by Louisa Bacio
“What have I done?” she asked.
No one was there to answer.
She dug through her purse, searching for her keys. Since she’d been at SFSU, she’d hardly driven. They always took Lucy’s car, and Clarissa was the passenger. Cold metal in hand, she approached the blue sedan, so sedate next to the sexy convertible Lucy drove. How she loved to let her hair fly in the wind while Lucy took control.
Inside, the car smelled stale, as though it had sat for way too long, which it had. She threw her bag in the backseat and settled in the driver’s chair. The engine stuttered as she cranked the ignition.
“Come on, baby. I’m sorry I neglected you.” She wiped her tears away with the back of her hand before leaning over to reach under the passenger seat for a tissue box. “Be good to me.”
It wasn’t a roar, but she’d take the steady beat of the engine. She rolled down the windows, sucking in fresh air. What else had she neglected over the past six months?
Her entire life.
She leaned her head against the steering wheel, weighing her options. They were going to start calling her “The Runaway Bride.” When the going got tough, she got going. What a way to deal with a relationship. The whole point was to weather the storms and reap the rewards. Instead, what did she want? Pure bliss all the time?
Panic flared. How would she survive? Make money? Could she make it alone? At least when she’d left New York, she had a destination in mind: San Francisco and the school. Now, she was running without a plan.
Not a hotel room. Is it crazy that I don’t want to be alone?
Most of her friends lived and worked on the campus. It really limited the possibilities of a place to crash.
“Johnny and Sam.” She weighed their names on her tongue. She was sure they’d let her come over and maybe even crash at their apartment. Although she’d never been there—no need—she knew they had a place off campus together. An added benefit would be that Lucy probably wouldn’t think to look for her there right away.
She’d probably call hotels first.
Before they realized she was gone, she’d better get off the grounds. Imagine that. Not even making it out of the parking lot.
She hung a right out of the structure, drove a few blocks and pulled into a residential area.
Hands shaking, she called Johnny on his cell.
“I need your help.” She didn’t start to cry until she started to talk. The emotion of telling someone else what had happened overwhelmed Clarissa. Her chest tightened up.
“Do you need us to come and get you?”
“No, no, no. I’ll be all right to drive.” She sniffled and rummaged for more tissues.
“Take a few deep breaths, all right, hon?” Johnny said.
The sound of his light, clipping accent soothed her. She could do this. She was tough and could survive whatever she encountered. Even if it was her own damn fault. If she couldn’t find happiness with Mario or Ms. Lucy, how would she ever?
After writing down directions, Clarissa drove the 20 minutes to the guys’ apartment. Although it wasn’t that far, evening traffic slowed her progress. The moment she arrived, both men tumbled out of the house, looking worried but very much relaxed. She’d never seen them in their “home” attire. Sam engulfed her in a hug, and she took comfort in the safety of his arms. Despite being this huge man who grew up on a farm, once you got to know him, he was a total softie. It took a while, though. He tended to put on this tough-guy attitude, which was slowly being extinguished. She never doubted that if someone threatened or hurt someone he loved, though, he’d pound them.
“Let her go, you big lug,” Johnny said, hitting his lover on the back. “Let the girl have some breathing room.”
Reluctantly, Sam let go. “I’ll grab your bags. You go up with Mr. Bossy,” he directed.
The apartment was decorated in a perfect mix of the two of them. Country boy mixed with Indian chic. The air smelled like a rich curry, and Johnny trotted to the kitchen to attend to whatever he was cooking. As he lifted the lid, a rush of aromatic steam came out.
“Wow, that smells amazing,” Clarissa said, drawing closer. Her stomach growled, seconding the opinion. “I had no idea you cooked.”
“I bet there’s a lot of things about me you don’t know.” Johnny winked at her before turning his attention back to the meal. On the counter rested a rice cooker with ten minutes left on the timer.
“I’m sorry I’m interrupting your dinner, and your night.” Her voice hitched, and she fought against crying again.
