Call Me Cat (10 page)

"What do you want?"
I panicked, looking around for someone to help, but I couldn't see anyone I knew. I ran upstairs to find my cell phone and dialed Detective Gray's number while I put my stalker call on speaker.

"I want what I've always wanted," hissed the Midnight Murderer.
"I want you. You got away that night, and my life won't be complete until I own you the way I owned your beautiful and so very tight mother."

The detective
's phone was busy. Damn it. I left a message, muting the stalker. "Detective, I have my parents' killer on the phone. Call me so you can hear him."

I unmuted the killer.
"Why? Why are you doing this?"

"The problem of modern society is everyone wants to know why. We've become so whiny in our need to understand everyt
hing that we can't just live and enjoy. I'm only calling to tell you how beautiful you look tonight. Red suits you. It reminds me of your mother's blood. I don't like that you danced with so many other men, though. So, I've helped a friend accomplish something he's wanted to do for a long time."

He was at this
party. Oh God. "What? What are you talking about?"

"Ask your B.F.F. She really does have terrible taste in men."

The phone went dead, and I screamed Bridgette's name, forgetting about the detective as I searched for her in her bedroom, the master bedroom and every guest room I could find. Ash found me in the hall, tears streaming down my face, body shaking. He wrapped his arms around me. "Catelyn, what's wrong? What's happened?"

"He's done something to Bridget
te. We have to find her."

He led
me by the hand, and we searched the rest of the second and third floor, then went downstairs and searched the basement.

Bridget
te lay on a spare mattress, her dress torn, face bruised, body exposed. She looked dead. "Bridgette!" I ran to her, shaking her shoulder, holding her as I yelled for Ash to call 911. Bradley staggered into the room. He'd been in the bathroom, and his face paled when he saw us.

I let go of Bridget
te and flung myself at him. "What have you done to her?You asshol
e!
" I punched him and felt something snap in my hand. "Bloody fucking hell!"

He sneered at me. "Bitch,
you need to get raped, just like her. I showed her, and I'll show you." He backhanded me, and I fell to the ground, my cheek exploding from pain.

I'd forgotten about Ash
—and, by the look on his face, so had Bradley. When Ash lunged at him, Bradley tried to fight back, but it was clear from the first punch that Bradley was outclassed in every way.

Ash knocked him on his ass with a well-placed punch, and I thought that would be the end of it.

But it wasn't.

Ash
kept punching.

And punching.

And kicking.

His face filled with so much rage it scared me.

Until Bradley lay in a pool of his own blood, as still as Bridgette.

Det
ective Gray came down with Mr. and Mrs. Beaumont and Ash's dad, and I went into shock, shaking as flashbacks from the night my father was beaten to death filled my mind, paralyzing me and blocking out anything from the world around me.

And then I passed out.

NEON LIGHTS BLARED
down at me and the smell of antiseptic and sickness clung to everything. My head throbbed when I opened my eyes, unsure of where I was or what had happened. "Bridgette. Is she okay?"

A man came into view, his bow tie undone and white dress shirtsleeves rolled up. His right hand was bandaged, but he didn't seem to notice. "Catelyn, you've rejoined the living."

My vision cleared as Ash bent over me, but I remembered how he'd looked the last time I'd seen him. The rage and hate on his face. The uncontrolled fury. I pulled away from him. "Where's Bridgette?"

He stood and sat down in the chai
r by my bed, disappointment in his sigh. "She's got her own hospital room, but she's going to be fine. They found GHB in her system. Bradley slipped it into her champagne when she refused him."

"Oh God, did he—"

"No, there were no signs that she'd been raped. We got there in time."

I rubbed my head and felt a lump forming.
My knuckles ached from when I hit Bradley. "What happened to me?"

"The doctor said you went into shock and passed out. You hit your head on the concrete floor going down."

My eyes fell to his bandaged hand, and I winced. He noticed and covered his hand with the other. "I'm sorry I scared you."

I
didn't know what to say. He
had
scared me. He still scared me. And I couldn't be with someone who had such little control over his temper. Something about the way he beat that man felt too… too much like the night my father was beaten to death. "My father… "

"I know. The Detective told me. I can't imagine what you must have gone through. What you're still going through. But Cateyn, I want to help."

He put his hand on mine, but I yanked away without thinking.

"I can't. I'm not ready."

"I can wait," he said.

