The Girl in the Mirror (Sand & Fog #3)

by Susan Ward

  Whatever this is, it stops now.

  I’m across the room before the guy even notices me.

  Chapter Nine

  I can’t stop hitting him, even though this one was over after the first blow.

  I hit him.

  He hit the floor.

  Fight done.

  He only has his arms up to protect his face.

  Pussy.

  All guys who treat girls badly are pussies.

  I punch him again.

  “Who the fuck are you?” the guy growls, trying to dodge my blows.

  “I’m your worst nightmare, asshole.”

  “What are you doing?” Krystal cries in dismay. “Let him go. Get out of here.”

  Time to stop before I seriously hurt the little asswipe, but I plant my fist in his face one last time because he deserves it.

  He tries to squirm out from under me. I hold him in place with a hand clutched around his throat. “Stay down. Don’t move until I tell you to or I’ll hit you again. You got that, jerkoff?”

  The kid’s eyes widen—yep, he understands—and I release my hold so he can nod.

  “What the hell happened here?” Brayden asks in alarm from the doorway.

  I jerk away from the body beneath me, grab the cell phone from his hand, and then spring to my feet.

  I plant my hands on Brayden’s chest trying to keep him from coming any farther into the room. “Stay clear. Go into the living room and wait.”

  He maneuvers around me and drops down beside the groaning body on the floor. “Can’t do that, Jake. We’ve got to call this in. Who is this? You’ve fucked this kid up good.”

  Call it in?

  Brayden moves the boy’s face toward him to examine it. “Hey, kid, are you hurt bad? Do you need an ambulance?”

  Ambulance? No, hell no. “Have you lost your mind? The kid doesn’t need an ambulance. You call an ambulance, the cops show up.”

  Brayden shakes his head. “We’ve got to call this in, Jake.”

  He fishes his phone from his pocket and I dart across the room to rip it from him.

  “We are not calling this in. You call it in, everyone will know what happened here. The press. Her parents. No, not letting that happen, Bray. We’re cleaning up the scene on our own. Understand?”

  His gaze flitters around the room, pausing on the bed then Krystal. “Oh fuck.”

  “You want to be the one who tries to explain this to Alan Manzone?” I jerk my head toward the hallway. “Get out. If anyone else is here, keep them away until I’m out of here with him.”

  Brayden rises. “No one is here but Madison Parker and her boyfriend. They’re out on the beach.”

  My eyes bore into his. “Keep them out there. I’ll move the kid to my car, take him to the hospital if he wants to go, but keep this area clear until I text you that I’m outta here with this jerkoff.”

  He nods and closes the door behind him.

  I lean my head against the wood, inhaling and exhaling to steady myself. The kid groans again from the floor. Maybe I did hurt him. The picture flashes in my head of what he was doing to Krystal. Hurt or not, he can wait.

  I need to untie Krystal.

  Check the cell phone.

  What if that bastard uploaded the photos already?

  I shut down that thought.

  Concentrate, Jake.

  Work the problem.

  I have to destroy the phone and the memory card, and get that guy out of here.

  Don’t think of anything else.

  Ignore all other variables.

  Focus only on what’s in front of you.

  “Please, untie me,” Krystal begs in anguish, pulling me from my thoughts.

  Christ, what’s the matter with me? She’s still naked and tied up. The second I dropped that guy, I should have gotten her loose so she could dress in case anyone else stumbled in here.

  I spot her clothes on the floor. I scoop them up and toss them to her as I rush to the bed, trying not to let my eyes wander anywhere, but it’s hard not to look at her. Seeing her like that is like passing a car accident or something. You gotta look even if you don’t want to.

  I keep my face carefully averted. This wreck no one should ever see. It makes me sick, and the guy—there’s no way to adequately describe what that made me feel.

  Red, blinding rage. Like in that alley with that fucker who hurt Janie. The kid lying on the carpet is lucky to be alive.

  “What are you doing here?” Krystal hisses raggedly. “How could you barge in like that and beat up Daryl?”

