Running Away With You (Running #3) (36 page)

“Do you remember anything unusual that happened
after
the game?” 

I think hard, and honestly, I’m not sure.  I don’t remember who put out the fire.  I don’t remember who went to sleep first.  All I remember is waking up with one hell of a hangover.  I was disoriented, confused, and dehydrated. “David, why am I having trouble remembering what happened after the game?”  He looks at me and smiles.  I’m suddenly nauseated.

“It’s hard to say.  It might be the dozen or so shots of Captain Morgan, or it might be the Molly I slipped you and Reese.”  He actually seems pleased with himself. 

“You drugged me and my friend?  What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Oh, please.  Drop the holier-than-thou attitude, Jette.  We both know you’re no fucking angel.  We’ve smoked weed together.  And I know you used to take Ben’s Adderall during finals.  Besides, I didn’t mean to slip one to Reese – that one was entirely your fault.  I made you a drink and you gave it to her.  Lucky for me, I had an extra just for emergencies.”

“You’re a fucking pig.  Why are you telling me all this?  What’s on the goddamn video?”

“Let me try to refresh your memory.  After the tenth or twelfth round of Thumper, you suggested we play a new game: Flip, Sip, or Strip.”  I gasp.  I vaguely remember begging someone to find a quarter so we could play. 

David continues.  “At that point, everyone else turned in for the night, leaving just the three of us.  Both you and Reese were feeling very
friendly,
and in no time at all, the two of you skipped the flip and sip and went straight for the strip.”

I cover my face.  I don’t want to hear what I know he’s going to say next.  “Being the true gentleman that I am, I offered the two of you our tent to finish your little
game
.  It was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, Jette.  I swear to God.  You can’t blame a guy for wanting a keepsake of such a memorable evening.  It was the first time I recorded you.  I have to admit, I’ve watched that video a hundred times.  I’m going to miss watching you, Kitten.”

“You’re lying,” I accuse.  “It never happened.  I would never.  Reese would never.  It’s not possible.” 
God, please tell me it’s not possible.

“Oh, it’s possible.  But just in case you still don’t believe me, how about we take a stroll down memory lane?”  David pulls out his phone and cues up a video.  “Want to see?”

I hold out my hand for him to pass over the phone.  Instead of passing me the phone, he grabs my hand.  He gives a little tug and pulls me toward him.  “Come on, don’t be shy now.  Let’s watch together.”

I reluctantly agree, but only because I need to see for myself.  I sit on the couch beside him and he pinches the screen so I can see up close and personal exactly what he’s talking about.  There, right in front of my eyes in full color, is everything he claims. 

I get up from the couch and walk over to the window, unable to look at him.  All I want to do is curl up in a ball and cry.  I’m ashamed, humiliated, and shocked by my own behavior.  I can’t let anyone else see this video – ever!  “I have no more money,” I whisper, barely audibly.

David gets up from the couch and stands beside me, gazing out the window.  “Don’t play me for a fool, Kitten.  You must have money coming in from that fancy restaurant of yours.” Out of the corner of my eye, I can see him greedily counting the money to make sure it’s all there.

“I have nothing.  We opened the bar late in the busy season, and now all the tourists have gone home and won’t be back until the spring.  I had to borrow
that
from a friend.” I tell him, barely fighting back the tears.

“Well you’ve certainly moved up in the world.  I bet you could find another friend to give you the money.” 

“And what if I did?”  I turn to him, grab the money, and toss it onto the couch.  “What if I got you another ten thousand?  Then what, David?  How many more?  How long is this going to go on?  Are you going to show up at a PTA meeting one night with more pictures?  Or at my daughter’s first ballet recital?  When does it end, David?  Please tell me.”  I can hear my voice cracking under the strain.  I want to be strong.  I want to find the inner strength to stand up to him and force him to retreat and back off.  I just don’t know how.

“Don’t be scared, Jette.”  He puts his hand under my chin and makes me look at him.  “There are no more.  This is it, the last one.  I swear.”

I mutter, “It doesn’t matter.  I have no more money.  I have no more rich friends.  I can’t pay you.  I have nothing left to give you.”

He releases my chin and tucks a stray hair behind my ear.  “That’s not entirely true,” he whispers in my ear.  I feel his warm breath on my neck and it repulses me.

“I don’t understand.”

