by Rissa Brahm
Ugh.
Ding!
Finally! The twenty-fifth floor.
“Like I said, Stephanie, I really need to sleep. Big day tomorrow for my kid brother and your little sister,” Zack said, doubting she gave a crap about Amy or Darren, being such the spotlight hound. He escaped from the elevator into the hall as soon as the doors opened and moved quickly to his door three rooms down on the left. He pointed to her room only a few down from there. “Here we are, safe and sound. So sleep well, Stephanie. And feel better, you know, with your eyes and nose, and all.”
And his hotel room door opened, closed, and locked behind him all before she could ask him again to join her for anything.
CHAPTER 32
Isabel finished with the police and the hotel management’s accident report protocol very quickly, thanks to Charlie, who knew Isabel had a wedding to direct in less than nine hours.
What Charlie didn’t know was that she’d had less than three hours sleep between last night and the night before. She was running on fumes. Then add the crazy and sickening drama that was just thrown at her, and her emotional state was all that more fragile, shaky, and irrational.
Case in point: Her deep concern, however unwarranted, over Roberto’s status.
“Charlie, where did they take Roberto? I just want be sure he’s, you know…okay. I mean, maybe I shouldn’t press charges?”
“Isabel. You aren’t safe unless he’s put away and gets some help. And that won’t happen unless you do this. Listen, you just need to get some rest.” Charlie walked her out to the back door where a guard waited for her. “He’ll be booked tonight locally. Tomorrow morning I’ll follow up with my contact at the precinct. And I’ll press for a psych evaluation. Maybe getting him to the secure mental facility up north will solve all your concerns. But right now, you need to take care of you.”
Isabel was escorted to her car. Before starting the ignition, she dialed Antonio. The guard seemed intent on waiting for her to completely exit the resort before leaving her there, so she held up two fingers and smiled in thanks for his patience. There was just no way that she was going home to an empty house.
Antonio answered her call, groggy from sleep, but quickly raised his voice to screaming, and cursed Roberto to the “depths of hell.” She let him spew fireballs for a solid minute, but then brought him back down to practical.
“I just need you to meet me at my house right now. I’m leaving the hotel parking lot. I’m fine, just a little shaken up. Roberto’s detained and Charlie will keep me posted. He has a connection on the force who’ll let me know that Roberto is okay.”
“Okay! Who cares if he is okay, Isa?”
“This is my fault on so many levels, Antonio.”
“God, Isa, do you hear yourself? We should’ve listened to you!”
“No, I mean, it’s my hex, my influence, and my blindness! But all that aside, the fact is he is…was…my best friend. We can keep me safe by keeping him away, but we’ve gotta make sure he gets help! It’s Roberto, for Christ’s sake!”
“Just get home, Isabel. I’m already pulling out of my garage.”
Her car keys rattled slightly as she tried to start the car. She took a deep, calming breath. And with that breath, she thought of Zack.
Zack had been there for her.
And just the thought of him calmed her, comforted her, steadied her.
*
She left the hotel premises, throwing a final wave of thanks to the guard as she went. Merging onto the main drag, her mind shifted up a gear, back into anxiety mode.
Was Roberto safe? And was she the shovel that’d dug the hole he’d fallen into? She just hadn’t realized how serious Roberto was about her. Had she been too flirtatious with him? And not direct enough?
But to force himself on her like that! He’d actually attacked her! And it was unforgiveable. Threatening her, hurting her. Damn it, Roberto, what the fuck were you thinking?
And, she knew he’d seen her with Zack at the bar, but how the hell did he know anything about Drew from Germany or DJ Chris? God, just how long had he been following her? Watching her? Her head spun. Her date with Drew was before she’d even made the God-awful mistake of sleeping with Roberto! Just how far back did this go?
A whirlwind of instances flew at her at once. But wait! Did she remember correctly, or was it just the trauma of the night, the words Roberto had shouted at her as he was taken away. “Just wait ’til I do make love to you…”
When “I do make love to you?” But they had slept together. She’d gotten stupid blackout drunk and broken her rule. He’d told her so. She’d blacked out that night, and he’d told her they’d had sex when she’d woken up naked in his arms, in his bed, that was what he’d damn told her!
