Indulgence (24 page)
Authors: Liz Crowe
Amity lives in a leafy country town in southern Australia
and can be found chained to her desk, held at ransom by her characters.
Don't send help. She likes it.
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By
Audrey Carlan
New York City sucked. If the work hadn’t been good and the
pay decent, I’d have hightailed it outta here and headed back home to my ranch.
People here were just drones, lifeless husks that scampered
through the concrete jungle. Always afraid to be late or miss something. They
ran around with hopeful looks plastered across their plastic faces as if the
next big break were right around the corner. It wasn’t.
God, I hated the fucking city.
The only thing that made it bearable was the women. New York
was full of beautiful women who ached to be taken by a guy like me. They saw me
as a simpleton. A hunk of meat. I didn’t mind. I wasn’t looking for happily
ever after. We were all in it for one thing … to get off.
As beautiful women went, the woman that arrived here every
morning at seven sharp had my attention. She was a classy one. She usually wore
button-up suits, her tight skirts slit up to mid-thigh with legs that went on
for days. Her heels were so tall they were like stilts. It must have taken
practice to walk on spikes every damn day. She’d be smokin’ hot in a pair of
cowboy boots and nothin’ else.
I could tell she was smart, or liked to put off that she
was. She had money, too, lots of it. Every day a town car or shiny black limo
dropped her off. Never with a man though. Sometimes, I caught her peeking over
her sunglasses, taking in the view of my crew. Hell, maybe she even sized me up
a time or two. I would like that. I’d even consider making a move if I didn’t
think she was out of my league. Women as fancy as she was didn’t date men like me.
They dated billionaires with flashy cars men who drove Ferraris, not Ford
pickups.
My company, Jensen Construction, was hired to expand a
section of the skyscraper where she worked, add a new lobby with another ten
stories above it. When all was said and done, the completed project would add a
couple hundred new offices to the building. Even though leaving Texas was
rough, the money here was too good to pass up.
My crew and I were making five times as much as we would
back home. That was the new direction I’d decided to take my company. I bid on
jobs outside the state if they were worth it. Somehow, I kept underbidding the
locals here in New York and secured the work.
For me it was a win-win. I had family back home, but no wife
or kids. I also had my ranch, a couple of horses, and Butch, my yellow lab. I
brought Butch with me because a man doesn’t leave his best friend sitting at
home for three months. The horses were being taken care of by my brother in
exchange for being able to ride ‘em whenever he wanted. It was a fair deal. His
boys loved it and I got “Best Uncle” status in the process.
After checking that my men were hard at work and that
everything was moving along as planned, I headed for my portable office. The
sleek black limo appeared at the curb, sun glinting off the chrome bumper,
blinding me with its sharp light. I leaned against the metal railing on the
steps, ready to watch the show.
She was a damn vision today. Her usual black suit left
behind, replaced with a tailored white number that hugged every curve. She
looked like a naughty angel. She turned around and pulled her briefcase out of
the car. Her ass was tight; the white fabric accentuated the perfect heart
shape.
What I wouldn’t give to smack that ass, make her scream out,
and beg me to fuck her.
Those long legs of hers took her past me quickly. She wasn’t
wearing the big ol’ round glasses that hid her gorgeous eyes today. The sun
broke across the building, and her blue eyes sparkled in the light. Long golden
hair flapped in the wind behind her. A red scarf tied around her neck cut
across her form, a slash of crimson splitting a perfect blank canvas.
She dug through the oversized brown bag hanging over her
delicate shoulder, her cell phone glued to her ear. A noise screeched from up
above. I jerked my head up. A stack of large metal pipes held together by
chains swung precariously from the crane. My lady in white stopped right under
it, and the scene played out in sickening slow-motion in my mind’s eye. Her
phone fell to the concrete; she cursed and bent to retrieve it, unaware of the
danger that lurked above her.
“Watch out!” I yelled as I barreled toward her, pointing
upward. Her gaze drifted up as I heard metal scraping across metal, then a loud
clink, signaling that the pipes had separated from their chassis.
