Crossing Hathaway (24 page)

My teeth sliced through my bottom lip when my head cracked against the frigid tile. A sharp pain stabbed my brain from the back of my skull. My vision blurred to light and shadows. A steady ringing invaded my ears.

Warmth settled on top of me, something heavy securing my waist against the floor.

I blinked away the blurriness and stared up at Richard, his face only a few inches from mine. Ice coated my spine, and my heart thumped. He stretched my hands above my head. The rest of him straddled my waist. The scent of his sickly sweet cologne wafted over me. I kicked my legs and strained my arms against his grip, but accomplished nothing other than tiring myself out.

“There you are.” His minty breath stung my eyes. “For a moment there, I thought I’d knocked you out. That would have been a pity.”

“What are you going to do?” The instant the words left my mouth, I realized I didn’t want to know.

Gripping both my wrists in one of his hands, he slid his fingers along my shoulder and then pinched so hard I cried out as if he’d found a nerve that could incapacitate me. “Just practicing, but I think next Friday I’ll take you somewhere more private.” He licked my face and left a wet trail across my cheek. “I wouldn’t want anyone to hear you screaming, at least, not until I’m done having my fun with you.”

A tear rolled down the side of my face, leaving a warm trail in its wake, but I clamped my teeth together and held the whimper inside.

“Ah, don’t cry, kitten. There are so many who find pleasure in pain. I promise you’ll have a good time.” Eyes closed, he moaned and released one of my hands, forced my head to the side with his arm, and bit me on the side of the neck.

Pain throbbed in my throat as his teeth clamped down hard on my flesh. I opened my mouth to launch the scream building in my throat, but he twisted his arm and jammed his wrist into my mouth, cutting off the sound. A steady stream of wetness leaked from my eyes and burned along my flushed face. My bladder threatened to leak all over my new underwear.

“There now.” Richard sat up and used the counter to pull himself to his feet, the movement jostling me sideways. A shine of deranged glee radiated from his eyes. He rolled his shoulders with a moan and smirked in a way that raised every little hair on my body. “I’ve left my mark for Ben. Now I’ll be off before his lackeys arrive.” He headed for the door.

The absence of his heat and the black soul staring back at me through his eyes caused a shiver to rip through me. Aided by a kick of my feet, I scuttled backward until the cupboard stalled my escape. Back pressed against the cupboard door, I scrubbed my skin. The smell of him loaded my throat with bile. “I’m calling the police.”

His laughter infuriated me further. “You do that. But remember, kitten: Ben and I have identical DNA, and my alibi is down in the car. Think about that.”

My eyes grew wide at the truth in his words. I wouldn’t be able to prove it was Richard. I’d look like a psycho broad calling abuse because I was pissed about something. “You fucking bastard!”

He looked over his shoulder as he opened the door, visible from my rat’s vantage point on the floor. His lips quirked into a sneering smile. “I’ve been called worse.”

I smashed my hand against the floor and screamed at him. “Get out!”

His laughter faded as he shut the door behind him.

For minutes I could do nothing other than hug my knees and let the tears fall. Despite the fear rumbling through every bone in my body, my limbs rediscovered their strength and obeyed my command to move. I jumped up and sped out of the kitchen. At the door, I opened it a crack and peered out with a quivering chin. Nothing. I ducked out, snatched my phone from the carpet and tripped over my own feet as I scrambled to get back inside. I locked the door, ran into the bathroom, shut and locked that one before pressing my back against it. My knees gave in and folded me to the floor.

I flexed my trembling fingers a few times to make them work and dialed Ben. Only half a ring hit my ear before he picked up.

“Evangeline?” His high tone conveyed fear.

“I’m here.” My words burst out on top of a sob.

“Has he hurt you?”

“Not really. Can you please come and get me? I don’t trust anyone else.”

Silence for a moment. “My head of security is coming with a team. His name is Eddy, you met him before.”

My heart fell as it sank in deeper that Richard may have been right. The strain of desperation wobbled my voice. “Did you hear me? I don’t care if you send the Dali-fucking-Lama, I’m not going with him.”

“I know you’re afraid, but you need to trust me now. Eddy will bring you to me.”

