One of the men said, “I’m Officer O’Malley and this is Sanderson.” His tone came with an edge of surprise at what he saw.
Quickly, she addressed his confusion by saying, “I recently lost my eyesight. Can I feel your badge?”
She hated to sound paranoid, but couldn’t deny she was in disbelief that they had arrived so quickly. Who had attacked her? And why? What if these men weren’t who they said they were, but rather the first attacker coming back with an assistant to finish the job?
O’Malley seemed unfazed and helped her hand touch the cool, metal badge on his chest.
“We’re with Seattle PD.”
“Okay,” she said, satisfied and apologetic. “I’ve got 9-1-1 on the line. I’m going to let them go. Come in.”
The officers entered after her and she heard the door being closed, as she rushed down the hall, grabbed the telephone from the desk, and thanked the operator, telling her that the police had arrived.
When she returned she sensed the cops had trekked deeper into the living room, and one invited her to sit on the couch.
“Can you tell us what happened?” he asked as she sat nervously.
“Yes, I was sitting here on the couch, expecting Taylor Montgomery to come home. We’d gotten in a fight and I’d left several messages. Then I heard someone key into the suite door and assumed it was him. I dove into an apology, then the next thing I knew I felt gloved hands around my neck. A man tried to strangle me.”
Her voice began trembling, so she choked back the tears that were threatening to sting her eyes, drawing in a deep breath.
“You didn’t see the man leaving the building as you got here?”
“The description of dress shoes didn’t exactly narrow it down,” one of them said.
“What about gloves?” she challenged. “It’s August.”
The other officer responded, first reminding her that he was Sanderson. “He could’ve easily taken them off. The good news is that there are plenty of security cameras in the Escala, including in the elevator. It could take some time to get the footage, but we’ll make the rounds.”
Officer O’Malley added, “You’re getting some bruising around your neck. I’d like to take pictures when the medics get here.”
“Certainly,” she said.
“So we’re looking for someone with access to this suite, who wears dress shoes,” said Sanderson, pondering. “Did you get any sense of his height?”
Rose wondered if they’d ever worked with someone blind before.
“No,” she said, bewildered. How could she have?
“Any particular smell? Anything distinguishing?”
She wasn’t sure how they would book a man based on his smell, but she racked her brain anyway.
“I’m really not sure. I was panicking. He was trying to kill me.”
“Ma’am, do you have any idea who would’ve done this? Do you have any enemies?”
“I’m an activist,” she began. “I have an environmentalist organization called One World.”
Their hesitation to comment was enough of an indication that they had heard of her group and the controversy that One World had managed to stir up in the seven short days they’d been in town.
“So anyone associated with the Starlight Energy Project might have it in for you,” he concluded.
“That’s a lot of suspects,” said O’Malley.
Rose heard knocking at the door, and Officer Sanderson excused himself to let the medics in, greeting them then ushering them over to Rose.
As soon as the medics introduced themselves, getting situated on the couch beside her and wasting no time to take her blood pressure and examine the bruises that were forming on her neck, Officer Sanderson paced back to the open doorway and stated Taylor’s name.
Rose stiffened as soon as she heard Taylor was here.
“Thanks for calling me,” he said. “What happened?”
Though he hadn’t entered deeper into the living room, Rose could hear the officers explain to Taylor the details of the attack as she’d described it.
“Considering her line of work,” said O’Malley, speaking discretely, though Rose’s hearing had grown acute ever since she’d lost her sight. “We might have to look at your colleagues, the executives. Her group has been meddling, we’ve seen the news, and it would appear someone in your company took a stab at silencing her.”
“Jesus.”
“We’re going to review the security footage.”
“Yes, please, don’t let me stop you,” he said, thanking them.
“As she mentioned,” O’Malley added, “whoever did this had a key to this suite. They let themselves in. Can you tell me offhand who has a key to this place?”
Taylor sighed, and from the sound of it, Rose assumed he was shaking his head in horror.
“A handful of assistants, my cleaning lady, the building attendant, my father.”
“Okay, we’ll need all of those names with their contact information as soon as you can get it to us. I’m sure within a few hours our sergeant will assign a detective who will be in direct touch.”
“I understand,” he said.
The officers paced back into the living room to let Rose know they’d swing by again once they secured the surveillance footage.
As the medic helped Rose roll her sleeve down, Rose asked, “I’m not going to have to go to the hospital, am I? I just got out of there.”
“Not unless you want to. Your vitals are good and nothing’s broken. You don’t have a concussion, but there is some mild swelling at the back of your head.”
“He slammed me into the window then again to the floor,” she offered.
“And because of it, you’re going to feel a little goose egg pop up, but it’s nothing pain medication can't help.”
“I also have some serious painkillers,” she explained, though in the back of her mind she knew she wouldn’t use them.
As the medics rose from where they were sitting beside her, Taylor approached.
“Is she okay?” he asked, directing the question to the medical professionals.
“She’s lucky,” one of them said. “Nothing is broken and her trachea is bruised, but there is no real damage.”
