I let my eyes sweep over his body. “Depends. Are you any good at it?”
I hear the chair creak as Reno shifts. Rusty doesn’t pay him any attention this time. He’s too busy feeling me up.
“I could be very good.” He shifts on the bed, sprawling half on top of me, one leg pinning mine to the bed while his hand strokes over my curves. “You really interested in me?”
He dips his head, and I feel his tongue trail along my skin just above the neckline of the tank. My eyes meet Reno’s over his head, and I know they’ve glazed with tears because I can feel them stinging behind my eyes.
Reno surges to his feet. “Get off her, Rusty.”
Rusty lifts his head and smiles at me. “Wondered how long it’d take him.” He pushes himself off the bed and stands in front of Reno. I’m wondering if they’re going to fight as Reno glares at him. But Rusty just grabs his shoulder and shakes him. “She’s all yours, bro. I’m goin’ for a ride.”
Rusty grabs his cut and slings it on, then walks out the door with a wink back at me. That jerk! He was playing me the whole time.
My gaze shifts to Reno. He stares down at me, his hands clenching at his sides, and I wonder what he’ll do. We’re all alone now.
“You shouldn’t fuck with him like that. You don’t know the kind of man you’re dealing with.”
“And what kind are you?”
“The kind who’s got you tied to a fucking bed, Kara. Don’t think you can play him and come on to him, and think he’ll suddenly turn into an angel and let you go. It won’t happen, babe.”
“Don’t call me that!” I snap, pissed that I ever thought it was an endearment.
He runs his hand down his face. “I didn’t want this. I didn’t want any of this, Kara.”
“Then let me go.” I glare at him, tugging on the bindings.
“As soon as your father does what we want, we will let you go.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“You don’t have a choice.”
I’m so pissed I could scream, but I know what that’ll get me. It was awful being gagged. Besides, I don’t think there’s anyone around that would hear me or care.
I try to remember my plan. Would it still work with Reno? Would he see right through it? “Please.” I twist my arms. “Can’t you untie me for just a little while?”
“You won’t wrap me around your finger like every other guy you’ve ever known. So don’t think you can pull what you tried with Rusty on me.”
He confirms what I already knew, and I huff out a breath. “So, is that a yes or a no on untying me?”
“You’re a real smartass, for someone in your position.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Reno—
I give in and agree to let her loose. I bring her into the main area, and she sits at the table. I sit across on the sofa, my elbows on my knees. I don’t need to tie her up; I know if she tries to run, I could catch her before she made it ten feet out the door—if she made it that far. “Things will go a lot smoother if you accept the fact that you’re in this for the long haul, Kara.”
“Why’d you change?” She stares over at me, her eyes no longer accusatory. Just an honest question—one that deserves an honest answer, but I don’t feel like digging down in the Honesty Well to bring up feelings that are buried too deep. I drop my head.
“You seriously want to go over this shit, babe?”
“I think I deserve to know. Was it all a lie? Everything?”
I run both my hands down my face. I don’t need this right now. Pushing off my knees with my palms, I stand. “Let’s not do this, okay?”
“So, it was all a lie.” Her words are cutting, like a knife in my fucking chest. I move to the window over the sink and part the curtain an inch. I stare out, but my attention is all on the girl behind me. How do I fucking make her understand?
“I was so stupid,” she whispers.
I turn. “No. You weren’t.”
“I believed it all. What a gullible fool I was. You must have laughed your ass off.”
I grind my teeth. “You’re not a fool, Kara. I played you, because I had to, but it wasn’t all a lie.”
She huffs out a laugh. “Really, which part?”
“Me and you. That was real.”
“Then why have you been so mad at me? It’s like you hate me or something,” she whispers.
I remain silent a long time, but finally the words bubble out of me. “Because I saw you with that guy.”
“What guy?”
“I went by your house. I was parked out front, and you walked up with some guy. He kissed you, and he went inside with you. It pissed me off. I wanted to tear his fucking head off.”
“Brett? You saw Brett walk me home?”
