Tonight You're Mine

by Carlene Thompson

  “Miguel. And I think you should either sit down and lower your voice, or leave.”

  Roger dismissed him with a glance. “Lisa, come with me,” Roger commanded.

  Lisa’s face had gone from white to crimson. “Roger, these are just friends. There’s nothing going on here. Besides, I haven’t finished my dinner.”

  “Your dinner. What about my dinner?”

  “What about it?” Lisa asked blankly.

  “She didn’t fix it for him,” Nicole mumbled.

  “Don’t you care whether or not I eat?” Roger said loudly. “I am doing important work, you know. I can’t live on air.”

  “So order a pizza,” Miguel said equably.

  Roger leaned on the table, nearly tipping it over. “This is between Lisa and me.”

  The owner of the restaurant appeared. “Sir, you are disturbing my other guests. I must ask you to either sit down or leave.”

  Roger glared at him. “I wouldn’t be disturbing your guests if they’d all mind their own damned business.” His gray eyes behind their glasses traveled belligerently over the crowd. “Mind your own business!” he shouted, then his gaze landed on Nicole. “Well, well, of all people, my virtuous wife. The gang’s all here.” He raised his voice even louder. “What are you doing, Nicole? Following Lisa?”

  “Ignore him,” Carmen whispered.

  “I intend to,” Nicole said, lowering her head.

  “Nicole, you didn’t answer my question.” Nicole stared at her plate, possibly more embarrassed than she’d ever been in her life. Her cheeks burned and she felt as if she were going to start hyperventilating. “Not talking, are we?”

  The manager tried again. “Mister, if you don’t leave right now, I’m calling security.”

  Roger looked at him with great dignity. “I will be most happy to leave your sleazy little establishment.” He reached down and grabbed Lisa by the arm. “Come on.”

  “Roger, you’re hurting me!” Lisa cried.

  “I said come with me. Now!” He jerked Lisa to a half-standing position as she cried out in pain.

  In an instant Miguel was on his feet and around the table, yanking Roger’s hand from Lisa’s arm. “Let her go and get the hell out of here!”

  “Don’t tell me what to do, you long-haired—”

  Almost before she realized what was happening, Nicole watched as Miguel hit Roger in the jaw. He staggered backward, sending the table behind him crashing to the patio, food splattering everywhere. Although Roger caught himself before he fell, the next few moments were a mixture of people gasping, laughing, cheering, and clapping. Nicole half rose from her seat in shock.

  Carmen sat, convulsed with laughter, as Roger regained his composure. Nicole, her face frozen in astonishment, expected Roger to take a swing at Miguel. Instead, he turned, apologized to the people whose dinner he’d left on the patio, then looked at Lisa. She rose, and without a word they quickly walked away together.

  Nicole sat numbly as waiters came to clean up the mess that had been Lisa’s table. “He’s lost his mind,” she said vacantly.

  “He’s drunk,” Carmen answered, wiping at her eyes with a napkin. “My God, that was hilarious.”

  Nicole looked at her in anguish. “Would you have thought it was so hilarious if it had been Bobby?”

  Immediately the humor faded from Carmen’s face. She reached both hands across the table for Nicole’s. “I’m sorry. How insensitive can I be? Lord!”

  “I guess it was pretty funny to an outsider,” Nicole tried.

  “I’m not an outsider. Even if I don’t know Roger very well and can’t stand what I do know of him, you are my best friend, closer than a sister. Please forgive me.”

  Nicole mustered a smile. “Don’t worry about it. And don’t sound so abject. Tomorrow I’ll probably be laughing at it myself.”

  “Dr. Chandler?” Nicole looked up to see Miguel. “I’m sorry for the scene.”

  “It wasn’t your fault,” Nicole said coolly. “Roger started it.”

  “But maybe I went too far—”

  “You didn’t. He probably would have pulled Lisa’s arm out of its socket if you hadn’t stopped him.”

  Obviously aware of her remoteness, he backed away slightly. “Once again, I’m sorry for any embarrassment I caused.”

  “Everything is fine, Miguel,” Nicole said formally. “See you at school.”

