Sliding to the floor of her bathroom, she knew it was true. Despite the circumstances, and Sebastian’s Dom-like ways, she had seen past his cool demeanor to the man within and had fallen desperately in love.
“Damn you, Sebastian!” She banged her fist against the vanity cabinet next to her.
As a single tear cascaded down her cheek, a flash of light from the bedroom made her glance up.
The light wasn’t from a car or passing ship on the Mississippi River; it was a glistening, ethereal light that Sam knew all too well.
Standing from the cold bathroom floor, she went to her bedroom. That was when she heard the knocking. At first, it was in the ceiling, and then moved to the wall. It was the same gentle rapping she had heard before.
Entering her bedroom, she caught a glimpse of a warm, bright light in the corner, right before it vanished. Then the knocking ceased.
“Julie? Julie McNeil?”
Silence. Sam stood, waiting for a response. Then, it came to her. The softest whisper against her cheek said, “Help me.”
“How, Julie? How can I help you?”
The only sound in her ears was the beating of her heart. After a while, when no more otherworldly voices came to her, she headed to her bedroom door.
“For once, I’d love to get a straight answer from a ghost.”
* * *
For the next few days, Sam struggled to pull it together. Forcing herself back into her pre-Sebastian routine, she contacted Jill Acrebee and set a date to return to work. Luckily, Jill was shorthanded and wanted Sam to start right away. Sam was happy to return to her busy schedule; she needed something to keep her mind off Sebastian.
It was the nights she came to dread. When not lying in bed awake, inundated with images of Sebastian, she would be continually hounded by the ghost of Julie. The presence was becoming more insistent. The knocking on the walls grew louder, and the unearthly light flashed on and off intermittently throughout the night, making it impossible for Sam to sleep.
By the time she returned to her ICU position at the LSU Interim Hospital, Sam was beyond exhausted. The first day back, she struggled. After the peace in Sebastian’s penthouse, the chaos of the ICU overwhelmed her.
If that wasn’t enough, Piper was at her side soon after she arrived. Filled with questions about Sebastian, her experience, and what had gone wrong. Her friend’s interrogation only added to Sam’s exasperation.
“You expect me to buy that bullshit, Sam?” Piper roared. “You were in love with the guy. I could see it, Brenda saw it, and everyone around here knew it.”
“Please don’t curse, Piper,” she begged, reminding herself of Sebastian.
“What is wrong with you?” Piper swept a hand down Sam’s blue scrubs. “You look washed out, like you’ve lost all your fire. What happened to that insistent, bubbly little girl you used to be?”
“Little girl?” Sam snickered. “She’s gone, Piper. I left her with Sebastian.”
Piper rested an encouraging hand on her shoulder. “You can’t give up, Sam. Sometimes men take a little time to realize what they have in a woman.”
“Did Randy ever come back to you when you ended it with him?”
Piper sucked in a breath, wincing. “No, and I really liked him. I thought we could have something more, but he was too committed to his life as a Dom to change.”
“Sebastian is the same way.” Sam nodded, trying not to cry. “He’ll just find another sub to replace me. In a few weeks, he’ll have forgotten all about me.”
“The man went to a hell of a lot of trouble to win you, Sam. I’m not convinced he will give you up so easily.”
“I was nothing to him, Piper. Just an amusing toy to play with and then toss aside.”
“Keep telling yourself that.” Piper chuckled as she stepped away. “When he shows up on your doorstep, give me a call so I can say ‘told ya so.’”
* * *
Back at The Shallows that evening, Sam was entering the elevator from the lobby when she came face-to-face with the ghost of Nathan Cole.
“Sam,” he said with an exuberant smile. “Welcome back.”
She eyed his sleek gray suit. “Shouldn’t you be moving on to those fiery pits of eternal damnation, Nathan?”
“You’re in a pleasant mood.” He punched her floor button on the console as the elevator doors closed. “How was your time with Sebastian?”
She tucked a stray brown strand of hair back into her messy ponytail. “How did you know I was with Sebastian?”