I climbed to my feet. “Trust you? Why should I fucking trust you, Ben? You get how hard it is for me to say I need anyone. Well, here it is—I need you, as in I’m about to freak out if you don’t get your ass over here.”

Silence.

I took the phone away from my mouth, roared in frustration before bringing it back up. “You know what, I think I’m just going to go to a hotel. I need some time to think this through.”

“No, Evangeline! Please.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow.” I turned off the phone and set it on the counter. In the sudden silence, my memory reloaded Richard, the psychotic look in his eyes, his breath across my ear, the weight of his body, the moment of panic when I thought he might do more than threaten me.

I gagged and bent over the toilet but my empty stomach didn’t release anything. Dizziness made the porcelain bus spin before my eyes, inducing another gut-wrenching heave.

My phone vibrated against the counter and rang a moment later. I sprang up from the toilet, whipped open the door, and ran into the hall. From the closet, I withdrew my backpack, leaving a pile of towels on the floor as I dashed into my room. The phone rang again, drilling into my head like a shrill call of a bird. Clothes flew out of my drawers in my packing frenzy, only a scarce few making it into the bag.

On my way past the bathroom, the phone shouted again. I snatched it from the counter, turned it off, and threw it into my backpack. After slipping off my high heels and stepping into my worn sneakers, I searched for my handbag. I located it along with my keys just outside the kitchen, scooped them up, and left.

The jerk of my body jolted me awake. A patch of drool glued a clump of hair to my cheek. Silver racks of identical white towels and tiny bottles of shampoo reminded me I’d checked into the Fairfield Inn the night before.

My skin still burned from the hour I’d spent scrubbing it in the shower to get Richard’s filth off—though I didn’t think there was enough soap in the world to get the job done—and stiffness had set into my neck from sleeping on the floor. I’d tried to sleep in the bed, but every little noise jolted me awake. I’d locked myself in the bathroom with a blanket and pillow. My watch read 6:08 a.m. I’d been there all night.

Wincing, I climbed into the shower and twisted the knobs until hot water rushed over me. I lathered soap across my body for the second time, then a third. I needed to remove even the faintest hint of Richard. Two courses of shampoo and one conditioning later, I stepped out and toweled off.

The thought of returning to my apartment urged a shudder through me. I needed to know what Bill had done in there before I could go back. Cameras? An explosive? Even hiding a few rabid rats in my cushions wouldn’t have surprised me. Talking problems out always helped, so I turned on my BlackBerry.

Fifteen missed calls from Ben, and two from Mom. A twinge of guilt wandered around my stomach. I had a sudden ache for Ben’s arms around me, but I needed to find a solution to Richard first. I also needed to understand Ben’s unwillingness to help me, really understand so I could help him overcome it.

I sent a text to Brent and asked him to meet me for an early breakfast. Within seconds, my phone blipped his acceptance.

At quarter to seven, I waited in the restaurant attached to the hotel, my gaze scanning the crowd of coffee-drinking, paper-reading patrons for signs of the evil creep. Brent appeared in the entrance, waved, and gave a smile so wide I couldn’t help but return it. He wore black pants and canvas shoes with no socks. His pink dress shirt was fitted to his narrow body.

He bounded up to me and stopped with a frown. “Oh girl, you look like hell. Please tell me it’s because Mr. H. ravaged you all night long.”

My stomach clenched. “Not exactly.”

Slouching, he screwed up his face. “What do you mean ‘not exactly.’”

I grabbed his hand and tugged him into the booth beside me. While my sneakered heel bounced up and down on the tile, I told him the events from the previous night while he listened and went paler with every passing moment.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, are you all right?” He grasped my hand and squeezed.

“Other than a mild headache, a split lip, a bruise on my neck where he bit me, and being scared out of my fucking mind, I’m fine.”

He frowned, setting deep lines into his forehead. “I don’t get why you didn’t go back to Mr. H.’s place, though.”

“Richard said I could be bleeding to death in the street and Ben wouldn’t come for me.” I jammed my palms over my dry, weary eyes. “I asked him to come and get me last night and he wouldn’t.” I slouched back against the vinyl and shoved my hair behind my ears. “I feel like marching into his office and punching him in the face even though I know he probably can’t help it.” I went on to explain my theory of Ben’s agoraphobia.

