by Riley Ashby
The ding announcing our floor was the only thing that shook me out of my fog. I tried to pull away, but when he lifted me by my ass, I had to throw my legs around his waist. He never stopped kissing me as he walked down the hall to my apartment, kicking open the door after a brief struggle with the key card.
“Why are you doing this now?” I gasped between kisses, and he suddenly froze. He straightened to his full height, putting space between us, and regarded me quizzically.
“Do you want me to stop?”
I grabbed his hair and yanked his face back to mine, trying to match the passion I’d felt in the elevator. “Absolutely not.”
His hands were at the zipper of my dress, pulling down the metal teeth one by one.
“Do you know how pissed off I got watching you kiss that girl?”
He pulled away long enough to pull my dress over my head, and then I was standing in front of him in my underwear and bra. I folded my arms across my stomach, self-conscious of my nakedness for the first time in a while. He grasped my wrists with sudden gentleness and pulled my hands to my side.
“You don’t need someone else. You need me. And I’m not going to fight it anymore.”
He scooped me up once more, carrying me like a princess back to my bedroom. Oh God, it was going to happen. I arched my back, pressing my breasts up toward his face as he lowered his mouth to kiss my nipples through the fabric. Why hadn’t I picked out some sexy lingerie? Not that Archer seemed to care. He tore at the cups with his teeth, pulling them down to see more of my skin. His lips dragged along my nipples; his tongue darted out to lick the stiff peaks.
His thumb ran across my shoulder as he pushed into my bedroom. “It doesn’t bother me anymore, Josie.” He laid me on the bed and leaned over me, lips on my stomach just above my panties. “I don’t care right now if you only want me because I remind you of him.”
My stomach dropped to my feet but not in a good way. “What do you mean?” He moved to crawl over me, as if he hadn’t heard what I said, but I held him back with one hand. “Bryce, stop. Tell me what you mean by that.”
He paused at my use of his first name. A shadow passed over his face, and it was as if he became aware he had said something he shouldn’t have.
“Forget I said anything.” He reached for my neck, but I rolled away, grabbing a pillow and holding it in front of my body as I pushed off the bed. He didn’t come after me. He lay propped on one elbow, watching me pace.
“You think I only want you because I’m conditioned to want … what? Authority? Controlling assholes?”
He didn’t say anything. He was back to his silent façade, observing rather than participating, offering nothing I didn’t deduce myself.
“Do you really have nothing to say about this? You think that I compare you to him in any kind of living realm?”
He straightened his shirt and smoothed a hand over his beard. “I’ve been telling myself I’m going to hell for even wanting you in the first place.”
“Jesus Christ,” I muttered, running into the closet and grabbing the closest thing I could, a pair of baggy sweats and a tank top. I dressed so hurriedly I put the shirt on inside out. “This was a mistake.”
“I’ve been telling you that for days.”
“Shut the fuck up. Just get out.”
“Josie …” He ran a hand over his face as if trying to psych himself up for what he was about to say. “You shouldn’t be alone right now.”
What sick fucking game was this? Always riling me up, then pushing me away, telling me I couldn’t be without him? “Well, you sure as hell aren’t staying with me.”
“Who do you want me to call?”
“No one. I want you to get the hell out of my apartment and leave me the fuck alone.”
He didn’t answer.
“I’m serious, Archer. When I turn around, you’d better not fucking be there.”
I stared wide-eyed at the back of the closet, trying to prevent the tears from spilling down my face.
“I’m not leaving until you fall asleep,” he whispered. “You can’t be alone like this. It’s not safe.”
“Get OUT!” I threw the pillow at him when I turned around, but he caught it as he stood up off the bed. I rushed past him into the bathroom. Water splashed over the edge of the sink onto the floor as I doused my face, desperate to get the feel of this entire night off me. I scrubbed my neck where he had suckled my skin, hating the goose bumps rising along my arms as I remembered the way his tongue had scoured my nerves.