Adios Mio! Had he set it up? Undressed her to make her think…and then lied about it? Wait. Was it even worse than that? He had made her all her drinks that night, at least the ones she could remember! Did he drug her? She really couldn’t put it past him at this point. She couldn’t rule out anything.
And it was all because she’d selfishly hung on to him, to her one friend on Earth. And, no, even that wasn’t permitted. Not even Roberto was allowed in her cursed world. She’d broken her goddamn rules long before the night they’d supposedly slept together. She’d blurred her lines long before that. Safe distance? No. Unsafe, lethal.
Her chest was caught, no air. Screaming, sprinting thoughts. Justify it, Isabel. Justify ’til your heart’s content.
No, damn it! It wasn’t rationalization, her attempts had been real, her intentions had been true. She’d tried to keep Roberto from harm, even asked him to keep away. And now, tonight, was this the lesser evil? Her dearest friend having gone out of his mind? She’d driven him to the brink of insanity. Would death have been better than the torture Roberto would face in a damn mental ward for the criminally insane?
Stop being so melodramatic, Isabel.
Melodramatic? Seriously, fuck you, fate! Just, goddamn you to hell.
She felt sick to her stomach, ready to spew her guts out. She knew she should pull over, but was too scared to. And so tired.
So goddamn tired. Too tired to work it out in her head anymore, the unseen darkness that plagued her was draining her dry. Bones-in-the-desert dry.
“Fuck you!” she screamed. She pounded and pounded her steering wheel with both hands, again and again and again. With the last slam of her quivering hands, she mistakenly hit the horn, which startled her into a slight swerve on the thankfully empty road. Then her eyes welled with blurring tears, and she just unfolded.
Sobs, years and years of salty wet sorrow. She had no choice but to pull off to the side of the road then, as she cursed the never-ending shit storm that was her life. She took long breaths to get control while her nausea still threatened, but didn’t send her over the edge. Only her tears dove to their deaths. A billion, trillion tears.
What seemed like hours later when only minutes had passed, the glow of a truck’s oncoming headlights broke her daze. Get home, Isabel. Antonio’s there. Just get your ass home.
She pulled back onto the road and reached for her volume control, thinking her heavy metal music would steady her for the rest of her drive. But another cyclone of thoughts came first. For Christ’s sake, leave me alone! Can’t I have ten minutes of peace?
No. An alternative surfaced. The awareness that if Roberto had not been waiting at her car just hours ago, then it would have been Zack…alone. And as drunk as she knew he’d been, having had her peripheral on him throughout the entire rehearsal dinner, he would have done the very same as Roberto.
But Jesus! Here was the undertow of guilt; she would have welcomed that attack.
Finally being honest with herself, she would have accepted Zack’s advances in the far off, poorly lit staff parking lot. Why? Because when it came to Zack James, her willpower was just too damn weak. And it would have all potentially gone down with Stephanie, Zack’s “stalker”, on the sidelines, which of course would h
ave been the end to her career.
*
Antonio was on the edge of the pullout bed when she got home. He was heaving pissed, God, like she’d never seen him. She broke his zone with the sound of her car keys clanking on the sideboard. And a second later, he had her wrapped in his arms. “God, Isa. I am so sorry. So, so sorry.”
Her brother couldn’t blame himself. She wouldn’t allow it. “Fate, brother. Just fate,” she whispered. Not that she really believed that. She still put it all on herself. But she knew Antonio wouldn’t accept that. She pulled away from him slowly. “Sleep. I’m fine. Hitting the bed now.” She just wanted to end this hellish night.
He nodded, kissed her forehead, and she went straight to her room.
She lay in her bed and focused on the sound of her own breathing—in and out. In and out. Finally, thank God in heaven, no thoughts. Deeply in. And completely out.
Soft sleep came. Then dreams.
CHAPTER 33
It only took thirty minutes of pacing, inner debate, and outward muttering before he punched a hole in the wall. Damn her pride! I should be with her now! For the aftershocks. Fuck!
