Overdose: A British Bad Boy Romance

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Overdose: A British Bad Boy Romance Page 40

by Raven St. Pierre


  It was her intention to be cold and unfeeling in her delivery, but that was easier said than done. The weight of this alternate reality she had no idea existed behind the curtain Simon cast up had her in shock ever since Zander laid it all out for her.

  “Fifteen. Fifteen. Seventeen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Thirteen,” she added through gritted teeth. “These are the ages of the girls you took advantage of. These are the patients… you took advantage of.”

  She should’ve known… that was the thought that kept going through her mind. She should’ve known…

  Until recently, it never seemed strange to her that Simon took such an interest in her back when they first met, when she was his student. As a legal adult, she never considered he was more attracted to her youth than he was to her as a person, but… it all made sense now.

  This was the “issue” Simon spoke of, the sickness he believed to be responsible for his cheating.

  Cheating… that felt like the wrong word considering the other parties were merely children.

  Vanessa nearly broke down just thinking about it, how he’d taken advantage of these young girls. It was actually hard for her to believe it until she saw the pictures, hard evidence Mr. McCullough had passed along to Zander. There it was, plain as day, Simon out and about with several of these girls, buying them expensive gifts, dinner, all to keep them quiet, she assumed. Then there were the photos of several of them leaving this very apartment, toting backpacks, some departing in tears.

  Entries on Simon’s credit card linked him to motel rooms on dates he’d told Vanessa he was needed out of town on business. However, those statements showed he hadn’t been on the West Coast in California, or in Seattle, or anywhere else he lied about. No, those business trips, the conferences, were a ruse. All of them, including the one that stood out most to Vanessa—the one that ended their marriage.

  He’d traveled a mere hour away and rented a room at the same, cheap motel for days on end, doing things Vanessa could only imagine. She couldn’t say for sure it’d been one of these young girls he had with him that weekend, but the odds were high. Perhaps it’d been one of the older victims whom he could get away from home more easily. All it’d take was a simple lie and an alibi—that she’d be spending the weekend at a friend’s house.

  Imagining that pale, pink lipstick she found on his collar belonging to… to a child…

  She should’ve known. She could’ve done something if she’d just realized…

  How had he kept this going for so long? Right under her nose? Girls that drifted in and out of the office without her suspecting something more was going on.

  He’d chosen his victims carefully, though. All of them became Simon’s patients after having lost one or both of their parents. They were broken, vulnerable, and had no one to turn to. More than half were in the foster care system and, if he manipulated them the way he’d done her in recent weeks, she was sure there were threats that also kept them quiet.

  And then there was Lori—Simon’s sixteen-year-old patient who’d recently attempted suicide. Vanessa remembered that as clear as day, even the concern Simon faked. On second thought, that probably was genuine. If she had to guess, he rushed to the hospital as quickly as he did to do damage control, fearing Lori might tell the authorities their little secret. Who knows what he had to do or say to keep that poor girl quiet.

  Photo after photo hit the coffee table when Vanessa snatched them from her purse. Each image incriminated Simon even further, but he did his best to hide his worried expression.

  A cynical laugh left his mouth. “I’m not sure where you’re going with all this, Vanessa, but these pictures prove nothing. Not unless you just want the world to see that I go above and beyond for my patients; that my care and concern for them extends beyond the office.”

  Unbelievable… was that really his response?

  “Simon, you’re sick and, unfortunately, you’ve probably ruined these girls, inflicted scars on them beyond those they originally came to you to fix.”

  A tear slipped down her cheek. This work they set out to do was supposed to make a difference. That’s what both expressed when they sat down and worked out the details before opening their practice. They were supposed to help people. But this… this perversion of Simon’s? It tainted the entire mission.

  Another image hit the table, one of Lori entering his apartment building. Then another floated down to the glass surface. On this particular occasion, he’d been sloppy, arrogant even, thinking he was above the law and would never be caught. In his err, he forgot to close the curtains.