When I heard his voice next, it was far away. “I’m in the hallway. You can get into bed.”
“Close the fucking door!” I wasn’t proud of how insane my voice sounded, but dammit, I knew he wasn’t going to leave. Whatever he thought of me, he didn’t want me to hurt myself. He’d stick around until he was sure I was asleep.
I finally let my tears fall when I heard the door to my bedroom click shut.
How dare he speak to me like that? Like I was some thing waiting around to get fucked by him. As if Bryce Archer was so irresistible that I couldn’t help myself around him.
But at the same time, I knew part of him was right. I had latched on to him like a baby bird that day I woke up in the hospital. He protected me, so I loved him. Or I wanted to love him.
After tonight, I would never look at him the same way again.
Why couldn’t he have kept his mouth shut?
I cried until my throat was sore, and I had no more tears left to shed. I cried until it was done, until I was sure I could lie down without him hearing me. I fell into bed, too distressed to notice the luxurious sheets or appreciate the softness of the pillow. I slept for a long time, but in the morning, I felt just as tired.
It took me a long time to get to sleep. I had to fight the urge to destroy everything in the apartment in my anger.
What the fuck was I thinking by talking to her like that? I knew what I was doing was a bad idea. But I let myself think with my cock instead of my head, and now I was probably out of a job. Not to mention I’d completely shattered her tender heart. Would it really have been so difficult to be nice to her and give her what she needed for one night? Why did I possess this irrepressible need to destroy anything that brought her joy?
I slept fitfully, unable to get any real rest. My hard-on hadn’t gone away despite the look she gave me as she turned away. Would she ever trust me again? I doubted it. I had gone too far. I never should have let her kiss me. I never should have touched her like that.
But I couldn’t deny it had felt like such a long-awaited relief to finally touch her. To lean into her as she kissed me instead of pulling away. The way she’d twisted beneath me, her shoulders fitting perfectly into the hollows of my palms.
It was cruel fate that we should meet in this life, her as she was and me with my responsibilities and fuckups working overtime to keep us apart.
In the morning, I enjoyed a few moments before the events of the previous night came crashing back. I groaned as I rubbed my eyes, imagining what she must be doing over in her apartment. What did she think of me? Did she regret what happened? Of course, she did. I hadn’t given her any reason to remember it with fondness.
The red light on the building landline next to my bed was blinking. I pushed the button, grateful for the distraction, and listened to a mechanical message letting me know I had a letter waiting at the desk. I forced myself out of bed and went downstairs in the same clothes I fell asleep in, rumpled and still smelling like her.
I studied the envelope on the way up the elevator, wondering who would have sent anything to Josie so soon after we moved in. It had no stamp, meaning it was hand delivered, and bore no return address, which worried me, but nothing else was suspicious about the plain white envelope. I slipped one finger underneath the lip and began to tear it open before a moment of doubt stopped me. Yesterday, I would have torn it open without a second thought, but today, she would see it as a gross violation of her privacy. She’d be furio
us with me no matter what the envelope contained.
How should I go about this? I didn’t want to upset her more, but I couldn’t let safety protocols fall by the wayside just because of what had happened the night before. Her safety was still my responsibility, even in light of my gross misconduct. Perhaps especially because of that misconduct.
I ripped the envelope open before I could second-guess myself again.
Two photographs fell into my hand, worn at the edges and slightly discolored with age. In one, a small girl in a pink bikini beamed at the camera from a plastic kiddie pool. Her mop of curly brown hair was held back from her head with a ribbon. She couldn’t have been more than five years old.
In the second, the same girl stood in a pink dress next to a boy with acne and glasses. They both smiled uncomfortably; she was nearly unrecognizable with her hair straightened for what must have been her prom. I flipped both photos over. The back of the prom photo had two words written: I’m coming.
“What are those?”
