The Do It List (The Do It List #1)

by Jillian Stone

  His stare bored into me, dark and piercing “I wanted to kill all three of them.” He exhaled a harsh, masculine-weary sigh. “I might have if Dad hadn’t shipped me out of state.”

  Intrigued by his angst, I also wondered how much truth he was telling. “Do you have a girlfriend?”

  I admit the question was odd and chronologically challenging. I suppose I momentarily panicked. Maybe I didn’t want to know what happened that night, after all.

  He tilted his head. “Why do you want to know?”

  “Just answer the question.”

  “I date casually. No one special.” A bit fidgety, he cleared his throat and straightened. “You make me nervous.”

  “I make you nervous?”

  “I’ve had ten years to think about what I would say to you if I ever got the chance.” He shook his head. “So many practiced speeches, humble apologies. All the planning in the world couldn’t prepare me for this.”

  I stretched my lips into something thin and flat. “Try.”

  “Christ, Gracie, I could have ruined your life, but look at you. You’re so damn beautiful and brave and defiant.” He leaned across the table. “You know I tried to get a hold of you several times.”

  I nodded, aware there had been requests. Frequently at first, then over the years his appeals had tapered off.

  “Just tell me what happened that night.”

  His eyes locked on mine. “A few days before the party, Darin, Chase and Ethan saw us together on campus. Suddenly my single most important pledge duty was to get the hot black chick to come to the mixer.” His gaze darkened. “I should have suspected something, but I didn’t really know these guys. The whole fraternity pledging thing was new to me. “

  I leaned forward. “So you’re saying they planned to spike my drink, and distract you while they raped me?”

  “I swear, Gracie when I handed you that drink I had no idea the bartender had slipped you a roofie.”

  Everything about his speech, his slightly awkward body language seemed sincere. And his eyes were mesmerizing—as if he could actually see into the past. “I remember P. Diddy playing on the sound system. I Need a Girl. The fucking tune still haunts me. I also remember a booty rub.” He shook his head, adding a sheepish grin. “Hey, I was digging on it.”

  Anxious heartbeats accelerated through my veins. “I remember feeling dizzy and really tired.”

  He pushed back into the tufted leather booth. “We walked off the dance floor, and you collapsed in my arms.”

  I wanted so badly to remember. “Sorry, I can’t—I still don’t recall much.”

  “You fell back against me—your knees got wobbly and you had a hard time with your balance. I helped you to a couch in the den and left to get some water. I ran into one of my pledge masters who had me hauling giant bags of ice into the kitchen. When I returned to the den you were gone.”

  So far, not much new in his story.

  “I searched for you—finally found a room guarded by this giant linebacker dude. I got suspicious and asked around. One of the other pledges finally told me what he suspected. At this point, I’m still not sure it’s you in the room with those guys.”

  “But you suspected it.”

  He nodded. “I walked outside, dialed 911 and kept on going.”

  “You left me at the party.”

  Eyes spiked with anger and shame met mine. “If it makes you feel any better I’ve hated myself ever since.” His voice turned to gravel. “Gracie, I didn’t know what they were planning to do. I swear it. And if you never forgive me—”

  “There’s nothing to forgive, Troy. Not if you’re telling the truth.” A part of me wanted to believe him. “At least you made the phone call.”

  “Dad arranged for the plea bargain and ordered me to keep my mouth shut. He called in favors—got me into Princeton. The day after I landed in New Jersey I tried to contact you.”

  Our waiter brought us a welcome second round of drinks. A pink Cosmo on the rocks for me. Troy stuck with his private reserve bourbon.

  I had never heard his side of the story live and in person. Most of his recollection matched the police reports with some new details, like the music we had danced to. A few memories flashed and faded away, faceless shadows, accessible only in my dreams.

  “I should have beaten down the door, not run away. As it is the police traced the call back to my phone.”

  “Why didn’t you come forward? If what you say is true, you had nothing to fear from the police.”

  “I received some pretty clear warnings from my fraternity brothers. Dad advised me to keep my mouth shut and lay low—a good and bad call on his part.”