He wrapped a towel around his cut-up fist, picked up his room key, and left the suite. He wasn’t leaving Isabel down there by herself. He’d just keep her company…or whatever the fuck she wanted to call it. And he had every right to be there, to give his account of the assault. It was a fucking real time attack, damn it! Didn’t she get that?
He continued his inner defense, preparing what he would say to her when she tried to push him out and away again, her horrible goddamn habit. But he had nothing to prove, he would tell her. And just like he wouldn’t abandon his brother, his brother’s soon-to-be wife, a friend, or even his fucking attorney, he wasn’t about to leave the woman he was admittedly falling for—more like had already fallen for—to deal with this by herself. On second thought, maybe he’d leave the last bit out for tonight. He’d save it, but the rest she’d hear, whether she liked it or not.
Yeah, now he felt empowered, imagining himself standing by her, sitting with her, comforting her like he should have insisted on in the first place. His steps down the hall were heavy, dense, emphatic, to support the argument he’d prepared.
Just then, a clicking sound caught his ear, then a creak, and before he could glance over his shoulder at Stephanie Rine’s door, another click-then-bang. My very own stalker, he mused, and continued to the elevator.
*
When he got to the front desk, he asked to speak with security immediately. One of the officers who had come to the scene appeared and shook Zack’s hand firmly. The officer’s other hand held a half-cup of coffee, like he was on break.
The officer called him an hombre valiente—Zack had a decent-enough base in Spanish to know he’d been called a “brave man.” He didn’t feel brave, though, leaving Isabel like he had, but Zack nodded his thanks.
“Can you tell me where Señorita Ruiz is now? And is she alright? Have the reports been completed? Can you take me to her?”
But the officer only stared at him and sipped his cup of joe. The man’s lackadaisical attitude boiled his blood. Keep calm, Zack. The guy’s just a graveyard shift security guard.
He swallowed, took a deep breath, then repeated the request in Spanish as coolly as he could, when all he really wanted was to pour the coffee over the guy’s head.
“Sorry, Señor, but she left already.” Spoken in perfect English.
Zack came down hard with his fists onto the granite reception counter, jolting the officer, his coffee, and the front desk girl who stood frozen, phone lines ringing and flashing like crazy.
Zack blinked and sighed. “Lo siento.” He shook his head then nodded. “Really, I’m sorry.” He knew the security dude hadn’t done anything wrong. No, it was Zack who had fucked up, again, by leaving Isabel at the scene in the first place, against his own damn gut. He’d fucked up huge, and he wanted to fix it. He wanted to tell Isabel he was there for her.
Before Zack could get his bearings and unclench his iron locked jaw to even utter his next question to the officer, a silver haired man in a full suit, obviously a manager, came out from the back office. Maybe this guy had a more accurate status report, and maybe the officer didn’t know what the hell he was talking about. Maybe Isabel was going to be escorted…soon, but hadn’t been yet.
The older gentleman approached, arm outstretched. “You must be Zachary James. A pleasure. An honor, in fact. Thank you so much for helping Isabel. She had a real stroke of luck tonight with you being there!” The man seemed to know her well and genuinely care for her wellbeing. At the same time, Zack sensed that this man was almost surprised that she was okay, shocked even. “A real stroke of luck…finally,” the man reiterated, almost to himself.
Zack knew it was no stroke of fucking luck that he was there to save her. Not because he believed in luck less than he thought the goddamn Loch Ness Monster was alive and kicking, but more than that, he hadn’t even been at the right place at the right time for any noble reason. He felt a sting of hot guilt in his gut. He knew exactly why he’d been there originally. His fucking hard-on for Isabel had gotten him there. More disgust flooded him.
You’re a fucking asshole, Zack. You don’t even deserve her!
He wanted nothing more than to go back to his room and hit and crush and pound more things with his fists.
