Shame (Ruin #3)

by Rachel Van Dyken

  And this time, rather than overthink, I did what felt natural. I jerked his head down and kissed him hard on the mouth.

  With a groan, he relaxed against me and then pulled my body tightly against his. I could feel every muscle, every breath he took as if I was breathing with him. I didn’t want the moment to end; I wanted it to last forever.

  Moaning, I scratched down his back.

  With a growl, he reached for my tank top, just as the phone buzzed on the table.

  “Phone.” I breathed.

  “I don’t care.”

  “It could be important.”

  “This is important.”

  “Tristan…”

  Cursing, he pulled back and snatched his phone from the table. “This better be good,” he barked.

  His entire face paled within a few seconds, and then he was off me, diving for my computer.

  “Are you sure?” he asked.

  I watched in horror as he pulled up the same webpage I’d helped create, the same web page that had ended up being my downfall.

  The homepage had changed.

  Instead of having videos of other people...

  It had nothing but videos of me and Tristan.

  Everywhere.

  Holding hands. Kissing. Making out in my dorm room.

  And that wasn’t the worse part.

  Because there was a live feed, and he’d just been naked, with me, on school property.

  I gasped, covering my face with my hands, while Tristan slammed the computer shut then ran over to all the cameras and pulled the wires from them.

  His chest was heaving.

  I was too shocked to cry. “How?”

  Tristan cursed and looked away. “I don’t know, but… I think it’s safe to say our relationship is no longer illegal.”

  “Because you’re fired?”

  “I’m guessing the dean would frown upon the idea of me screwing my student.”

  I hissed out a breath.

  “That came out wrong.”

  “You think?” I fought the urge to throw something at his face. “And this isn’t just about you! That’s me! That’s my reputation!” With shaky legs, I collapsed onto the couch. “What are we going to do?”

  Tristan joined me on the couch and pulled a blanket over his lap. “We’re going to find the bastard and destroy him and then… you’re going to move in with me. Even if you fight me every step of the way, I’m going to keep asking until you give in. Whoever did this…” He swore. “…knew your every move. Who knows where else the cameras—”

  Tristan jolted up from his seat, ran into the bathroom, and started pulling things from the cupboards. I slowly walked after him and froze when he pulled a camera from a spot behind one of the fake plants I’d put on the shelf for decoration. “That’s not from Gabe.”

  “No.” Tristan sighed. “It’s not. We need to check your room.”

  All in all, we found six more cameras. I had no idea how much they’d caught, but it was enough to make me feel more than terrified. I was dirty, shameful, like I’d been performing for someone without even knowing it.

  “I’m going to kill that guy…” Tristan pulled on his jeans and threw a T-shirt over his head. “…with my bare hands.”

  “Don’t.” I shook my head. “We have no proof it’s him… none. If you go after him, it could make things worse, just… we need to just lay low. I can drop out of school and—”

  “Hell, no!” Tristan roared. “You aren’t dropping out of school just because some psychopath has a sick obsession with you.”

  His phone went off again. “Shit.”

  “What?”

  “The dean.”

  I cringed.

  “Hello?” He blinked, his shoulders tense. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes…yes…yes.” His eyes found mine. “A few weeks. Alright.”

  When he hung up, the room was tense.

  “Are you fired?”

  “I have a meeting…” Tristan sighed. “…where I’ll most likely sign papers of resignation if the dean’s pissed-off tone was any indication. It seems all the money in the world can’t protect you from giving the university a bad rep.”

  “It’s my fault.” Tears started pooling in my line of vision. “If you wouldn’t have seen my picture… if I wouldn’t have fallen for Taylor.”

  “No!” Tristan rushed to my side and gripped my face with both hands. “Look at me, Lisa! None of this is your fault! None of it! You’re perfect. He was sick, a sick kid, alright? It’s not your fault. Don’t let him win. We’re going to be okay… I swear. Just... damn it, I don’t want to leave you alone.”

