Their heavy footsteps echoed behind me, taunting me to run faster. I abruptly wished I’d been one of those fat girls who did 5k’s to prove she could, that not all of us were lazy; at least then I would have had more practice. As it was, I was panting, the moisture in the air making it more difficult to catch my breath. My head pounded in time with my feet, and I prayed between each beat: prayed I didn’t trip. Please don’t let me fall.
A shot boomed, echoing around me. I shrieked, ducking at the same moment glass shattered. They’d just upped the ante.
I rounded the corner to the second floor, racing as fast as my thunder thighs could to the opposite line of cars. It took me a minute to hear the silence over my pounding heart. Chancing a look back, I saw they weren’t there. Either there absence was a blessing or a dangerous omen.
I nearly broke out in hallelujahs when I reached my car. Jerking the keys free from the wristlet, I unlocked it. The second I was able to, I dove inside the vehicle, tossing my bag and the gun on the passenger seat.
It took four attempts to get the key into the ignition I was trembling so badly. I put my car in gear and peeled out. Upon arriving at the first corner, it dawned on me why they might have stopped: there was only one way out of the parking structure, meaning they could ambush me easier than chase me.
My stomach clamped as anticipation overwhelmed my chest. There was only one way out, one way to get to Ram: I had to go through them.
Stopping the vehicle abruptly, I leaned my seat back a bit, moving my body away from the target line should they open fire from the side. I took a deep breath and slammed down on the gas pedal, my tires squealing, announcing my upcoming arrival.
I swore my heart was going to burst through my chest as I narrowly missed hitting a car on the final turn. As soon as I came around the final bend, fully visible, the shots fired in rapid succession.
I pushed the pedal as close to the floor as possible, sliding down further in my seat. My heart skipped a beat, a scream belting from me, my lungs then seizing as the passenger window shattered.
Stepping out from the shadows as I sped past them, they continued shooting.
I jumped to attention as the back windshield exploded. I nearly crashed as I broke through the exit rail, seeing the bullet miraculously come to a halt in my front windshield. The glass fractured and splintered but didn’t fall to pieces.
Swerving to the right at the last minute, I kept my focus ahead. I feared what I’d see if I looked in the rear view mirror. Rain wet the interior of my car on the passenger side; the noise of it beating the roof, startling me. For one brief moment I’d forgotten about the storm outside.
Adrenaline coursed through me, egging me onwards. I didn’t know what the speed limit was; I couldn’t recall anything at the moment. All of me was a rush of commotion with little sense.
Maneuvering as quickly as a racecar driver around the other vehicles on the road, I made it to the highway in record time, where the rain thankfully disappeared. All I could hear was my steadily thumping heart and the wind lapping in the passenger side and out the back, hopefully drying some of the upholstery during the flow.
Finally mustering the strength to check behind me, I breathed a sigh of relief to find only a rusting Buick slowly trudging along in the growing distance. The next closest vehicle was too far to be of concern.
I worked to steady my breathing, easing up on the gas. It wasn’t until I began to calm down, to crash from the high of facing death that I felt the burn blast through my upper right arm. I hissed, gritting my teeth; tears stung my eyes as fiery flames whipped my flesh. Clenching my jaw, I hoarsely yelled, shocked by the sudden onslaught. I felt my arm tightening as it swelled.
Spotting the exit, I further slowed, glimpsing down as I drove along the ramp. A whimper escaped me as I caught sight of the damage. A curved, bullet-sized strip of flesh was missing from the surface of my arm. Mysteriously, miraculously, it didn’t bleed. The skin was red and angry with darker patches. My skin seemed to puff up firmly, to balloon around the wound uncomfortably, welting like a bee sting. Was that a good sign or a bad sign? Ram had said no police, but did that blanket to hospitals and doctors too?
Shit. There was no way they wouldn’t call the police when I mentioned a bullet, and there was no other way to explain the wound. The closest logical excuse was bumping into a hot pipe; that rationalized the curvature and burning to a degree.