"No. Don't. I don't want you to. It would never work between us. I'm sorry, Ash. Please leave. I
just need some time alone."

He stood and draped his jacket over his arm
, staring at me with an inscrutable look on his face. When I didn't say anything, he shook his head and walked away.

Detective Gray shuffled in, holding a notebook and pen
. "How are you?"

I clutched my neck
. "In pain."

"Then let's get these questions over with."

I told him about the call.

Detective Gray took notes. "The Midnight Murderer must have provided Bradley with the date rape drug. That's what he meant by helping out a friend.
"

"Bridgette told me they'd already slept together. Why would he—"

"Maybe he has a rape fantasy. Maybe the Midnight Murderer just wanted to hurt you."

I flexed my bruised fist. "Right."

"You said he likely had a partner. You were right."

"What will you do with Bradley?"

"If he wakes up—"

"If?" I leaned up in bed, though it felt like pounding nails into my skull.

"He's still passed out. After the beating…" He stopped himself. "After the self-defense Ash gave him, the doctors fear Bradley might slip into a coma."

"
They better make sure he wakes up. He knows who killed my parents."

"Don't worry, Miss Travis. He'll wake up. We'll get the answers out of him."

I sighed. "Thank you."

"One more thing. The killer was at the party. He saw your dress, knew Bradley had started his plan.
Did you see anyone—"

"
Wearing a ski-mask and dressed in black?" I laughed, and then my laugh turned to anger. "How the fuck am I supposed to know what he looks like? How the fuck am I supposed to keep him from hurting my friends? From threatening to… " I clutched at the sheets, my pain replaced with rage, my breath heavy.

Machines
started to beep around me, and a worried nurse scuttled in the room. "You need to leave now," she told the detective.

"Sure," he said, getting up.

"Wait," I whispered, my voice tired. "Wait. You came down with the Beaumonts and Mr. Davenport. How'd you get there so quickly?"

He raised his eyebrows, as if sharing the obvious.
"I was at the party."

Then
I raised mine, unable to remember him.

He continued. "
The Beaumonts invited me. I hoped we were becoming friends, but now I think they just wanted to pick my brain about your case."

"What did they want to know?"

"Everything." With a push from the nurse, he turned and left.

Bridgette and I were kept for a night of observation and released the next day, both of us shell-shocked and quiet as her parents drove us home. When
we walked to the front door, Bridgette burst into tears. "I'm sorry I ruined your party."

Her mother hugged her and stroked her hair—a gesture so mother-like it made my heart hurt. "Darling, there's nothing to be sorry about. We should have noticed something was wrong. I'm just glad Catelyn got to you in time."

Bridgette and I spent the afternoon watching old movies and not talking about what happened. That night I started back at my 'acting' job. Break would be over soon and I'd need the money for my share of housing and spring tuition.

When my first call came in, I answered with a
simple "hello," not sure how I'd get into my part. My emotions crashed within me like a storm, and I could no longer tell what I was feeling. Fear, longing, need. I missed Ash but feared being with him. He seemed dangerous but made me feel safe. None of it made sense.

So when his voice answered back, I nearly broke and told him the truth about me.

"You don't sound like yourself tonight," he said.

"Neither do you," I pointed out.

His laugh lacked his normal humor. "Touché. I think I ruined something with someone that could have been special."

My heart flipped. "A girl someone?"

"It's tacky to talk about other girls with you, isn't it? I'm not clear on the rules here." He blew into the phone.

"Cubans again?"

"Yes," he said. "My guilty pleasure."

"You can talk to me about anything you want. There are no rules. At least, not about that. I, personally, have discovered some lines I'm not willing to cross, but this isn't one of them."

"What lines would those be?" He sounded genuinely curious.

"Men have some fucked up fantasies." I shuddered, recalling my worst phone calls. "Like, I'm not sure how some of these guys aren't in prison. I won't
role-play anything having to do with sexually or physically abusing children. I won't have sex with animals, even imaginary animals. And I won't watch while you do those things."

He whistled. "Do guys really ask for that shit?"

I nodded, even though he couldn't see me. "Guys really do."

"I can assure you, I'd never ask you to do or talk about anything like that. And I thought I had a dark mind. I guess I'm no
t as scary as I thought I was."

I chuckled. "You're not scary at all."

"You'd be surprised."

"Who did
you scare?" And then I realized. He'd scared Catelyn.

"I hurt a man pretty badly the other night."

