Healing Touch: Play Doctor, Book 2

by Jayne Rylon

  And he was well respected, if the slew of people he’d introduced her to, and their warm reception, were any indication.

  Several of them who’d stopped by their table had commented on the fact that he’d decided to take on casework again. She’d have to ask him more about that later. It seemed she wasn’t the only one going through a major life transformation. Their internal chaos had collided last weekend. Yet he’d put her first ever since.

  “Positive. Now scram.” He spun her around one last time, then tapped her ass mostly discreetly with the flat of his palm. Desire warred with the rest of her biological needs. Maybe she could talk to him tonight. About things she’d heard of… The things Brad hadn’t understood.

  There was so much to explore.

  “I’ll be quick.”

  “Counting on it.” Luke wrapped an arm around her upper chest from behind. He drew her to his torso, letting her savor his erection against her lower back as he whispered in her ear, “If you’re not back in five minutes, I’m coming in after you. My patience is running out.”

  Brielle angled her head to buss his cheek before breaking free and scurrying toward the hall despite the shoes torturing her feet. She prided herself on her speedy work. Happiness had her so preoccupied, she didn’t hesitate on the threshold of the women’s bathroom.

  Fantasies of all the wicked ways she’d like to experiment with Luke floated through her mind while she nearly sprinted back to him. A lot of the other attendees must have had similar plans after listening to how much more fun the psych department was having than every other area these days. The line for the valet snaked through the lobby, spilling into the hall. It blocked the foot traffic. She dodged a few people loitering as they waited their turn.

  One man wouldn’t budge. He didn’t get the hint as she attempted to slip past. “Excuse me, could I get through, please? I’m not cutting. Just trying to go back into the ballroom, promise.”

  He didn’t chuckle at her joke like Luke would have.

  “Who’re you?” The slurred question put her on instant alert. Warning sirens blasted through her mind.

  “Nobody important. Just here as someone’s date.” She smiled, trying again to evade the stranger. When she stepped left, he staggered in the same direction, cutting her off again. “You must have me confused with someone else.”

  “Do not.” He pointed a crooked finger at her chest. It looked as if it had been broken and set badly. “Saw you sittin’ next to that ungrateful slut. Rebecca.” Except Rebecca sounded more like wa-beh-ah when he massacred her name.

  Too many memories—of her father, her ex and their friends—poured into the void where joy had pirouetted moments before. Her knees locked up, causing her to totter backward when the guy invaded her space.

  He took one step, then another.

  “That award should have been mine. They’d never have had the balls to go through with it unless I’d helped. Not even a fucking mention of that, was there?”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name so I can’t say.” Brielle glanced around, trying to find a way to evade the astringent smell of hard liquor and the man it wafted from. She’d had enough drunk bastards in her life to diagnose his condition as hammered to black-out proportions.

  Brielle searched frantically for an escape route, but didn’t want to cause a ruckus. Not when so many of these people had seen her with their leader. Poor behavior on her part would reflect on him. The car line had shuffled forward enough that no one noticed her plight. She thought she could handle the situation.

  She probably could have.

  If the belligerent asshole hadn’t pressured her straight into the coat check. On such a warm day, no one had bothered with the formality, and the attendant seemed to have abandoned his post. By the time she surrendered her attempt at propriety, the closet closed in around her. Bars stretched from wall to wall, looming ominously.

  Her lips parted, her lungs filled and she bumped into a slew of hangers. The rattle of the wire froze her solid. She’d lost the ability to scream for help.

  “I’m Dr. James Wexford.” He grabbed the door and swung it shut, trapping them inside.

  In the dark.

  Brielle, get in the closet. You asked for this. You’re sick. Lucky I keep you around at all. You’ll thank me for it later.

  The shout bubbling in her throat cemented there, nearly choking her. Waves of inky blackness that had nothing to do with the lack of light crashed over her, threatening to steal her consciousness. An icy sweat dotted her skin, adding to the tremors ripping through her entire body.

  Panic clawed at her.

  For several seconds, she teetered on the verge of terror. She tried to recall where she was and Luke’s coaching. “I’m okay. I’m okay. I’m okay.”