  “Everyone figured the university would call the rapes an unfortunate off-campus incident.” I mused aloud.

  He nodded. “Then came word about the DNA tests, and a full-scale investigation. I was named as a co-conspirator. We were all in very hot water—with a DA out to make a name for himself.”

  I resisted poking out his eyes. “Sounds like something an attorney would say.”

  Troy grimaced. “Fuck, sorry about that. I just meant—“

  “I know what you meant.” I exhaled a breath. It was a lot to take in all at once. And I needed time to process Troy’s version of events. “Your text indicated you had something urgent to tell me?”

  He nodded. “Ethan Royce has served his prison term. He was released ten days ago.”

  “I don’t understand. None of the rapists did much time, it’s been nearly ten years.”

  He nodded. “He’s the last one to be released. Fourteen months into his sentence, there was an aggravated assault, and then two years later he stabbed a cellmate. Almost killed the guy.” Troy’s gaze searched for a reaction. “He claimed self-defense, but they added seven years to his sentence.”

  I stared. “So, you’re saying I should be worried.”

  “He threatened you at trial.” Troy’s tight-lipped grimace and steely eyes, reminded me of Bradley’s protective gaze. “I happen to know your father keeps tabs on Ethan. Has he called you recently?”

  I shook my head. “How do you know all this—about my father and Ethan Royce?”

  “I make it my business to know.” His gaze bored into me. “What happened in college was a huge error in judgment. I trusted people I shouldn’t have and you got hurt.”

  “So Ethan becomes a convenient excuse to contact me?”

  “Ten years ago, I was an unwitting party to a violent sexual assault. You could have been horribly, irrevocably injured.” Amber liquid swirled as he turned his glass, absently. “And I ruined my chances with a beautiful young woman I have always cared about.”

  A sudden shift of eyes brought his smoldering gaze to mine. “Gracie, I have always loved you—“

  “Troy don’t.” I stood up, pulse pounding. I couldn’t allow myself to hear anymore. Not now, or ever. I needed to flee the scene—run away as far and fast as I could from him.

  “Gracie—”

  “I—I can’t go there.” I dashed off in search of the ladies room. My cheeks burned and my brain was on fire, but somehow I found the door. I grabbed a towel and ran it under the faucet. Cold water instantly soothed my fevered brow and eventually I was able to focus clearly on the girl in the mirror.

  A doe-eyed young woman stared back. Her strange gaze a combination of tears and panic. I wadded up the damp paper and tossed it away, along with any crazy thoughts about Troy Lambert.

  My brain was about to implode. One confession after another turned out to be too much to deal with. And he had used the love word.

  Racing heart. Shallow breath. All signs of an impending panic attack. I needed to get home and take half a Xanax—maybe a whole one and crawl into bed.

  He waited for me outside the ladies room.

  “I think maybe you’ve had enough reunion for one night.” He held up my sweater.

  Relieved, I shrugged into the cozy waffle knit moto jacket and turned to face him. “Thanks.”
/>
  His chagrin tinged smile caused a little heart flutter. Pangs of sadness ripped through me. Was it possible to simultaneously experience a mild melancholy in such an anxious state?

  Worse yet, was it possible I still cared for Troy Lambert?

  There had always been a strong magnetic pull with Troy, an undercurrent of potent sexual energy that simmered just beneath the skin. And despite everything that had happened, some of those feelings were still present.

  “I promised myself I wouldn’t say those words. Now here I am acting like a giant sap.” He took hold of my sweater and zipped, slowly. “I guess time heals all wounds, but only if you want them to heal.” His gaze lingered.

  “Troy—”

  He surrendered at once, gesturing toward the front entrance. As he walked me outside, a black car eased to a stop at the curb.

  “I’m hoping you might agree to an occasional drink. Let me gaze upon the gorgeous, courageous woman that got away.”

  “See me again, Gracie.” He took hold of my hand and yanked me to him. “Take pity on a man who will never hold you in his arms, or kiss you crazy wild senseless, or make love to you.”

