by Jc Emery
When we pull away, I see that she’s crying, as well. My father stands behind her, and his deep-set eyes are clouded with worry. He’s watching me in a way that makes me nervous, like he knows something I don’t. Maybe it’s that he doesn’t know anything. Well, I can’t exactly help him there. Chase has left us all mostly in the dark. Speaking of Chase . . .
I look to my right and see him standing with an older, taller man who’s as skinny as a bean pole. He has Chase’s dark hair, though it’s speckled with gray, and a leathery complexion from years of working offshore, I’m guessing. Chase’s arms are wrapped around a woman of medium height with pitch-black hair. I can’t see anything else as his body is blocking hers, but her arms are wrapped around his midsection. After a beat, he turns and she pulls herself away from his chest. She has a large beach bag on her arm, and his father has two black duffle bags in his hands.
Chase is speaking rather quickly, trying to explain the situation, I guess. I don’t have any idea what he’s going to tell his parents. I mean, I kind of hope he doesn’t share everything with them. I’d like for them to like me, and him introducing me as the felon who caught his heart isn’t likely the way to go about it.
Chase walks over with his parents, and without any preamble, he says, “Cab. Now.” Then he turns and walks outside.
His mother’s eyes find mine, and we size each other up for a good bit. I have every intention of staying in her son’s life if I can help it, so I better figure out how to get along with this woman. I give her the faintest of smiles, but she doesn’t return it.
Her small, dark brown eyes are rimmed in red, irritated skin. She’s obviously been crying. Her complexion is slightly yellow under the florescent lights, and I wonder where she’s from. She looks like she could have been an exotic beauty back in the day. She’s of medium build, and her face is complemented with very averagely pretty features. Her nose isn’t too small, nor is it too big, as are her lips and her chin. As we walk to the two waiting cabs, I make a mental note to ask Chase about her one day.
We break into two groups. Chase walks to his parents’ cab and tells the driver where to take them, though where it is I can’t hear, and then the cab speeds away. I begin to panic, wondering why the cab left without Chase, but my mother pushes me into the cab regardless. I climb into the cab as gently as possible and move to the far end to make room for my mother and father, who climb in after me.
It isn’t until we’re in our rooms at the hotel that I’m left alone. Sitting on the bed, with my cell in hand, I take several deep breaths, talking myself up, I swipe the screen over Victor’s name in my contact list and wait while it connects. The phone rings twice before Victor picks up.
I remind myself that I’m doing this for Chase. So far, we have no leads, nobody on the force who’s clean enough to work with us, and eventually we’re going to run out of money. If there’s one thing I know about running, it’s that it gets expensive and quick.
“Shelby, Shelby, Shelby.” He snickers into the receiver. His voice, smooth and knowing, used to be attractive. He’s always been so sure of himself, so confident, that I was drawn to him. He also kept up this mask of kindness, and he had a wicked sense of humor. Still, I feel nothing but hatred for the man on the other end of the line. “Nice of you to call. Becca and I have had to find some . . . creative means of amusing ourselves.”
The air in my lungs leaves me, and I’m breathless. There’s so much to that implication that my brain cannot even begin to imagine the despicable things he’s done in the name of creativity. Becca. Gathering my strength, I clear my throat and say what I’ve meant to.
“That’s not how I wanted it to go down at the warehouse, Victor. I had every intention of bringing you the diamond like we planned. Chase was an . . . unfortunate complication.”
As the words leave my mouth, a sour taste overcomes me. My stomach churns with nerves. I hate that I’m disregarding Chase like this, even if I’m doing it for him. I absolutely hate having to say the words. They couldn’t be further from the truth.
“No?” he asks, his voice a pitch higher than before.
I let out a fake exasperated breath and force a chuckle even though I can practically feel myself turning green with dread.
“Listen, enough about that. I want to make this right. I have the diamond. Let’s make the trade like we planned.”
“Like we planned? Oh no,” he says with a sleazy curl to his words. “I’m going to need something more than the diamond now, Shelby.”