  The recital didn’t actually pass her lips, though she tried to force it out. Still, she thought it. As many times as she could before the stench of cheap vodka permeated the stagnant air.

  Brad’s favorite.

  Suddenly the rank odor morphed into the smell of her father’s corpse, rotting for days as she lay, trapped, feet away.

  This time her scream broke free. She wailed for him to let her out.

  “Jesus. Shut up. Wasn’t going to hurt you. Just wanted to tell you that they’re liars. They don’t deserve this. I do.” Fingers dug painfully into her upper arms, surely leaving bruises. The stranger…Brad…shook her, rattling her teeth. “Stop howling. You’re gonna get me in trouble. Not again. Shut the hell up.”

  Anger thawed Brielle. She lashed out, slashing the bastard with her pretty purple nails. He cursed, and his grip relented.

  Pure instinct drove her to seize her chance. She crawled in the direction of the sliver of light, which illuminated the bottom of the door, still screeching for help.

  A moment before she reached salvation, the glimmer became a beacon. The doors were thrown open and two imposing silhouettes filled the frame. Crumpling into a ball, she tried to protect herself from the pain to come. They didn’t like it when she caused drama.

  Brad.

  Her father.

  “No!” She thrashed and kicked when one of them reached for her.

  “Don’t, Luke.” A woman’s directive arrowed through her fear. There were no other girls in the closet. Not unless Brad locked his new one in there too. “She’s not seeing you. I’ll get her. Everyone is going to be fine.”

  “I’m not and he sure as hell isn’t,” someone roared.

  “Let Becca work,” the second man barked. “Take out the trash with me.”

  “My pleasure.” A shiver ran through Brielle at the steely determination the guys shared.

  Bits and flashes swirled around her. Faces, violence, past and present.

  It overwhelmed her.

  Brielle curled into herself. She drew her knees to her chin and tried to remember…something…

  “You’re okay.” The pretty voice came again. Very softly. It repeated itself over and over until Brielle began to say it too.

  “I’m okay. I’m okay.”

  “You’re safe now. I’m here with you.” The litany changed, becoming more complex as she caught on. “I’m Becca Foster. Your friend and therapist. You’re not alone and you’re not in danger anymore. It’s okay to come back to us. You’re free. Not trapped. No one is going to hurt you.”

  “I’m okay?” She tested out the foreign concept.

  “You are.” The voice warmed. “Open your eyes. The door isn’t locked. You can leave at any time. No one’s here but us. Brielle and Becca.”

  “Becca?” Brielle’s breathing hitched. “Oh no, what happened? What did I do?”

  “Yes, that’s right. I’m here. With you. We’re safe. Do you understand?”

  “Y-yes.” The world slowly resolved around her. She levered up without assistance from Becca. The murmur of a gossiping crowd poured in from across the threshold.

  “You didn’t do anything wrong.” Becca inched closer. “I’m going to put my
hand on your back. Is that okay?”

  Brielle nodded before she realized the other woman might not be able to see her clearly. “Yes. That’s all right.”

  Comfort radiated from the small hand rubbing circles on her shoulders. “Concentrate on slowing down. Your heart. Your mind. There’s nothing to run from now. Breathe with me. Like this. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale.”

  She concentrated on synching their respiration.

  When terror leeched from her, the hollowness it left in its wake had her worried she’d implode. Part of her wanted nothing more. “Oh God. What the hell happened? Who was that creep?”

  “Someone who’s made one too many mistakes. Luke can tell you the details, but I have an order of protection against that slime bucket.” Becca seemed like she could use a hug herself, so Brielle obliged. They clung to each other in the shadows, where the patrons buzzing about in the hall couldn’t see them. “I’ll press charges this time. I swear. He won’t bother either of us again. I’m so sorry.”

  “I’m the one who should be apologizing. I ruined your evening. And Luke’s. Everyone will be talking about this. I’ll make him look bad.” She battled her dress and Becca’s arms until she gained her knees. “Hurry. Let me out of here before he comes back. I’ll put some distance between us and hope people forget. It was just a few dances. Maybe no one noticed him with the freak.”

