He nods, his features sad as he walks me outside the room. I say goodbye to Brody in the hallway, assuring him I’m fine with Mike. He kisses me on the cheek, eyeing Mike suspiciously before reluctantly walking away. Mike says nothing as we enter the elevator and descend to the ground level.
I’ve been in this hotel one other time for a press conference, and I remember the downstairs bathroom backs onto the parking garage, so when I tell him I need to use the restroom before we leave, I’ve already made up my mind what I’m going to do.
I wait in the bathroom until everyone’s gone, and then I lock the door, running to the window and sliding it open. It’s a bit of a tight squeeze, but I manage to wriggle my way through. Out in the parking garage, I walk with purpose, as fast as I can in my high-heeled boots, wanting to put as much distance between me and the carnage back there.
I can’t believe I was so naïve.
So foolish.
I knew once we withdrew from our little Hamptons bubble that things would be challenging, but I’d no idea how fast things would turn to shit or how quickly Ryder would revert to form.
I was stupid to have trusted him so blindly. To have given in so easily.
He’s not the same boy I remember because that boy would never have taken a machete to my heart the way that man just did.
I don’t belong in this world, and I guess it’s better I found out now before I invested even more of my time and my future. It’s such a mess, and I’m going to be a laughingstock once the media discovers Ryder’s already dumped me for the girl who betrayed him. I’ll have to quit the magazine and find a new job. Probably find a rock somewhere to hide under until all the media furor has died down. Maybe I’ll go stay with Jill and Liam for a while. I haven’t seen them in ages, and a visit is long overdue. And, if anyone understands how easily I shatter when let down by that man, it’s my aunt.
I’m distracted, running through options in my head, so I’m not paying attention to my surroundings.
I’m nearing the front of the parking garage when a man in a tailored black suit steps out of the shadows directly in front of me. His face is completely covered with one of those creepy white masks, and it scares the fuck out of me. Startled, I scream on instinct, and he covers my mouth, grabbing me in a chokehold and dragging me over to the wall.
Blood thrums in my ears, and adrenaline courses through my veins as my heart starts pounding wildly in my chest. Although I’m terrified, I raise my leg and stretch my hand back, ready to implement years of self-defense lessons when something cold and sharp presses against my throat.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” His voice is gruff and deep, his breath foul smelling as he presses his mouth to my ear. “I’d hate for Ryder to find you with that pretty neck slashed wide open and bleeding out all over the ground.”
A sting pricks my neck as he presses the knife farther into my flesh. A chill tiptoes up my spine, and raw fear takes hold of me. “What do you want?” I ask, hating how my voice trembles and my knees almost go out from under me, but I’m unable to stop my body’s natural reaction to the situation.
“What do I want?” Keeping the knife pressed against my throat, he moves his other hand up along the curve of my hip and higher. “That’s an interesting question.” His hand continues to wander upward until he cups my right breast. I squeeze my eyes shut, praying that Mike has figured out I’ve run and that he finds me before it’s too late. “Ryder sure has good taste in women,” he rasps, sliding the knife lower, making a clean cut straight through the front of my top. Strips of material float to the ground, leaving me standing in my leather jacket and strapless bra. He moves the knife back up to my throat as his other hand slips into my bra and over my bare skin. Tears sneak out of my eyes as I think about how I avoided this for years growing up, despite daily threats of sexual assault, and it was all for nothing, because this guy is going to either rape me or kill me or maybe do both. His fingers tweak my nipple, and a sob rips from my mouth.
He laughs, and it’s the most menacing laugh I’ve ever born witness to. If this was a movie, you couldn’t make it any more cliché. A course of shivers ripples through my body, and my throat seizes up, my lungs stop working, and I’m struggling to breathe, as an intense anxiety attack grips hold of me.