His confession took me by surprise, and I measured my words. "On purpose?"

"He'd hurt a friend and
was about to rape her. I stopped him."

"S
ounds like you did the right thing." Except it had been much more than that.

His voice choked. "But
I didn't stop when he was unconscious. I kept kicking and punching him. Like something else had taken over. This fury built up in me. How could he hurt a woman like this? I wanted him dead, and I almost killed him. I almost killed again. Does that make me a monster?"

He sounded so lost in that moment that I regretted sending him away so harshly.

"No, it doesn't. It makes you human. After all, you
didn't
kill him, right?" The asshole had been admitted and was still alive when I left the hospital.

"No, I didn't. But I could have. I almost did. I don't want to be that guy. I worked so hard to not be that guy anymore."

I shifted in my chair, pulling my knees up and wrapping myself in a blanket. "I think self-awareness is the first step. You recognize this part of yourself and can identify when it takes over."

"What's the next step?"

"Finding a way to pull back before it goes so far."

"How do I do that, Cat?"

"I don't know. If I did, maybe I could fix myself as well. Perhaps we're all broken souls wandering this life looking for something that will make us whole."

"Or someone," he whispered.

"Or someone."

"Cat?"

"Yes?"

He paused, inhaling and exhaling his cigar. "I want you tonight. I want to make love to you. I wan
t to claim a moment that's for pleasure and nothing else. A moment where darkness isn't allowed in."

His words tore at me
, and I knew I wanted him. I wanted him as Catelyn, not Cat. But Catelyn had rejected him.

"With you, it wouldn't even be acting."

He inhaled sharply. "What do you look like?"

Uh-oh. "What do you imagine I look like?"

"Petite. Dark haired. Clear skin and dark eyes. Exotic."

He described Catelyn. That's who he wanted tonight, not Cat. God
, this was so confusing to my heart. "Then imagine that girl as I straddle your lap and rest my hands on your chest."

"I want you closer, Cat. I need you."

"I'm here, Ash. Wrap your arms around me. Feel my body pressed against yours. Feel your cock growing hard as I press my pussy against you through our clothing. Your hands tangle into my hair as I lean in to kiss you." I could taste his mouth, a mix of mint and cigar, as I imagined us together. "My lips are soft, full, and I kiss you deeply, sliding my tongue over your bottom lip." My hand slipped into my sweats, and I rubbed a finger over my clit. "You pull up my shirt, exposing my bare breasts, nipples hard for you."

"I want to suck your nipples a
s you stroke my cock," he said.

Oh, God
, Ash. Why did I send you away? "And then I pull down your pants and kneel in front of you, running my tongue up and down your shaft, encircling the head of your cock with my lips, sucking and teasing with my tongue."

"While I finger you," he said, his breathing heavy.

"Your fingers feel so good inside of me. But I want your cock to fill me."

"I lay you back on the floor," he said, "and pull your panties off. I spread your legs, running my hands up your thighs until my fingers brush up against your pussy. I lean in, kissing your inner thigh
and then flicking your clit with my tongue, so gently it just teases you."

This time I moaned, increasing the pressure from my fingers as I imagined everything he said in vivid detail. "I want to feel your tongue deeper."

"You will, sweetheart. You'll feel everything deeper," he said. "The pressure builds in you as I rub and suck and lick. But I stop just before you come, starting again slowly, going faster and faster until you come on my tongue."

With his words I
climaxed. My first orgasm with a client. He could hear me coming over the phone, and I knew he was close. "Slam your cock into me now! Feel how tight and wet I am for you, just for you, Ash. Pound me hard and deep and fast until you explode inside of me, our eyes locked on each other, bodies pressed together, my nails digging into your ass and back."

"Yes, Cat. God, yes!"

"As pleasure rips through your body, there's nothing else. Just this. Just us. Let yourself get lost in this moment with me, where only pleasure can live. Give yourself to me, Ash."

And he came, and I cried, wishing he was coming with Catelyn and not Cat.

After our call, I vowed to tell him the truth. Because I realized Catelyn wanted her chance with Ash. After all, he'd held back this time. He hadn't killed the guy.

I
imagined what I would say to him to make things right with us when Bridgette crashed open my door, tears streaming down her bruised face. "Oh my God, Catelyn. Oh my God."

I rushed over and hugged her. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

She shook her head. "He's dead."

I pulled back. "Who?"

"Bradley. He died from complications in the hospital. Ash killed him."