  “Starbucks.” I nodded. “It’s not like the whole world has seen the website yet, unless it’s gone viral, which that’s always possible, too. I’ll hang out at Starbucks. I’ll put on a hat, and I’ll read or something. Nobody would attack me in public.”

  “Okay.” Tristan sighed, running his hands through his reddish brown hair. “I’ll drop you off and pick you up when I’m done. I don’t want you going to class today, not with a lunatic running around. I’ll send an email to your professors, explaining the situation.”

  I nodded.

  “It’s going to be fine.” He kissed my mouth hard. “I won’t let anything happen to you. Do you understand?”

  “Yeah.” My lower lip quivered. “And this isn’t your fault, Lisa. Please, it destroys me when I see that look on your face. Now, put on something hideous, so people don’t notice you, and grab a hat.”

  ****

  Minutes later, I had a quad-shot latte and a romance novel in my lap. Starbucks wasn’t that busy, and, for the most part, nobody seemed to even notice me. I kept my phone in my lap with my book, just in case I needed to call Tristan. I knew it was bad… he was going to be fired. But what was worse, I knew that if it leaked out into the media who he really was, who I was? It would destroy his father’s career, and to me, it just seemed like a matter of time before that happened.

  The freaking Secretary of State was going to know my name.

  Because it looked like I was in a sex tape with his son.

  I groaned and leaned my head back against the couch.

  “Rough night?” a smooth voice said next to me. I didn’t turn around, but all the hairs on the back of my arm stood on edge.

  “Yeah.”

  In my peripheral vision, all I saw was a guy in glasses wearing a Yankee hat. I couldn’t make out his profile because part of the hood of his sweatshirt was pulled up to cover the side of his face. “That sucks. Hope it gets… better.”

  “Thanks,” I muttered as he stood and left the coffee shop, shoving his hands into his pockets.

  Chills ran down my arms. I rubbed them and then reached for my coffee, just as Jack sat down across from me.

  “So.” He put his legs up on the table. “Tell me, how does an orgasm from a teacher feel? I’ve always wanted to know. Is he better in bed because he’s forbidden…?” His eyes gleamed. “Off limits?”

  “Jack.” I looked around to see if there were enough people in the coffee shop to notice if he made a move. Three. Three people. “Look, I don’t want to fight.”

  “Found you a new partner.” He ignored me. “You know, since you find me so disgusting.”

  “You’re not,” I said quickly. “But you did scare me last night.”

  “Good.” He nodded. “Fear is good.”

  “Pardon?”

  “Fear is learned… and you… you’ve been such a great student. You know, I wanted to save you, but I can’t anymore, Lisa. I can’t save you.” His eyes pooled with tears. “Just remember, you did this to yourself.”

  “Jack, you’re scaring me.” I fumbled with my phone, trying to unlock it so I could call 911. “Are you okay?” Keep him talking; keep him from doing something crazy.

  “I’m scaring you?” He laughed. “Oh, that’s right, coming from the girl who ruined my life… coming from the girl who took a video of a fifteen-year-old boy getting reject
ed in front of a hot model… pants wrapped around his ankles… looking all kinds of aroused for all the world to see. Do you remember? Well, do you? Or how about the second video? You know, the one that was posted of me in the bathroom? I’m sure that should jolt something.”

  The phone dropped out of my hands.

  “Oh, so she remembers. He asked you to do it… to put me up on the website, but what’s so funny is I know something you don’t know. I know so much and your time… is up.”

  “You?” I sputtered. “You’ve been sending the notes? Breaking into my apartment?”

  “Let’s go for a ride.” He stood and held out his hand.

  “No.” I shook my head.

  He showed me the blade of a knife. “Well, hell, this wasn’t in the plan, but I don’t give a rat’s ass anymore. You scream, and I move so fast that you don’t even feel the pain as I slice your throat open. Get up.”

  I stood, gripping my phone in my hand as I frantically looked for help. I made eye contact with several people, but they looked away.