I close my eyes and grit out the only response I can give. “What’s that, Victor?”
“You.”
CHAPTER 21
Shelby
That’s why I have to leave Chase behind.
WE’VE BEEN CHECKED into the hotel for less than an hour when Chase eventually returns to me. And when he does, I’m so bent out of shape that I’m terrified he’s going to notice. I know, deep in my heart, I’m making the right choice.
I guess, in a way, it’s not even a choice. The way the last few days have gone only goes to show that when I involve others, they get hurt. And as surreal as it seems, I have fallen in love with Chase over the last few days. If Becca were here, she’d say I’m being impulsive again. She’d tell me that it’s lust, not love, that I feel for Chase. But I know she’d be wrong. I felt lust for Victor, and this is different.
When Chase is out of my sight, I’m worried about him. I want him to be safe, and I need him to return to me. When he is in my sight, I just want to touch him and be touched by him. Anything from simply holding my hand to wrapping himself around me, I crave it. Chase has shown me what “good” looks like, and now that I’ve seen it, I want more of it.
Victor was all suave lies and smooth talk. He’s an attractive man who is commanding and knows what he wants. He’d never been cruel to me until we broke up, but I had seen him be cruel to other people many times. I knew he was capable of being awful—I just wanted to believe he wasn’t capable of being awful to me. As is now too plainly obvious, I was wrong.
The security lock on the hotel room door buzzes, and then the door swings open. Chase stands in the doorway, arms full of plastic store bags. He strides in and kicks the door closed behind him. When he tosses the bags down on the bed we’re to share, I realize they’re filled with toiletries and clothes from the local Supercenter.
“I hope these fit,” he says as he tosses a plain white unisex T-shirt and exercise pants my way. I catch them midair and inspect the sizes to find that both are a little on the big side, but the pants have a drawstring, so I’ll be fine.
“Thank you,” I say.
I fidget with the clothes for a moment before setting them down on the bed. It’s nearing midnight, and Victor expects me at the lake in less than six hours. I have to make my time here with Chase count, because once I leave this hotel room, I won’t be coming back. So this is it for us, these few measly hours.
Every fleeting hope I had for our future will never exist. I’m making that choice—to give up something I love in order to protect it. And even if this ends worse off for me than I can imagine, I know I won’t regret this decision. I’ve spent hours considering the possibilities.
I could run with Chase and our families. But then what becomes of Becca? And we each have more trivial matters in our lives that need attending. I have rent, and my parents have a mortgage and car payments. We have credit card bills and jobs. Picking up and running isn’t so easy, and it would get my best friend killed.
I could let Chase do it his way and wait it out until we find someone in the department who isn’t dirty who can help us. But how long will that take, and how long does Becca have? We’ve spent the past three days thinking we had an ally in the department in Sarge, only to find out he’s dirty, too. And unfortunately, my dad’s old buddies on the force are difficult to reach, as half of them spend their days fishing in the bayou and the other half spend them drinking like fish. They’re not what you would call a real motivated
bunch. Either way, even under the best of circumstances, Becca’s life is left in limbo—and that’s not okay.
So that brings me to where I am now—ready to offer myself up in trade. Victor never wanted Becca to begin with. The two had barely even met once while he and I were dating, and aside from Becca’s concerns over the legality of his business ventures, neither had a cross word to say about the other. Becca can’t and won’t offer Victor what he wants. She won’t do the stupid shit I did, like going with him to business meetings and letting him use me to mule. No matter how much he pleads, she won’t be his girl willingly. I want to think he would never force her to do anything, but I also thought he would never have hurt her, and I saw him cut her.
That’s why I have to leave Chase behind. I have to let go of this thing between us that I only barely got to hold on to. So I’m going to make these last few hours really last so that once I’ve given myself up, I’ll have something good to remember.
