Under Covers

by Rhonda Bowen

  “Camille!”

  She tore through the room. Naomi opened the first door she saw to her right. It was a bathroom. Empty. But the bucket on the floor with two white packets, the shape of size D-batteries, was what made cold sweat break out across her body.

  “Camille!”

  She shoved open the next door and found herself in an unlit room. The light from the living room streamed in. It revealed part of a bed. Naomi felt the wall at the side of the door. Her fingers hit a switch. She flicked it up and down but nothing happened. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she saw a figure on the bed, unmoving. She crept over, stumbled over a bag on the ground and almost fell on the bed herself.

  “Camille?” she called out softly, almost afraid to get an answer. Her shoe kicked something else. The leg of a lamp. She felt the base until her fingers found the nob. Light flooded the room. A moment later, dread flooded Naomi’s heart.

  “Camille!” She shook the still body of her niece, even as tears began to fall down her cheeks. “Camille, wake up. Please!”

  She slapped the young woman’s face a few times. Camille stirred; a groan escaped her lips.

  “Oh thank God!” Naomi breathed. “Camille, you have to get up. We have to go.”

  Camille groaned some more and then she clutched her stomach. When she finally opened her eyes, they were watery and bloodshot. She tried to lift her head but couldn’t seem to find the energy.

  “Naomi?”

  “Yes, hunny. It’s me.”

  Camille started crying, rivers of tears rolled down her cheeks. Naomi couldn’t stop her own tears as she looked at her niece. She looked worse than she had ever seen her. But there was no time for this. Right now, they needed to get out of there.

  “We gotta get out of here, hun.” Naomi slipped her arm under Camille’s and managed to get her in an upright position. “I need you to help me though, Cam. I can’t carry you.”

  Still the tears flowed, but Camille nodded and pushed her feet down to the ground. Naomi helped her untangle the sheets from her legs.

  “Come on, let’s go,” Naomi pulled her to her feet.

  “I can’t....” Camille moaned, her weight pulled Naomi down.

  “Yes, you can,” Naomi hissed. “And you will.”

  Naomi didn’t know if Camille agreed, but she sniffled and tried to hold herself up again. They were halfway to the bedroom door when they heard a door slam and the sound of footsteps. Panic sliced through Naomi. Camille started crying again. She let go and crumpled to the floor at Naomi’s feet.

  “Camille!” Naomi hissed, she turned towards her niece, but the fear in her eyes made her stop.

  Naomi turned around. Angry eyes stared at her. Then before she uttered a word, the world went black.

  Chapter Twelve

  This was one of the reasons Naomi had stopped drinking. The hangovers. It felt like someone had cracked her skull open and knocked a bowling ball around inside. Except she hadn’t been drinking so this couldn’t be a hangover. So why was there pain with every movement? Why was she moving?

  Naomi tried to remember what had happened but her head hurt too much and the world felt topsy-turvy. She cracked open her eyes and realized why.

  “Let me go!” With the little energy she had, she yelled and beat on the back of the man who carried her fireman style over his shoulder. At least she thought it was a man. She was almost 140lbs. She didn’t know many women who could handle all that.

  Despite her protests however, her captor continued carrying her. He increased his pace. A wave of nausea washed over her. Naomi took a deep breath. Then before it came again, she dug her nails into the back of the man who carried her. She was about to attempt a bite next when she felt herself flipped over suddenly and propelled backwards.

  She screamed as she tumbled backwards and made a rough landing on her feet.

  “What is wrong with you?”

  She blinked. “Garth?”

  “Who else?” he asked gruffly. His hand gripped her upper arm as he hurried her down the street. Before she could say another word, he opened the door of the SUV and hustled her inside. Naomi closed her eyes and rubbed her aching head. She still felt a bit nauseous.

  “What’s going on?” she asked weakly. “What happened?”

  “You almost got yourself killed, that’s what,” Garth said dryly as he floored the gas pedal and took off down the road, away from the still open bar. “Do you know how stupid it was going upstairs into that room like that? Those guys could have shot you in the face, raped you, and tossed you into the harbour. What the hell were you thinking, Naomi?”

  The evening’s events suddenly rushed back to Naomi and she groaned. “Camille. Where’s Camille? Did you get her?”

  “No.”

  “No?” Naomi cried, alarm all over her features. She grabbed at Garth’s arm. “You have to go back. I can’t leave her there. She’s gonna die...”

  He pulled his arm away. “I don’t have to do anything,” he snapped. “Besides, she’s not even there anymore. That guy that gun butted you wanted to kill you. Our inside man had to convince him to take Camille and let him take care of you. They’ll keep her alive. Camille already has the pellets in her. They’re not going to take a risk on their $50,000.”

  Naomi was too shocked to respond. All she could see was Camille’s face, her bloodshot eyes, her lifeless body before she managed to wake her up. What if next time she couldn’t wake her? And now Garth was telling her Camille already had all those narcotics inside her...

  Naomi put her head between her legs and threw up on the car floor.

  Garth let out a slew of curse words.

  “Dang, Naomi! This is a new truck!”

  “You left my niece with gunmen!” she screamed, her head still between her knees.