“Now I know you don’t mean that,” he said. “If you can’t call on your friends in times like these, then who can you?”
Sam walked in with her bags. “If you follow me, I’ll show you the guest room.”
The man was so big, she swore his shoulders almost touched both sides of the hallway. How the hell did he sleep with little Johnny? The thought made her cheeks flush hot. She didn’t really want to know that. A bad side effect of working for a sex school was that sex was a subject she always thought about. Or was that the reason SFSU had attracted her in the first place?
“The top two drawers of the dresser are empty if you want to put any of your clothes away,” Sam said. He opened up a door. “You have a private bathroom. Don’t worry about bothering us. Johnny sleeps like the dead after sex.”
The “dead after sex” comment made her mind race. Did that mean after they had sex, he slept like the dead, or was it a metaphor for how well the dead would sleep if they had sex?
“Don’t worry about it,” he followed up, laughing.
“Did I look that confused?”
“Honey, it’s good to see you smile.” He sat on the edge of the bed and patted the spot next to him. “Want to tell me all about it?”
Next to him, she felt so incredibly small. She was used to being with Mario, and despite being all man, he was so much closer to her size. She couldn’t imagine what he could be thinking about now. She turned off her cell to ignore texts or calls from them. What did she want? For them to chase her down? Would that somehow prove their love?
“Not too much to say right now. I needed to get out of there and think a bit. I felt like I was being torn in all sorts of directions. That I didn’t know who I was or what I wanted anymore.”
“Does this have anything to do with that hunk of a man Johnny told me about? If he mentioned it, the guy had to be special.”
“Yeah. Mario knows me better than anyone else in the world. I used to tease him that he knew me better than I knew myself. I can at least lie to myself. He can see right through me.” And he knew her body in all sorts of different ways too. No matter the physical connection with Lucy, Mario would always be her first true love.
Choosing between them had proven to be impossible. She couldn’t stand the thought of breaking one of their hearts and turning the other one down. What if she chose poorly? Look how that had ended for the dude before Indiana Jones in The Last Crusade.
Choosing wrong meant death. It might not be a literal death where her body was reduced to dust and blew away in the wind. But it sure felt like her heart was being chipped from her body piece by piece.
She’d had love and lost it. Had been tossed to the winds of fate. Fuck fate. She’d chosen this life.
Sam rubbed her back with his hand. “By the deep internal thought you appear to be in, I’m going to guess you don’t want to talk about it. That’s fine, but know I—we—are here if you need it.”
She exhaled, pursing her lips in an O, and imagining all the bad being let go from her body in that moment. She wasn’t this person—a sad wreck. Hell, no. Instead, she needed to make a decision and keep to it. Or at least try.
“I’m afraid I’m not going to be too much company.”
“Between Johnny and I, we can keep the conversation going. Don’t worry about it.” He stood and surveyed the room. “There are extra blankets in the closet if you need them. I put some fresh towels in the bathroom. Why don’t yo
u go wash your face before dinner?”
She gave his hand a squeeze and stood. “Thank you again, for being so kind to me. I know you and Johnny are still kinda new, and having a house guest isn’t the easiest thing.”
“House guest? Does this mean I have to treat you like a guest?”
His kind heart and jovial nature was infectious, and already it felt as though the weight of responsibility and decision had been lifted from her psyche. “Whatever you call it. I appreciate it.”
She stood on tiptoe and placed a kiss on his cheek. He ran his hand along her lower back. “You better be careful there. Remember, I’ve been with a lot of women. Not gay, but bi,” he teased. “You remind me of what I’m missing, and you already have too much on your plate.”
“You go on now.” She pushed him. “You and Johnny love each other. You’d never cheat on him.”
“Cheat? Who said anything about cheating? No way. We’d share. Hasn’t being at Sex U all this time taught you anything? You can have your man and woman too.”