“I know everything that goes on in my building.”
A thought occurred to Sam. “Then do you know about Julie?” The horror that registered in Nathan’s eyes was like nothing she had ever seen from him before—as a man or as a ghost. “Something wrong, Nathan?”
“No, nothing is wrong.” His cool exterior returned. “Is she a new tenant?”
Sam almost snorted at his reply. The man had always been a smooth operator, but it seemed his ghost lacked the cunning he had exhibited in life. “No, she’s the ghost in my apartment. She’s been there since I moved in. I’m pretty certain it’s Julie McNeil. You remember Julie McNeil, don’t you, Nathan?”
The light of his being dimmed dramatically. Sam observed with interest as the frown on his face faded in and out.
“Julie was a sweet girl,” he finally said. “I didn’t realize she was here.”
“I thought you said you knew everything that went on in your building?”
He pretended to adjust the sleeve on his suit jacket. “There are some things that have remained hidden, even from me.”
Sam grinned as she eyed the lighted floor panel above the elevator doors. “Perhaps there’s a reason she has stayed out of reach.” She dropped her eyes to his glowing apparition. “Sometimes what we fear in life, follows us in death. Maybe Julie is afraid of you, Nathan. Any idea why?”
The elevator doors opened on the fourth floor.
“No one had any reason to fear me in life, or in death.”
Sam stepped from the elevator. “Why don’t I believe that?”
He stood between the open elevator doors, his essence glistening in the hall lights. “Have you considered my proposition?”
She faced him. “What proposition?”
“I asked you once to help me. Find me, or what is left of me, so I can know peace. Find me and then I can leave this building and never haunt you again.”
Sam considered his proposal. “And what about Julie? How can I help her?”
Nathan glided back into the elevator. “You should probably discuss that with Julie.”
“No, I want to discuss it with you. You’re the reason she’s here, aren’t you?”
His sly grin made her stomach tremble. “Good evening, Sam.”
The elevator doors closed and then he was gone. Sam let out a loud sigh. Now she had two ghosts to contend with.
“Does it ever get easier?”
Trudging toward her apartment door, she already knew the answer. Her gift had shown her that all the turmoil people surrounded themselves with in life, continued in death. Hate, anger, and revenge were just as much a part of the spirit as love. But it was love Sam feared more than any of the other emotions. She had found it in Sebastian’s arms, and the prospect of an existence without love was becoming as empty as the ghosts who inhabited her building.
Inside her door, she let out a long, weary breath and dropped her backpack to the floor. She was so tired. Where would she find the strength to move on?
Passing her kitchen, she eyed the coffeemaker and toyed with the idea of making a fresh pot. In the kitchen, she loaded her coffeemaker with the aromatic blend of coffee and chicory she had grown addicted to since moving to New Orleans. While waiting for the coffee to brew, she became invigorated by the smell. She knew she should try and sleep, but part of her wanted to stay awake and come to terms with her jumbled emotions.
While pouring a mug of coffee, knocking began in her living room wall. The so
und traveled upward to the ceiling, growing louder as it went.
“Julie, cut it out,” she shouted at the ceiling.
But the noise became more insistent. The knocking turned into banging and the entire apartment vibrated with the bone-chilling racket.
Incensed, Sam rushed toward the living room wall. She banged her fists against the plaster.
“Stop it. I can’t help you!”
The banging became even louder.
Covering her ears, Sam wanted to scream, but then she thought of another solution. Running to her bedroom, she retrieved the bat she kept under her bed. Taking the bat back into the living room, she held it, ready to swing at the spot in the wall where the thunderous sound was emanating from.
“You want to drive me crazy, fine. Let’s see how you like this!”
She swung at the wall. The thud echoed throughout her apartment. When she gazed at the spot she had hit, Sam was pleased to see she had put a deep dent in the plaster. For a moment, there was quiet. She was about to put the bat aside when the rapping returned.