Making a right off the exit ramp, I drove down the decidedly rural stretch of road. Trees lined each side of the road with a lone home or business popping up every mile or so. Watching my odometer closely, breathing through the throbbing in my arm, I slowed once I was twelve miles from the highway and began searching for the gap in the trees Ram had told me about.
Spotting it a second before it was too late, I skid onto the dirt road, mentally acknowledging its obscurity. Dirt flew up around my tires, creating a low cloud of dust. The road immediately wound to the left, making the most of the tree cover. From the main road, it looked like a quick dead end. Despite it being mid-day, the branches shrouded the road in darkness, prompting me to turn on my headlights.
The dirt trailed between the trees for a solid two miles, ending before a circular clearing of bright green grass. A modest yet charming, brick, one-story home stood in the center. A porch running half the length of the house held two white rocking chairs with a small table between them. There were no flowers or frills; it was a basic exterior, yet I found it welcoming.
Opening the glove compartment, I put the gun inside. Grabbing my wristlet, I exited the car. The sounds of nature were all I could hear: birds chirping, squirrels leaping between trees and leaves rustling gently in the wind. It was a relaxing background.
Looking around, I noted the solar panels covering most of the roof, and some sort of generator on the side of the house. It wasn’t attractive, but it was reassuring.
I winced as a fresh bout of pain flared in my arm, sending me up the steps in a hurry. It took me a bit to locate the key stuffed inside a pocket attached to the underside of one of the rocking chairs.
Still traumatized, despite feeling safer, it took me several attempts to unlock the front door. The moment I stepped inside, my shuddering doubled and tears rushed me at the sight.
Chapter Seven
Three Years Ago …
Aeren
I took a sip of my grande white chocolate mocha Frappuccino, laden with whipped cream on top. My gaze traveled over the magazines on display, waiting for a cover to grab my attention.
Ram did the same beside me, a double espresso in his hand. Occasionally we caught each other’s stare. Butterflies never ceased to flutter in my belly at the sight of him. Ram was a strong, engaging yet intimidating character. He was beautiful and brilliant. On occasion he was egotistical and cocky, in a sexy way, but rarely ever was he stubborn. He indulged me on many levels, my favorite being designing my dream home I would probably never have.
Picking up the Contemporary Southern Style magazine off the rack, I studied the living room on the cover. Textured neutrals offered a solid backdrop of rugged charm for the contemporary pops of color to stand out. It was rustic cabin meets beach cottage chic meets modern city apartment. I’d browsed hundreds of magazines, studied thousands of designs before, but there was something about this one that called to me. It was a blend of so many things; it didn’t conform to any one trend.
“You like it.”
Gawking down at the image, I smiled. “It’s perfect.” Glancing up at him, I added, “For my dream home, of course.”
“You Americans and your dreams.” His lips curled even as he shook his head negatively. “You spend your life planning for a day that may never come.”
I puckered my lips, scrunching my nose. “Someone sounds a little bitter.”
“No.” He hooked an arm around me, drawing me into him. “I do not want you planning a future that may not happen instead of enjoying the present.”
“You mean enjoyi
ng my present company,” I teased.
He chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Of course. I am a man meant to be enjoyed.”
I nudged his side. “Stop kissing your ego and look at this room.” I held up the magazine. “Tell me that doesn’t look warm, cozy and inviting without sacrificing style.”
“This comes from the woman with no art on her walls currently.”
I rolled my eyes at him. “This design would look awful in my cheap apartment, hence why it’s for my dream home.”
He tried to bite back a grin, but failed. “Okay, aşkım, I will buy into this dream home of yours.” He took the magazine from me and tucked it under his arm.
“Hey, I’ve got at least seventy years to make that dream a reality. I’ve always said I want to survive a century.”
Ram tucked a few stray hairs that had escaped my high knot behind my ear. Trailing his fingers along my flesh, he leaned in and kissed my forehead. “And so you will, aşkım.” There was a tenderness in his voice, assurance in his touch, an ever-supportive kind of adoration and acceptance that further endeared me to him.