“Listen, let’s eat and get to work. I’m supposed to meet a friend for supper tonight. Come with me. We’ll have a movie night and crash at his place. He loves company, believe me. He won’t mind.”

After staring at my laptop screen for an hour without getting a single item ticked off my task list, I gave up and made the trek to Ben’s floor. I half expected him to be standing in the hallway after spending the night with his gaze glued to the surveillance cameras, waiting for me. Instead, I stared into an empty space.

I didn’t know which I feared more: Ben’s sadness or his anger. Maybe I was afraid of looking at Ben, that his resemblance to his brother would stir memories I didn’t want to relive.

Stop being such a wuss, Eva. This needs to be done.

The door at the end loomed like a golden beast waiting to swallow me down like a chunk of tenderized steak. The aches in my body reminded me that Richard had tenderized me plenty.

The door opened before I reached it but Ben didn’t emerge. With tentative steps, I entered, peering around the room. “Ben?”

“In here.” His voice, low and hoarse, came from beyond the second entrance where his office had returned to its original darkened state.

I walked in and paused to give my eyes time to adjust. “Why are you standing in the dark?”

“Are you here to tell me good-bye?” His voice boomed from the far end of the room.

“No—I don’t know, Ben. Can you please turn a light on so I can see who I’m talking to?”

A ceiling light came on above the stairs. He sat halfway up the steps holding a remote. With his elbows propped on his knees, he stared forward.

I looked over his face, the errant curl falling across his forehead, the wedge of smooth chest visible through the top of his shirt. My hands wanted to reach for him, to erase his utter despair, but I hugged them around my stomach and took a few steps toward him, hesitated. I should have been screaming at him, but it wouldn’t come. Nothing about him frightened me, or evoked thoughts of his brother. I let out a pent-up breath.

“I’m so sorry about your dad,” he said in a whisper. “He’s going to be okay?”

“Yeah, I think so.” A smile tried to emerge, but it didn’t quite make it.

“I didn’t expect to see you.” He turned his head a little, staring at me through his dark curls. “If someone hurt me the way Richard hurt you, I’d have run the other way.”

A few steps took me to the stairs, and my eyebrow jacked up. “You think I’m angry at you because of what Richard did?”

Ben sat up a little. “Aren’t you?”

“He scared the life out of me, but I’m angry because of what you did, or didn’t, do.”

Eyes narrowed, he cocked his head. “I don’t understand.”

“I needed you last night. Not another stranger who might drive me somewhere and hand me off to your brother again—you.”

“You don’t understand!” Ben shot up and rushed down the stairs, his fingers spread through his hair. “I wanted to come, you have no idea how much, but…”

I stepped back. “But what?” I raised my palms. “When’s the last time you left this office, Ben?”

He stared past me. “I stood at the door for an hour, trying to make myself go to you. It’s been so long since I’ve been out in the open…” Caught in the grips of a shudder, he rubbed the back of his neck so hard it must have hurt.

“I get that it’s hard for you to go out for some reason, but you’re not even trying to overcome it, are you?”

Looking defiant, his hands dug into his pockets.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Have you called your mother to set everything up for Friday?”

The creases in his forehead deepened. His eyes said
hell no
better than if he’d said it out loud.

Numbness swept through me. I fished the iPhone out of my pocket, smoothed my hand over it longingly, regretfully, before handing it to Ben. “I don’t want to see or hear from you again until the arrangements are made.”

Face stricken, Ben looked at the phone in his hand and back at me. His brows pulled together over questioning eyes. “Where will you stay? You can’t go back to your apartment, and I can’t bear the thought of you staying in a hotel by yourself.” I noticed he didn’t give a word of protest. That he wasn’t willing to give a little to make us work hurt me down deep.

Squaring my shoulders, I said, “Brent and I are staying with one of his friends, who happens to be a three hundred pound unemployed biker looking for something to do. He’s going to drive us to and from work for the next two days.”

I backed toward the door. “Don’t let me down again, Ben.” Tears stung my eyes as I turned and rushed for the exit.

“Evangeline, don’t! Please!”