The elevator had stopped at our floor some time ago, and Josie was holding open the doors with her hand extended toward the photos. She wasn’t even bothering to try to hide how furious she was, eyes narrowed to slits and mouth set in a thin line.
“You got mail, and I went to collect it.” I tried to keep my voice professional. “Do you know who this is?” I held up the photo of her in the dress.
She snatched it from my hand and studied it, then frowned. “Chad Oakley. I haven’t talked to him since high school. What’s the other one?”
“Look on the back,” I said, ignoring her outstretched hand.
She moved her lips as she read the words. “It means nothing.”
I looked at her in disbelief. “What do you mean, it means nothing? Do you know why he wrote that?”
She sighed and held out her hand for the other photo. Forgetting her injury, she tried to snap her fingers. She winced at the effort.
I gave her a moment to recover as she brought her hand back against her chest and breathed deeply through the pain. Before last night, I would have put a hand on her shoulder to lend her some of my steadiness while she regained her composure.
I spoke when she raised her eyes to me again. “Tell me what you know.”
The elevator began to sound a high-pitched whine; someone must have called it to another floor. I tried to step into the hallway, but she planted herself in the threshold. “Give me the photo.”
I barreled forward, pushing her into the hallway with my body until she’d backed up against the wall. Her body was warm, her face still beautiful despite the puffy eyelids and chapped lips. Jesus, what was I doing? She sucked in a breath, and her breasts pushed against me; a small sound escaped her throat. Even after what had happened last night, this turned her on. I started to drop one hand to her face, then caught myself at the last second.
I had to stay focused.
“What does that mean? Why is he coming for you?”
She crumpled the photograph in her left hand and threw it to the ground. “He was my high school boyfriend. We only dated for like two months, but he was in love with me for a long time before that and after. He always swore he’d win me back one day.”
“And why in the hell is he sending this to you now? How did he even find out where you’re living? Have you been in contact with him?”
She shook her head. “That was years ago, Archer. We weren’t even friends on social media. I haven’t talked to him in ages, or anyone else since before I was taken. My parents don’t even know where I am.”
No one knew where she was. No family, no co-workers, no friends. Something about that made me very, very sad.
I held up the second photograph so she could see it. “How did he get this one?”
She snatched for it, and I let her take it after a brief tug-of-war. She smiled as she regarded it. “I don’t know how he got it. This was a great day, though.”
The way her face changed as her mind ran through the memories was mesmerizing. The anger at finding me opening her mail, and the lust that sprang when I trapped her against the wall melted away. She smiled, eyes drifting across the image. I was still holding her to the wall with my hands near her shoulders. The backs of her hands brushed my chest as she held the picture in front of her
As if she realized I was watching her, she schooled her face back into a frown and looked at me.
“Don’t open my mail again.”
“I need to make sure you’re safe. It’s my job.”
“Was it your job to try to fuck me last night?”
I leaned over her a little more and put my elbow on the wall above her head. I had apparently learned absolutely nothing, but on the bright side, neither had she because she didn’t move away from me. She pushed up on her toes and brought her face very close to mine.
“Fuck yourself from now on,” she whispered against my lips. “If you touch me again, I’ll kick you in the balls.”
With a shove against my chest, she spun away from me and into her apartment. The dead bolt clicked home in the lock.
I picked up the crumpled photo and smoothed it between my palms, studying the handwriting closer. The letters were neat and crisp, not scrawled sloppily in the way I might expect a madman to write. It looked more like a girl’s handwriting, if I was being honest.
I went back down in the elevator to speak with the security guard. He hadn’t been at the desk when the letter was delivered—it had appeared on the countertop when he got back from hailing a cab for one of the other residents. At my request, he pulled up the lobby security footage.
The cameras in the building were top-notch, but whoever delivered the letter had taken care to conceal his face. He wore a sweatshirt despite the late summer heat with a hood pulled up over his head. He seemed to know where all the cameras were located both inside and outside the building and kept his face turned away. I could tell he was white, but nothing more.