Not wanting to blurt out those three little words, and feeling uncomfortably close to doing it, I broke away from him, sauntering down the way. Reaching the end of the display, I peered over my shoulder at him. “Don’t worry, Ram, I’ll invite you over for girly movies and coffee.” Giving him a cheeky smile, I winked at him before disappearing around the other side of the display shelf.
There were moments, days, when I came dangerously close to ruining what we had, but I loved him too much to risk it.
Chapter Eight
Present Day
Aeren
My breath caught. My body stiffened before crumbling. I fell to my knees, fighting to see through the tears blurring my vision. All pain was forgotten as I took it in.
My dream home. He’d made it a reality.
Still shaking, I forced myself upright. I drifted through the rooms, one-by-one, each almost an exact replica of what I’d chosen in a magazine or pieced together from clippings.
A soft cry escaped me as I entered the hallway. Carved wood letters, painted a pale blue, read, ‘To a hundred years of dreaming…” Each room, each image, each cutting I’d added to my dream home inspiration board in my apartment’s bedroom was in a group of nine-by-nine white frames on the wall above and below the phrase. All these years. I gaped in awe at the wall, mesmerized, impressed, for a while until pain sliced me into action again.
Flinching, I cupped my left hand over the wound on my right arm. I stumbled to the bathroom directly at the end of the hall. Flipping on the light, the design came to life under the illumination, but what I saw next stole my focus.
I screeched as I caught my reflection in the mirror. I looked like shit. My hair was wind blown and frizzy, in bad need of taming again. My eyes were blood shot and my nose was irritated from crying. Watching my movements in the mirror, I dropped my hand. I immediately frowned.
My raw flesh was bright red with weavings of purple, black and blue. Layers of my skin, like a snake sheds its, was crusted and flaking near the edge of the bullet-sized reservoir. The skin around it puffed up, further indenting my wounded flesh. It looked worse than I expected given my delayed reaction. It hurt, the intensity of my pain was akin to receiving ten paper cuts at once and then submerging them in alcohol. It was uncomfortable, but, admittedly, it wasn’t unbearable.
My gaze shifted, and I did a double take. “Wonderful.” I sighed dejectedly at the bruises forming on my neck in the distinct shape of a large hand. There was no way I could hide the damage completely.
I needed Ram. I needed him to tell me everything would be alright. And a shower. I wanted to wash away the remnants from this morning. Noting the plush terry robes on the back of the bathroom door, adding to the spa feel of the space, I carefully stripped, let down my hair and showered, thanking Ram for seeing to every detail, down to the toiletries in the bath.
Time eluded me. I couldn’t recall what time I’d spoken to Ram; the events before and after our phone call still muddled my brain. Clothing going in the wash, I curled up on the sofa with the throw blanket that’d been lying across it; the chenille was a perfect blend of silk and warmth. Anxiety kept me from relaxing, and the throbbing in my arm added to my alertness.
Countless minutes passed before thunder boomed outside. Standing, I went to the window and looked out between the curtains. Dark grey clouds were moving in, casting shadows over the open lawn. The storm had followed me. My poor car would probably be ruined by tomorrow.
Letting the drapes fall back into place, I turned back to the sofa. My breath caught at the sight of Ram across the room, seemingly appearing out of nowhere like a stealth ninja, one that was disheveled. He’d never looked so worn and ragged; his suit was ripped in multiple places with snags and runs in many others. His eyes were wild as he took me in, and the relief and elation I expected when I saw him didn’t appear.
He turned on the lamp near him, the lone light doing a good job of illuminating the room. Steadily, he trotted towards me. His jaw was tense, clenched; his nostrils flared with every breath. This wasn’t my Ram. I’d never seen him so untamed.
He stopped a few inches from me. As if catching himself, or the wariness I was sure shone in my eyes, he blew out a small breath and willed his features to relax. And, in that moment, I saw the concern, the anger, the fear and the relief warring within him.
Carefully he raised a hand and trailed his fingers tenderly down my cheek before lightly brushing my neck. “You lied, aşkım. You are hurt.” His expression hardened, his gaze sharpening, eyes honing in on my neck. “They hurt you.” The words were ground out with a quiet ferocity.