  “I told you she’ll be fine,” he roared back.

  Naomi wished she could believe him. But right now he sounded just as stupid as Charlie. Camille was not okay. And she wouldn’t be until she was back home where she belonged.

  If that ever happened.

  Sobs choked her throat at the thought. He must have heard her, because she heard him sigh. “Look, I’m sorry. I know this is hard for you. It must have been hard to see Camille like that. But we’ll get her. This time tomorrow, you’ll be with your niece, I promise.”

  Naomi sat up slowly and looked over at him.

  “You promise?”

  He scowled at her. “Promise.”

  It was the first thing he had said since she arrived that she actually believed. At least that’s what she told herself. After all, what other choice did she have?

  Chapter Thirteen

  Her head might have been aching but Naomi knew she wasn’t at Latoya’s place when they turned into the gated apartment complex on Stanmore Avenue, just a short distance from Victoria Square.

  “Why have we stopped here?” Naomi asked as Garth pulled into a parking space and shut off the engine.

  He got out of the SUV and opened her door before he answered.

  “Because it’s two in the morning and I am not about to go knock on Latoya’s door at this time of the night,” he said, as he offered his hand to help her out.

  “So we’re at....?”

  “My place,” Garth said. “You can stay here for the night and then I’ll take you back up the hill in the morning.”

  Despite his outstretched hand, Naomi remained rooted in the vehicle. Going to Garth’s place was not part of the plan. In fact, in the list of things that she should definitely never ever do ever again, being alone with Garth Duhaney was right up there at the top.

  His hand dropped. “Or, if you feel like you can’t control yourself, you can sleep in the car. This is a safe community. We have a twenty-four hour guard. You’ll be fine.”

  He pulled the puke covered mat out the car and tossed it in a trash can nearby before he closed the door and walked away.

  Naomi’s mouth fell open. There was no way he would actually leave her
there. Right?

  She watched in disbelief as he turned the corner of the building and disappeared out of sight. Naomi unlocked her door and scrambled out of the car. She took off after him. She rounded the corner to find him leaning against the wall, laughing. She punched him hard in the chest.

  “I can’t believe you were going to leave me there.”

  He chuckled even as he rubbed his chest. “Hey, you’re a grown woman, you make your own choices.”

  She followed him up to the second floor where he let her into his apartment. It was nice. New. Looked like he had kept all the furniture they staged it with.

  “Look at you, all grown and responsible,” she glanced back at him as he watched her appraise his place. “Rental?”

  “Nope.” Garth tossed his keys on the side table and locked the deadbolt on the door. “Owned outright. No mortgage.”

  Naomi raised an eyebrow at him. “How did you swing that?”

  He smiled at her and winked. “You’re not the only one who’s changed, Nay.”

  She watched him with new eyes as he toed off his shoes and walked easily down the only hallway to a room she assumed to be his bedroom. A place she would be staying far away from.

  To reinforce this thought in her mind, she headed in the opposite direction towards the kitchen.

  “Make yourself at home,” he called out from the bedroom. “There’s drinks in the fridge. If you’re lucky, you might find some leftovers from last night’s dinner.”

  Naomi opened the fridge and peeked into a container. “Roasted chicken. Who cooked?”

  She heard him laugh. “Do you really want to know?”

  That answer was enough to give her a good idea. She closed the container and pushed it to the back of the fridge. She chose instead a bottle of iced tea. She had just finished pouring herself a glass when Garth returned to the room. The glass slipped from her fingers and landed noisily on the counter, but thankfully, only a few drops spilled onto the clean surface. Unfortunately, the damage of seeing a shirtless Garth as he walked towards her was a lot less harmless.

  Naomi tried with every ounce of self-will she could muster to look away. But it was almost three a.m. and it looked like her will power had turned in for an early bedtime. She watched him watch her as he circled the counter. He sauntered directly into her space. Garth took the glass of iced tea from her and took a long sip. She knew he knew exactly what he was doing.

  With her breath stuck in her throat, Naomi managed to look away long enough to retrieve the bottle of iced tea and return it to the refrigerator.

  “Why are you doing this, Garth?” she asked, her back still to him as she took her time putting the tea back.

  “Doing what?” he countered. She didn’t miss the teasing tone in his voice. To him, it was all a game. Never mind the fact that her niece was probably lying in some stranger’s bedroom right now. Naomi’s commitment to her fiancé and the four years of celibacy she had struggled to make it through meant nothing to Garth who by all accounts had just had a woman in his apartment and likely in his bed less than twenty-four hours ago.

  She walked around the kitchen island and away from Garth. “Never mind. Where is your spare room?”

  “How do you know I have one?”

  “Cause I know your mother,” Naomi shot back, as she headed towards the short hallway.

  He chuckled. “First door on your right, across from the bathroom.”

  She headed straight for it. “Let me know when we are leaving.”

  Naomi closed the door firmly behind her, and leaned against it wearily.

  “Thank you, God,” she whispered towards the ceiling even as she realized that she hadn’t prayed since she stepped off the plane. That would probably explain why her emotions had felt so chaotic all day. She thought it was Garth but maybe it was her. She had no idea what she was doing.