“Baby?” Chase’s voice breaks through my clouded thoughts. He’s moved. His tall, muscular frame engulfs me in a hug from behind. Bending, he places his chin on my shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
Knowing how very limited my time is with him, I lose it. Tears spring from my eyes and fall down my cheeks before I even realize I’m crying. I suck in deep, uneasy breaths and shake upon exhale. Chase’s grip around me tightens as he pulls me flush against him.
“I know it’s scary, baby. Just stop thinking about the cabin, okay? Just be here, in this moment with me. In this hotel room, we’re okay. It’s just you and me.”
“Okay,” I say and nod my head.
I calm myself down, knowing that if I cry the whole time I’m going to regret it. I want more than just hours with Chase. I want days and weeks and years. I want anniversaries and birthdays. I want surprises and first words and first days of school. I want all of that and more, and unless it’s with him, I don’t want it at all. And I’m absolutely not willing to let him put himself in any more danger because of me.
Turning around in his tight embrace, I rest my head on his chest. He adjusts his grip around my torso and holds me as closely as possible. I let out several calming breaths and then pull my head back, taking in the sight before me.
“For right now, I just want us. I want you to touch me and to make love to me. Make me forget my own name, Officer.”
Chase’s eyes ignite, but his movements are slow. He leans in and presses his lips against mine. I remove his clothing slowly, making sure he’s aware of my every touch. My hands run the curves of his body, over his smooth, taut skin. Moving to the bed, I fight the urge to rush this. Knowing this is our last time, I’m determined to make it count.
He moves us to the bed where he lays me down. He drags his rough hands up from my ankles to my knees where he pulls them apart and settles in between. The weight of his solid frame settles upon me as we connect. Together, we move our naked bodies, causing a delicious friction. Slick with sweat and drowning in need, my breaths come in heavy waves. Beyond the incredible desire he ignites in my body, what I really crave from Chase is this closeness. Us, together as one. We move as a unit, one single body.
And as we finish, we lie still in one another’s embrace, letting the bliss from the act comfort us in our respite. I long for the after as much as I crave the middle and the before. I give myself this time, watching him and his shallow breaths. The sweat pools at his eyebrow ridge and slowly cascades down his temple to his jaw. He has a wonderfully strong jaw that any son could hope to inherit. Unfortunately, he won’t be my son.
I hum a silly little hymn from my childhood as I lull Chase to sleep. It takes hours, and the pitch-black of night slowly lifts to purple and eventually pink. I fight to stay awake as the moon fades away, letting the sun claim the day. Exhaustion nearly overtakes me, but I force myself to stay coherent.
I have to go.
CHASE’S CHEST RISES and falls in a slow and steady pace with the kind of relaxation only sleep can bring. He’s been wrapped around me for nearly an hour now, and slowly but surely I’ve been pulling away from his embrace. It’s the last thing I want to do—to pull away—but I have to be strong.
I’ve pulled away enough now that he grunts and rolls onto his back. With the movement, he takes the last of his touch from me. I slide to the edge of the bed and stand slowly. Staring down at Chase, sprawled out and snoring, I long to feel his touch one last time. My right hand juts out before I pull it back and clasp it in the firm grip of my left. I don’t want to wake him, and I take a step back so as to avoid touching him.
A sinking feeling settles in my stomach. My gut is telling me, I think, that this is a bad idea, leaving him here. But my heart is telling me I have to protect him. The last thing I want is for my damage to do more damage to Chase’s life. I have the power to make things better, so I have to do this.
I cross the room to where the bag of fresh clothes from the store is and tiptoe into the bathroom. I don’t shut the door as I fear it will wake Chase up. Inside the bag I find underwear, a sports bra, a pair of socks, drawstring workout pants, and a T-shirt. As I put them on, it becomes obvious that Chase clearly thinks I’m larger on top and smaller on the bottom than I really am. Thankfully the clothes fit without too much issue, though they are incongruently tight and baggy in odd spots. Regardless of fit, I’m just grateful to have clean clothes. Forgetting to ask my father to bring me a travel bag worked out in my favor. The time alone while Chase made his run to the store gave me time to sort out my thoughts and formulate a plan.