“Don’t know what the fuck his name was. Don’t want to know,” I lie.
“That wasn’t how it was.”
“Well, I didn’t stick around to find out. Saw you both go inside, and I took off before I did something stupid like follow you up and kill the bastard.”
“I wish you would have.” Her words are quiet behind me, but I whirl around, scowling.
“What’d you say?”
There are tears in her eyes. “I wish you would have. Maybe you could have stopped him.”
My heart drops, and there’s a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. “What the fuck are you talking about? Stopped him from what?”
She blows out a shaky breath. “I didn’t ask him in; he followed me. Pinned me to the door and started to…”
The knot in my stomach tightens like a vice. “Started to what, Kara?”
She shakes her head. “Doesn’t matter.”
“Yeah, it does. Tell me.” I stand over her, staring down, not about to let this slide. “What’d he do?” I grab her chin in my hand and force her to look at me. “Tell me.” The rumble of a motorcycle interrupts us and after a long moment I move to the curtain. “It’s Rusty.”
I look back to see her wiping the tears from her cheeks with her shoulder. I don’t want Rusty to catch the vibe in the room the minute he walks through the door, so I bend down and pretend to dig through the mini-fridge while everything she said replays in my head. I’m squatted there when the door opens.
“Hey,” he says, carrying in a plastic bag, which he sets down on the small table.
“I hope you brought some beer, ‘cause we’re all out,” I grumble.
He rolls his eyes. “Sorry, you’re out of luck. You don’t need to be drinking anyway. I need you sharp.”
I stand and take out my frustration on him. “Yeah, it takes all my concentration to sit in this fucking RV.”
“Aren’t you in a mood. Here I thought you’d use your time well.” He glances toward Kara.
“I think I can keep my dick in my pants until tomorrow, asshole.”
“Yeah, about that. Got some bad news.”
“Shit. Do I want to hear it?”
“Probably not. Sentencing hearing’s been pushed back a week.”
My eyes shift from Rusty to Kara and back again. “What the fuck does that mean?”
“I don’t know, but Rat’s flipping out. Thinks her dad’s gonna screw us over. He’s getting all kinds of nervous.”
I glance over at her. “That true? That what he’s doin’?”
She huffs out in a sarcastic tone, “I don’t know. Maybe he wants me to live another week. As long as that sentencing hasn’t happened, you have to keep me alive, right? He has to know that.”
“Nobody’s killing you, little butterfly,” Rusty lies.
“Gives them another week to find us,” I snap, staring up at Rusty.
He nods.
“I need some clothes,” Kara says.
We both swivel our heads in her direction.
She arcs a brow. “You can’t seriously expect me to stay like this until next week, can you?”
Rusty runs a hand down his mouth, and his eyes shift to me.
“What are you looking
at me for?”
“You needed a break.”
“Not to fucking go shopping.”
“Like he’d even know what to buy,” she snaps under her breath.
Rusty grins at me. The asshole. He’s enjoying this way too much.
I grab the keys off the counter and slam out of there without a word. I hear Rusty laughing as I leave. I walk to the car, enjoying the fresh country night air. I suck in a deep breath before sliding behind the wheel. I drive down the dirt road and idle at the turn onto the highway. I can head to the store, but I’ve got a better idea. Pulling out, I make a left and drive twenty minutes toward campus.
I make three passes down the street, looking for surveillance before I park two blocks away and pull a backpack from the trunk. I walk to Kara’s building, pulling gloves from the pack and slipping them on. I check every car, every window. Nothing. I’m aware how stupid this could be. I’m aware her father could have the FBI on this case by now; there’s no assurance that he’ll comply with our demands, especially the one about no cops. Perhaps he knows no matter what he does, he won’t see his daughter alive again.
I’m convinced that’s the reason for the delay. Gives him time to find us. Walking into her apartment is probably the stupidest thing I could do right now, but I’m betting on the fact that I’ve got a few hours before they show up.