  As he walked back to where the others were gathering purses and jackets, Carmen raised an eyebrow. “You were a tad chilly.”

  “Was I?” Nicole said, sipping what was left of her drink.

  “You resent him for defending Lisa, don’t you?”

  “No,” Nicole said honestly. “Someone needed to defend her.”

  “Then what is it? No, wait. I know. You like this guy and you don’t like seeing him here with Lisa.”

  “That’s hardly a revelation, Carmen. I already told you that.”

  “But there’s something else, something I pointed out to you the day of your father’s funeral.” Nicole raised her eyes in curiosity. “He looks like Paul Dominic, Nicole. It didn’t really hit me until tonight I wasn’t paying that much attention to him at your Christmas barbecue, but don’t tell me you haven’t noticed it. He’s even about the same age as Paul was when you were involved with him.”

  “I’d like another drink,” Nicole said briskly, signaling the waitress.

  “Nicole?”

  “Oh, okay. I’ve noticed. There is a faint resemblance but he’s not Paul.”

  “Just keep in mind what I’ve said,” Carmen answered slowly. “You barely know this guy. Don’t trust him too much.”

  “Who said I trusted him?”

  “The expression on your face when you saw him with Lisa. You looked completely betrayed.”

  And so I did, Nicole thought. Betrayed by yet one more man in my life.

  2

  “I’m glad we decided to stay,” Nicole said. “I’ve had a good time, in spite of Roger’s performance.”

  “Me, too.” Carmen smiled warmly and looked at her watch. “But good heavens, it’s nearly ten. I promised Bobby I’d be home by nine.”

  “I’m sure he’ll survive.”

  “I’m going inside to call and tell him I’m safe or he’ll be worried.”

  When Carmen had gone, Nicole leaned back in her chair, letting the cool breeze blow through her hair. Two more margaritas had temporarily calmed her earlier distress over Roger, although she knew in the morning it would return, along with a pounding headache. Oh, well, this hadn’t been quite the evening she’d planned, but at least it had been an experience.

  Carmen reappeared soon, her eyes apprehensive. “What’s wrong?” Nicole asked, immediately thinking something had happened to Shelley.

  “Nothing, really, except that Bobby’s mad at me.”

  “Why?”

  “Staying out so late, leaving him with the two girls and his father.”

  “I thought he agreed to it.”

  “He did, but I guess Raoul has been more trouble than usual.”

  “Has something happened to Raoul?”

  “No. He’s just in one of his garrulous moods. He keeps mixing up Shelley with you and going on and on about the past. You know how all that incessant talking drives Bobby nuts.” No, I didn’t know, Nicole thought, or I wouldn’t have let Shelley stay. “Where is that girl with the check?” Carmen demanded.

  “Carmen, are the girls all right?”

  “What? Oh, yes. They’re asleep.”

  “I’ll stop by and get Shelley.”

  Carmen looked affronted. “No. I told you, they’re perfectly fine. It would only make Bobby madder if he knew I’d said anything to you to make you think Shelley wasn’t safe.” She looked around nervously. “Where is the damned check?”

  “Never mind the check,” Nicole said steadily. “You head for home. I’ll take care of our bill.”

  “That’s not fair.”

  “You can settle with me
later.” Nicole was more concerned with Carmen’s agitation than she was with splitting the bill. “Go on home. And don’t drive too fast.”

  Carmen sighed. “Okay. Thanks so much.” She stood and leaned down to give Nicole a brief kiss on the cheek. “You’re such a good friend.”

  With that she was off, nearly running down the River Walk in her haste to reach home and a husband who’d decided to get mad because his wife wasn’t back on time. Carmen was being silly, getting so upset over such a little thing, Nicole thought. Then she remembered the early days of her marriage, when she’d acted exactly the same way about Roger. The difference is, I grew out of it, she mused. Apparently Carmen hadn’t.

  After Nicole paid the check, she took a deep breath, suddenly feeling so tired she didn’t know if she had the energy to get back to the car. Too much tequila and too much excitement, she thought before asking the waitress for a strong black coffee to go.

