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

by Susan Ward

  “Cassandra is not our star. If we don’t keep this donor happy we don’t have a company. You are letting everyone down by putting yourself first.”

  I refrain from rolling my eyes.

  “Reschedule, Milo. Or take Cass.”

  I turn before he can respond, less readily intimidated than I was when I started at NBBC, because he’s right, I am the star. As much as it pains me to admit it, in this economy, I know the seats are only full because half the people each performance are there out of curiosity stirred by who my parents are and the tidal wave of continuing publicity that earns NBBC.

  Brayden is on the front steps, smoking, when I push through the theater doors. He frowns as I hurry ahead of him to the waiting car.

  “You all right?” he asks, staring at me from the open car door.

  I shake out my limbs to relieve my tension. “I’m fine. Just ready to be home, I guess. Everything go OK with you today?”

  He smirks. “Not sure yet, but tomorrow has possibilities.”

  I laugh as the car pulls from the curb.

  “Hey, can you do me a favor?”

  “Sure. Whatever you want, Princess.”

  Agreeable in under two seconds.

  My eyes widen as I search his face.

  Ah, alone time away from the theater must have gone favorably for him.

  I sigh. “Can you not tell Jacob you didn’t stay all day with me?”

  He straightens up, alarmed. “Oh, fuck. Did you just get me into trouble?”

  My eyes flare as I shake my head, face close to his. “I’ve had a rotten day, and I don’t want to get into anything with Jacob tonight. Not that there is anything. But I just don’t want to risk it. Get it?”

  His expression makes me flush.

  “No, I don’t. And I don’t think I want to get it.”

  I lay my head on his shoulder. “Just don’t say anything, OK?”

  Reluctantly, he nods.

  Back at the loft, Jacob is sitting on the couch, a beer in hand, laptop closed, watching basketball on TV.

  I lean in and give him a kiss. “You done for the day?”

  He checks his watch. “I was done hours ago. You’re late.”

  I drop down on the seat next to him. “Milo was in one of his moods. Rehearsal ran long because of it.”

  He pulls my legs up and adjusts me until my feet are in his lap. “I don’t think I want to know what the crisis is today.”

  “Smart man.”

  He eases off my shoes and closes his fingers around my toes.

  “Don’t fight. Relax. Take the pain.”

  Moaning, I lie back against the pillows. “God, you are good at that.”

  He lifts a foot, kissing my arch. “I’m good at a lot of things.”

  I close my eyes enjoying his touch, even the sharp spasms of pain as he works my toes because I know it will feel better when he’s finished.

  “Do you want to tell me about your day?” he prods gently.

  “No. I’d rather hear about your day.”

  “I thought about you and missed you. That’s what I did today.”

  “You can’t fool me. You were back working before I was out the door this morning.”

  “I can multitask.”

  He stretches my arches and I wince.

  Once the pain ebbs, I open my eyes and find his gaze moving on me like a wandering caress. My heart accelerates. “Multitask, huh? Can you figure out a way to get the ache from my feet and the heat from elsewhere”—he picks me up—“and then make me dinner?”

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Angrily, I shove my things into my bag. “How could you do this, Milo? Spring this dinner on me with no warning the last day before the break? I’m flying home in the morning. I’m having Thanksgiving with my family.”

  Milo watches me from the chair in my dressing room. “This is important, Ángel. A priority if the company is going to succeed. We don’t survive on ticket sales alone. You know that.”

  “Everything is always about money,” I snap, staring down at my dressing table as I try to figure out how to make myself look presentable in under twenty minutes.

  “Said like a girl who’s never had to worry about it before.”

  His voice brings me up sharply.

  My gaze locks with his in my mirror.

  “Get out. If you want me at that dinner I need twenty minutes alone.”

  I reach for my eyeliner, wait for the door to close behind him, then will myself calm and start touching up my face.

  I try to figure out what I should text to Jacob to explain why I’m late.

  Jacob’s going to be pissed.

  No, not pissed.