Gaping at him, my heart broke. I knew what it was like to be so overwhelmed by emotion that you couldn’t seem to grab a hold of any one. It meant his feelings for me were stronger than I imagined, but I couldn’t shake my trepidation, the unease slithering through me, as though something big was coming that could do far more damage.
This awkward wall had never existed between Ram and me. It was as if we were both suddenly unsure of each other, despite our long history.
“Where else are you hurt?” He was doing his best not to frighten me. I saw the tension thrumming through him as he tried to reel himself in, to subdue his approach.
I hated this. I hated how my gut knotted with uncertainty now, with the one person I’d always been certain of. Ram had been my inconsistent constant, my unreliable yet reliable hero.
And now, now I was staring at a side of him I felt I didn’t know.
Tears silently filled my eyes. Wordlessly, I tugged the robe down on my right to expose my upper arm. A few tears escaped, running down my cheeks. I couldn’t tell you exactly why I reacted this way. A part of me felt raw and broken. My world had been flipped on its head in the past few hours, and I didn’t know quite how to deal with it.
For the first time, Ram’s expression neutralized, and somehow that was worse. He closed his eyes and took a few breaths before refocusing on me. His eyes glistened as he reached for me. He curled his palms around my cheeks. “I am so sorry, Ari.” I heard the sincerity, the upset in his voice. He’d never been a cold, heartless man. “Come.” He led me to the sofa and settled me there. He disappeared down the hall for a minute. When he returned, he had a metal first air kit in his hand.
He sat on the edge of the sofa beside me. Gently, patiently, he meticulously cleaned and cared for my injury. He was so careful, doing his best not to hurt me further. His attention flickered between my face and my arm; he was watching for any signs of discomfort from his actions. Once my arm was cleaned, coated in ointment and wrapped, he closed the case and set it aside. He met my gaze for a brief moment before he adjusted the robe to cover me again. “You are not running, but you are afraid of me now. I see it in your eyes.”
“I know you won’t hurt me, but-” I shook my head negatively, turning my face up to the ceiling. My
throat constricted as fresh tears gathered. I swallowed hard, flinching as soreness slapped my bruised flesh. I’d forgotten about the handprint, as it didn’t compare to a burning graze from a bullet.
Cupping my head, Ram leaned in and kissed my forehead. “I would never hurt you, aşkım. Never.”
Without meeting his gaze I knew he told the truth. I never believed he would. “Who were those men, Rahmi?”
“I will tell you everything, but first.” He captured my lips. His caress was passionate, yet tender, as if he were kissing precious glass capable of shattering. He glided his tongue along my lips, pleading for entry.
I could never deny him. My body knew him, still wanted him. I melted into his embrace each time, this one included. I placed my left hand flat on his chest, over his tattered layers, as he leaned into me, deepening our lip lock.
Heat slid through me. My heart beat a fraction faster as emotions welled. I didn’t know if he was saying hello or good-bye. I didn’t know if this was the end or a new beginning, and, for once, I didn’t know which I preferred with him. My mind, the logical part of me said, after this morning, it was time to move on, that no man was worth losing my life for; my heart, the emotional and romantic part of me said, after this morning, after facing death, I needed to pursue my dreams, pursue love and happiness, all of which I had with Ram. I loved him, and that’s what divided me.
He backed away with several soft brushes of his lips to mine. “I love you, Aeren. I love you.” He tightened his grip on me, seemingly in desperation based on the edge of it in his voice. “Know that as I tell you the truth. I never wanted this to happen. I wanted only to protect you, okay?”
I stiffened, a chill chasing down my spine. My heart rejoiced, but my mind overruled my heart’s desire. Sitting back, I waited for the best moment of my life to be ruined. He’d told me he loved me, but followed it by something that overshadowed its beauty: the truth. After five years, I was finally going to learn the truth about the man I loved. The truth didn’t always set you free, though.
Anywhere (BBW Romance) Page 3