  As she left the restaurant and started back through the River Walk, she thought about Roger. If two or three years ago someone had shown her a video of tonight’s scenario, she would have laughed it off as a fake. Roger, what’s happened to you? she thought. I don’t love you anymore, but it still hurts to see you disintegrating before my eyes. She wanted to blame Lisa, but that was too easy. Lisa was a symptom of Roger’s decline, not the cause. Maybe I’m the cause, Nicole thought sadly. Maybe he simply couldn’t live with all the trauma I brought with me as his wife.

  As soon as she began walking, Nicole was glad she’d bought the coffee. The breeze had grown sharper and she was certain the temperature had dropped to sixty. She took a drink of the steaming coffee, then pulled her blazer closer around her and buttoned it. A brightly lit riverboat cruised by, the passengers happily singing “Guantanamera,” a song Nicole hadn’t heard for years. She waved at them and most waved back.

  Shops and cafes did not line all of the River Walk areas. Large spaces were empty, quiet and parklike with cobblestone walkways. When Nicole reached one of these, away from the music and sound of people talking and laughing, she suddenly became aware of the sound of water lapping against the concrete sides of the canal. It was a lonely sound, and although the canals were drained and cleaned each January, the water looked murky and smelled slightly brackish tonight.

  The breeze suddenly stiffened considerably, sweeping her hair across her face. When she pushed it away, she realized how much the crowd had thinned, as if in the blink of an eye almost everyone had disappeared. Picking up her pace, she passed under one of the stone bridges arching the canal, lit underneath only by soft amber and green lights.

  That’s when she first heard the footsteps behind her. Normally she would have paid no attention, but these steps were different. They walked in perfect sync with hers. When she picked up her pace, so did they. When she slowed to take another sip of coffee, they slowed, too.

  The temptation to look behind her was almost unbearable, but something told her that would be a mistake. Whoever was back there would be on her in an instant. Instead she looked across the canal. An older man and woman, the man moving slowly with a walker, were complaining steadily about the cold, the time of night, the cost of dinner, and the cobblestones while a middle-aged woman herded them along with loud, encouraging words. No one even glanced at Nicole, not that any of them could have been any help.

  And she needed help. She’d only heard footsteps, but something primal told her she was in danger. This was really stupid! she thought furiously. The River Walk was not a high-crime area and she’d never been afraid here before, but then she’d never thought someone was stalking her before, either. Of all times to come down here, when she was worried about Paul Dominic following her! Of course, coming here wouldn’t have been such a mistake if she hadn’t stayed so long and left around eight-thirty with Carmen as she’d planned, but the evening hadn’t gone as scheduled. Instead she’d become distracted by Roger and then dulled her senses with tequila, lingering around until after ten o’clock when the crowd began thinning because of the hour and the dropping temperature. Now here she was all alone with someone definitely following her.

  She passed a set of stairs leading up to street level and her heart leaped. She started up them, hearing the footsteps slow behind her. Then she saw that a wrought-iron gate shut them off from the sidewalk above.

  She felt like screaming, but instead muttered an “Oh shoot,” and casually walked down the stairs as if she were in no hurry and had not noticed that she was being followed. She veered to the right, threw her disposable coffee cup in a trash can, and reached in her pocket for the Mace, holding it tightly but out of sight in the pocket. Two blocks to the steps that lead up to the street where the car is parked in the building, she told herself. Just keep walking. Don’t think, don’t run, don’t throw off the scent of fear.

  Up ahead was another archway. More green and amber lights glowed, although these seemed dimmer than the last. She tightened her hand on the Mace, looking around for someone who could help her. But no cruise ships went by, and no one else walked in the vicinity. The world seemed full of nothing but dull lights, water lapping, her heart pounding, and the footsteps tapping relentlessly behind her.

  Under the archway, the air grew colder. The last one, she thought, perspiring in spite of the chill. This was the last bridge, she thought. Then she would reach the steps to the street where people walked, where policemen rode bikes.