  Jumpy.

  Any unexpected NBBC changes destroy the calm we live in. My cheeks puff up as I blow out another hard chestful of air. Dinner I don’t want to do followed by irritated husband when I get home.

  Great, Krystal. A banner way to start your vacation.

  I swipe on my phone. What do I say? That I’m having dinner with Milo and a large checkbook? No, that won’t go over well. I don’t want Jacob upset the first time we go home together as a married couple for a holiday with my family.

  I stare at the screen, and then rapidly start to click.

  Me: Terrible day. Running late tonight. You know how it is. Miss you, baby. Love you.

  Not a lie, but not the truth; the careful gray zone to keep things quiet at home. I pull on the nicest outfit hanging in my dressing room, a simple black A-line cocktail dress, shove my feet into my shoes, fluff up my curls, spray again, and head to the door.

  I run straight into Milo waiting in the hallway. His expression is taut, but when he sees me it melts into arrogantly severe, the normal arrangement of his features.

  “You look stunning, Ángel.”

  “I turn into a pumpkin at nine thirty. No matter where you are with your charming table talk, booze, and write-the-check spiel, I’m out of there at nine.”

  He surprises me by ignoring my snappiness and starts guiding me at a hurried pace toward the exit, hovering and way too close. Jeez, Louise, it’s like he thinks I’m going to cut out the side door.

  How ridiculous is that?

  When we step out of the theater, Brayden closes in quickly, rapidly noting how I’m dressed and unfortunately who I’m with.

  Damn it.

  There are two black Town Cars parked nose to tail at the curb. “Go on without me, Milo. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  He stares at me, impatient. “We’re already late, Krystal.”

  I toss him a back-off glare, and wait until he’s out of earshot. “Follow behind in my car. I won’t be long. Milo scheduled a dinner with a patron tonight. I’m as annoyed as you are, Brayden. But I’ll make it fast.”

  His gaze grows intense. “I can’t let you ride with him. That’s not how we do things, Krystal. Door to door, with your bodyguard always.”

  Would someone cut me a break tonight?

  “We’re going door to door, only in separate cars. What can happen with Milo that couldn’t happen the seven days a week I’m already with him? He’s my artist director. I don’t need the Black Star lecture today.”

  Without hearing his reasons, I rush down the steps, cross the pavement, and climb into the car. As we slowly make our way on the clogged city streets, Milo pours me a flute of champagne.

  “No, I’m fine. I don’t want that.”

  He laughs. “You need to relax, Krystal. You can’t be charming when you’re tense.”

  Grudgingly, I take the glass and chug it like a beer in an in-your-face way. The company may be broke, but the booze is always good and expensive, a Milo Bassard canard of success.

  Checking over my shoulder, I spot my car with Brayden in it behind us.

  Milo’s hand closes over my thigh and gives me a hard squeeze. “This won’t go late. I promise. You need to be less anxious.”

  Crap
, why is my heart racing?

  I press my palm against my forehead.

  My skin feels funny and my breathing is strange.

  Surprised, I notice the car is stopped in front of a five-star hotel, trendy, popular, packed.

  Wonderful, Krystal.

  You’re psyching yourself out over nothing.

  Like you did that first time Jacob took you to his apartment in Redondo. Mini panic attack being somewhere you hadn’t been before.

  Only, I know this hotel. It’s lame to get all jumpy. Why do I still freak myself out over nothing? Where does that anxious flutter in my gut come from? So silly. It never means anything. What could be safer than this?

  We park and the valet rushes to open our door. “We’re having dinner here?”

  My gaze fixes on the hand Milo holds out to me from the open car door. I look through the rear window as Brayden alights from my car. Brayden waits to move with us into the hotel. He’ll be in the lobby until I can cut out.

  My legs feel surprisingly rubbery as Milo escorts me through the crowded ground floor. I startle when I notice we’re at the elevators. Then I remember the restaurant Milo prefers is on the top floor.

  The doors shut before Brayden is with us.