  “Let’s go.” Jack hit my butt. I scurried away, but he gripped my arm and led me out the door. “I’ve studied you… like a book. I know everything about you, and the thing is… I was totally sane until you ruined me… and slowly it turned into an obsession finding you, destroying you.”

  He led me to a brand new blue Mustang. “Get in.”

  “Jack,” I tried, using a calming voice. “Whatever I did, I’m sorry. It was so long ago and—”

  He slapped me hard across the face. How did nobody notice? Why didn’t anyone come to my rescue? I vaguely recalled a social experiment where a woman was screaming rape in the street, and no one had helped; it wasn’t until she said fire that they’d come running.

  I opened my mouth to do just that when he covered it with his hand. “I don’t think so.” The knife touched my throat. “Now, we do this the easy way or the hard way…”

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  Terror is something a person experiences when fear is long gone, and in its place is nothing but the evidence that you aren’t going to make it out alive. —Lisa

  Tristan

  THE MEETING WAS going too long. I was fidgety, and my phone kept buzzing. Finally I held up my hand. “One minute.”

  The dean looked ready to swallow his tongue.

  “Gabe, sorry I’m in—”

  “It’s Jack, one of your students!” Gabe’s yell split my eardrum, and I winced away from the phone. “He owns the damn website!”

  “Shit!”

  “Where’s Lisa?”

  “Starbucks. I left her there, since there’s a crowd.”

  Gabe swore. “Wes was closer to campus. He’s about a minute away. I’m on my way too.”

  I hung up and started walking out of the room.

  “We aren’t finished,” the Dean barked after me.

  “I quit. My family still donates money. We’re finished.” Leaving him with his jaw dragging on the floor, I sprinted from the room and raced down the hallway. In the parking lot, I jumped into my car and prayed that Jack hadn’t figured out where Lisa was hiding in plain sight. Hopefully, he’d go back to the apartment.

  Hopefully, I wasn’t too late.

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  Sometimes you spend your whole life being a victim — until you decide you want to be a survivor. — Lisa

  Lisa

  “JACK!” I PUSHED against him. He was too strong to move very far, but I knew if I got in that car, I was dead. He’d kill me. He was crazy, not thinking straight. And something else was very, very wrong.

  I squinted. His eyes were wild like pinpoints, like he was high on something.

  “Jack…” Tears clogged in my throat. “…did you take something?”

  “To make me feel better after you chose him over me? Hell, yeah, I did!”

  The knife dug deeper, raising a stinging sensation. I wasn’t sure, but that wet sensation trickling down my neck might have been blood.

  “And I feel great. Now I know what I have to do. I’m sorry. If you had just listened to me, let me save you… I could have saved you!”

  “So save me now,” I said, trying to fight crazy with crazy. “Don’t hurt me. Save me now.”

  “I can’t have you,” he whimpered. “He promised I could. He promised me!”

  “Who? Who promised!”

  “He did!” Jack yelled. “You promised! You promised!” The knife moved away from my neck as Jack stepped back, tears streaming down his face. “All I ever wanted was you.” He looked at me, his face twisted in rage. “And now you’re going to—”

  In a blur, Jack was on the ground. Wes was on top of him, beating the crap out of his face. I didn’t pull Wes away, just watched as blood splattered everywhere. Another car pulled up. Gabe jumped out and pulled Wes off Jack, just in time for arms to brace me came from behind.

  I screamed and jerked against the arms.

  They tightened. “Shh… sweetheart, it’s me, it’s me. You’re going to be okay. It’s just me.”

  I turned into Tristan’s embrace and sobbed.

  The next hour moved by in a blur as we all gave our accounts of what had happened to both the campus security and the police department. Jack had had no record, no history of violence or psychological issues. It was just like… he’d snapped.

  The year before, he’d been on the dean’s list.

  The guy wasn’t the typical guy to go on a killing rampage. Nothing made sense, but Tristan said that those cases rarely did — that it’s people you least suspect.