  Both Vanessa’s and Simon’s gazes went there, to the photo of he and Lori engaging in a kiss, one that contradicted the innocence he professed a moment before.

  Seconds later, words fell from Simon’s mouth, words doused with egotism and a blatant lack of feeling or remorse for his actions:

  “How much?”

  Puzzled, Vanessa tilted her head to the side. “Excuse me?”

  “How much to make this go away?” Simon clarified. “I’m assuming that, at the very least, you’ll want out of our little arrangement, so consider it done, but what else?” he added.

  Vanessa’s skin crawled. Did he really think her silence could be bought? Did he really think she didn’t have plans to speak out for these girls?

  “I think you misunderstood how this is going to play out.”

  Simon rolled his eyes at her prolonging this. “Would twenty grand do the trick?”

  “I made a stop before coming here, Simon,” she said in a low voice. “There’s a duplicate copy of everything you see here and more. Actually, Officer Ortiz is probably looking it over as we speak, coming to the same conclusion I did. My guess? He’s gonna have quite a few questions.”

  Silence… Simon said nothing as Vanessa’s statement sank in. There was a distant look in his eyes and Vanessa figured reality had finally hit him.

  It was over.

  This started with her and Zander hoping to find something small, but significant enough that Simon would decide to give Vanessa her freedom. She never imagined they’d unearth so much; such an ugly truth. However, given the nature of this secret, there was no other option but to hand their findings over to the police for further investigation. He couldn’t get away with this. Those girls deserved better. They deserved justice.

  Simon took a step closer and Vanessa took one back. He wore a look that didn’t quite fit the news she’d just delivered. Instead of defeat and worry, a smirk.

  “So… I guess you think you’ve got me all figured out,” he said mockingly. “Am I right?” he asked. “You think this is where it will all end?”

  When he took another step in her direction, she touched the cool metal tucked into the back of her jeans. Simon’s eyes followed and shock filled them.

  “A gun, Vanessa?” He placed his hand on his chest teasingly.

  Who was she kidding toting that thing around like some thug?

  “Come on,” he added just to patronize her. “What exactly do you intend to do with that thing? You and I both know you don’t have it in you to use it.”

  Her hands trembled and she prayed it wouldn’t come to that.

  He stepped closer.

  “The police will be here any moment,” she assured him.

  “Oh, really? You’re sure of that?” he added.

  “Simon, stop,” Vanessa asserted. The gun was kept out of site, but she held tight to the handle.

  Another step.

  She flipped the safety.

  “And what about Ryan? Huh? Have you even considered what something like this would do to him?”

  A tear streaked Vanessa’s cheek. “Well, I guess you should’ve thought of that,” she countered. “That’ll be your cross to bear, not mine. This isn’t on me.”

  Simon’s face blazed red and Vanessa could only guess what was going through his head.

  The space between them all but disappeared and it was on the tip of Vanessa’s tong
ue to call out for Zander, but she couldn’t seem to get enough air in her lungs.

  “I will not let my son see me like that,” Simon shook. “Behind glass like some… like some animal,” he spat.

  But that’s what he was. He was a monster capable of far more than Vanessa ever thought possible.

  In the blink of an eye, that menacing look on Simon’s face went from being an empty threat to an action. The arm reaching toward her back was taken into his tight grip and pinned there, where she couldn’t properly maintain her grip.

  “Zan—”

  The taste of Simon’s palm canceled out her voice and she could only pray Zander somehow managed to hear the one syllable she was able to utter before she was spun around and yanked against Simon’s chest. She could feel his breath on the side of her neck, but couldn’t see his face. Her eyes searched the room wildly as she kicked and writhed in his arms, but all movement ceased when something hard, something metal, pressed into her temple.

  “Easy now,” Simon laughed. “Wouldn’t want my finger to slip, now would you?”

  She could barely even breathe.