Taylor walked them to the door, and as Rose waited for his return, she was suddenly struck by the severity of the fight they’d had and her desperate need for Taylor not to blame her.
Thanks to the recent attack, it felt like a lifetime ago that Carter and Layla had taken Taylor’s private information and gone to the press. They had been loyal members of One World, and now she couldn’t believe what Carter had done with the information that she had asked him to stay quiet about.
Years prior, Taylor had behaved erratically at one of his father’s charity events, running and screaming around a pool where he slipped, hit his head, and fell into the water. Poking around in Taylor’s office, Carter had found the emergency-room report, as well as Taylor’s medical records, which appeared to detail the drugs that Taylor had been on that night, and that his subsequent hospitalization had been due to psychosis.
In Rose’s opinion, Taylor couldn’t have done drugs that night, but had been drugged. The primary reason she believed this was because of the drugs that had been found in his system. Scopolamine wasn’t a recreational drug, but rather one that criminals in Colombia were known for using in order to subdue their victims and make it easy to manipulate their behavior. The drug had the power to leave its victim amnesiac, and Rose was convinced that was the reason Taylor had been left with no memory of the sordid night.
Though she believed his medical records didn’t imply any kind of wrongdoing or character flaw, but rather told a harrowing tale of Taylor having been targeted by someone hell-bent on destroying his life, the press wouldn’t see the evidence as favorably.
Rose had forbid Carter to do anything with the information, and she couldn’t have stopped him, but the fact that he went to the press with Taylor’s most coveted secret weig
hed heavily on her heart. She felt responsible. She was the reason Carter was in Taylor’s office. And if she hadn’t insisted on working with her team in Taylor’s suite, none of this would be happening.
It was with a deep sense of guilt that she finally said, “I’m glad you came back.”
He sighed, and she sensed him nearing her, though he stopped in front of the sofa couch and sat.
“Did the police call you?” she asked, lacing her fingers.
“They did.”
“Taylor, I’m so sorry about what Carter did,” she said, diving into all of the apologies and explanations she’d gone over a thousand times in her mind. “I didn’t mean for any of that to happen.”
“I think it has yet to happen,” he said in a defeated tone. “The news hasn’t hit the press yet, which tells me they’re cooking up an elaborate lie.”
“What can I do to fix this?” she pleaded from the couch, her tone trembling with fear that there might not be anything she can do. She might have already lost him.
“God, Rose,” he said in a gentle voice, rising from his chair and joining her on the couch. “My reputation isn’t more important than your health. Someone attacked you. I don’t expect an apology. I know you can’t control Carter or anyone else. I just needed time to think, but I wish I’d never left you alone.”
“Who would’ve done this?” she asked. “Who would want me dead?”
Chapter Eighteen
Taylor didn’t respond except to let out a carefully measured breath, drawing his warm hand up and down her back. She pictured him clenching his jaw, puzzled, his gaze turning soft as he slipped into deep thought.
“It’s too great a coincidence that hours after Carter threatened us that he’d gone to the press, you ended up getting attacked.”
Rose gaped fearfully. The police had suggested as much, but it hadn’t felt as real as it did now, hearing Taylor state the possibility.
“Whoever they are,” he went on, “they won’t get away with this. Every inch of this building is covered with security cameras. It’s only a matter of time before we find out who they are. Trust me, they’re going to go to prison for a very long time.”
She found herself leaning into him, melting into a more relaxed pose in response to his strong arm resting around her back, his warm hand hooked on her hip.
“I wasn’t sure you’d ever speak to me again,” she said.
“Hey,” he said in a reassuring tone. “I have a lot to figure out. This whole mess with the media isn’t something I want to deal with, but it wouldn’t be a reason for me to cut you out of my life. I know you didn’t alert the press. I’m not blaming you.”
“But you should blame me. If I hadn’t insisted Carter come to your office, none of this would’ve happened.”
“Well, what’s done is done. I have a good PR team. They’ll figure out a way to address it.”
Though his words were pragmatic and reasonable, there was a hint in his tone that suggested he was just as worried as she was. In the next instant his lips found her cheek and he kissed her softly, then worked his way over to her lips, which he lightly pecked.
“I don’t know what I would’ve done if they had really harmed you,” he whispered.
“I don’t even want to think about it.”
She felt his breathy laugh against her cheek, which he then kissed again.
“You’re so strong. I can’t believe you fought them off.”
“I can’t, either,” she said as surprised as he was at her ability to come out of this relatively unscathed. “Does my neck look bad?” she asked, tipping her head back and offering it to him to examine.
He did for a moment, then his mouth landed on the side of her throat where he delivered lingering kisses, working his way up to her jawline and her mouth. His hand cradled the nape of her neck, as he titled her head, deepening the kiss.
Relaxing into his embrace, Rose realized how tense she’d grown all over again at the thought of having escaped death. When Taylor eased back to look at her, she said, “I think we should change the locks as soon as possible.”
“Me too,” he said softly before kissing her again. “I’ll be right back.”