  She slid down to the floor and closed her eyes. She knew she should pray something more substantial than the “Thank you, God” she had just offered up for being saved from Garth and herself, but she didn’t know what. What would Jordan say? He would have the perfect eloquent words for a time like this. But Naomi couldn’t think of what they would be. Furthermore she didn’t want to think about what Jordan would say if he knew where she was right then.

  “God, help me. I’m lost. I have no idea what I am doing and I feel like I have made a mess of things with finding Camille and everything else. Get me through this please. And please, please, please keep Camille safe.”

  Naomi had paused and tried to think of what else to say when a knock on the door startled her. She scrambled to her feet, but instead of opening the door, she just stood and stared at it, afraid of what waited for her on the other side.

  The knock came again. “Naomi.”

  What would happen if she stayed here in this condo with Garth tonight? They had never slept in the same place together without sleeping together. And seeing him walk into that kitchen had flooded her with years of memories of just what that was like. It was amazing the things your memory held onto. And the things it chose to forget when it wanted to. Images, feelings, experiences you didn’t even realize you still had with you until something triggered them to the surface. She could remember the feel of his skin. The rough spot on the right side of his lower ribcage where he had received a deep gash falling out of a mango tree. The tiny half-moon birthmark under his left collar bone where if she touched she could...

  “Naomi, I know you’re awake. Open the door.”

  Naomi chastised herself for her thoughts and yanked the door open. “What?”

  “I thought you might want to sleep in something other than those,” he nodded towards her black fitted pants even as he held out a pile of red jersey fabric.

  Naomi let out the breath she held then lifted the item from his outstretched hand.

  “Garth, I am not sleeping in one of your...”

  She stopped short when the garment fell free and she realized what it was.

  “It’s not mine, as you can see,” he said quietly.

  Naomi turned over the familiar oversized shirt in her hands, speechless. She looked up at him then back at the red fabric.

  “You kept this?” She stared at him. “Why?”

  He shrugged. “Why wouldn’t I?”

  Naomi searched his eyes. She tried to understand the man who stood in front of her. But she had trouble putting all the pieces together. The Garth she remembered, the one who would rather have a drink than a serious conversation, the one who convinced her to defy her family but would never face them with her, the one who brought chaos with him when he showed up, was not the one who stared at her right now with melting, dark chocolate eyes. The Garth she knew would have never saved her t-shirt from four years ago. Truthfully, the Garth she knew would have left her in that apartment above the bar instead of coming back for her. But this guy was different.

  “Thanks,” she said, not quite sure how else to respond.

  He nodded and stepped out of the doorway. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  She closed the door for a second time, and turned the lock after her. This time, it wasn’t to keep Garth out, but more to keep herself in. Naomi started to realize, the person she trusted the least, was herself.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Naomi stared at Garth’s ceiling for most of the early morning hours. She thought about everything, from her last moments with Camille, to the first time Nigel had brought her home. That had been the day after Camille’s sixteen year old mother ducked out of the hospital without saying a word. No one had seen or heard from her since. How a mother could leave her child was incomprehensible to Naomi. But when the mother was a child, well, it made sense. She had watched her niece grow up, almost feeling like her mother as she babysat her, picked up after her when she got older, walked her to school and helped her with her homework. When Camille walked across the stage at her high school graduation, Naomi had cried as if Camille was her own child. And she had cried
again when she packed her up and dropped her off at her dorm at Fordham. Now here she was, lying in bed, crying again for Camille, this time because she was throwing her life away.

  How had she let this happen? Hadn’t she done her best with Camille? Why would she think doing something this stupid was okay?

  Maybe because of all the things she’s seen you do.

  Naomi turned to the side as if physically moving would evict the thought from her mind. The truth was, she hadn’t always been a stellar example for Camille. Camille had seen what Naomi became when Garth had shown up in New York the first time. She had thrown her life away with little more than a second thought when Garth came looking for her. What kind of example had that been? And then, when Garth had shown up the second time, after her break-up with Jordan, Camille had been there too. Camille had witnessed Naomi’s life circling the drain over a man. Latoya was right. She did have issues where men were concerned.

  She twisted and turned under the light sheets and attempted to sleep, but was only able to achieve brief moments of semi-consciousness. When the first rays of dawn cracked the sky, she gave up trying and climbed out of bed.

  Naomi’s joints ached from exhaustion as she shuffled out of the bedroom to the kitchen. She pulled the fridge open again, and reached past the bottles of Heineken and Smirnoff for the iced tea. The cool sweet liquid felt welcomed down her throat. She leaned against the counter and pressed the chilled glass against her parched skin. Garth had air conditioning installed in the bedrooms. But out here in the main living space, she had to deal with the brutal summer heat.

  “Couldn’t sleep?”

  She jumped a little and followed the sound of his distant voice to beyond the couch where the double glass doors in the living room opened up to a small terrace. One door slid open and he stepped back inside, still shirtless, holding an ice-filled glass of his own.

  She shook her head. “Not really.”

  As he moved towards the kitchen, she saw the grogginess in his own half closed eyes. “Want to talk about it?”