  “Oh, Brielle. Everyone’s wondering about the stunning woman who’s caught Luke’s eye. His feelings for you were evident in his body language. I mean, you were surrounded by experts whose job it is to discern these things. Not one single person will hold the victim accountable for this mess.”

  A triple knock came softly on the door.

  “It’s him.” Becca patted her hand. “I know it’s almost impossible, but try your best not to let the way tonight ended ruin everything else. I could see where you two were headed. It might not be a bad place to forget about all the rest of this bullshit. Please, I couldn’t stand knowing I hurt you instead of helping. This was my situation, and I dragged you into it.”

  “Never.” Brielle put her arms around Becca. “You brought me back. You saved me from the darkness.”

  “You did it yourself. I only helped.”

  The knock came again, a bit louder this time.

  “If we don’t let him in soon, he’s going to go bonkers.” Becca squeezed Brielle. “You don’t have to worry with him. He’s nothing like your nightmares.”

  “I’m ready.” She drew an enormous breath then braced herself for the distaste or pity she imagined she’d find in his face.

  “Come in, Luke.”

  Slow steps carried him through the wide-open doors bit by bit. In a strangled voice, he called out to her, “Brielle.”

  His name on her lips did her in. So sad and unsure, the unfamiliar sound dissolved all her boundaries. She’d done that to him. Stolen his laughter.

  Tears streamed from her eyes as she cried—full-out sobbed and gasped—for the first time, maybe ever. It couldn’t have been a pretty sight. He’d never think of her the same way again. So much had been lost. “So sorry.”

  “Not your fault.” He crashed to his knees in front of her, reaching out but stopping halfway, as if afraid to touch her.

  Screw that. She flung herself into his arms, rocking him onto his heels.

  He caught her and held tight, wrapping around her like a security blanket. “It’s okay, sweetheart. That piece of shit is gone. Kurt’s got him. He’ll be lucky to make it to jail with just the shiner he acquired as I escorted him to the curb.”

  “Oh no.” Becca launched to her feet. “I can’t believe you left them alone. You know Kurt wants to destroy the man already. I’m sure twice as much now. Who’s going to keep my husband from sharing a cell with James?”

  Brielle shuddered, thinking of how she had split the darkness with the drunk man. She wouldn’t condemn anyone to that fate.

  “Tell her she can go.” Luke interrupted her torrential downpour of tears. “I’ve got you. No one will lay a finger on you but me.”

  “O-okay.” She lifted her head from his shoulder to meet Becca’s gaze.

  “Luke, think it through. No way can she ride on your bike. And we’re not going to be able to give you a lift. Not for a while. The police will have a ton of questions for us. I can protect you both, tell them as her doctor she’s not available for interrogation tonight.” Becca put one hand on each of their backs. “I’ll call a cab on my way out.”

  “No need. I thought maybe we’d be shot-gunning champagne tonight. So I reserved a suite. Before Brielle turned me down.” He grimaced. “I’m not used to women saying no to me.”

  “Maybe it will do you some good from time to time.” Becca kissed Luke’s cheek then squeezed Brielle’s shoulder. “Really, I can’t tell you how sorry I am this happened. Please, don’t let it come between you. I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself for causing you a major setback.”

  “You’re in no way responsible for this, babe.” Luke gave her a one-armed hug. “I’ll call you guys in the morning. First thing.”

  “Love you.”

  “Same goes.” He never once stopped soothing Brielle. Nor did he attempt to squash her outpouring of grief, which rejuvenated periodically as pockets of terror burst from where she’d stored them deep inside. Instead, he held her, protected her against the assault of years of misery all mashed into one awful release.

  “That’s right.” Comforting nonsense intermixed with delicate kisses and tentative touches rained over her like a refreshing summer shower. “Storing everything up is like swallowing poison. Over time, too much, it’s deadly. Get it out.”