When the door shut, she sank onto the bed. Despite being a silly, offhand comment, Sam’s words resonated. Did she really have to choose between the two of them? They both had such strong personalities that she had a hard time imagining it any different. That said, the possibility of having her cock—Mario —and pussy—Ms. Lucy—too, intrigued her.
Chapter Fifteen
The next morning, Mario watched Lucy in action. She called security and asked them to check the garage. They found that Clarissa had also taken her car. The guards were rewinding the video footage to make sure everything looked normal—just in case, despite the note Clarissa had left.
After the kidnappings at the school, Lucy had had surveillance cameras installed throughout the campus. She didn’t use them to watch people have sex, but they were handy to watch the interaction of other instructors in training and safety feature. If needed, she reviewed the footage with participants.
Which should they wish for? That Clarissa had left of her own free will or under a bit of duress? Mario’s gut feeling was that Clarissa wouldn’t get in the car with someone she didn’t know. Instead, they’d driven her to it with their quarrels and demands. Lord, imagine what she was going through.
“Any word?” he asked.
Lucy didn’t bother to look up as she pressed Refresh on the Send/Receive icon in her email again. “No, not yet, but I’m sure we’ll hear from her.”
Out in the “real” world, what was Clarissa going to do? If she wanted to survive, she was going to have to get work. All her previous experiences were at department stores. And she’d have to find a place to stay.
Once her few chores were done, Lucy sat tucked into the corner of the couch, an off-white afghan covering her legs. She’d poked her toes through a few of the holes, and Mario smiled at the thought of what his nonna would say. “You’re going to stretch it out.”
From the way things looked right now, Lucy wouldn’t care. Black mascara smudged the area beneath her eyes, and her usual perfectly styled hair stood up at all ends. She hadn’t gone out all morning and had just sat there holding her phone. Clarissa wasn’t responding to texts or calls. They’d both stalked her social media accounts, and hadn’t seen a peep from her. At least she hadn’t deleted them, though.
“Can I get you anything?” he asked. “Hot tea? Maybe a shot of whiskey?”
She barely reacted. Shaking her head, she said, “Nothing.”
He was a man, and men liked to fix things. But right now, he had no idea what to do or where to find Clarissa. At first, he thought he should give her some time to blow off whatever anger she was carrying, and then the night had passed. He didn’t want to call the police. She’d packed her stuff and left a note. It wasn’t as though she’d gone missing.
From the looks of things, Lucy wasn’t going to be too much help at the moment. Then an idea struck. After the kidnappings a few months ago, the school now employed one of the undercover officers who’d investigated the case. He may have some ideas or be able to pull some strings…
Mario settled on the couch next to Lucy. She automatically drifted closer and leaned against him. There wasn’t anything sexual in the gesture; she was merely taking comfort in his closeness. He wrapped one arm around her back and smoothed back her hair.
“I think it’s time to call for some help,” he said. “Clarissa can be damn stubborn. Look at what happened to us.”
“I’m sorry,” Lucy said. “Especially now that I can imagine the worry you went through.”
He kissed the top of her head, the spikes of her hair going up his nose. He brushed it away. “Don’t worry about that now. I’m over it, and I know you didn’t do anything on purpose. There’s more to Clarissa than either one of us knew about. But who’s the instructor that works here who’s former police officer?”
As if he’d put the pedal to the metal, Lucy sat up straighter. “Reed. We should call him.”
“That’s what I was thinking,” Mario said. “He’ll probably be able to help in ways we haven’t thought about.”
Without getting up, Lucy picked up her phone, clicked on Contacts and pressed a name. “Can you come to my place? Right away? Yes, it’s an emergency.”
As soon as she got off the phone, Lucy stood, folded the blanket and laid it on the back of the sofa. Petting her hair down, she excused herself and ducked into the bedroom. Mario chuckled internally at the changes. Here he was worried about Lucy, and within minutes of an assignment, she’d jumped into action. Too bad he hadn’t come up with the idea sooner.