There are only a few things I need in order to pull this off. I grab them quickly and pause to find the diamond. We have very few possessions in this temporary space. I poke through Chase’s pile of clothes on the floor. The dirt and grime from the old sleep pants and shirt make me cringe, and once again I consider that if I stay here with him, our lives might always be like this—spent on the run. That’s no life to have—always terrified of what’s around the corner and who might be hurt next. I can’t live that way, nor can I ask anyone else to live that way. But I can’t just walk out without saying goodbye either. Scanning the room for a pen and paper, I write a quick note to Chase. It isn’t much, but it says exactly what it needs to.
I don’t bother with my boots until I’m out of the room. With my collected items—boots and the keys to the rental car—I exit the room as quietly as I can. My gut told me to take the gun, but that’s not what I’m doing. I’m turning myself in, not fighting for my freedom.
Down the hallway and in the elevator, I slide into my boots and lace them up. I look a mess, but at least now I’m a clean mess and I’m wearing a bra. Through the hotel lobby and into the parking lot, I keep an eye out for any suspicious behavior.
The parking lot is crowded, and all the rental car key ring says is “Black Honda Civic” which are a dime a dozen. I press the button on the key fob to unlock the car and find that my ride is the one partially hidden from the street by a large hedge. As I cross the parking lot, I realize I should have known that. Chase parked the car and he’s a cop. Even if he is just a rookie, he clearly has this hiding thing down.
Though it’s still dark out, the warm August weather has heated up the car enough that it’s toasty inside. I start the car, affix my seatbelt, and exit the parking lot for the highway. I’m barely on the street before I burst into tears and wail unabashedly and uncontrollably as I swing the sedan onto the I-10 and head east in my last moments of freedom.
CHAPTER 22
Chase
I eye the blood as it drips down my forearm.
WHEN I WAKE, the sun is barely up. Though the curtains are drawn in the room, the emerging pink sky streams through the wall of fabric, providing the room with enough light to see everything clearly. Before I even sit up, I know something is wrong.
Shelby’s gone.
I close my eyes for a brief moment and feel for her warm body in the space beside me. As I suspected, the bed is cold and empty. I crawl out of bed and
cross the room purposefully but am not surprised when I find the bathroom empty, as well.
A sickness mixed with pure rage rises in my stomach and sends blood rushing to my head. I clench my fists at my sides, raise them, and wail on the wall. I can’t control the awful fear and anger that’s spilling out as I slam my fists into the wall, one after the other, in a hopeless effort to quell the panic that’s rising.
It doesn’t take long before the ruckus alerts my hotel neighbors, and there’s heavy knocking at the door. I ignore it, and a moment later, I hear the gruff and irritable sound of my dad’s voice. A few more swings, a few more deep breaths, and a few more contemplative moments, and I realize I’m going to need our families’ help. I’m going to have to let them in, both figuratively and literally.
With my shoulders shaking in anger, I walk to the door and open it just enough that the gathering crowd can enter if any of them choose to do so. My father’s first through the door, shoving me into the wall as he ambles by. Shelby’s father and her mother follow, and bringing up the rear is my mother. Looking around the room, they each slowly come to realize the same thing I have—Shelby left.
There’s no sign of a struggle and no forced entry. Shelby’s dirty clothes are in a pile on the bathroom floor, and I’d bet anything the diamond that was in my pocket is missing, as well.
“Oh my God,” my mother says. She’s faced toward me with one hand over her heart and one over her mouth.
Shelby’s mother turns and practically mimics her actions. It’s like the standard for a Southern woman when she’s surprised. Both of our fathers turn, but neither gives much of a reaction in comparison to their wives. My mother moves first, followed by Shelby’s. Their eyes are affixed to my feet. I cast a glance downward only to see blood dripping from my right fist, which is still clenched. Lifting my hand in wonder, I eye the blood as it drips down my forearm. I hadn’t even realized I was bleeding. My knuckles are broken up, cracked and caked with blood.