  Suddenly I was catapulted back to prom night, senior year. He cradled my head in his hands and kissed me softly at first, then harder. For a moment, I returned his kiss, releasing a latent passion that frightened me so badly I broke it off.

  Troy pressed me against him, and I pushed back. “I can’t, Troy—please.” I pivoted away and stopped dead in my tracks.

  Bradley stood on the sidewalk wearing a rain-spattered coat, his close-cropped sable hair, damp and disheveled. How long had he been walking the streets in the rain looking for me? Troy and I had been talking for hours.

  “Bradley, I—” It wasn’t hard to read his handsome face. A tortured mix of anger, betrayal, and worry, with a icy stare that made my knees knock.

  Troy stepped forward. “She needed to know about Ethan—”

  Bradley cut him off. “Not until we’re sure.”

  “What about the security tape?” Troy edged forward warily.

  Dumbstruck, I whirled back and forth between the two of them. “What does ‘not until we’re sure’ mean? You both knew about this—you consulted each other?”

  Bradley spoke impatiently. “There’s a chance Ethan Royce could be here in the city. We know that he blew off his meeting with his parole officer—never checked in. That was a little over a week ago.”

  A chill ran through me. “And you didn’t want me know?”

  “I didn’t want you looking over your shoulder, frightened. You’ve got security, you’re just not aware of it.” Bradley nodded to a man wearing a dark suit standing twenty-five feet away.

  Stunned, all I could do was blink at the man holding an umbrella.

  Bradley’s glare narrowed on Troy. “The statute of limitations in a rape case is ten years in California. You’ve got less than a month left, isn’t that right?”

  I stared, wide-eyed, as Troy’s mouth tightened.

  “This isn’t about Ethan, is it Troy? It’s about you. A last minute temperature check.” Troy appeared shaken by Bradley’s accusation. “Did your father send you after her—to find out if she remembers anything?

  “Troy, is this true?” My mouth was so dry, my voice cracked.

  His eyes shaded slightly. “Yes and no.“

  My stomach lurched and I swayed slightly. Bradley reached out and steadied me. “He doesn’t want to protect you. He only wants to protect himself.”

  I did an instant replay of the last few hours with a different spin on his motivations. I stared at Troy open-mouthed. “You manipulated me into this meeting—into trusting you.”

  Bradley’s jaw twitched. “Trust. Are you really going to go there, Gracie?”

  My gaze shifted to the security man in black. “And is he there to protect me or spy on me, Bradley?”

  “Gracie, I have always cared about you.” Troy moved closer. “He’s the one who will break your heart, not me.”

  Any possibility of love between Troy and I was long gone, but he was right about falling in love with Bradley—that could hurt one day.

  Bradley pivoted toward Troy, nostrils flared. “We’ll see how much you care about her. There’s some new surveillance footage taken outside our building. Would you recognize Ethan?”

  Troy hesitated. “It’s been ten years,” he shrugged. “I could try.”

  I saw my chance to escape and turned on my heels.

  “Contact Lieutenant Caruso, Special Victims Unit.” Bradley barked over his shoulder as he ran after me. “Where are you going, Gracie?”

  Not an available cab in sight.

  “I’ll take you home.” Bradley caught up and took hold my arm.

  I pulled out of his grasp and kept walking. “That won’t be necessary.”

  “We had an understanding, Gracie.” His words slowed my steps. “We learn to trust each other by telling the truth—no withholding.”

  I stopped and turned around. “I know and I’m sorry.”

  Stormy eyes, furrowed brow, determined lips set in a thin line. All of his pain stared me in the face. “Bradley, this was something I needed to do for me. Without…anyone…hovering.” Rather than meet his gaze, I watched Troy’s car pull away.

  Bradley hesitated, perhaps to consider my words. “If you really want closure let him go. Move on.”

  “I needed to hear him say he fucked up, that he was sorry.”

  Bradley shook his head, incredulous. “What, he hasn’t hurt you enough?”

  The truth in his statement got me fighting mad. “I don’t know if I will ever forgive him, but this face to face helped me connect some of the dots.”

