by D. L. Wu
Evan remained where he was sitting and sighed. He decided he needed another cigarette. Hell, he needed a drink. Could he trust her alone if he went to the bar? Did it really matter?
Impulsively, he redressed, shouldered his gun and holster underneath his jacket, tucked his wallet and the room key away into one of his pockets and left the room, heading toward the restaurant nearby. Knocking back a couple drinks at the bar would help him ease his worries.
Jaime heard him leave the room. She stood in front of the mirror rubbing her wet eyes. Never in her entire life had she felt so full of turmoil and downright hopeless. She was in love with someone who would never reciprocate her feelings. At the same time, she felt intense hatred for him, something she had never expected to feel.
CHAPTER 13
“What’ll you have?” the bar maid asked Evan, giving him a sexy smile when she saw him sitting on a stool before her. “A beer?”
“Make it a bourbon, Luv,” he said and winked at her as he smiled. “Neat.”
“You got it.” She smiled dreamily as she turned and effortlessly pulled the bourbon bottle and a glass from behind her in one fluid motion.
He watched her pour him a glass and winked again as she slid it into his hand. He was aware of that fact that she would soon be starry-eyed over him as most women were. He took note of the fact that she was also an American bartender and remembered that most enjoyed getting involved in their client’s tribulations. He knew she wouldn’t be able to resist initiating conversation with him for long.
Right on cue, the red-headed woman promptly asked, “What happened to your pretty face? Everything alright with you, Brit boy?”
Intrigued, he raised an eyebrow. “Brit boy?” he repeated. “Haven’t heard that one in a long while.”
“Pretty obvious, though. You’re from England, right?”
“Naw, California . . . Duuude,” he said playfully. “But I’m originally from London, yeah. Does it make a difference, then, Luv?”
She bestowed him with a flirtatious smile. “It does. Makes you very desirable to the women out here.”
He motioned to the bar filled with men. “The only woman I see ‘out here’ is you, Sweetheart.”
“Exactly! And with all these country bumpkins, you’re looking mighty fine,” she said. Her words were an obvious pick-up line.
“Okay, but be honest with me,” he murmured and played along. “If I was standing next to George Clooney, would I still be looking that fine?”
“Yes, Honey, you certainly would!”
“Even with my messed up face?”
She nodded again, suggestively.
“Ta.” He winked at her again, enjoying ‘the game’.
“You have a room over at the Waters?” she asked boldly, referring to the motel next door. “My name’s Emily, by the way.”
“Evan, and yes, I do,” he replied, knowing that she was hinting at having a one night stand with him.
“Well, I get off at eleven. What number?”
“You know,” he sighed, “I would love to, but I got me li’l sis in the room with me. Unless you can offer me a babysitter, I wouldn’t know what to do with her.”
“That’s the worst excuse I ever heard!” she laughed. “You’re not serious, are you?”
He shrugged. “I am totally, Luv.”
“Well, how old is she?”
“Um . . .” he hesitated.
He realized, then, that he didn’t know how old Jaime truly was. He would need to take a wild guess in order to do her justice, but at the last minute, he decided to make her older than he’d first intended. He needed a good shag and didn’t want to pass up the opportunity.
“She’s seventeen,” he fibbed. He rationalized that it wasn’t an actual fib since he really didn’t know her real age.
“Then hell, she doesn’t need a sitter!” Emily laughed. “My room’s just upstairs here. Come back at eleven and I’ll give you the ride of your life!”
Evan stared at the clock behind her.
She grinned and looked at it, too. “Oh my goodness! That’s only an hour away, anyhow. Just stay here, then, and get good and plastered so that I can have my way with you.”
“All right, then,” Evan agreed and pushed his empty glass toward her. She promptly filled it again.
***
Jaime lay upon the bed with the television blaring in the background, wondering when Evan would return. Her tears continued to fall. Over an hour had passed since he had disappeared. Perhaps he had deserted her. She couldn’t blame him if he did.
She realized that she had acted like a spoiled child, but his words had stung her deeply. She couldn’t help how much it had hurt. She was frightened without him there and wanted nothing more than to have him back.
She decided that she wouldn’t do anything else to make him tired, annoyed, or resentful of her. She could only wonder as to what it was that he was feeling for her now. Truth be told, she wasn’t quite sure what that was. Never-the-less, she promised herself that she would be an obedient and submissive young lady from now on.
***
Evan allowed Emily to lead him up to the small apartment she inhabited above the restaurant. He knew he was quite drunk, thus he wasn’t sure how much of this encounter he would remember in the morning. But it felt good while he was doing it, that much he knew.
Emily seemed to be enjoying things as well in her own unique way. She was a screamer, which surprised him as Evan hadn’t encountered that many screamers within his long tally of lovers.
Evan stumbled back into the motel room several minutes past two in the morning. Although he was quite drunk, he took note of the fact that the lights were still on in their room. Jaime, on the other hand, was not in the bed.