  Abruptly the footsteps behind her picked up speed. She pulled the Mace from her pocket and began to run when a body crashed against hers, knocking the Mace from her hand, propelling her toward the wall of the archway, slamming her against the stone, knocking the air from her. Pain shot through her back and head. She flailed helplessly, kicking her booted feet until she was rewarded with a grunt of pain. For an instant she saw a thin face with beard stubble, one front tooth missing and one gold. The smell of mildew and stale sweat nearly smothered her before a strong, filthy hand slapped her face so hard her vision dimmed. The hand covered her mouth before she could manage even a weak scream.

  He tore at her purse, oblivious to her small, pummeling fists, and she felt the strap give way. Then he slapped her again and ripped her blouse, then her bra. Memories of the long-ago rape overwhelmed her as he forced her body down. Panic seized her, a panic even stronger than she’d felt with Magaro and Zand because she’d been through this before and knew the agony that awaited. Strong hands closed around her throat.

  Suddenly she heard the sound of an animal growl. Dear God, she thought wildly, did that come from him? Then she felt the weight of a third body on top of hers. The snarls continued. The man screamed and Nicole caught a glimpse of an animal face. A Doberman, huge white teeth bared before they sank into the man’s arm. He shrieked again and let go of her throat.

  Stunned, Nicole lay still while the struggle between man and dog raged, the man’s knees and shoes digging into her as he fought to get to his feet, the dog holding fast to his arm, then grabbing his upper calf, growling steadily the whole time.

  The man kicked out and the dog yelped. At last he clambered to his feet, cursing and still kicking. “Hold!” someone yelled. The Doberman, slavering, sat still for a moment while the man abandoned Nicole and ran down the River Walk. Another form moved toward the dog. Nicole was aware of movement, as if someone were stroking the dog, looking for injuries. “Go!” the voice commanded again, and the dog was off, the man shrieking up ahead as the barking black streak pursued him.

  Nicole struggled to a sitting position, her body weak and shaking, her blouse and bra hanging open, her vision blurred. She tried to stand but collapsed. Strong arms closed on her shoulders, pressing her back into a sitting position. “No, no please,” she moaned, fighting weakly. But the big hands trapped hers. “You’re safe now,” a deep male voice said.

  She struggled to see, but her eyes wouldn’t focus. “Who…”

  She heard voices, people shouting, footsteps running her way. “You are all right, chérie.” Th
e man slipped something around her neck. Cold metal touched the delicate bare skin between her breasts. She blinked. Her vision cleared for an instant and she looked into a man’s burning hazel eyes. He kissed her on the forehead, rose, and vanished before anyone else reached her.

  Eleven

  1

  The next few hours were a blur for Nicole. People appeared from all directions, a man helped her to her feet, a woman buttoned her blazer over her bare breasts, someone drove her to the police station. Was there someone she wanted to call? they asked. Roger? she thought, and almost laughed in spite of her condition. Her mother? No, she’d been through too much lately. Carmen? Carmen had her own troubles with Bobby. No, she didn’t want to call anyone.

  Later all she remembered was bitter coffee, questions about who might want to hurt her, more questions about what the guy looked like, and finally a grilling about how much she’d had to drink and what she was doing down there. “You always dress that way to stroll the River Walk alone at night?” a beefy, particularly offensive officer named Erwin asked. Time spun backward for Nicole. It was fifteen years ago. “You always wear tight jeans and prowl the town at night?” this cop’s clone had asked.

  “I want DeSoto,” she said flatly.

  Erwin looked at her with interest. “DeSoto?”

  “Sergeant Raymond DeSoto.”

  “You two special friends?”

  Nicole gave him a glacial stare. “You said I could call someone. I want Sergeant DeSoto.”

  “Well, I’m afraid he’s not on duty, little lady. Got any other cop friends? Why don’t you just talk to me?”

  Nicole, battered, on the verge of tears, shaken to the core of her being, leaned toward Erwin and spoke softly. “If you don’t call DeSoto, I’m going to scream down the walls of this place and claim you made sexual advances toward me.”

  “Nobody would believe you,” Erwin said, his face puffing with anger although he didn’t sound too sure of himself.

  Nicole smiled challengingly. “Let’s try it and see.” The man’s eyes wavered. “Call DeSoto now.”