  Confused, duped and completely humiliated, I needed time to think. If our meeting had been solely a fishing expedition, Troy had gotten what he wanted. He now knew that I recalled almost nothing about the sexual assaults. But he hadn’t seemed particularly relieved or reassured by the information. In fact, he appeared to be experiencing a good deal of emotional turmoil.

  I confronted Bradley’s stormy gaze. “You need to learn to trust me.”

  “Like you trusted me with Audrey?”

  “I didn’t trust Audrey. And I hardly knew you.”

  “And why should I trust you? You’ve obviously got a history with this guy you haven’t told me about.” I’d never seen Bradley this furious and I backed away in no mood to explain myself or my past.

  He exhaled a sigh. “Gracie I want to believe you. Give me a reason.”

  “No matter what I say, or how much I try to explain, you’re not hearing me.” My own anger simmered close the surface. “We need a break, Bradley. We’ve gotten too close too fast. We’re going to blow up the whole relationship if we’re not careful.”

  Wound up tight, Bradley’s stare moved off into the gray void of drizzling cityscape. “Fine.”

  But before I could step away, he was in my face. “If we can’t be together right now, so be it. But don’t expect me to back off entirely. If you’re going to continue to see this asshole I’ll double your security. Triple it.”

  I stamped my foot and growled, which made his lips twitch. “Not funny.”

  “Yeah, it is.” His stare remained icy, but he also shook his head. “You’re just so damn cute when you’re mad.”

  I exhaled a sigh. “I thought you were the one, Bradley, the one man in the world who understood me. And now I don’t know.”

  “Depends on what you’re looking for—a man or a doormat.” Those vivid blue eyes could not conceal his pain. “You are the brightest, most beautiful women I’ve ever met—with a kind and generous heart. I was beginning to believe I had found someone to love. Someone who might also learn to love and care for my daughter.”

  He scrutinized me carefully, as if he saw me clearly for the first time. “But you are fucked up when it comes to boyfriends. Especially old rapist boyfriends.”

  Zing. Pow. Splat.

  My eyes narro
wed into slits. “Fuck you, Bradley.”

  I turned away and he grabbed my arm. “Sorry. I don’t know why I said that. You obviously believe he’s innocent.”

  “Just like you obviously believe he’s guilty.” I shrugged out of his hold. “Why do you have to be so damn controlling? And what if I don’t want to be protected? What if you protecting me just makes me feel like the helpless little college girl I used to be?”

  Rarely, if ever, did I make a scene in public. Yet here I was yelling at the top of my lungs in the middle of the financial district. A flash of yellow caught my eye and instinctively I waved. When the cab actually stopped, I leaped off the curb.

  A strong arm reached around me and opened the door. Before climbing inside, I turned around. “Leave me alone, Bradley. I need to figure out a few things on my own.”

  I slammed the door. “Irving Place and Nineteenth.”

  As the taxi pulled into traffic I looked back. Bradley and the security guy jumped into a black SUV, one of those intimidating presidential motorcade-type vehicles.

  I sunk deeper into the backseat and tried to imagine Bradley Craig out of my life.

  THIRTY-ONE

  TUESDAY MORNING ARRIVED a groggy temperamental bitch. No wait, that groggy bitch was me.

  “Fuck, no.” I hit snooze and pulled the covers over my head.

  Closure, as it turns out, is a fantasy.

  Ugly painful events, past and present, had fucked with my head all night. Worse yet, remorse had set in. I shouldn’t have agreed to drinks with Troy. And Bradley had every right to be angry with me.

  Three snooze alarms later I managed to get up and get to work. Sarah handed me a jeroboam-sized coffee and shoved me into the sound proof closet known as the black hole, where I dutifully recorded voice over for the Everyday Héros spot.

  In between takes, I ruminated over the events of last night, moving from regret to anger and back again.

  Sarah’s voice pulled me back to head-throbbing reality. “Keep it husky-sexy, but thoughtful. You love the rug rats you made with your handsome sexy man, and you still want to jump his bones.”

  I pressed the intercom button. “Only if he showers with Héros body wash.”