The problem with that was I didn’t actually believe it. No matter how hard I tried to tell myself how much sense it all made, a little voice in the back of my mind insisted that something was wrong. That this wasn’t one of those times where the easiest explanation was the correct one. Something else was at play here, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on what.
I bypassed the nurses’ station and went straight to Brianne’s room. I opened the door, and for a moment, saw Tess standing by the bed, smiling at her sister. Then I blinked, and it wasn’t Tess. The nurse was about Tess’s build and had dark, curly hair, but that was where the resemblance ended.
“Clay.” Brianne’s eyes slid over me to look beyond, and the confusion on her face confirmed my worst fear. “Where’s Tess?”
“Have you talked to her?” I asked my own question rather than answering hers. Though, I supposed, that was an answer in itself.
“Not since you guys left here earlier,” Brianne said. Worry creased her face as I muttered a curse. “What’s wrong?”
I ran my hand over my hair, tempted to rip it out to see if it would lessen the agony in my chest. “Tess is missing.”
Thirty-Five
Tess
I floated in the black, alone but not frightened. I was safe here. I felt nothing, thought nothing, knew nothing.
Any time my mind tried to reach for answers, the black stopped it. I didn’t mind. It was nice here. The black surrounded me, cradled me. It would protect me from things that could hurt me, and I knew without really understanding how I knew it, that there were a lot of things that could hurt me out there. Better to stay where I was safe.
I didn’t have a body in that place, at least not what my mind told me was a body. I could stretch my arms, feel the black slipping over my skin like silk. I could turn my head, blink my eyes. If I concentrated hard enough, I could even hear the steady beat of my heart. But here, I wasn’t limited to those things. I could turn and flip and dance and climb and fly. All I had to do was want it, and I could do it.
There was no time here in the black, and at first, I liked that. No schedules to keep, no hurrying to get somewhere. I just existed, never moving forward or backward in time.
Every so often, a little tugging at the back of my mind suggested that I was missing something, but I didn’t know what that could be. I had everything I needed in the black. Warmth. Safety. Security.
At some point, I became aware that the black was fading, given light, becoming gray. A throbbing pain crept into my consciousness. My body was hurt. I didn’t know how or why, and I didn’t understand what that meant. The body here in the black was healthy and whole. Why was there pain? Why did I know that my body hurt when nothing hurt in the black?
Gradually, the tranquility of the black bled away, leaving me with jarring fear and pain, the knowledge that something was truly wrong, and nothing I could do would fix it.
I needed to open my eyes. It was the only way I’d learn what had happened and how to fix it. But the thought of even such a small movement terrified me. Once I did it, I wouldn’t be safe anymore. I’d have to face the pain and danger that came with leaving the only haven available to me.
I could bring back the black, but I knew if I did, I’d likely never leave it. The person I’d been, the one who existed outside of here, would cease to exist in any meaningful way. The bad things would go with her, but so would all the good. I’d leave people behind, leave questions unanswered, dreams unfulfilled.
Still, I was tempted.
It would be easier to let it all go, but I’d never been one to shirk away from something just because it was hard. Staying in the black would mean letting down people I cared about, even if I couldn’t remember why or who those people were right now.
I came back to myself in fits and starts, catching glimpses of an unfamiliar ceiling, hearing strange sounds, feeling the tug of something in my arm. My body was heavy, weighed down, and it didn’t want to obey the commands I sent. I was physically weak, each breath taking more of an effort than I’d remembered.
Finally, I managed to open my eyes and keep them open. I looked around, hoping my brain could make sense of what was around me. A single bulb overhead rather than the fluorescent lights I’d expected. No odors of illness or cleaning supplies. It didn’t smell bad, wherever I was, but it didn’t smell like a hospital either. I had an IV stand next to me, and my eyes followed the tubing down to my hand where a needle was lodged in my vein.
Where was I?
What had happened to me?
“Estas despierto. Maravilloso.”
I slowly turned my head toward the voice, wondering why it had spoken in Spanish. A young man leaned over me, his handsome face lined with worry.
“¿Cómo te sientes?”
I blinked at him, trying to process the words. I knew Spanish. It took a moment, but I was able to understand that he’d asked how I felt.
“Thirsty,” I croaked, my voice rusty. I swallowed, and the words came more easily this time. “¿Me puede dar un poco de agua?”
“American?” he asked.
I nodded, then winced as pain shot up the back of my neck and across my skull.
“Careful. You hit your head.” He held a cup to my lips, and to my embarrassment, I needed his help to drink.
“Where am I?” I asked.
“My apartment,” he said.
That didn’t help me. “What happened?”
He sat down on the edge of my bed and reached for my hand, stopping just short of touching me. “I found you hurt and have cared for you these past two weeks.”
Two weeks. I’d been unconscious for two weeks.
“What do you remember?” he asked.
I searched my memory, finding black spots where I knew information should have existed. Instead of panicking, I continued looking for the most recent thing I could remember.
“I called my mom to wish her a Merry Christmas,” I said. “After I hung up, there’s nothing. Was I attacked in my home?”
“Where do you live?”
“Hell’s Kitchen,” I said. At his blank look, I clarified, “New York City.”
His eyebrows shot up. “You are not there any longer. You are in San Jose.”
“California?”
He shook his head, his obsidian black eyes locking onto my face. “You are in Costa Rica, and today is the first Sunday in February.”
I stared at him, trying to find something to tell me that he was lying. My gut told me he was being honest, that I’d lost more than a month of time, during which I’d traveled to another country for a reason I didn’t remember.
Shit.
The New Pleasure series continues in Saving Tess, coming November 23.
Also by M. S. Parker
His Obsession
His Control
His Hunger
His Secret
Sex Coach
Big O’s (Sex Coach 2)
Pleasure Island (Sex Coach 3)
Rescued by the Woodsman
The Billionaire’s Muse
Bound
One Night Only
Damage Control
Take Me, Sir
Make Me Yours
The Billionaire’s Sub
The Billionaire’s Mistress
Con Man Box Set
HERO Box Set
A Legal Affair Box Set
The Client
Indecent Encounter
Dom X Box Set
Unlawful Attraction Box Set
Chasing Perfection Box Set
Blindfold Box Set
Club Prive Box Set
The Pleasure Series Box Set
Exotic Desires Box Set
Casual Encounter Box Set
Sinful Desires Box Set
Twisted Affair Box Set
Serving HIM Box Set
Pure Lust Box Set
About the Author
M. S. Parker is a USA Today Bestselling author and the author of over fifty spicy
romance series and novels.
Living part-time in Las Vegas, part-time on Maui, she enjoys sitting by the pool with her laptop writing her next spicy romance.
Growing up all she wanted to be was a dancer, actor and author. So far only the latter has come true but M. S. Parker hasn’t retired her dancing shoes just yet. She is still waiting for the call to appear on Dancing With The Stars.
When M. S. isn't writing, she can usually be found reading– oops, scratch that! She is always writing.
For more information:
www.msparker.com
[email protected]
Acknowledgments
First, I would like to thank all of my readers. Without you, my books would not exist. I truly appreciate each and every one of you.
A big THANK YOU goes out to all the Facebook fans, street team, beta readers, and advanced reviewers. You are a HUGE part of the success of all my series.
Also thank you to my editor Lynette, my proofreader Nancy, and my wonderful cover designer, Sinisa. You make my ideas and writing look so good.
Finding Brianne: New Pleasures Book 4 Page 17