From Yesterday (14 page)

Nicole's rage intensifies with the hate she feels for him. I can tell by the deadpan look in her eyes, the crinkle between her brows, and the pursing of her lips even through the duct tape. Turner has the hunting knife by the blade and he holds it up in front of her, taunting her. She doesn't even flinch.

Her lack of reaction seems to throw Turner off his game because he halts hi little intimidation game right in the middle of it and comes over to me.

"You know, Rebecca, you really are a cute girl. Almost prettier than your sister, even though you two have such similar features. I'll bet in a few years, if you get to live past the age of fourteen, you'll surpass her beauty by far. It may have to do with personality more than physical looks. Your sister is kind of a bitch."

He turns the knife over with both hands so that he grasps it by the handle. He lowers it to my face, dragging the tip lightly down my cheek. He doesn't cut into my flesh; at least not yet. He continues the path down to the top of my sweater and pauses.

"So, pretty girl, how would you like to take your big sisters place?"

He rips the top of my sweater open with the knife and I hear Nicole trying to scream through her gag. Turner continues to tear at the rest of my top until my bra is exposed. I wriggle around, disgusted as much as terrified, and then my wrist restraint gets caught on something.

Turner leaves my bra in place, but now he sets his knife down and starts to pull off my leggings. This must have been his plan all along; there's no other reason why he would tie Nicole's ankles and not mine. He is going to rape me and make my sister watch. I cannot let that happen. I try pulling back on the rope around the hands as he busies himself with undressing me, but I can't get them loose enough by the time he has the pants off and takes that damn knife to my panties.

No.

I do the only thing I can think of and kick one leg out as hard as I can. Because Turner knelt down so low, he has provided me with an easy target and I connect with his groin. Hard.

"Fucking bitch," he swears.

He grabs himself and sways a little. I work frantically at the rope; it's almost loose enough to slip free. I am grateful that Turner is so obviously terrible at tying knots.

Unfortunately, he recovers far quicker than I had anticipated and in an instant he's got his knife in hand and straddles me.

"Not going to be so nice this time, you hear me?"

I try to raise my leg again, but he is too fast for me. He grabs me by the thigh and forces my knees open wider.

"You won't do that again. And since you ruined a perfectly good erection, I think I'll fuck you with my knife instead."

The pain of the knife ripping through my skin is immediate and overwhelming. He cuts into the underside of my thigh and drags the serrated edge up, until the pain spreads very near my most sensitive area and I'm about to beg him to kill me instead.

My perception of time falters with the agony and I don't know how long goes by, but it feels like an eternity before I can focus on why the cutting stopped.

Nicole stands over Turner and holds his gun in her hands. I know it's the one I saw because he's facing her now, not me, and the back of his pants no longer holds it. I don't know how she managed to get out of her restraints, but I have never been so grateful for her before. Which says a lot for a sister I adore.

She steadies the gun in one hand and uses the other to peel the duct tape from her mouth. It must hurt, but she doesn't seem to care.

"Back away from her, Turner. Now, or I'll kill you this very second."

He starts to step away from both us, but at the last second he changes his mind and lunges for my sister. They both hit the ground and I hear the gun clatter away from them and a but closer to me. Turner and Nicole struggle to get ahead of the other and grab the gun but they forget about one thing.

Me.

I have harnessed all that pain from my wounded leg to finally wrench my hands through the crappy rope and I reach the gun before either one of them. The problem is, I don't know how to use it.

I rip the duct tape off of my own mouth and the sting is nothing compared to my other wound.

"Stop!" I yell.

They stop. Nicole gets up first and comes towards me with her hand held out.

"I'll do it, Rebecca. It's my responsibility. Give me the gun, please."

I want to, but I can't let go of it. I'm shaking and I can't look at anything other than Turner, who has also gotten off the ground. Nicole glances back at him and sees him, too.

She turns back to me. "Rebecca, give me the gun."

She's pleading with me, but I'm so confused. I don't want Turner to cut me again. I don't want him to touch me.

Too late.

Turner is upon us and I panic. I squeeze the trigger and the gun goes off.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

I take a super long shower and turn the water as hot as I can. It can't erase those memories, but the sting of the water on my stitched up arm actually has a cathartic effect. Only after the water starts to run lukewarm do I get out. I thought that I had made peace with that scar on my thigh, so it bothers me that I reacted so badly when Brady saw it.

Yes, it's true that I've only had sex in the dark before, but the possibility was always there that someone would see it.

Of course, none of those guys were anything more than an opportunity for me to prove that I wasn't damaged goods. One night stands; both of them.

I dry my hair so that it doesn't get frizzy and then put it up in a twist. Sweats and a t-shirt are as much as I feel like wearing today in the solemn mood I'm in.

I check my cell phone and see a new text from Brady.

Victor is working at the front desk until three. He will come up to your place right after. Do you want me there as well?

I sigh. I feel as though Brady wouldn't have even bothered asking if I wanted him here before I practically kicked him out earlier. I didn't mean to and I really regret it. I wish I could start this day over. I can't, but I do have an hour to fix one thing before this guy comes and plays detective in my very private life.

I don't want you to come over when Victor does. I want you to come over now. I'm a pain in the ass and I don't deserve you, but come over anyway?

I hesitate for a moment before I hit the send button. Did I really just call myself a pain in the ass? Yes, because it is the truth and because it will lighten the mood a little bit. It can be tiring being so damn intense all the time, and I'm used to me. What it must be like to be the person dealing with me, I have no idea. Definitely not easy.

I hit send and wait for his reply.

And continue to wait.

After about 15 minutes, I throw the phone on the floor of my bedroom and lay down on my bed to feel sorry for myself. Sorry for screwing up what could have been the only emotional connection I've ever managed with a guy. I draw my knees up and wring my hands together in frustration.