“Oh, I think you do.”  He walks over to the couch to collect the money I tossed.  “You’re wrong about me.  I can be reasonable.  Maybe you have the money for one more deal, and maybe you don’t.  So I’ll give you three choices.  One – you make one final payment and we part ways, for good.  Two – I sell it to the
National Tattler
for a hefty sum.  Or three – we have our own private exchange between the sheets.”

“David, please!” I beg.  “I swear to you, I have no more money.  Please don’t do this.”

“I like it when you beg, Jette.  Do you remember how good it was?  I do.  I’ve seen pictures of Big Mac doing that fucking Calvin Klein underwear ad, all ripped and jacked up.  I bet his dick is a shriveled-up mushroom.  He probably can’t even keep it up for very long.  Wouldn’t you like to be with a real man just one more time?”

My mind is sluggish.  I’m having trouble thinking.  I don’t know what to do.  I walk over to the mini bar and fumble with the small bottles of liquor.  I grab one at random, pour it into a glass, and force it down, hoping the effects will immediately help to calm me.  Nothing.

“That’s a good idea.  I think I’d like to have a drink too.  You know, just to take the edge off.”  David walks over and joins me.  He finds a bottle of JD and pours it into one of the crystal glasses, adds ice, and takes an experimental sip.  “Mmm.  Not bad.”  His eyes rake over me, following the curves of my body, lingering on my breasts.  “Have I told you lately how beautiful you are, Kitten?  Each time I see you, I swear you’re more beautiful than the time before.”

I don’t know what to do.  All I do know is that there is no
right
answer.  I cannot pay him, that much I know. 

What would happen if I allowed him to release the video and collect his money?  Evan and I would face public humiliation and poor Reese would be dragged into my nightmare.  I could deal with the public shaming, but what would it do to Evan’s career? He’d probably lose all his endorsement deals.  Worst-case scenario, if they even suspected he was involved in pornography or extortion, he could be released from his contract with the Sentinels.  We’d most likely lose customers at the restaurant and possibly even go bankrupt.  Dozens of people depend on Rush for a living; they would all lose their jobs.  The repercussions of my decision would be enormous and devastating.

Suppose I sleep with him just this once?  The only one harmed would be me.  No one else would have to know.  I’d be lying and betraying Evan, and I’d have to live with that.  We’re not married yet.  I could do this.  I’ve faked it with David before.  Just one more time and I’d be free.

I grab another random bottle, pour it into my glass, and drink it down as fast as I can.  “Okay.”

“Okay what?” David asks.

“I’ll sleep with you.”  I take a deep breath and turn to face him.  “Take out the SD card from your phone and give it to me.”

With a smirk of satisfaction, he walks back over to the couch, grabs his phone, and opens it to remove the memory card.  “Here you go.  It’s yours.”  I grab it from his hand, swipe the one still lying on the table, and walk them both into the bathroom.  I toss them into the toilet and, without hesitating, I flush them.  I stand there staring at the water as it swirls around, first emptying the bowl and then refilling it again.  They’re gone.  It’s over. 

I feel a pair of hands on my hips.  David leans over and watches right along with me.  He moves my long hair to the side and whispers in my ear, “I made good on my promise.  Now it’s your turn to make good on yours.”

He takes my hand and leads me through the sitting area and into the bedroom.  He takes off his stupid baseball hat first, tosses it toward the chair, but misses. I turn away from David so he cannot see me laughing at him.  Evan would never miss a toss from only a few feet away.  I can’t look at him, so I walk around the room, closing the curtains and shutting the door.

I hear his zipper coming down and the unmistakable sound of his jeans being pulled off.  I still can’t look at him.  How am I going to do this?  How will I ever be able to look at myself in the mirror again? 

I take a deep breath and turn around.  The room is dark thanks to the blackout curtains and the closed door, but there is just enough light for me to see him.  The familiar form of his boyish body standing near the foot of the bed makes my skin crawl. 

He cannot hold a candle to Evan.  He isn’t a fraction of the man Evan is.  And that’s not just because of the obvious physical comparisons.  David is deeply flawed and crushingly cruel, and I cannot imagine a woman alive who would find any redeeming qualities within him.  Not now.

I stand frozen in place as David removes the last of his clothing, leaving it in a messy pile on the floor.  He climbs into bed, places his head on the pillow I am meant to sleep on, and motions for me to join him.