One side of the chains held, sending one-inch metal pipes
flying downward like daggers falling from the sky. My inner Superman reacted
and I shot forward, knocking her to the ground, my much larger body covering
hers. Without warning, a gut-wrenching, piercing pain ripped through my left
shoulder. She was screaming under me, trying to push me off her. Moving wasn’t
an option. Searing pain blazed through my shoulder as if I were being stabbed
with a large butcher knife. Every movement stole my breath.
I only saw red. This time it wasn’t her scarf. It was blood,
lots and lots of blood, pouring over her white suit, painting it with color.
“Help him!” she screamed. “It’s going to be okay.” Cool
hands and fingers slid along my temples and cupped my face. “Please, please,
look at me.”
Pain gripped my upper body as if two plates of metal were
pressing me flat as a pancake. I lay on my side, unable to move. Briefly
casting a glance over the heart of the excruciating ache over my left shoulder,
I could see the glint of metal protruding a good couple of feet out of my back.
The swells of nausea churned in my gut and my mouth watered
with that sour taste that comes just when you’re about to blow chunks. Closing
my eyes I tried to take a deep breath, but the pain that followed tore through
bone, muscle, and skin. The only things that kept me firmly planted to this
earth were those gray-blue eyes. They were like crystal pools, refreshing and
inviting.
“So pretty,” I mumbled through dry lips.
She smiled, and I closed my eyes knowing that I couldn’t
look at God’s angel any longer or I’d get lost in her beauty and willingly
leave this earthly plane. Sirens blared in the background, but my angel held
me, speaking softly. “It’s going to be okay. You saved me. You’re going to make
it, just hold very still.”
I risked opening one eye for a split second and what I saw
almost broke me. Those beautiful blue eyes weren’t serene. They were choppy,
ragged waters that swirled with fear.
It started to rain. Big fat wet droplets landed on my face.
Only the droplets weren’t rain, they were her tears.
“You saved me,” she whispered against my forehead, her lips
moist and soft. I wanted to say something to her. Introduce myself in some
small way before she was taken away from me. Tell her my name was Hank and that
I thought she was beautiful, but the words didn’t come. Wouldn’t come.
Breathing alone took all my effort.
I felt arms all around me, lifting me up and placing me onto
something soft. A cloud perhaps. My angel was pulled away. Time seemed to slow
and ebb. So much was happening around me, but I couldn’t focus on any of it.
Pain controlled my attention and I succumbed to its sickening grip with a
guttural howl.
“I’m coming with you!” tore from her throat as bodies moved
around and harsh words were exchanged. “This is my building and he, he … he
saved my life! I owe him everything!” My angel hollered at the people who
tugged and pulled at my face, my chest, pressing me deeper into the cloud. For
a brief moment I felt happy someone cared. No, not someone her.
I couldn’t feel anymore. My eyes were heavy and I blindly
reached out my hand. An icy, feather-soft hand closed around mine, taking away
my anxiety.
“I’m here. I’m here. Just let them take care of you.” Her
voice was smooth and sweet like a melody. Then blackness enveloped me.
I couldn’t imagine what was taking so long! It had been
hours — hours — since the man who risked everything went into surgery.
Please
God, please let him be okay.
He saved my life. A stranger saved my life. I
pulled out my phone and called my assistant Oliver.
“Aspen, where are you?” he rattled off quickly without a
greeting. “Something happened today at the building. A man was hurt. A crane
dropped some pipes.” His voice was higher than normal, and rushed as if he
couldn’t get out what he needed to say fast enough.
I had worked with Oliver a number of years and was long
accustomed to his eccentric nature. I already knew all he was telling me, but
he wouldn’t let me get a word in edgewise, so I let him continue. “I’ve already
called Legal; someone should show up at the hospital any minute to find out his
prognosis.”
“Oliver … Oliver, stop.”
“What?” The words screeched out tight and restrained. He
took a ragged breath.
“I’m here, at the hospital. The man that was hurt, he uh …
he jumped in front of me. Prevented me from being impaled.” My voice cracked
and hiccupped to a halt. It took everything I could to hold back the tears.