“I’m almost tempted to take you with me,” he says, slowly removing his hand from my breast. “But letting you live, for now, serves a greater purpose.” His hand glides down over my ass, and he tugs at my skirt, ripping through the layers of tulle to palm the bare cheeks of my ass before grabbing hold of my crotch from behind. He digs his fingers in, rubbing his hard-on against my ass, and I almost puke. Tears roll silently down my cheeks, and I want to die. In this moment, I seriously consider asking him to dig the knife into my flesh and end it all.
He continues to rub against me, pawing at my pussy, and tears streak down my face.
“Tell Ryder the next time he ignores me, you won’t be so lucky.”
I gasp as a sharp, pulling pain wrenches across my neck. Grabbing hold of my throat, he lifts me up off the ground with my legs dangling in the air. He squeezes hard, and black dots distort my vision. When he lets go of me, I plummet to the ground, my vision blurring as I crash onto the asphalt, a jolt of pain rattling through my skull and zipping up my spine.
I lie on my side, groaning as my hands automatically fly to my neck. Warm liquid coats my fingers, and I tremble, more terrified than I’ve ever been in my life. Pulling one hand away, I inspect my bloody fingers in shock.
He cut me! The bastard cut me!
That’s the last conscious thought I have, and with the sound of his retreating footsteps echoing in the background, I escape into darkness.
CHAPTER 34
Ryder
“Get the fuck away from me.” I glare at Ashley, grabbing her hand before she reaches my cock. She laughs, throwing her hair over her shoulder, slapping me in the face with it. “I said get off me,” I grit out, losing patience fast.
“What the hell’s your problem?” She twists around on my lap, and I get up, letting her slide to the ground before she can make any more moves on me.
“You’re my fucking problem,” I snarl, ignoring the way my head spins as I try to focus on her face. How the hell I ever thought she was pretty is a mystery. She looks like bad judgment and regret, and I’ve just swallowed a second helping.
My head jerks up in the direction of where Zeta went fleeing, and a horrible pain slices through me as the image of her devastated face flits before my mind’s eye. And then some douche appeared out of nowhere to comfort her, and I saw red all over again. I was two seconds away from charging up there when Mike took control of the situation. I know I can trust him to keep her safe, but it should be me.
I should be the one by her side, and the reason I’m not is all on me.
The damage is already done, and I’ve no one to blame but myself.
What the fuck have I done? I cradle my head in my hands, closing and then rapidly opening my eyes, when the world starts shifting. My veins are buzzing, blood thrumming in my ears, and my limbs are jittery, restless. My mind is whirling in a million different directions, and I can’t stabilize it fast enough to form a coherent thought. I start pacing, grabbing handfuls of my hair, craving an outlet for the wired-up mess twisting my insides into knots.
“Ryder, baby.” Ashley’s hands slide around my waist, and I shove her off instantly.
Turning around, I pin her with my most venomous look. “Do not touch me. Do not talk to me. And, most certainly, do not call me baby.”
“But … what was that? I thought—”
“You were a means to an end. One I already regret, so fuck off and manipulate some other sad fucker.” I can’t believe I just pulled that shit with Zeta. Or that I used Ashley to do it.
I deserve to lose her, because that was the shittiest of shitty moves.
But the rage burning through my limbs at the thought of that asshole with his hands on my girl, mixed with the poison swirling through my veins, forced all logical thought out of my brain.
I was hurting. And I wanted to hurt her too.
Well, mission accomplished, jackass.
In a fast move, Ashley grabs a drink off the table, flinging the contents at me. Sticky, amber-colored liquid drips down my face and over my chest. Security for the event approaches our table in a flash. “Mr. Stone. Is there a problem here?”
“Yes,” I say, yanking my T-shirt up, using it to wipe the wetness off my face. “Can you get rid of the trash.” I jab my finger at Ashley.
“Come with me, miss.” He gestures for her to walk ahead of him, and the serious look on his face shows he means business. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way,” he adds, when she doesn’t budge.
“Fuck you, Ryder.” She shoves me. “And fuck you too!” She lunges for the poor man only doing his job, but he sidesteps her, pulling her hands behind her back and forcing her to move forward. She screams bloody murder, drawing attention, and it takes three security personnel to drag her from the room.