  I feel spacy and disoriented.

  I lean into Milo.

  No, this is not right.

  You don’t need to wave a key card to get into the restaurant. It’s a room. There’s no table. Who is that standing staring out the window?

  My foggy brain focuses on the door closing.

  The man turns.

  Alberto Ramos.

  Yes, he’s on the board.

  Why didn’t Milo tell me we were meeting with him?

  It’s excruciating to turn my head, but I manage to look at Milo. “I’m not feeling well. Take me back to my car, Milo.”

  My voice sounds distant and far away.

  Alberto’s hands close on me and Milo steps back.

  “You wanted the girl. I brought her,” Milo whispers.

  My senses spin because I’m being moved. It feels like I’m crashing to earth, but it’s the bed I fall on. Stomach down. A sharp spear of agony. My hair, wrapped around an arm and jerked to lift my head.

  What is that metal sound?

  A zipper.

  A hard knee kicks my legs apart.

  My panties are ripped.

  No.

  No.

  No.

  Thick, hard flesh pushing in on my slit.

  A thrust rends me in two.

  I hear screams in my head but no sound but grunts in the room. My teeth cut into my lip followed by the taste of blood.

  Slam.

  Slam.

  Slam.

  Slam.

  Five. Six. Seven. Eight. I close my eyes, count in my head, and will myself not to be here.

  * * *

  Knifelike spasms in my stomach. I’m going to vomit. I open my eyes and my arms are tied behind me. Oh God, it wasn’t a nightmare.

  I choke on bile and tears.

  I try to move.

  Every inch of my body hurts.

  Through my guttural groans I hear voices.

  The door is ajar.

  “You said you just wanted to fuck the girl,” Milo exclaims, alarmed “You were brutal with her. How the hell am I supposed to take her home like this?”

  A harsh laugh. “No, Milo,” Alberto Ramos jeers scathingly. “You misunderstood. The fuck was to save your life. I’m keeping the girl to clear your debt.”

  “That wasn’t our agreement.”

  Something crashes into the wall.

  “Get out of here, Milo.”

  A door opens then closes.

  Then the bedroom door is pushed wide. One. Two. Three. Four men. NO. Alberto sets his knee on the bed, grabs my chin, and jerks my face toward him.

  “Don’t be afraid, bonita. If we kill you, you’re worthless to us. But for a picture of you like this, I think your father will reward us well to let you die quickly.”

  Men’s fingers dig into my ankles, spreading my legs. Zipper. No, no, no. Not again.

  I arch up as I’m penetrated.

  Five, six—a brutal thrust—seven, eight.

  Flash. Flash. Flash.

  Something blocks out my view of the world.

  Darkness, spinning darkness…black…nothing.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  “Jacob”

  “Shush, Janie. It’s OK. You don’t have to explain again. I understand. I shouldn’t have asked you more than once. Only, we haven’t seen each other in a long time. I thought you might have changed your mind, decided this was something doable for you. I can’t know what’s doable if I don’t ask you sometimes, right?”

  “I can’t, Jacob.”

  Ragged breathing through the phone.

  Crap, she’s upset.

  “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. It’s just…” I break off since there’s really no point and it’s stressing my sister out to keep on with this.

  I hear a sniff, and then, “It’s just what, Jacob?”

  I search for the right words.

  “Santa Barbara is a lot like Orcas Island. Jackson Parker lives right on the beach in this house that’s surrounded by trees and nothing. It’s quiet. There won’t be any people but the family. It’s going to be low-key. Krystal says they do Mexican food on the patio for holidays. I thought it would feel comfortable to you—”

  “Surrounded by a bunch of people I don’t know, that I’ve never met before? No, that’s not comfortable.”

  I run my hand through my hair as I shake my head. I shouldn’t say this, but maybe it’s time for me start saying things like this. Four years and she’s still holed up in that house of hers, hardly going anywhere. She even works from home, and if Olga Village was anything more than a one-mule town I doubt she’d walk the streets there ever.