His initial thought was that she had bolted. He released a melancholy sigh, feeling a tad conflicted over her. He also felt relief over the fact that she would no longer be infatuated with him and guilty because of the entire situation at hand. He would never be able to take back the kidnapping or the attempted rape she’d suffered.
As he headed for the bathroom, he became cognizant of her gentle sobbing and was surprised to feel relief at the fact that she was still there. That she was safe and that she was still with him.
Jaime screamed with surprise as he entered the bathroom, his eyes wide and not quite focused. She was sitting in a tub full of warm water. She’d assumed that he had deserted her for good. She quickly and instinctively covered her naked chest with her arms and sensed that he was very drunk.
Despite his inebriated state, he made no secret of the fact that he was relieved to see her. “Jaime!” he slurred happily.
“I thought you left me!” she spat angrily.
“No, I was just gettin’ laid is all.” He laughed and without thought, he recklessly unzipped his blue jeans and relieved himself in front of her.
“Evan!” she squealed. “Get out!”
“Hell, no. This is my room, too, and I gotta take a piss!” He groaned as he continued doing so.
Jaime quickly covered her eyes, but kept her arms wrapped around her chest. “You’re drunk, aren’t you?” she moaned into her hands.
“Yes, I am, thanks very much.”
“And you went out and . . . and . . .”
“Had a shag? Yeah, that too! And it was fuckin’ good! Stuffed that pussy so high and mighty, she was screamin'!” he proclaimed crudely. “You can look now. Knob's back in.”
A myriad of emotions consumed her as she stared back at him. Absolute anger that he had left her alone and hatred because of the fact that he’d gone out to have sex and get drunk were amongst them. Yet she also felt excitement because of the current state she found herself in with him standing so close nearby. However, the latter she preferred to keep to herself.
“Please, get out now!” she demanded.
Unfortunately, his current condition wasn't allowing him much discretion. He fell to his knees near the tub, a sly grin spreading across his face.
She squealed with embarrassment.
“You're very beautiful,” he replied. Despite his being completely wasted, his words sounded sincere.
***
Jaime sighed and then grew silent. She regarded Evan with longing before her senses took hold of her once more. “Get out!” she said again, her voice a tad more controlled and less angry.
She was well aware of the fact that words spoken when someone was compromised by drink were often spoken in absolute truth. Her father had once told her that. Did Evan really think she was beautiful? He had alluded to it before when he was sober, but she figured he was only playing her at the time and building her confidence falsely with his observations. Could this drunken musing be an honest one that came directly from his heart?
Evan hadn't moved from his position on the floor. Her heart leapt as he gently reached out to touch her cheek. She jerked out of his reach because she thought she had to and not because she wanted to.
“Don't touch me,” she whispered with regret. Confusion raced through her as she watched Evan pull himself to his feet.
“Going to bed,” he mumbled.
She watched him stagger out of the bathroom without a backward glance in her direction. She sat alone within the bathtub longer than she expected, breathing heavily as she felt tingles of awareness coursing through her body. They became more prevalent as the minutes passed.
Taking a deep breath, she drained the tub and gingerly stepped out of it. She pulled on her tee shirt and panties and strode into the adjacent room to find Evan lying face down upon his stomach across the bed snoring and that he was still fully dressed.
She sighed and shook her head, carefully approaching him. She slowly pulled off each of his shoes. He groaned as she did, but did not awaken. It wasn’t going to be easy to remove any of his clothes since he was passed out completely, so she gave up trying and turned off the lights. She then climbed into the bed beside him.
He lay on top of the covers, but she still managed to slide beneath them and tried to get as close to him as possible. The scent of alcohol did nothing to interfere with his unique male scent, not that she wasn't used to such things. Her beloved father had gotten drunk on many an occasion. In her mind, it was just something men always did. Something, she assumed, was part of their very nature.
CHAPTER 14
The early morning sun peeked through the hazy, dirty drapes to awaken Jaime prematurely. She’d hardly slept all night as Evan had returned to their quarters some time after two in the morning. His drunken snoring made it hard for her to sleep.
She glanced at the clock and realized that it was now just after six-thirty. She’d netted herself about two hours of sleep in total. In truth, it didn’t really matter. She was tired and felt it throughout her entire body as she stared at a sleeping Evan. He was still lying upon his stomach on top of the covers and lightly snoring, the smell of alcohol permeating from every inch of his body.
Ever so gently, she reached out to brush back a sprig of his dark brown hair as it lay across his eyes. His hair felt so fine and soft, she noted. It prompted her to touch it even more. Before she knew it, she was gently caressing it off of his face.
Evan twitched a little from her touch and she jerked her hand back in order to keep him from waking. She smiled as he brushed his hand across his own face as if swatting a bug aside while still in the throes of sleep. He rolled onto his back with a groan and soon lapsed back into rhythmic sleep.
A sudden soft rapping upon their motel door drew her attention. Her eyes widened in panic. A quick glance at Evan told her that he was still sound asleep and hadn’t heard a thing. Trembling, she rose and hesitantly approached the door. Peering through the peephole, she saw a red-headed woman standing outside. She immediately assumed that it was a motel maid.