  The sound of a harsh thud at the door brought with it both hope and dread. She was sure Zander was about two seconds from breaking through, but she was also sure Simon would be more than happy to use that gun when that happened.

  On her.

  On Zander.

  Now, despite the very present danger she faced, Vanessa struggled again. She needed to at least yell out, tell Zander to stop. This… it wasn’t supposed to happen this way.

  Hot breath cascaded over the tears that overflowed from her eyes. Next… a kiss placed in her hair, all while the gun remained firmly against her head.

  Another rough slam against the door and this time the frame of it buckled and splintered. One more hit and it was coming down.

  Vanessa’s eyes slammed shut as she kicked and fought, toppling plants, a statue.

  There was such commotion she barely heard the words being whispered in her ear, but she caught and processed them in slow motion. “Tell my son I love him,” Simon breathed.

  Her body was shoved away with such violence she lost her balance and hit the floor. The distinct sound of wood fracturing brought her eyes back to the door, but they were quickly averted by an image that would forever stay with her.

  The barrel of the gun, shoved in Simon’s mouth and… there was no stopping him as his finger rested on the trigger and… pulled.

  Lightning.

  That’s what it sounded like. Lightning cracking through the air of his apartment a split second before his lifeless body folded to the ground.

  Zander rushed over, immediately shielding Vanessa, cutting her line of sight off from the gruesome sight before her.

  Shock set in quickly. She was aware of Zander’s voice as he placed a call to the police, but she couldn’t make out a single word. All she kept hearing was that sound.

  This ordeal had drawn to a close, but… not at all in the way Vanessa could’ve ever imagined. Her mind was racing a mile a minute, but Simon’s last words stood out above the rest. Their son… what on Earth was she supposed to say to him? How would she ever explain that his…

  “Vanessa, breathe,” Zander said calmly. “Just breathe.”

  It wasn’t until he spoke that she realized she’d begun to hyperventilate, gasping for air that didn’t seem to come quickly enough. He wiped something away from her skin, something wet, something thick that seemed to smear with each pass of his hand. At first, she thought it was sweat, but… then she saw him cleaning his palms on his jeans, ridding them of a red substance and she knew it was blood.

  Simon’s blood.

  Her heart fluttered rapidly as the sound of distant sirens wailed from down the street.

  With both hands, Zander gripped her face and made her focus on only him.

  “You’re okay.”

  His voice, it drew her in and she blinked, feeling his energy as it began to settle her.

  “You’re okay. I’ve got you,” he promised.

  When she leaned into his chest, Zander pulled her even closer as she cried.

  His worst nightmare had nearly been realized. At first, upon hearing the blast of the gun, he hadn’t had a chance to process the scene and his heart stopped cold in his chest. It was sheer adrenaline that enabled him to burst through that door, knowing Vanessa needed him, knowing she was in danger.

  But what if it had been her?

  He couldn’t bear to think of it.

  Her arms went around his waist and she held on just as tight. Neither expected this. Both had an inkling Simon wouldn’t go down easily, but… this…

  Zander’s lips pressed to the top of Vanessa’s head and, more than anything, he was ecstatic no harm had come to her.

  “You’re okay,” he repeated, but this time it was more for himself than for her; he was the one who needed convincing.

  It had to settle in that she, the woman he loved, was safe now.

  Epilogue

  Eight months later…

  Faint light peeped through sheer curtains and Zander focused on it, the way a once shadowy corner brightened as clouds scattered to let in the sun. For some reason… he smiled. Maybe because that shift, that transition from darkness to light, somehow reminded him of himself.

  Certain aspects of himself, at least.

  Namely: his heart.

  He checked his watch.

  “Am I keeping you from something?” Dr. Shafer asked, smiling up from her paper when she finished jotting down a note. She could’ve been writing anything; Zander had given her an earful today.

  “We’re making good time,” he smirked.