I walk inside the vestibule, trying to act like I belong—just another grad student coming home. I pause at the line of brass mailboxes in the wall, scanning them. I know which one is hers. I’m just giving myself cover to see if I’m being followed. I see no one. I hear no one upstairs.
I move down the hall to her door and pause. There’s an apartment directly across from hers, and I wonder if there’s someone right now staring through the peephole at me.
I take out a tool and pick her lock in less than fifteen seconds. It’s a skill I’ve perfected over the years, and it comes in handy. I slip through the door and close it quietly, then stare through the peephole back at the apartment across the hall. I wait, but it doesn’t open. I listen but hear no sounds in the apartment.
It’s dark, but I know better than to turn on any lights. The street lamps cast enough illumination for me to see the layout. Nothing looks disturbed or searched. I move down the hall to her bedroom. It’s darker back here, and I pull out my phone, turning on the flashlight. My gaze flicks around the room, taking in every detail. The bed’s unmade; her half-packed suitcase lies open on it. There’s a bottle of perfume sitting on her dresser, and I can’t resist moving to it and lifting it to my nose. My eyes close as I breathe it in. It’s light and feminine, like flowers and sunshine, and it suits her perfectly. I flash the light on the pink bottle. BOMBSHELL. They’ve got that right.
I set it down and open the top drawer. It’s filled with bras and panties. Jackpot. I run my hands through the satin and lace and pull out several sets. Moving to the bed, I shrug the backpack off my shoulder and stuff them inside. I step back to the dresser and rifle through it, finding a drawer of folded jeans and yoga pants. I grab a couple and shove them in the pack. I don’t have room for much more. I grab a handful of shirts from the suitcase and shove them in, too. Next, I move to her bathroom, wondering if there are any items she’d need. There’s a counter full of chick products. I don’t have a clue what any of them are, but I find a sweet-smelling body wash in the shower along with her shampoo and conditioner. I know I’m being silly, considering if Rat has his way, this girl won’t be around long, but I can’t help wanting to make her as comfortable as possible. What’s the harm in giving her a few things from home?
I move into the bedroom, scanning it for anything else. I spot her blue glasses on the nightstand. I step over to retrieve them and notice the notebook underneath. I pick it up and read the title, STRONG IS THE NEW PRETTY. I flip it open. She’s written in it, in scrawling beautiful cursive handwriting. I thumb through the pages, noting they’re dated and realize it’s her diary. I flip toward the end and find the date we met. I lower my ass to her floral comforter, reading her innermost thoughts.
I met a man today at Pete’s. We talked for hours. He made me laugh and really seemed interested in what I had to say. Not like some of the boys around here who are only interested in getting in my pants.
We danced, and he pulled me down the back hall into a closet, and we made out. And oh, my God, that man can kiss. But we did more than kiss—a lot more. I’ve never done anything like that. Sure, I’ve been a little rebellious, but I’ve never had the nerve to let a total stranger get that close to me that fast. I like him. I really like him. And I’ve never felt the way he made me feel.
He asked for my number. I hope he calls.
I flip a few pages more to the last entry. The handwriting is different, still hers, but more jumbled, like maybe she was upset or in a hurry when she scribbled it out. The words are written in angry slashes.
I went to that stupid fraternity party last night. It was across the street from the sorority house. I didn’t want to go, but we were required. I should have listened to my intuition and pretended to be sick. The place was loud, and I had a headache.
Brett Cavendish walked me home. I would have been safer alone. He tried to kiss me at the door. I let him have a goodnight kiss, but then when I went inside, he followed and pinned me to the door. He attacked me, pulling my shirt down. I fought him, and when I felt his hands on my breasts, I thought I was going to be sick. I tried to scream, and he covered my mouth. He tried to get my keys. I knew if he got my door open and took me inside, I’d never be able to fight him off.
Thank God Eddy from across the hall came home and pulled him off me. Brett ran off like a coward, and Eddy helped me. He wanted to call the campus police or take me to the hospital. Maybe I was a fool for not reporting it, but he’s Elizabeth’s brother, and I wonder if she’d believe me.