“I hope you’re happy now, you stupid prick,” Scott says, glaring at me. “I can’t believe you just did that. With Ashley of all people. I’ve known you to act foolishly before but never to be so petty and juvenile.”
“Fuck off. We can’t all be choir boys like you.” How dare he sit there looking all sanctimonious.
“You’ve royally screwed things up.” He shakes his head. “I really don’t get you. It’s like you have this self-destruct button you can’t resist pressing. She’s the best thing to ever happen to you, and you just fucked it all up. You’ll be lucky if she ever speaks to you again, let alone finishes the biography.”
“Who gives a shit about the biography, and I don’t need a lecture, Dad.” The word tastes bitter on my tongue. Maybe if I’d had a dad, or a worthy male figure in my life, I wouldn’t be such a screwup.
A waitress appears with a tray laden down with drinks. Scott hands her a wad of cash and sends her on her way. “Drink this, you stupid fucker.” He thrusts a bottle of water into my chest. I’m about to pour the contents over his smug face when he adds, “I’m trying to help you here. You need to stop snorting that shit up your nose, sober up, and then go and find your girl before it’s too late.”
Panic and fear sticks in my throat, and all my fighting instincts fade, as I realize the enormity of what I’ve just done.
I might have just lost Zeta for good.
Dropping into the seat beside Scott, I knock back three bottles of water without uttering a word. Gar is passed out on the seat across from us, and Micah has disappeared with that actress. I’m sipping coffee, deliberating how to fix this mess, when Scott decides to impart his next words of wisdom. “Did you do that deliberately to ruin things because you think you don’t deserve to be happy?”
I shrug. Truth is, I don’t really know. Since I got his text earlier today, I’ve been on a downer. That dose of reality crashed into me, forcing me to question everything I’ve been promising Zeta, making me realize how selfish I’ve been. I’ve risked her life, and I haven’t even had the guts to fess up to her yet.
What kind of a bastard does that to the woman he loves?
Did I set out to deliberately hurt her? To say unintentional cruel things to her? To let that fucking bitch crawl all over me because I knew that would be the last straw for Zeta?
No.
I didn’t set out to do that.
But I was on edge all evening, and when Gar offered me the solution just before we went on stage, I didn’t stop to hesitate.
And that’s exactly where I went wrong.
“Boss.” Mike materializes in front of me as if from thin air. His face is a little flushed as he leans in, planting his hands on the table. “We have a bit of a problem.”
“What kind of a problem?” Goose bumps sprout on my arms as a horrible sense of foreboding creeps over me.
“I’ve lost Zeta.”
I jump up. “What do you mean you’ve lost her? I told you to stay with her no matter what. That includes me being a fucking asshole. She comes first. Always.”
“I know, and I was with her, but I think she ditched me. Or, at least, I hope she did.” Frown lines crease his brow.
“You’re not making any sense, and my patience is in limited supply.” I rub my aching head. At least the world isn’t spinning anymore.
“She locked herself into the bathroom on the ground level. I have Denver waiting downstairs for hotel security to arrive to unlock it.”
“Oh fuck.” I start running as horrific thoughts begin floating through my mind. If she’s done anything to hurt herself because of me, I’ll never forgive myself. Never.
I push past people, ignoring their cussing and shouting, slamming into the doors, and out into the hallway. I run five miles most days, and I’m quick on my feet, even in my current fucked-up state, so Mike and Scott don’t catch up to me until I’m at the elevator. The door pings open as they arrive, and we pile in. “This is all my fault.”
“Yeah, fucktard. It is.” Mike doesn’t mince his words.
“You don’t think she’d do anything to hurt herself, do you?”
“I don’t know, boss. She was very upset. Trying not to show it, but I could tell.”
I press my forehead to the wall. “I’ve messed everything up.”
Neither of them dignifies that with a response because we all know it’s the truth.