  We learned that Jack didn’t even work at the pizza place. All in all, two of the workers had been beaten senseless each time we’d ordered. Each delivery he’d used as a time to try to gain access into my room, but because Tristan had been there, he hadn’t been able to get past the door.

  “You okay?” Tristan whispered into my hair once we were back at my room.

  I was packing up another bag to take to his house. Shrugging, I shook my head. “It just doesn’t make sense.”

  A soft knock on the door made me jump.

  Tristan left me with a steadying pat and walked across the room and opened it. Gabe came through, followed closely by Wes, both of their expressions grim.

  Wes spoke first. “They searched Jack’s room and found this.”

  He threw a worn leather journal onto the table.

  I gasped. “That’s… how did he get the journal?”

  “He didn’t.” Tristan looked at the journal, his face pale. “There’s no way he got into my house. The security is too good. Besides, Taylor… he wrote about making more than one copy. I just didn’t know it was Jack who had it all along.”

  A tingling chill worked its way into my knees, weakening them. I slumped onto the couch. “He knew everything about me… why? Why would he do that? He kept saying he wanted to save me. From what?”

  Tristan put his arm around me. “Maybe himself? Who knows, Lisa? He was bat-shit crazy.”

  “Yeah.” The knot in my stomach tightened. We were missing something. We had to be missing something. It just… it didn’t make sense. I mean, who spent half their life going after someone only to change their plans? I shivered.

  “You guys ready?” Wes asked. “The car’s downstairs.”

  “Yeah,” I whispered and took Tristan’s hand. “We’re ready.”

  ****

  The week flew by. The story, unfortunately, had leaked to the media, but by the time it had, the videos weren’t of me and Tristan naked, just kissing. The damning one of me and Taylor had been taken off the website. I didn’t ask him if his father was pissed, because I knew that was probably a very firm yes. But Tristan didn’t seem to care.

  If anything, he seemed happier that his dad knew what was going on… like he was finally able to be himself. I spent every night at his house — I’d never felt safer.

  But something was still bothering me about the whole situation. I couldn’t explain it or put my finger on i
t. I stopped bringing it up whenever Tristan gave me the impression he was worried about me. He’d give me that look like he knew I was thinking too hard, and I’d flash a smile and pat his hand like nothing was wrong. But something was very wrong. I’d thought Jack was a friend, but clearly he’d been watching me the whole time; yet he kept hinting that he was protecting me from something. I mean, why tell me to move and then attack me that very next day? Things didn’t make sense, and when I broached the subject with Tristan one night, he said that crazy didn’t ever make sense and left it at that. I could tell that talking about it bothered him just as much as it bothered me, and maybe I would never have the answers or closure I needed.

  I still hadn’t kissed Tristan since the incident. I couldn’t. I felt dirty… but more than that, I felt like if I did, I wouldn’t be able to stop, and I didn’t want my first time with him to be something I did to take away the fear or the pain. I wanted it to be something we shared because we loved each other. I had too many demons and ghosts haunting me. I knew it would turn into something different, and my heart couldn’t handle that possibility.

  Tristan was a perfect gentleman. He cooked for me, made me laugh. We watched movies… I mean, it was like living with the perfect man. Except at night, I still had bad dreams. Tristan said I should talk to someone, but I wasn’t sure I was ready for that.

  On Friday, I finally returned to class.

  When I walked into Tristan’s old classroom, another teacher stood behind the desk. It felt… wrong to have someone take his place. I kept my eyes averted the whole class period.

  “Lisa?” the professor asked at the end of class. “I have a new partner for your end-of-the-semester project. He wasn’t able to make it to class today, but he did send me an email and say he’s available to meet you at Starbucks before your next class. He wanted to at least introduce himself.”

  “Right.” Starbucks. The bane of my existence.

  “Remember, Lisa, your grade depends on this.”

  “Starbucks, it is,” I said, mumbling “bastard” under my breath. Since it was Friday, I had around an hour before my next class. I hightailed it to Starbucks and shivered as memories of the incident washed over me.