Leaving her on the couch where she sensed moonlight pour in through the window at her back, Taylor made his way up the hallway and into his office where he called a locksmith and made arrangements for them to come first thing in the morning. When he returned, he updated Rose on the appointment.
“We’ll be together all night,” he added. “I doubt they would come back, but if they do, I’ll be here.”
As he drew near her, she rose to meet him, stepping into his arms and feeling the strong length of his body pressing against her.
“I’m exhausted,” she said, feeling the sudden weight in her muscles now that her surging adrenaline had waned out of her veins. She could barely keep her eyes open.
“Let’s get you in bed,” he whispered.
“What time is it?” she asked, as he guided her into the bedroom, keeping his arm wrapped around her until she came to the bed.
“Just after eleven,” he said, helping her to lie down.
“Here,” he said, grabbing hold of the hem of her shirt.
She arched her back, lifting up off the bed and raising her hands over her head until he pulled the garment free. He unbuttoned her jeans next, pulled the fly down, and Rose lifted her hips so that Taylor could pull them off and cast them on the floor.
The air felt cool on her skin, but not cold, and when he leaned beside her, propped on one elbow so that he could gaze down at her and caress the side of her face with his warm fingertips, the heat rolling off of him made her hot.
She felt his mouth brush her ear, as he said, “I’m not that tired if I’m being completely honest here.”
She smiled, but couldn’t say the same, though she wanted him. Whenever she sensed him getting hard for her, she couldn’t resist, no matter how exhausted her body felt.
She stroked her fingers through his thick hair, remembering its dark color and the particular twists of his cowlicks that gave him an eternally boyish appearance.
He neared her for a kiss, as his hand touched down between her legs, his fingertips grazing softly over the thin material of her panties.
The sensation of his strong fingers grazing her gently stirred up a flutter of heat, and she spread her legs in response.
“I won’t make you work at all,” he whispered, his cool breath tickling her ear, her neck. “But I need to feel you.”
“Okay,” she whispered back, suddenly wet from hearing him communicate his need to be inside her.
Taylor slipped his hand beneath her panties and began delicately fondling her, exploring her wetness, the curves and folds of her aching body, as she moaned, breathing heavily in response to his stimulating touch.
Her hand was cupping his chin as he kissed her, and she lowered it to caress the strong wall of his chest, then his hard abdomen, until she found his hard, thick erection beneath his boxer-briefs.
Eager to feel her warm hand wrap around him, Taylor shifted and drew down his boxer-briefs with one hand, causing his big erection to spring free, slapping her palm until she caught it and began stroking.
He groaned and found her wet labia again, gently massaging her, as she widened her legs for deeper stimulation.
She loved the way he felt so smooth and hard in her hand, so long and thick. She lightly brushed his tip with her fingers, tickling him and anticipating the moment when he would push his hard head against her slippery vagina.
“Take off my panties,” she whispered, aching for him so badly she couldn’t wait for him to explore her any further. He laughed breathily in her ear.
With one hand, he slid the garment down her thighs. Once he peeled them over her feet, he pulled down his boxer-briefs the rest of the way and tossed them to the floor where her panties had landed.
Rose grasped the strong wall of his chest then slid her hands around his sides as
he angled over her and lowered down, his erection flexing for her, her hips rising and pelvis tucking to help him find her and penetrate her as quickly as possible.
“Oh,” she moaned when he entered her at the perfect angle.
As he gently pressed his hard, thick erection deeper, thrusting slowly into the tight, wet sheath of her body, he groaned then kissed her roughly, as she opened up every part of herself, her legs and heart spread wide to receive him.
Naturally, her legs had wrapped around his waist, but as he thrust as deep as he could go, he whispered, “Lower your legs.”
He felt so hard and big inside of her. She almost didn’t register the command, because she was lost in the overwhelming feel of him, but when he prompted her again to lower her legs, she slid her heels along the comforter until her feet were flush against the outside of his.
Taylor groaned into her ear as he began grinding deep inside her, the shaft of his thick erection stimulating her G-spot.
He felt so snug and she was so slippery that she felt an instant surge of pleasure flutter through her loins.
“Damn, Rose, you’re tight,” he groaned then kissed her mouth, as he thrust a little quicker, a little harder.
She moaned into his mouth then pursed her lips to resume their long kiss.
As he increased the pace, using longer strokes to thrust in and out of her, she felt the hot, sudden ache of the upward swing into climax, his firm pubic bone tapping into her clit, his thick shaft sliding in and out and stirring up the most blissful friction.
“Oh, Taylor, you’re making me come,” she whispered, breathy and stuttering in his ear.
He laughed, holding his cheek to hers as he increased his thrusting even more, working her into a tizzy of arousal.
Having the length of him pressed against her—his strong chest, his hard abs, his arms hooked under her shoulders, his big penis thrusting deep inside—felt so incredibly amazing that she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, but what came out of her was a long, melodic moan, as she savored the strong build of him working her body into an orgasm.
KYLE: A Mafia Romance (The Callahans Book 4) Page 85