“Enjoy the show?” he asks.  He thinks he mesmerizes me, that I’m transfixed by him.  Nothing could be further from the truth.  “Your turn, Kitten.  Take off your clothes slowly.  You know how much I like to watch you.” 

I want to throw up. Thank God he cannot see me or the panic that must be registered on my face.  I remind myself again of the reasons I’m doing this. 

He wants money that I don’t have.  I will not take more money from Derek and I’m terrified to burden Evan with this right now.  He wouldn’t pay, I’m certain of it.  But what would Evan do?  Would he let David go public and jeopardize his career, along with our restaurant?  Would he take matters into his own hands and make sure David pays for what he’s done?  I hate to admit the fact that he might, and it frightens me.

I also have to consider Reese.  Could I knowingly do this to her?  She uprooted her entire life to help me launch my restaurant.  Allowing this video to go public would be the worst possible thing I could do to her when I owe her so much.

With shaking hands, I unbutton my blouse and allow it to fall to the floor.  I place my hands on the button of my jeans, then I hear his voice.  “Wait.  Let me see you, Kitten.”

I stop and let my hands fall to my sides.  Although I can’t see him, I can feel his eyes on me, peering at me from across the room.  I can feel my lips trembling, so I bite my lip to keep it from quivering.  “Okay, keep going,” he tells me when he’s satisfied.

I bend down to remove my shoes and I hear him;  the sound of flesh against flesh in a slow methodical rhythm.  He’s working himself up just by watching me.  My heart is pounding so ferociously there’s now a ringing in my ears.

I have no choice.  This is what I have to do.  This is what must be done.  I’m afraid of what’s about to happen, but I’m more afraid of what will happen if I don’t submit.

Not wanting to see him jerking off, I close my eyes and remove my pants.  I stand up and straighten my shoulders, resigned to doing what has to be done.  I stand there in my bra and panties, unsure of my next move. 

David sits up in bed.  “Come here,” he demands.  “I’ll help you finish.”

I can feel the blood rushing up to my face.  I’d never in a million years have imagined I’d willingly place myself in this position.  I take a few cautious steps toward the bed, putting off the inevitable moment when I’ll feel his hands on me.

“Yeah, that’s right.  Nice and slow.  Make it last.  Oh, yeah,” he moans as he continues to pleasure himself.

All too soon I find myself standing beside the bed.  David reaches out for me and grabs my bra with one hand while he continues to hold on to himself with the other.  I just can’t do this.  I won’t do this.

With a sudden burst of energy and conviction, I bend down, grab his clothes, and throw them at him.  “Get dressed and get out of my room.  Now!” I shout.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” he growls.  “Get your ass over here, Jette.  You can’t stop now.”

“Yes, I can,” I tell him, grabbing the phone off my dresser.  “And if you don’t get out of here right now, I’m calling the police.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” David barks.  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding.  Do you know what you’ve just done?”

David is now standing up with his clothes in his hand, staring at me, seething.

“I know what I almost did.  I almost ruined everything.”  I start to dial 9-1-1, but I don’t hit send.  “And I know what I’m going to do if you don’t get your fucking ass out of my room right now.”

He quickly and clumsily pulls on his pants and shirt, muttering,  “You have no idea what you’ve just done.  You’re going to pay for this.”  He grabs his shoes and storms out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

The moment he’s out of my hotel room, I lock the door and brace it with my full weight, leaning against the door, as if I could do anything to prevent someone from forcing their way into my room.

I listen to the hallway for what seems like an eternity and I peek out the peephole.  He’s gone and he’s not coming back.

I’ve just stirred up a hornet’s nest with David.  I don’t think I could have fucked this up any worse.  Now he’s not just pissed, he’s also horny and frustrated.  And I’m certain he has more copies of the damned video. 

David does not make empty threats.  If he says he’s going to make me pay, I’m sure he won’t sleep until he’s satisfied that he’s exacted his revenge.

I grab a robe to cover myself and walk around my hotel room in a fog.  Everywhere I look, I see signs of my betrayal: the pile of clothes I left on the floor, the sheets David left all tangled and disheveled, the closed curtains hiding my indiscretion from the world.  I feel like the walls are closing in on me, strangling me.  It’s suddenly hard to breathe.