Denver, one of the new bodyguards, is waiting for us when we emerge on ground level. “I tried your cell, but the call kept dropping,” he explains to Mike. “She’s not in the bathroom, sir. It seems she climbed out the window which leads to the parking garage.”
The fact she wasn’t planning to hurt herself is of little comfort now. Because she’s out there somewhere. Alone. And that asshole could know it. I grab hold of Denver’s shoulders. “Which way to the garage?”
“Follow me.”
We race along the hallway behind Denver, pushing through double doors into the rear lobby, and out through another set of doors which brings us into the garage. I run to my left, following the exit signs, presuming she went this way. When I round the next bend, I almost trip over my own feet as I hear someone screaming for help. All the tiny hairs lift on my arms as I push my limbs harder, running in the direction of the voice.
Fear pummels my body, and I try to force myself to calm down, but my heart is racing crazy fast, and the pressure in my chest is intense. When I round the next bend and find a stranger crouched over Zeta’s prone body, I almost lose the contents of my stomach.
She’s lying against the wall, on her side, with her hands clutched around her neck. Blood trickles between her fingers, and black mascara streaks have dried on her cheeks.
“I’ve called an ambulance,” the strange woman says, trying to disguise the little gasp of recognition she emitted when I sank to my knees beside her.
I don’t even acknowledge her, focusing on Zeta. “Zeta, honey, it’s me.” I press my lips to her forehead, almost collapsing in relief at the feel of her warm skin against mine.
“Jesus Christ.” Scott crouches down beside me, alarm etched across his face. Mike is already on his cell, calling for assistance. “Who did this?” Scott asks the woman.
“I didn’t see. I was driving past when I spotted her lying unconscious on the ground. I pulled over and called nine-one-one.”
“Thank you,” Scott says.
Zeta stirs, and a strangled moan slips out of her mouth.
“Baby,” I choke. “Can you hear me?”
“Ryder?” Slowly she blinks her eyes open, and it’s the most beautiful view.
The woman and Scott stand, moving over to talk to Mike.
“I’m so s
orry, baby,” I whisper. “I left you unprotected.”
Tears well in her eyes, and she shivers all over. I only then notice her state of undress. All the blood drains from my body, and my stomach lurches violently. Removing my jacket with trembling hands, I cover her up. “What happened?” I whisper.
“He … he …” She bursts out crying, and I’m imagining all kinds of horrors.
I carefully pry one hand off her neck so I can inspect the damage. “Let me look.” I tear off the bottom of my shirt, gently cleaning the exposed area of her neck so I can assess the depth of the cut. It’s only a surface wound, the blood making it appear so much worse, but it does little to comfort me.
She’s not saying anything, just looking straight ahead, tears rolling down her face, as if she doesn’t even see me. Wresting her other hand off her neck, I place her trembling hands at her side, kissing her cheek. “It’s okay, baby. I’m here now, and I’m gonna take care of you.”
Like I should’ve been doing. Instead of acting like a giant bag of dicks. But I push my guilt and remorse aside to revisit later. Because right now, Zeta needs me. There’s nothing more sobering than finding the girl you love bleeding and broken. Especially knowing it’s all your fault.
I clean the other side of her neck, staring at the small, thin line sliced across her throat, with barely restrained rage. I want to believe this is a random attack, but I just know it isn’t.
I rip another strip off my shirt, wadding it up and pressing it to the wound, as Zeta stares blankly off into space. I quickly scan every inch of her, looking for signs of other visible injuries, but I don’t see any.
At least not on the outside.
Nausea swims up my throat at the thought of him touching her in places I can’t see.
Mike crouches down on the other side of me. “Is she okay?” he quietly adds, his voice laced with guilt.
“The cut isn’t deep.” My voice is raw, my throat clogged with heavy emotion.
“I’ve called the cops and the hotel has a medical team en route. They’re also cordoning off the garage, and they’ll ensure no one gets through.”
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