"You left the door unlocked, Paige."

"Agh!"

I flip over on the bed and fall out of it, landing roughly on the floor.

Brady laughs hysterically.

"You scared the life out of me. Couldn't you have made some noise or something?"

He holds his hand out and when I grab it, he pulls me up to a standing position with almost no effort. I'm kind of impressed.

"I wanted to teach you a lesson in leaving the door unlocked, seeing as you are being stalked by a psycho, so I crept in quietly."

His voice raises several octaves when he mentions my being stalked by a crazy person. It would actually be quite comical, if it were not really true.

"You're right. I wasn't being careful and I should be. I'm happy you came over, though. I didn't think you were going to."

Brady grins. "I figured that responding to your text would be redundant if I was just going to show up anyway. And it was a good move on my part because seeing you fall out of your bed was priceless."

"Thanks a lot!"

I grab one of my pillows off of the bed and swat him with it. He gets this mischievous glint in his eyes and smiles widely.

"Oh, Paige. You are in for it now."

I back away from Brady slowly and giggle nervously as he advances on me like a tiger ready to pounce. I try to fake him out by pretending to run for the en suite bathroom and then darting around him for the hallway instead, but he's too fast and he catches me. He lifts me off of my feet and then tosses me onto my bed, but he doesn't let go.

"Are you ticklish, Paige?"

Without waiting for a reply, he climbs up on the bed, gets on his knees, and then holds himself over me as he starts to tickle my sides. The answer to his question would have been very much a yes; now I'm laughing uncontrollably and squirming to no avail.

"No. Ugh. More. Please."

It's the best I can manage to get out in between the laughter. As nice as it is to see that I haven't messed everything up and we are still friends after the earlier debacle, it would really suck if he tickled me so hard that I peed on myself in front of him.

Mercifully, he stops the tickle torture and rolls over onto his back. We lay still for a moment, listening to one another breathe.

Brady turns on to his side and lifts up on one elbow to face me. "Hey."

I look back at him, nearly losing myself in those light blue eyes. "Hey yourself."

He leans over to kiss me on the mouth. Soft and quick with no tongue, but there is still meaning behind that kiss.

"I didn't ruin everything, did I?"

Even though I think I know the answer tot hat is no,I ask anyway. I want to hear him say it.

Brady sits up and scoots back to lean against the head board, pulling me with him so that I'm laying against his chest.

"You didn't ruin anything, Paige. I just don't understand how such a confident girl let a little scar get in the way of what would have been really hot sex."

I turn my head to look at him and he winks so I lean against him once more.

"It's pretty awful looking, I'm sure you can agree. I'd actually forgotten about it, which never happens, but did this time. And then you saw it and you sounded horrified. Even immensely confident people have some insecurities. I guess that's one of mine. What if you never want to go anywhere near there again?"

Brady snorts. "Are you serious? I have a penis. I'll
never
not want to go there. I was not criticizing the way you look in any capacity. You're beautiful, Paige. Even your scar is beautiful. What shocked me was the location of it. It upset me because there is no way that you did that by accident. That was done to you, wasn't it?"

I do not answer him. I cannot answer him. Not to tell him everything now, anyway. My response is to lean back further into his embrace and he gets it. He wraps his arms around me and holds tight.

"You don't have to tell me now. It will just be another thing that we'll hold off on until you're ready. This is still new and we are still building trust between us. Just understand that we are more than just friends and that makes it okay for me to get upset when I see that someone has caused you harm."

"It is annoying how logical you are, you know that?"

Brady tightens his arms around me. "You are an interesting girl. Well, how about this? It would be logical if you were to get undressed right now and band over so that I may inspect that scar of yours very closely and therefore become used to seeing it. Then you won't have to worry anymore."

I laugh. "Not that I'm trying to play modesty here or anything, but as great as that sounds, don't you think we should hold off until after Victor comes up? We don't have
that
much time."

"No, I guess we don't. Thanks for the vote of confidence, though."

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

I must have drifted off because Brady's phone rings and I am jerked back to consciousness. I'm still laying back against his chest and the vibrations are soothing as he speaks to the caller.

He hangs up after a moment. "Victor is on his way up, Paige."

I sit up. "Okay, I'm awake."

Brady kneads my shoulders for a minute. It helps relieve some of the tension in them. As we are walking out into the main room, he smacks me on my butt. I give him a sharp look, but then I smile.

"Nice," I say.

He shrugs. "Do you know how many times I have wanted to do that since the day we met?"

There's a knock at the door and I choose to ignore Brady's locker room humor. I find amusement in it too, but there's no need to encourage him. As much as I like him, and I really do, it is almost like we are getting too close rather quickly. That sets off the warning bells in my head that say I am a danger to Brady.

I shake it off and open the door. Victor is one of the few front desk guys that I speak to. He's personable, despite having the look of someone you wouldn't want to meet in a dark alley.

"Please come in."

He steps inside and reaches out to shake my hand. "Hello, Miss Kerimov."

Playfully, I give him the side-eye. "Call me Paige, remember?"

"Sorry, Paige. It is a habit."

Brady comes up behind me. "It took him nearly a month to stop calling me Mr. Quinlan, and we play basketball together on the weekends."

The men do that clap on the upper arm greeting that is what I think of as the male version of a kiss on the cheek between girls.

"Can I get you something to drink, Victor?"

"No, thank you, Miss -- Paige. I would like to see the damage that was done last night."

I lead him to the mess and pause before I get too close. I haven't bothered to put any shoes on today.

Victor takes a cell phone out of his pocket. "Would it be okay with you if I took some pictures?"