  “It’s my job. The security company does regular checks on the house,” I lie, because I really don’t want to ignite a shitstorm inside a shitstorm by letting her know her mother sent me here. “I heard a sound. I checked it out. It’s my job.”

  “It’s your job to bust into people’s bedrooms?” she counters, distraught.

  I ignore the question because now is not the time to inform her that, yes, it is part of my job if that’s what my employer asks me to do.

  No, not getting into that discussion right now.

  “Who’s the guy on the floor?”

  She sniffs as she chokes back tears. “My boyfriend. Is he all right? How could you attack him that way?”

  Boyfriend? I glance at the kid. No, never seen him at the main house. I didn’t even know Krystal dated. After meeting Daryl, it’s no longer a mystery why she didn’t bring that winner home. Alan would have seen through him before Daryl said how do you do, sir? in his snooty Orange County voice.

  My gaze roams the room. Crop. Ropes. God, what’s that on her breasts? Something of unidentified use hanging from Krystal’s nipples that I really don’t want explained to me.

  Daryl boy is too young to be this messed up.

  Why would Krystal let a guy do this to her?

  “Do you have any idea how much you humiliated me tonight?” She sobs quietly.

  “He was hurting you,” I say as I finally get untied the ropes on her ankles. “I couldn’t just shut the door and walk away, Krystal.”

  “That would have been better than this. You’ve practically killed my boyfriend. He was being a jerk. He would have never done anything to hurt me. Not ever.”

  Is she fucking kidding?

  I stare, stunned.

  “He tied you to a bed,” I remind her harshly. “Took photos of you naked. Threatened you. I wouldn’t put anything past a guy who could do that to a girl. Where I’m from, when you stumble across someone doing something wrong, you stop them.” My eyes take in the room again. “And this is plain wrong.”

  Her cheeks color and her trembling lips turn into a tight line. “He would have backed off the second he saw you. Given you the phone if you’d asked for it. You didn’t have to attack him. How could you go all Rambo on him? Daryl wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

  Why is she defending him? “I didn’t expect a thank you, not from you, but you have no right to be pissed off at me. No guy should treat a girl the way he was treating you. Especially not you.”

  She jerks her chin away. “I could have handled Daryl.”

  “No, Krystal, you couldn’t have. That’s the first mistake girls make. Thinking they can handle things they can’t. I’ve known lots of Daryls. Good looking guys. Smart. Normal seeming. But those kinds of guys do bad things, too, Krystal. Never trust a guy who puts you in a position where you can’t keep yourself safe.”

  A vision of Janie’s rapist rises in my memory. He was my friend and I thought he was a good guy when I brought him home to meet my sister. Kevin hadn’t looked evil, and worse, I’d liked him.

  “Everything is going to be all right,” I add, fighting to keep my voice calm. “Daryl is going to be fine. And no one will find out about this. I promise.”

  I tap Daryl with my shoe. He pauses in checking his jaw with his fingers, and when he looks at me I ask, “You’re not going to tell anyone about this, are you, kid
?”

  He anxiously shakes his head.

  The kid got a beatdown.

  Nope, he’s not telling anyone.

  “See, Krystal, we’re all good here.”

  Her stricken eyes tear at me. “You know. Brayden knows. Why should I trust either of you after you did this?”

  OK, there’s a whole lot wrong with that statement, but I’m not tackling it now. And I’m certainly not prepared to deal with this after the night I’ve had—her being pissed off at me for helping her.

  I shake off my annoyance and the voice inside my head reminding me my read on her was right—the girl is an IED. I need to clean this up and get out of here quickly.

  “No one will ever find out about this from Brayden or me.”

  Those wide blue eyes grow enormous as she rapidly studies my face. “You won’t tell my parents?”

  What I hear in her voice makes everything I assumed when I entered the room turn upside down.