Sam had reached her breaking point. Between Sebastian, the ghosts, and the tattered remains of her life, she’d had enough. Swinging at the wall, Sam vented her anger. She kept hitting the wall, again and again, knocking bits of white plaster to the hardwood floor. The incessant knocking sped up, coming together so quickly that it sounded like one continuous boom in her apartment.
As the plaster began to fall away, a hole opened up in the wall. Sam felt better seeing that hole. It was as if she were beating the shit out of Sebastian for all the things he had done to her. For all the things he had made her feel.
As her arms grew heavy with exertion, she could see the studs underneath the plaster. The hole steadily grew bigger. Unexpectedly, something dropped from above.
Sam stopped swinging and raised her eyes. What seemed like a faded bit of fabric was hanging from the studs above. On closer inspection, Sam thought she saw something shiny, sparkling beneath the folds of fabric. Then, the odor hit her. Sickly sweet, like a heady bouquet of flowers, yet the aroma was artificial and pungent.
Sebastian’s comments about the smell in his apartment instantly came back to her. Had she found the cause?
Her eyes focused on the shiny object caught in the dusty fabric, and an unsettling feeling hit her. The object was a golden ring, and it was connected to a hand: a withered, black, human hand.
The flashing lights from cameras blinded Sam as she sat on her sofa, holding her mug of lukewarm coffee. The police officer standing over her, dressed in his NOPD blues, kept sniffing, as if he was bothered by the horrible stench permeating her apartment.
The body of the young woman pulled from her ceiling had been surrounded by a confounding array of potpourri, lilac air fresheners, and mothballs. The shroud she had been hastily wrapped in had ripped some time ago, allowing all the products meant to hide her decomposition to fall inside the wall dividing Sam’s apartment from Sebastian’s.
“She’s been there over a year,” the assistant from the New Orleans Coroner’s Department said. “There’s still enough flesh left around her neck to make out the bruises of strangulation. We’ll get more from the autopsy, but my guess is she was strangled and stuffed into the wall to hide the crime.”
“Mr. Cole had extensive renovations done to his penthouse, directly above these two apartments, over a year ago,” Marv offered to the coroner’s assistant. “Someone could have put her up there then.”
“Someone would have smelled her in these apartments, especially for a few weeks after her death,” the assistant returned.
Sam stood from the sofa and faced the men behind her. “I didn’t move into this apartment until a few months ago. The apartment next door was empty when I moved in, and was only rented recently.”
“Who rented it?” a thick-necked detective asked beside her.
“A private client who wishes to keep his name out of the papers,” Brynn announced, coming through the apartment door. Her green eyes were all over Sam. “You okay?”
Sam clutched her coffee mug. “A little shocked, but I’ll be fine.”
“We’ll need the renter’s name, Ms. Adler,” the detective insisted, coming up to Brynn. “I’ll be discreet, but I’ll have to interview this individual.”
“Of course.” Brynn spied the other police officers gathered in Sam’s living room. “But in private, Detective Monahan. All right?”
Detective Monahan nodded his head of thick black hair to the other officers. “You can speak freely, Ms. Adler. All my men are professionals.”
Brynn smugly smiled at the detective. “I have no doubt about that, Detective Monahan, but Mr. Bordonaro assured me you would handle this with the utmost … discretion. That’s why he insisted I call you.”
Detective Monahan’s chubby face fell at the mention of a Mr. Bordonaro. Clearing his throat, the detective gestured to the open front door. “We can talk in the hall.”
While Detective Monahan exited the apartment, Brynn came alongside Sam. “I want you to pack up a few things. I called Brenda soon after the police arrived, and asked her to put you up until we can figure something out.”
“Why did the detective look so nervous when you mentioned Mr. Bordonaro?” Sam whispered, itching with curiosity.
“Carl Bordonaro is very well known in the city for getting things done.” Brynn patted her forearm. “After I speak to the detective, I’ll walk you downstairs to Brenda’s.”
Brynn glided to the apartment door, her long strawberry blonde hair flowing behind her. Of all the things she had learned about her new landlord, the most difficult for Sam to envision was Brynn being a sub like her. She seemed so in control, so self-assured. How had she ever fallen for someone like Nathan Cole? Then again, how had Sam been bewitched by Sebastian Dane?
