, expensive, murmur.
“Did you have a good vacation otherwise?” he asks as he skillfully maneuvers the car through the dense traffic outside the terminal.
Flashes of a blue-eyed stranger haunt me. Thoughts about James Fintan hit me like a punch to the gut. I think of a trillion things I could answer, but I have nothing I can share with my overprotective dad.
“Yeah. It was cool.”
The day is too giddy. Everything is shiny and bright and beautiful. The crowns of the rows of palms along the way sway back and forth in the breeze. I’m mesmerized by the glittering surface of the ocean. The blue sky with almost no clouds is mirrored in the dark water.
I’d have wished for rain and hail. It would have fit better. The air conditioner has kicked in and now I shiver instead in my light clothes. Goosebumps race across my thighs as Nathan’s face keeps floating in front of me.
Dad drops me off outside my apartment building. I glance up at my windows. A different Sydney is going to walk in there than the one who walked out. A few days older, but with a crash course in where to find my limits, exactly how afraid I can get, and that I can fight back. But also with a profound feeling of seeing life from a new perspective, that I want to experience it, not just wade through it.
“Let me carry your bag.” Before I can open my mouth, he has jumped out and dashed around the front of the car, opening my door.
“I’m good.” I step out, having to jump down because of the height. The SUV is huge. He never does something half-heartedly, my dad. Of course, he bought the biggest he could find.
“Are you sure?” His hand rests on the edge of the door, holding it open for me.
“Yes,” I say patiently. “I’m sure. Talk tomorrow?”
“Let me make you some dinner then,” he offers. “Tomorrow night, I mean. Unless you want to meet friends,” he adds quickly.
It’s not hard to spot the hope on his face. “Dinner will be great, Dad.”
The suitcase wobbles when I start pulling it. I roll my eyes and straighten it. Turning around, I wave Dad off. He’s still standing with his hand on the door, then he nods, closes it and walks around the car. I follow the SUV with my gaze until it disappears around a corner at the intersection. With a sigh I turn back and open the heavy glass door to the building. I feel more alone than I have in a very long time.
Yesterday, I saw a man get beaten to death. Yesterday, the one person who has made me feel the most alive ever, turned out to be a monster. Sleep is not my friend anymore. When it claims me, I have nightmares. But mostly, it doesn’t even come knocking.
Jayna squeals. “You’re so tanned.” Then she falls around my neck and hugs me. “Was it good? Did you enjoy it?”
I want to tell her. I need to tell her. I need my friend. I’ve got to tell some other soul, or I’ll lose my mind. “Over a drink some night?”
“You bet. Was it good? You’re shining girl!”
I’m in shock. Am I? I thought I’d look miserable. “Well… I’ll tell you later.”
It was everything. Good and bad. But it’s the good that aches in me this morning. The memory of his arms around me that first night, when we slept, when I felt so oddly safe even though he’d made the poor skin on my butt glow red, his warm voice, how his eyes glittered when he laughed, the other Nathan I glimpsed on the beach, the one who opened up a little.
Work has piled up while I’ve been gone. I have long lists of calls to make, meetings to book, documents to sign. I know what I’ll be doing for the next few days, including Saturday and Sunday.
The days pass by mercifully quick. I bury myself in work and try not to think. When I spend Friday night alone, though, I can’t escape it anymore. My thoughts stray to the forbidden. I’m stunned by the onslaught of emotions when I lift the lid even such a tiny bit. It’s only been five days since I last saw him. Since I saw him for the last time, I correct myself. I wonder what he’s doing now. Who he’s killing… No. That was just Fintan, right? Despite what I witnessed, I tingle when I remember him touching me, filling me, devouring me and stealing my breath away, almost claiming my life force. I brush my palms against my nipples as I think of him nibbling them, twisting them. I try doing it myself, and picturing him on me makes me gasp with want. My will melts away completely, there’s nothing I need more right now than him. Here.
I squirm on the couch and put a hand between my legs, the fabric of my skirt and my panties an obstacle between my fingers and the growing wetness. Call me, I beg. Call me. Talk dirty to me. Tie me up, spank my butt. Make me do things I’ve never done before. Call me. But he doesn’t. O
f course, he doesn’t. I try to muster up some anger, but all I feel is an increasing urge to touch myself. I grab the hem of my skirt and pull it up, then I push down my panties to below my knees. Naked to the chilly air a shiver runs through me. I close my eyes and he’s almost there. The couch weighs down as he settles on it, he leans over me, the heat from his skin radiates on mine. My fantasy-Nathan touches his lips to mine and I open my mouth to his. I circle my clit and dip a finger inside. I feel his erection on my belly, sliding lower, settling between my legs. I insert two fingers and thrust in and out. He positions himself and pushes inside me. I arch from the tension coursing through me. I rub faster, harder. He begins to thrust. Hard. I come on my hand with a cry. Then I curl up on my side. My hand still between my legs and weep.
I fall asleep like that. In the middle of the night I wake up, cold and disoriented. I shower and curl up on my bed instead. It’s too large for me to lie alone in.
I’m a mess.
Four hours later I get up, shower again, punishing myself with chilly water. I work Saturday and Sunday and finally catch up with all the things that were piled on my desk, having answered all the mails, signed all the documents. I spend Saturday evening with my father and let him pamper me. His unspoken questions hang in the air. He’s not stupid and I’m not behaving like myself.
Monday afternoon, I make an excursion to the front desk, on a desperate prowl for Jayna. I almost stumble to the counter where she is standing. My head is spinning. I feel jet lagged even though I can’t be. Can I? It’s been a week since I came home and no time zone difference. Maybe I burnt all my energy in the Dominican Republic and now I have no reserves?
“I need that drink soon.”
My only real friend beams when she sees me, and even more when she hears my proposal. “I’m always up for booze, Syd.” Then she frowns. “What’s up? You never ‘need’ a drink.”
I squirm under her scrutiny. “Well… it happens.”
She narrows her eyes. “It has never ‘happened’ during the three years we’ve known each other. What’s up?”
Russo Saga Collection Page 16