  Dr. Shafer’s eyes narrowed and her glasses came off when she questioned Zander with a stare. “Wait a second. Is today the big day?”

  His chest swelled with a deep breath as he nodded, unable to hide his nervousness. Yes, today was indeed the big day.

  “Wow, it seems like we were just discussing this. Time certainly does fly,” Dr. Shafer commented.

  And she was right about that. Zander could’ve sworn he had a few more weeks.

  Palms damp with sweat, racing heart… all proof he was getting ready to step into new, uncharted territory… all proof he was scared out of his mind.

  He wanted to get this right, wanted things to go off without a hitch. And, what’s more, he preferred to avoid rejection.

  Ideally.

  “So… are we nervous?” Dr. Shafer asked.

  Zander got the impression she was being facetious. Of course he was nervous.

  “Let’s just say that, for the first time in a long time, my insomnia has resurfaced. More than once this week, I’ve found myself pacing the living room at three a.m.”

  That made his doctor laugh. “Well, I’m sure it’ll pass as soon as this is all over. Then, you’ll be sleeping like a baby again.”

  He nodded. “Let’s hope.”

  “And what about the gift? You mentioned last week that you planned to pick something up. Did you ever get around to it?”

  Zander envisioned the small, silver bag sitting on his front seat, the one he hoped would soften a heart later today. A heart he desperately wanted to be let into.

  “I did,” he breathed.

  “Good. I think that’ll be a nice touch.”

  He nodded at his doctor’s response and, on impulse, checked his watch for what felt like the twentieth time since his session began.

  Checking her notes to make sure she hadn’t missed anything they should’ve gone over, Dr. Shafer met Zander’s gaze again. “I think we’re done here. That is, unless there’s something else you’d like to discuss.”

  Unable to think of anything, Zander shook his head. “Nothing.”

  Seemingly satisfied with that, Dr. Shafer dismissed him, freeing him to tend to some exciting business. Zander tried not to let himself get too excited, but he was looking forward to today. Was he risking a lot? Putting his heart on the line? Yes, of c
ourse. But he learned that anything worth having is worth a certain amount of risk.

  “Well, next week then, Zander.”

  “Next week, Doctor,” he said in parting.

  *****

  With a few extra minutes to spare he stopped off for flowers—a dozen pink roses, bound with white ribbon, wrapped in cellophane.

  Today was special. Very special. Hence the reason his heart was in his throat.

  “Don’t blow this,” he muttered to himself, seeing the stone façade of Vanessa’s house coming into view.

  The moment his tires hit the driveway and as the car slowed, his heart raced.

  Things with Vanessa had progressed rather significantly over the last eight months. This, what he was preparing for today, was the next natural step.

  It made sense.

  Blowing a long breath, Zander stepped out of his car and fixed his tie as he cradled both the gift and the flowers he grabbed on the way.

  “Don’t blow this,” he repeated.

  The walkway to her door seemed shorter today. What usually took a good ten to fifteen steps seemed like nothing. He stood there on her porch with his heart in his throat. One push of the bell and he heard footsteps on the other side of the door.

  “Don’t blow this.”

  Eyes as warm and comforting as a mug of hot chocolate on a cold day greeted him and his lips curved, unable to hide how pleased he was to see her. Dark strands barely dusted over her shoulders since getting them cut only a week before, but Zander loved it. The style was edgy and fresh, but he was pretty sure she could’ve done anything to it and she still would’ve been beautiful.

  “These are for you.”

  The bouquet was placed in Vanessa’s hands and her face lit up. As she leaned in, Zander couldn’t help but to anticipate the feel of her lips against his. Yes, by now, her kiss had become so familiar, a staple in his life, but she still got to him every time.

  She made him complete, represented so many positives in his life. Stability, for one. That wasn’t something he’d ever given much thought. He never realized his life was missing a constant. Not until he found her. She gave him that stability, that constant. At the start and finish of every day, one way or another, she was there.

 

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