  “Maybe you’re ready to push yourself to do things you think won’t be comfortable. If you don’t test your limits, you won’t know if they’ve changed. And I miss you, sis.”

  “I test my limits,” she counters defensively. “I shop in town. I have friends. I live a normal life no matter what you think, bro. But Krystal’s family isn’t a limit I’m ready for. I wouldn’t know how to behave with them. They’re not exactly your normal family.”

  Normal family said in a critical tone.

  That wasn’t nice, Janie.

  She didn’t need to put a jab in to get me to back off.

  “They’re my family,” I say measured, steadily. “They’re your family, too, and they want you there. I want you there.”

  “Well, I’m not going.” A few moments of silence. “I’m sorry, Jacob. I can’t.”

  The air slowly releases from my chest, pushing up against the knot in my throat as it exits. Fuck, why am I still harping on this?

  I check my watch. It’s 1:00 a.m. Time to end this marathon discussion going nowhere.

  “I’ve got to go, Janie. It’s late and Krystal’s not home yet. If you change your mind, send me a text and I’ll send you a ticket.”

  “You don’t have to send me a ticket. I can afford it myself now that I’m working, if I decide to go, which I won’t.”

  “Well, I’ll pay for the ticket anyway if you decide to go because I’ll be so happy you did this, Jane.”

  She laughs.

  “You’re a good brother, Jacob.”

  “Sometimes I don’t feel that way. It really bothers me that we haven’t seen each other for years. It shouldn’t be this way, Jane.”

  “Stop being hard on yourself. It’s not your fault. I’m sure Krystal’s demanding and makes it hard for you to do anything for yourself.”

  Damn it. I know I’m partially to blame for Janie’s negative opinion of my wife, but I’m happy—I’ve told my sister that—and it’s time for her to stop with the drive-by swipes directed at my wife.


  “No, she’s not. She’s wonderful, but you don’t know that because you won’t meet her. And I want you to because I love you both.”

  Beep.

  “I’ve got to go, Jane. Brayden’s beeping in.”

  “Love you.”

  “Me, too.” I tap to switch calls. “What’s up, Bray? It’s after one. Why aren’t you guys home yet? I can’t believe that bastard dragged out this long the last day of rehearsal before the break.”

  “Is Krystal there with you?”

  “What? You know she’s not. You haven’t brought her home yet.”

  “Can you just check? Please?”

  His voice makes my heart stop.

  “Bray, what the hell’s going on?”

  “I can’t find her, Jake.” He sounds agitated. “I thought maybe she went home without me. Can you check the apartment?”

  I climb from the bed to search the loft. “She wouldn’t leave the theater without you. She doesn’t have any way to get home other than you. She wouldn’t take a taxi. She knows better than to do that at night alone.”

  “We’re not at the theater.”

  “What do you mean not at the theater? I got a text from her.” I poke my head into rooms. Empty. Empty. Empty. “She said rehearsal was running late.”

  “Fuck, Jake. Rehearsal ended hours ago. I took her to the Crown Vista for dinner. I lost her in the lobby. And I haven’t seen her since.”

  I freeze in the center of the great room.

  “What do you mean you took her to the Crown Vista? What are you talking about?”

  I hit speaker and tap open my texts. “Running late.” No mention of dinner.

  “Krystal left the theater at seven with Milo Bassard.”

  My heart jumps against my chest. “You let her leave the theater alone with Milo Bassard?”

  A torturously long pause that twists my insides.

  “She had me follow behind in her car. She said she wouldn’t be long. I haven’t seen her in six hours. I’ve texted and called and she doesn’t reply.”

  My pulse is going so fast I can’t breathe.

  “Where are you?”

  “The lobby of the Crown.”

  “Don’t move. Stay there. I’m coming.”

  I rapidly click through the icons on my phone. No texts from her after that one she sent, then I go to the phone log. No calls. She would never stay out this late without sending me something so I wouldn’t worry about her.