Before her time with Sebastian, Sam had always been curious about why someone became a submissive. Now, she understood the fascination and was glad she had gotten out when she did.
Walking to her bedroom, Sam wished she could find a way to erase her submissive experiences from her mind. One day, she assured herself, she would forget about Sebastian and all the things he had done to her. But Sam knew that day wasn’t coming any time soon. For the foreseeable future, she had a lot of heartache yet to endure.
* * *
When Sam showed up on Brenda’s doorstep, her friend welcomed her with open arms. Brenda’s apartment was smaller than Sam’s, without the stunning view of the Mississippi River. Decorated in tasteful beige-colored furniture and walls painted a light tan, Sam had admired her friend’s talent for creating an aesthetically pleasing home. She had wanted to emulate Brenda, but figured with her affinity for clumsiness, she was better off with a safe apartment rather than a pretty one.
“Can you believe you had a dead girl in your ceiling the whole time you lived there?” Brenda rattled on as she made up the fold-out sofa for Sam. “You never got a hint? Nothing?”
Sam gripped the corner of the bedsheet as she recalled Julie’s ghost, but Brenda knew nothing of her gift. Best to keep it that way. “No, no indication at all,” she lied.
“Word around the building was that girl, Julie McNeil, ran off with one of the security guards, and dumped Nathan. I bet Nathan killed her for it and stuffed her into your ceiling.”
“We don’t know if it is Julie McNeil, Brenda.”
“Who else could it be?” Brenda tossed a pillow on top of the bed. “She’s the only girl I know who was involved with Nathan and went missing. I knew Nathan was the jealous kind, but Jesus.”
Sam looked over her bed with a heartfelt longing to climb in and sleep forever. “Yeah, it’s a good thing you and he didn’t work out.”
“Can you imagine?” Brenda clucked. “What if that girl had been me?”
Sam dropped her eyes to her white nightshirt. “I guess you can never know a man’s heart, can you?”
“Hey, there.” Brenda went to her side and put a supportive arm around h
er shoulders. “I know you liked that Doug … Sebastian guy. I’m sorry it didn’t work out, but considering everything that has gone on, perhaps it’s a good thing. You never know how these Dom guys really are. He could have turned out to be another Nathan.”
Sam rubbed her eyes, pushing back the tears. “You’re right.”
Brenda patted the bed. “You get in here and go to sleep. You look beat. In the morning, we’ll go to Café Du Monde and get some coffee and beignets. Everything is better with coffee and beignets.”
Sam put on a brave smile. “Thanks, but I have to work tomorrow.”
Brenda guided her to the bed. “Already taken care of. I called Piper before you got here, and she notified your supervisor, Jill.” She sat Sam down on the pull-out bed. “You’ve got the next few days off, kiddo. Jill said you were not to go back to the unit until you’re ready.”
Knowing she had no responsibilities to see to made Sam groggy with relief. “I could use some time off.”
Brenda lifted her legs into the bed. “Sleep, Sam. If you need anything, I’ll be right here.”
Before her head hit the pillow, Sam closed her eyes. All she wanted was to be lost in a world of darkness where nothing mattered anymore.
* * *
Sam was dreaming of standing on the shore of a clear blue lake—reminding her of Sebastian’s eyes—the water on the lake was smooth, almost like glass. A storm came rolling in from the west. The black clouds, thunder, and wind frightened Sam. In some ways, it reminded her of Sebastian. Soon the water on the lake began to churn, and high waves crashed against the rocks cluttering the shoreline at her feet.
“Sam.”
She could hear him. His voice was rumbling inside the thunder.
“Sam, wake up.”
Sam raised her eyes to the black skies and swore she saw Sebastian’s face.
“Sam!”
She opened her eyes and there he was. Standing over her bed like a force of nature, Sebastian was gazing down at her with his arctic eyes.
Dark Attraction: The Corde Noire Series Page 24