  As he spoke, he rose to his feet, keeping her cradled in his embrace. She curled against his chest, wrapping her arms around his neck. He whispered to her, “Close your eyes, Brielle. Don’t open them until I tell you. Can you do that for me?”

  She obeyed without responding. No affirmation could penetrate the crying she couldn’t seem to stop.

  He must have glanced down at her. “That’s right. Good girl. You’re safe. I have you.”

  A steady motion made her certain he carried her along the hallway. Concerned voices tried to intrude on the frail shelter he’d constructed around her. He didn’t acknowledge the intruders, didn’t stop or allow them to penetrate the cocoon he’d spun for her.

  When a false-cheery ding rang in her ears, every muscle in her body stiffened. Except the ones controlling her eyelids. They sprang open.

  “Keep them closed, sweetheart. Remember?” He must have realized how impossible the task would be. His hand curled around beneath her, covering her eyes. “It’s too far for me to carry you, and there’s no way you can walk thirty-three flights in this condition. If it helps, know the walls are all glass. You can see lights for miles around. Do you trust me?”

  “Yes.” She couldn’t help hyperventilating when he stepped forward and the sound changed. A little bit echoey, a little bit quieter than the hallway had been.

  The sound of the doors shutting had her tensing in his hold. Not again.

  He covered the noise and the subsequent chirping of the passing floors by singing to her, the same song they’d danced to earlier. “Strangers in the Night” had never sounded so beautiful, despite the hoarse rasp of this particular rendition. She’d bet he had an amazing voice…usually.

  Streams of tears slowed to a trickle as she zeroed in on his lullaby.

  Her stomach lurched when the elevator stopped.

  “Amazing.” He didn’t waste any time exiting the car. Kisses peppered her face after he removed her impromptu blindfold. “You’re so brave, Brielle.”

  “Hardly.” Hating the congestion transforming her refutation into a nasally whine, she shook her head. “I can’t believe I let that asshole get the better of me. I should have stopped him before it got to—”

  “Don’t you dare do that.” Quiet fury from him surprised her.

  She wriggled as he approached a room. Balan
cing her on his hip, he didn’t set her down. Instead, he dug a key card from his front pocket and swiped it through the reader. When the indicator flashed green, he flung open the door and strode inside.

  “You have no responsibility in tonight’s disaster.” He didn’t bother to prevent the door from slamming.

  Brielle cringed.

  “And I’m scaring you.” He sighed then set her down gently. Shaky fingers scrubbed through his hair then across his goatee. She wondered what he’d look like without the random dark patch. It simply didn’t jive with the rest of his gilded features. And neither did his current negativity. “Shit. I’m sorry. I know better, but when I’m with you, I forget about most everything else. Knowing that fuckwad was anywhere near you, it made me see red.”

  “You cared. You chased him off. You let me out of the closet.” A fresh tear welled up. How could there still be anything left inside her to generate the moisture? “You saved me. Thank you.”

  A feral cry tore from him when the droplet tracked down her soaked cheek. His hand clapped his chest and massaged the light blue fabric over his heart. “I have to touch you. Please, tell me that’s okay?”

  She shied away from his approach.

  “You’re not ready. Of course.” He stopped immediately. “No pressure. If it helps, I can hold you again while we lie in bed. If not, we can sit and talk. Or you can sleep and I’ll watch over you. Whatever you need, Brielle. I’ll give you anything.”

  “It’s not that. I feel as though…I’ll get you dirty or something.”

  “Never.” Luke cursed beneath his breath. He breached the yawning space between them and swiped the lingering tear from her face with the pad of his thumb. “It’s not possible.”

  “I can smell the alcohol on me.” The terror too, she thought. “I can feel where he grabbed me.”

  Luke bent in half, bracing his hands on his knees for a moment or two. Loud, ragged breaths rattled through his chest before he straightened, all turmoil wiped from his expression.

  “Come with me.” He held out his hand.

  She looked from it to his face and back, then swallowed hard before placing her palm on his. He guided her through the opulent area she hadn’t taken time to appreciate yet. Plush carpet gave way to luxurious tiles, marble if she had to guess. Her shoes clicked on the shiny surface.