  Oh fuck. That asshole hadn’t pressured her into doing something stupid. It was her. Krystal thought of this. Whatever had been going on here had been her idea. She has that girl, secretive, found out, and frantic expression to her. She wanted Daryl to tie her to the bed, let Daryl the dick do all this crazy-ass shit to her, and that’s what she’s afraid of: her parents finding out.

  Jesus Fucking Christ.

  Her gaze drops. “If you ever tell anyone about this I’ll die.”

  Over the top.

  Terrified.

  Her expression taunts me that I should tell Chrissie everything that happened here tonight.

  “Please,” she adds in a thin voice.

  Fuck.

  “They won’t hear it from me. I promise. Brayden either.”

  Keeping my gaze carefully lowered, I move from the foot of the bed to free her wrists. First tie gone. Then the second rope and she scrambles away from me, back turned, and pulls on her clothes.

  I push my fingers into my temples, trying to shut off everything threatening to erupt inside me. I wish she’d stop crying. I look at her. She’s dressed, huddled on the bed.

  “Are you OK?”

  She nods.

  I remember the phone. I pick it up off the bed and rapidly tap. The pictures. I click through them. Now what the hell is this?

  “Is this the only phone he used?”

  “Yes. Did he text them or anything?” she asks brokenly.

  I shrug.

  I haven’t checked.

  No point.

  I turn the phone so she can see the screen.

  “He only took pictures of himself.” The adrenaline leaves my body in one gush. My gaze locks on Daryl. “Fuck, kid, are you an idiot? What the hell is the matter with you, tormenting her that way? If the wrong guy had showed up here, he might have killed you for what he thought you were doing.”

  His features tighten and redden but he doesn’t talk back. I stand up and hold out my hand to him. Daryl may not be as much of an asshole as I thought he was, but he’s a prick all the same.

  When his fingers touch mine, I close around them in a painful grasp and jerk him to his feet. “Grab the rest of your things and say good night, Daryl. Time to get you home. I don’t ever want to see you near her again. Understood?”

  His mouth scrunches up as he nods.

  I point at Krystal. “You don’t move. You don’t call anyone. You stay put until I come back from taking Daryl home.”

  Those gorgeous eyes widen in alarm.

  “What do you mean, coming back?”

  “Oh yeah, Krystal. This isn’t over. Not by a long shot. You and me got a few things to talk about.”

  Chapter Ten

  I park the car at the curb. “Are you sure you don’t want me to take you to the hospital?”

  Daryl shakes his head, but his body language conveys he’s in some pain. “I’m OK.”

  I study him. “We’re cool, right?”

  I wait for his answer even though I don’t expect one. This must be humiliating for him. He stares out the window, unresponsive—but, oh, his expression speaks volumes: Fuck you, asshole, did you really ask me if we were cool?

  Not that I blame him for thinking that, but no, can’t let him go without making clear my point of view on this night.

  Slowly I spread my arm down the back of his seat, turning my body into him and closing a bit of the distance.

  “This is one of those defining moments in life,” I remind him. “Do you walk out of this car and be a man, or do you run your mouth and prove you’re a punk so I have to come back here and kick your ass again?”

  He opens the door and I grab hold of his arm, preventing him from climbing out. “Fuck, I’m not going to say anything,” he snaps through gritted teeth.

  “You hurt that girl, I hurt you. That’s how this works.”

  His burning stare narrows. “I would never do anything to harm Krystal. She’s the most amazing girl I’ve ever known.”

  Damn, it sounds like he means it. It makes it more difficult to understand. “Dude, you tied her to the bed.”

  He puffs up, reddening. “It’s not like that. And, fuck, it’s none of your business anyway.”

  My eyes bore into his. “Oh, that’s where you’re wrong. Everything about Krystal is my business.”

  “Are you fucking her?” he asks scathingly.

  My fingers tighten and he winces. “See, that’s what I’m talking about here. Spewing that kind of shit pisses me off. Fucking her? You don’t talk about a girl that way.”

  “Get your hand off me. I’m just wondering what it is to you what we do, and if she’s seeing you and not telling me.”