Less than ten minutes later, a knock sounded at the door. Mario glanced down the hallway toward Lucy’s private bedroom and didn’t see any sign of her. He opened the door to a massive bulk of a man and looked up. Some people like special forces and police just looked like military. With his short hair, strong features and crisp clothes, the guy embodied “undercover.”
You can take the guy off the force, but you can’t take the force…
“Thanks for coming, Reed.” Mario stuck out his hand to shake. “Come on in. Ms. Lucy will be out in a few minutes.”
Reed clasped his extended hand, squeezing perhaps a bit too hard for polite purposes. “And you’re Mario, the stranger who’s thrown everything into a bit of a tailspin. Correct?”
Guilt struck him like a punch to the gut. “That’s me.” Although he didn’t want to claim the upheaval part. The only thing he had been looking for was to regain his life. He hadn’t meant to ruin anyone else’s.
“Do you know what Lucy needs help with?” Reed asked, glancing around her living quarters, taking it all in.
“Yeah, I do.” Mario gestured toward the dining room table. “Clarissa took off, and we don’t know where she’s at.”
Reed sat, pulled the yellow legal pad in front of him closer and started taking some notes. “About what time yesterday?”
“When I got home at 7:00, she’d packed her stuff and left,” Lucy said, entering the room and coming to stand next to Reed.
Reed got up and hugged her. “So you don’t expect any foul play?” At the comment, he glanced toward Mario, and Mario wished he could disappear somewhere.
“She left under her own free will,” Lucy said, breaking the physical contact. “She packed her most essential items and left. Her car’s gone from her parking spot, and she’s rarely driven over the past few months. When she does, usually she’ll take mine.”
Reed returned to his notes, and Mario tried to catch a glimpse of what he’d written. Reed moved his arm to cover the top of the page.
Trust much?
“Do you have any idea what caused her to leave?” Reed asked.
Lucy and Mario exchanged a glance. Any way you looked at it, they were the reason. Lucy moved behind Mario and placed her hands on his shoulders. The gesture felt extra intimate after last night and the bonding experience they’d shared. Grief sometimes did that to people.
Reed looked from one of them to the other, waiti
ng for a response.
“We’ve been pressuring her a bit on choosing who she wants to be with,” Lucy explained. “Between the two of us.”
“I know your relationship with Clarissa, Lucy,” Reed said. “But what about you, Mario. How long have you known her?”
It should have been such a simple question, but the answer was quite complicated. His mind jumped from memory to memory, image to image, from feeding her a cannoli and her licking the ricotta from his fingertips, to holding Clarissa at her grandfather’s funeral. Their entire lives had interweaved. He couldn’t imagine living without her.
“My entire life. I may not remember it all, but I’ve never not known her.”
“Mario is—was Clarissa’s fiancé,” Lucy explained, making the relationship clearer.
He had to give the guy credit. Reed didn’t even lift his eyebrows in surprise.
“Ahem.” Reed cleared his throat and put down the pen. “Obviously, being with Ms. Lucy put some sort of damper on this ‘engagement’ of yours. Are you sure you didn’t become overly jealous—?”
“And what? ‘Dispose’ of her in some manner?” Mario stood up and leaned over the table. “Give me a break. I love her. Even if we didn’t get married, I would never wish her any ill will. Do I want to be with her? Hell, yes. Do I want something to happen to her? Find another scapegoat.”
Lucy grabbed his elbow, and he went to yank it away. “Calm down,” she said. “This is an emotionally charged time for all of us, and Reed’s only asking the questions he needs to in order to help us find her.”
Damn, she might be right, but I don’t want to admit it. “Where do we start?” Mario asked.
Reed eyed him, evaluating him, before speaking. “We make a list of places where she might have gone and friends she could have reached out to.”
“She doesn’t know anyone here,” Lucy said, glancing at Mario for confirmation. He acknowledged the statement with a nod. “From what I know, the only friends she has in the city are from the school.”
Reed made a few more notations. “What about those who don’t live on campus?” he asked. “Have you made contact with them?”