College just isn’t for me, especially the sorority life. I know Daddy will be disappointed. I thought maybe a change of schools would help, but it only made it worse.
I’m going to withdraw today, and then I’m packing and leaving.
I wish Dante would call. I really want to see him again, but I’m too chicken to call him. He never replied to my texts, so I guess I have my answer. Maybe he’s just like all the rest—only after one thing.
It ended there, and I shut the book. For reasons I don’t even understand I shove it in the backpack. Maybe I want her to keep writing. Maybe I want to confront her with it. Maybe I just don’t want it to fall into the hands of the police.
But one thing I do know: I’ve suddenly got another task to do before I return to the motel tonight.
I’m going to track down this asshole and break his fucking legs. I smile. He’ll never see me coming.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Reno—
I locate the house with the same Greek letters as on the sweatshirt Kara wore the night at Pete’s. Directly across the street is a building I’m guessing is the frat house. I park and climb out, scanning around me as I pop the trunk. It’s about ten o’clock, and I don’t see anyone. I pull out the two items I’ll need. I slip the roll of duct tape on my wrist and shove the hammer down my boot. Straightening, I slam the trunk closed. I stare up at the house, trying to figure out how I’m going to get Brett outside when a tow truck drives down the street.
Thinking fast, I wave my arm, and he stops, rolling down his window.
“Yeah buddy?”
I lean in. The name on his shirt is Ralph. I pull a money clip from my pocket and hold it up. “How’d you like to make a quick hundred bucks, Ralph?”
He eyes the money “What do you need?”
“Just need you to sit idling here while I walk up to that frat house and scare the crap outta the kid who’s been harassing my little sister. I’m gonna make him think Daddy’s Porsche is getting towed.”
He grins. “I hate rich kids. No problem, buddy.”
“Thanks, man.” I turn, but he calls me back.
/> “Hey.” He motions me over and pulls the ball cap with his company logo from his head and holds it and a clipboard out to me. “You might as well look the part.”
I grin and take them. “You’re an all right guy, Ralph.”
He’s idling in the street in front of the house when I ring the bell. I can here the chimes ringing through the hall beyond, and then the door opens. It’s a young kid of about nineteen. I’ve got about a foot in height on him.
“Can I help you?” He frowns, reading the company name on my hat.
I smile, tap the clipboard and jerk my chin over my shoulder. “Lookin’ for a Brett Cavendish.”
The boy’s eyes move over my shoulder to the waiting tow truck.
Ralph, God love him, grins and gives a wave.
The boy snorts in laughter. “You’re here to tow his car?”
I nod. “’Fraid so.”
He turns, still laughing, and yells, “Hey, Brett! It’s for you.”
A blond kid with a smirk on his face walks up with his chin in the air. “Yeah? What’s so funny?” He looks at me. “What do you want?”
“You Brett Cavendish?”
“Yeah, why?”
I point over my shoulder. “We’re here for your car.”
“My car? You mean like repossessing it?”
I nod.
He smirks. “My father pays for that car. There’s no way he’s behind on the payments.”
I see the boy behind him walk off, probably to tell the entire frat house, and I lean forward. “Step outside, so everyone doesn’t have to hear this, son.”
He does just that, closing the door and moving down the steps with me. “Let me call my father.”
He’s reaching in the pocket of his khaki shorts when I put my arm around him, cover his mouth, and drag him around the house to the dark shadows behind some shrubs. I put him in a chokehold until he’s unconscious and wilts to the ground. Then I move over him, quickly securing his arms behind his back with the duct tape. I wrap another piece around his head, covering his mouth. Straightening, I smile down at him and pull the hammer from my boot. I can almost hear the bones crack already. Hefting the tool in my hand, I lift it high and smash it down on first one kneecap and then the other. My blood is boiling as I think of Kara trying to fight him off. His legs are mangled, but it doesn’t feel like it’s enough, really. I’d like to smash his skull in, but I draw in a slow breath and remind myself this has to be enough. I have to settle for this much payback.
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