“Oh my God! Oh my God, Aspen, are you okay? Shit! I’m going
to cry. I can’t lose you. I love you.” And there was my drama queen. His
effeminate voice strained; he started to cry.
“Oliver. Ollie, honey, I know. I’m fine.” I took a deep
breath. “The man that saved me, I don’t even know his name. They’re not telling
me anything here at the hospital. I need you to get me some information. Find
out who he is and his emergency contacts.”
“Okay, yes. I got it. Anything else?”
“I need to know who runs the show at the hospital. I need to
have access to this man. Whatever the cost.” Through the receiver, Oliver’s
heavy breathing and the rustling of papers drifted through the phone.
“Okay, okay. I’ll get it. Give me fifteen minutes max.”
“Thank you.” I sighed and looked down at my suit in horror.
“Oliver, one more thing: I need a change of clothes. Don’t send a courier.
Bring me a suit from the closet in the office.”
“Why?”
I shuddered. “Because this suit is covered in blood.” A sob
tried to escape my throat but my hand effectively suppressed the sound. The
last thing I needed to lose was my control. After a couple of deep, calming
breaths, my nerves were back intact. Mostly.
“Oh my God, okay. Soon. I’ll be there soon. I love you.”
I couldn’t help but smile. “I love you, too, Ollie. Now
hurry. People are starting to stare.” I looked over at the couple across from
me, mouths agape and eyes opened wide.
The day couldn’t have gotten any worse. Not only was a man
fighting for his life on my behalf, but an accident of this nature would
undoubtedly set the project back for weeks. I’d promised the stakeholders for
Bright Magazine that the building would be ready to start work in the next
fiscal year. This kind of delay could cost severely, but not as much as a man’s
life.
And what if my savior sued? This catastrophe had the
potential to demolish the plan altogether. If he died, it would be worse. A
fucking media frenzy. I rubbed at the headache that started to creep into my
temples.
Jesus Christ! When did I become so cold?
A man’s life
hung in the balance and I was worried about the magazine.
Because all you have is work.
Long ago, I made the decision never to let anything or
anyone get in the way of being successful. Growing up, my parents were beyond
rich; the perfect socialites. I was groomed to be the epitome of high society.
After my Ivy League education, I used my trust fund for the startup costs to
build AIR Bright Enterprises from the ground up. Seven years later, I’m worth
billions and have my own spot on the Forbes Top Ten Most Successful Women list
— a huge feat for a woman only twenty-eight years old.
A half hour went by and the stale air surrounding me
changed. Oliver must have arrived. His presence hit me before I even heard his
wingtips clacking against the linoleum floor. His gait was rushed. A frown
marred his familiar pointed face. The frosted tips of his hair gave the
appearance he had been in the sun for hours on end, but I knew his secret — a
visit to New York’s finest hair salon twice a month. It was one of my gifts to
him for Administrative Professionals Day. A garment bag hung loosely over one
arm, man purse over the other, and he clutched a pair of black heels in one
hand. His eyes were the size of saucers. He stopped dead in his tracks when he
saw my blood-crusted suit.
“Oliver!” I hugged him fiercely. He was warm and solid as we
stood holding one another.
He pulled back, still holding onto my shoulder. His lip
trembled as he looked me over. “Princess ... I — you look awful. Are you sure
you’re okay?” Tears filled his eyes, and I wiped them away with my thumbs and
smiled for his benefit.
“That bad, huh?”
He nodded. “Here, please go change. I’m burning that suit.”
My smile didn’t quite reach my eyes, but I took the clothes
and changed in the ladies room. Once situated in the black suit and heels
Oliver brought me, I exited and handed him the bag of soiled garments. He
rolled up the bag, walked over to the nearest trash can and tossed the whole
lot of it in it without a second thought. He just pitched a
three-thousand-dollar suit as if it were a wad of chewing gum that had lost its
flavor. I couldn’t care less. I’d never wear it again. Even if the dry cleaners
removed the bloodstains, my memories of the experience would never fade. Oliver
knew me well.