“What do you want?” she called, afraid to open the door.
“Hi,” the woman breathed. “Is this Evan's room?”
Jaime’s heart raced as she realized that it was Evan's one night stand and she felt a sudden wave of disgust. “Why do you want to know?” she asked, feeling a tad indignant.
“You're Evan's little sister, right?” the woman inquired in a slightly patronizing voice. “I have something of his. He left it in my room and I imagine he'd want it back.”
“What is it?”
“Open the door and I'll give it to you.”
She chewed upon her lower lip, unsure as to whether she could trust the woman or not.
“Hurry,” the woman urged, sounding a little impatient.
She finally gave in and opened the door just a crack. The woman was quite pretty, Jaime admitted to herself. Was that the sort of person she had to be to entice her kidnapper? Within the woman’s hands lay a small, wrapped parcel.
“I don't feel comfortable having this in my room.” She held the item out to Jaime, forcing her to take it.
She accepted it and realized what it was that she held. Evan's gun and holster was hidden by the small blanket. She nodded her thanks to the woman and proceeded to close the door, but the sound of the woman’s voice stopped her from doing so.
“If you're Evan's sister, how come you don't have a British accent too?” she asked, a look of wonder stamped across her face.
Jaime gulped nervously. With a sudden burst of inspiration, she decided to turn the tables on her 'big brother'. “He's not really British, either. He does that all the time. The accent helps him pick up women.” She grinned broadly and promptly swung the door closed.
Leaning against the closed door, she smiled at her own cleverness. The moment was short-lived, however, as reality came crashing back and reminded her of the situation at hand. She marched toward Evan, staring down at him with both anger and disgust as he lay there sprawled upon his back, one arm hanging over the side of the bed. None-too-gently, she dropped the package upon his chest, causing him to cry out with surprise as he awoke and bolted into a sitting position.
“That was pretty sloppy!” she stated, heavy sarcasm coating her words.
Evan sat there in a wide-eyed and sleepy state, staring at the gun and holster that now sat upon his lap with confusion. He sensed the waves of anger that emanated from her, the likes of which he had never felt before.
“What the hell?” he mumbled, rubbing his bleary eyes with the backs of his hands.
“You're a pretty shoddy criminal if you ask me! You left your weapon with your one night stand. It's a good thing she was honest and brought it back to you.”
He rubbed his aching head and grasped the gun, completely at a loss for words. Jaime felt very prevailing and in command of the situation. It was a great feeling for her. Yet she also knew she couldn't overdo it. Instead, she would enjoy her momentary burst of control.
Gathering a hold of his senses, Evan replied, “You're still here.”
“Where am I gonna go?” she quipped, grabbing her clothes and heading for the bathroom.
Evan clutched his pounding head as he watched her disappear and managed a smile. Exactly, he thought. Where was she going to go?
***
A thick silence descended between them as they sat across from one another at the restaurant nearby. They picked at their breakfasts, both unwilling to be the first one to speak. Evan nervously surveyed his surroundings, hoping that Emily wasn't around.
Jaime, on the other hand, concentrated on the plate in front of her, eating little as she avoided eye contact with him. Time passed without a single word spoken between them. Frustrated, Evan attempted to elicit some sort of reaction from her.
“Talk to me,” he said with exasperation.
Jaime looked up from her plate, sadness flashing within her eyes. A slight sheen of moisture brightened them as tears rose to the surface. She shook her head at him and whispered softly, “There’s nothing to talk about.”
“It's obvious you're upset with me.”
“We have no ties to each other, Evan. Why on earth would I be upset with you?” she spat, her voice bitter.
“I don't need to understand you at all!”
It was then that he knew exactly what was going on inside of her head. She was embarrassed about his rejection of her the previous night and she was employing the defense mechanism of suddenly pretending to despise him. He knew deep down that she didn't, but part of her desperately wanted him to believe that she did.
“Never-the-less, I'm still sorry.”
“I'm not mad at you for having a . . . whatever you called it,” she insisted softly. “It bothers me that you left me all alone. I was scared!”
“I'm sorry.”
A fresh wave of tears threatened to fall, but she held them back. “I wanted to leave. I even debated it within my head if I should or not. I thought about where I would go, how I would call my uncle and what I would tell him. But you know what? I didn't do any of it. I was too frightened to even leave the room!”
“I'm sorry, Jaime!” he breathed. “What do you want me to do? Get down on my hands and knees and beg for your forgiveness? Do you want me to offer you diamonds and . . . and fuckin' roses or something to make it up to you? Seriously, what do you want from me?”
She covered her mouth as her tears spilled down her cheeks because of his angry outburst. “I want to go home!” she proclaimed.
She realized that she was beginning to push his buttons, but she didn't care anymore. Despite the fact that he had sworn to her that he wasn't a killer, it was a possibility that he had fabricated that lie to appease her in hopes of making her more comfortable with him so that he could strike without warning. Perhaps if she got him angry enough, he’d retaliate against her somehow. Still, she didn't care.