“My name is Charlie. I’m the customer service manager here at the Bay View,” the man interrupted Zack mid thought. “It looks like you’re really shaken up, but not to worry, Mr. James. Isabel was escorted to her car by security twenty minutes ago, and she just gave word by text that she got home safe and sound. Her family is with her there.”
Damn it! He really had missed her. But at that point, he could’ve faced her. Zack stood there like a lost fucking stray.
“And I’ve already followed up with the police. The assailant is in custody and won’t be released any time soon. The police will be back for your statement tomorrow morning, before your family’s affair. But for now, why don’t you get some sleep, Mr. James?” Charlie said, patting Zack’s hand like a father would.
Zack shook the man’s hand and attempted a smile in thanks, then headed toward the elevator bank. A surge took over as he zombie-walked, worse than the emptiness he’d felt whenever Isabel was far from him. This was more a cold liquid mercury through the veins, a slow creeping paralysis. And he knew the cause. He swore then, if given the chance, he’d never let Isabel down again.
CHAPTER 34
She woke up with a jolt. Her bedsheets were wet, and her body was hot, soaked with sweat. She closed her eyes to try and remember her lingering dream and noticed dried tears on her lashes and cheeks. Her clock showed 2:30 AM. She’d been asleep for only minutes. Her toes tingled and her pulse could be felt through all of her erogenous points, especially between her legs. When she took her sweat-soaked t-shirt off, the cotton sliding over her nipples actually hurt. Why were they so sensitive?
Then, a flash entered her mind—Zack’s eyes, the color of translucent ocean outlined by pine forest and speckled with sunlight.
Her wet dream came back to her in its full glory. And, God, it had been so damn real. Zack had taken her home that night, and did not sleep on the sofa. In her dream, he had taken her and had made her pour so hard, she’d cried. And when her tears flowed, she remembered ever-expanding happiness. She’d been rolling into another climax as he’d moved in and out of her, while his brilliant eyes infiltrated hers.
But then she remembered his eyes had morphed to sky blue, and then his entire face followed suit…until it was Roberto above her, increasing in speed, pounding her like a murderous dagger into her soul. That was when she’d shot awake. God, that image. That feeling. Please, leave me.
Now real tears fell, tears sourced from fear, disgust, and violation.
She sobbed without limit until there was nothing left.
*
Unknown time passed before she
connected again to her surroundings. Alone in her bed, her body still pulsating—having been left mid climax—she shivered then sighed. To gain some separation, she got up and grabbed a glass of water. She called up an image of Zack in her mind as she sipped the cleansing liquid, mostly to prevent the nightmare from creeping back in. She stared at the wall ahead of her. How funny, that for all of her efforts in fighting Zack off, he had really only ever brought her immense pleasure, sweet comfort, anchored security and calm.
But again, she wasn’t fighting him off because he was bad for her. She was fighting him off because she was bad for him. Deadly bad.
She lay back in bed, her body still vibrating at a heightened frequency. Oh, how she had wished the first part of the dream could be her reality. If only.
And now, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t fall back to sleep. Beyond her whirling thoughts, she was tight with a crowning sensation left by her dream. Damn it! And that haunting image of Roberto.
Screw it! She’d focus on Zack and the first glorious scene of her REM fantasy. Because, hell, if she couldn’t have Zack James in real life, then she’d take him virtually.
She fully surrendered to her vision of Zack, his broadness over her and in her. She pleasured herself, finishing the act he had begun in her ever-sweet dream. Now awake and alone, she let him dominate her heart, her body, and her soul. His essence rippled through her until she was ravaged and spent, and sleep could come to take her far, far away. But would sleep or work or anyone or anything ever take away the pain in her heart?—that deep-seated ache that only Zack soothed.
CHAPTER 35
Sunlight spilled into the bedroom, easing her awake. She stretched, then rolled out of bed and went to shower off her early morning orgasm. After thirty seconds under the hot spray, she heard her phone, and ran to grab it off her nightstand. Lucinda’s image showed on the screen and, dripping wet, Isabel answered the call while standing there shivering.
“Isabel, why didn’t you call me immediately?” Lucinda spoke quietly, assumedly having heard the parking lot saga from Charlie.