“Thanks,” I told the guard, making a mental note to complain to upper management. Clearly, better surveillance was needed inside the lobby. In the meantime, I would see about getting access to the feed myself.
Back in my apartment, I caved to my grumbling stomach and made some bacon and eggs with a strong cup of black coffee. I cracked open the middle door, asking if Josie wanted help preparing food. She walked by with a bowl of what looked like oatmeal, pointedly ignoring me. I pushed the door open a little wider.
“We need to talk about last night.”
“I’d rather shoot myself again.”
I winced. “Don’t say that. You don’t mean it.”
She sat at the counter, shoveling huge scoops of food into her mouth. At least she hadn’t lost her appetite.
“I opened myself up to you, Archer. And you hurt me, on purpose.”
I drummed my fingers on the counter. “It wasn’t on purpose.”
“Sure felt that way. What was I to you? Do you think it’s okay to fuck me and not one of the other women you’ve saved because you’re not part of the FBI anymore?” She scoffed. “Is that why you got fired?” She leaned across the counter and lowered her voice. “Did you fuck one of the other women like me, Bryce?”
I grit my teeth against her accusations. “I would never do such a thing.”
“But it was fun, right? To play with me? To be the bad guy for a night, but it wasn’t a problem because I was the one who came after you. That’s what it was about, wasn’t it?”
I couldn’t quite meet her eyes.
She pushed the bowl away from her with too much force; I leaned to grab it before it shattered on the floor.
“Breaking things on purpose now?”
A shadow passed over her face. Fuck, I’d done it again. Normal people didn’t have meltdowns when they accidentally dropped a glass at the club, which meant it had triggered something for her. And now I was reminding her of that.
She flipped me off before disappearing down the hall to her bedroom. I followed at a distanc
e, keeping my eyes on the center of her back instead of her ass. She started stripping out of her clothes in the middle of her bedroom, and I had to turn around on a dime to avoid seeing her naked.
Not like you’d mind it, though, right?
“I don’t want you around me today.”
“You don’t really have a choice. I don’t trust you by yourself.”
“Have I even tried anything in the weeks that we’ve known each other? I’ve never attempted to injure myself. No attempts to toss me off the top of a building.”
“The nurses told me to keep an eye on you.”
“For God’s sake, Archer, they didn’t mean twenty-four seven. Someone would think you like being around me.”
I turned slightly to find her looking at me as she tugged a pair of gym shorts over her hips. I cleared my throat.
“I’m going to come check on you. I don’t think you’re not vindictive enough to do something just to piss me off.”
I expected another snappy rejoinder, but something in her expression … cracked. She looked down and away, that defiant smirk gone from her face. She snatched her phone off the bed and squeezed past me into the hallway.
“Whatever. Just don’t bug me when you do.”
I hesitated before going back to my apartment. Did I need to apologize for something?
“Josie …”
“Please, Bryce, just leave me alone.” Her sullen tone reminded me of how she sounded in the hospital when she’d first woke up, resigned to enduring the rest of a life she’d had no intention of living. She collapsed onto her couch and pulled a thick blanket over her, burying herself under the fabric. I waited to see if she’d say anything else but was met with silence.
I walked back to my apartment feeling like the worst piece of dog shit on the planet.
If I’d doubted he’d shown his true colors last night, today proved what he really thought. How he really saw me. In reality, he did me a favor. Because that was what everyone would think of me once they knew my story. And how could I keep it from anyone? My name had been national news for a week after my little stunt. There was a bottomless well of sympathy from people who believed me, other survivors who had lived through their own suicide attempts, and people who had never felt my pain but sympathized with me, nonetheless. There was also endless criticism from people who thought I did it for attention or trolls who said they wished I had finished the job. Everyone I would meet for the rest of my life had already formed an opinion about me whether they realized it or not.