  I remove my hand. “No, kid, I’m not involved with her. I work for her father and I care about the family. And even if I didn’t, I’d still stand up for a girl when something should be stopped.”

  “I already told you I won’t ever see her again.”

  “Good. And don’t run your mouth, Daryl, because then you’ll be seeing me again. Understood?”

  His lips harden and he hisses, “Understood.”

  Leaning out his open door, I watch as he goes to the walk-through gate, punches in a code, and disappears up the long pavement to his house.

  No, it doesn’t surprise me that Daryl boy is a rich, elitist prick. Guys with pockets full of money and empty of morals. That’s all there seems to be in Southern California.

  I shut his door, lean back into my seat, and start the car. What is Krystal doing with a guy like that? I still can’t get my head around her part in all this.

  I should tell Chrissie. My finger traces the call button on the steering wheel before I pull back my hand.

  Tell the mother and I’ll have open war with Krystal once we hit Manhattan. Trust is the cornerstone of any good security team. If she doesn’t trust me, I can’t protect her.

  Jesus Christ. Why the hell did I tell her I was coming back to talk to her? That one definitely crosses the professional relationship line and I haven’t got a clue what I should say to her. No, that one isn’t in the training manual. How to talk to your client after finding her nude and tied to a bed.

  What is going on with that girl?

  I merge back on Pacific Coast Highway toward Malibu. Something about her has always bothered me—she seemed a little too happy, a little too perfect—but this I never expected.

  The image of how thin she is rises in my head, bothering me with all the questions swirling in my thoughts. Maybe that discovery is nothing. She is an athlete of sorts. She trains harder than anyone I’ve ever known, in or out of the military.

  Morning run.

  Hours in the studio.

  She looks like an angel every afternoon standing at the rail against the mirror—is that what they call it? No something else—slowly moving her legs and arms over and over again. She dances like an angel.

  Her body naked and tied to the bed blots out the picture, making everything insi
de me kick up again. That wasn’t angelic, and even after an hour it still makes me queasy to think about it. She’s so sweet and beautiful, and Daryl the idiot got one thing right, she is an amazing girl.

  True, she does nothing but give me crap and is a little stuck-up, but that doesn’t blind me to the obvious. Her parents are amazing people and they have amazing children.

  That thought makes me feel even worse over not calling Chrissie. I stare at the phone again. Call, Jake. It’s the right thing to do. It’s what you’d want if someone found Jane that way.

  Startled, I look up to find I’m back in Malibu, almost to the house. After parking in the driveway, I lean forward to stare through the windshield. It looks quiet, but it looked quiet three hours ago when I first got here.

  I’ve got to go in, check on Krystal, and then get out of here with Brayden. But what am I supposed to say to her? That she needs a good talking to is indisputable, but it doesn’t make it easier to figure out the words.

  I climb from the driver’s seat.

  My muscles tighten with dread each step toward the door. After my Jacob-high-handed-big-brother routine with Krystal, I’ve got to say something. Can’t bug out now.

  I go into the foyer.

  “You asshole!”

  I turn as Madison Parker pounces on me, shoving her face into mine as she repeatedly slaps my chest like an angry bird.

  “What did you do to Krystal?”

  Quickly dodging her blows, I counter, “Nothing. Stop it. I didn’t do anything to Krystal. I wouldn’t hurt that girl for the world.”

  More footsteps.

  Brayden, looking grim.

  Some other guy, looking like he wants to punch me.

  What’s happened now?

  Madison’s face contorts as tears pool in her blue eyes. “We get back from the beach to find that person”—her finger wags at Brayden—“standing guard in the living room saying we can’t see Krystal, and when Nick tackles him so I get past him to make sure she’s OK, I find her bleeding and the room busted up. She’s so upset she can’t even talk to me. What did you do to her? Where’s Daryl? You better explain fast, security person, or I’m calling her father.”

  Oh great.

  Chapter Eleven