The Game Has Changed (13 page)

As he headed for the bathroom, he became
cognizant of her gentle sobbing and was surprised to feel relief at
the fact that she was still there. That she was safe and that she
was still with him.

Jaime screamed with surprise as he entered the
bathroom, his eyes wide and not quite focused. She was sitting in a
tub full of warm water. She’d assumed that he had deserted her for
good. She quickly and instinctively covered her naked chest with
her arms and sensed that he was very drunk.

Despite his inebriated state, he made no secret
of the fact that he was relieved to see her. “Jaime!” he slurred
happily.

“I thought you left me!” she spat
angrily.

“No, I was just gettin’ laid is all.” He
laughed and without thought, he recklessly unzipped his blue jeans
and relieved himself in front of her.

“Evan!” she squealed. “Get out!”

“Hell, no. This is my room, too, and I gotta
take a piss!” He groaned as he continued doing so.

Jaime quickly covered her eyes, but kept her
arms wrapped around her chest. “You’re drunk, aren’t you?” she
moaned into her hands.

“Yes, I am, thanks very much.”

“And you went out and . . . and . .
.”

“Had a shag? Yeah, that too! And it was fuckin’
good! Stuffed that pussy so high and mighty, she was screamin'!” he
proclaimed crudely. “You can look now. Knob's back in.”

A myriad of emotions consumed her as she stared
back at him. Absolute anger that he had left her alone and hatred
because of the fact that he’d gone out to have sex and get drunk
were amongst them. Yet she also felt excitement because of the
current state she found herself in with him standing so close
nearby. However, the latter she preferred to keep to
herself.

“Please, get out now!” she demanded.

Unfortunately, his current condition wasn't
allowing him much discretion. He fell to his knees near the tub, a
sly grin spreading across his face. She squealed with
embarrassment.

“You're very beautiful,” he replied. Despite
his being completely wasted, his words sounded sincere.

***

Jaime sighed and then grew silent. She regarded
Evan with longing before her senses took hold of her once more.
“Get out!” she said again, her voice a tad more controlled and less
angry.

She was well aware of the fact that words
spoken when someone was compromised by drink were often spoken in
absolute truth. Her father had once told her that. Did Evan really
think she was beautiful? He had alluded to it before when he was
sober, but she figured he was only playing her at the time and
building her confidence falsely with his observations. Could this
drunken musing be an honest one that came directly from his
heart?

Evan hadn't moved from his position on the
floor. Her heart leapt as he gently reached out to touch her cheek.
She jerked out of his reach because she thought she had to and not
because she wanted to.

“Don't touch me,” she whispered with regret.
Confusion raced through her as she watched Evan pull himself to his
feet.

“Going to bed,” he mumbled.

She watched him stagger out of the bathroom
without a backward glance in her direction. She sat alone within
the bathtub longer than she expected, breathing heavily as she felt
tingles of awareness coursing through her body. They became more
prevalent as the minutes passed.

Taking a deep breath, she drained the tub and
gingerly stepped out of it. She pulled on her tee shirt and panties
and strode into the adjacent room to find Evan lying face down upon
his stomach across the bed snoring and that he was still fully
dressed.

She sighed and shook her head, carefully
approaching him. She slowly pulled off each of his shoes. He
groaned as she did, but did not awaken. It wasn’t going to be easy
to remove any of his clothes since he was passed out completely, so
she gave up trying and turned off the lights. She then climbed into
the bed beside him.

He lay on top of the covers, but she still
managed to slide beneath them and tried to get as close to him as
possible. The scent of alcohol did nothing to interfere with his
unique male scent, not that she wasn't used to such things. Her
beloved father had gotten drunk on many an occasion. In her mind,
it was just something men always did. Something, she assumed, was
part of their very nature.

CHAPTER 14

The early morning sun peeked through the hazy,
dirty drapes to awaken Jaime prematurely. She’d hardly slept all
night as Evan had returned to their quarters some time after two in
the morning. His drunken snoring made it hard for her to
sleep.

She glanced at the clock and realized that it
was now just after six-thirty. She’d netted herself about two hours
of sleep in total. In truth, it didn’t really matter. She was tired
and felt it throughout her entire body as she stared at a sleeping
Evan. He was still lying upon his stomach on top of the covers and
lightly snoring, the smell of alcohol permeating from every inch of
his body.

Ever so gently, she reached out to brush back a
sprig of his dark brown hair as it lay across his eyes. His hair
felt so fine and soft, she noted. It prompted her to touch it even
more. Before she knew it, she was gently caressing it off of his
face.

Evan twitched a little from her touch and she
jerked her hand back in order to keep him from waking. She smiled
as he brushed his hand across his own face as if swatting a bug
aside while still in the throes of sleep. He rolled onto his back
with a groan and soon lapsed back into rhythmic sleep.

A sudden soft rapping upon their motel door
drew her attention. Her eyes widened in panic. A quick glance at
Evan told her that he was still sound asleep and hadn’t heard a
thing. Trembling, she rose and hesitantly approached the door.
Peering through the peephole, she saw a red-headed woman standing
outside. She immediately assumed that it was a motel
maid.

“What do you want?” she called, afraid to open
the door.

“Hi,” the woman breathed. “Is this Evan's
room?”

Jaime’s heart raced as she realized that it was
Evan's one night stand and she felt a sudden wave of disgust. “Why
do you want to know?” she asked, feeling a tad
indignant.

“You're Evan's little sister, right?” the woman
inquired in a slightly patronizing voice. “I have something of his.
He left it in my room and I imagine he'd want it back.”

“What is it?”

“Open the door and I'll give it to
you.”

She chewed upon her lower lip, unsure as to
whether she could trust the woman or not.

“Hurry,” the woman urged, sounding a little
impatient.

She finally gave in and opened the door just a
crack. The woman was quite pretty, Jaime admitted to herself. Was
that the sort of person she had to be to entice her kidnapper?
Within the woman’s hands lay a small, wrapped parcel.

“I don't feel comfortable having this in my
room.” She held the item out to Jaime, forcing her to take
it.

She accepted it and realized what it was that
she held. Evan's gun and holster was hidden by the small blanket.
She nodded her thanks to the woman and proceeded to close the door,
but the sound of the woman’s voice stopped her from doing
so.

“
If you're Evan's sister, how come
you don't have a British accent too?” she asked, a look of wonder
stamped across her face.

Jaime gulped nervously. With a sudden burst of
inspiration, she decided to turn the tables on her 'big brother'.
“He's not really British, either. He does that all the time. The
accent helps him pick up women.” She grinned broadly and promptly
swung the door closed.

Leaning against the closed door, she smiled at
her own cleverness. The moment was short-lived, however, as reality
came crashing back and reminded her of the situation at hand. She
marched toward Evan, staring down at him with both anger and
disgust as he lay there sprawled upon his back, one arm hanging
over the side of the bed. None-too-gently, she dropped the package
upon his chest, causing him to cry out with surprise as he awoke
and bolted into a sitting position.

“That was pretty sloppy!” she stated, heavy
sarcasm coating her words.

Evan sat there in a wide-eyed and sleepy state,
staring at the gun and holster that now sat upon his lap with
confusion. He sensed the waves of anger that emanated from her, the
likes of which he had never felt before.

“What the hell?” he mumbled, rubbing his bleary
eyes with the backs of his hands.

“You're a pretty shoddy criminal if you ask me!
You left your weapon with your one night stand. It's a good thing
she was honest and brought it back to you.”

He rubbed his aching head and grasped the gun,
completely at a loss for words. Jaime felt very prevailing and in
command of the situation. It was a great feeling for her. Yet she
also knew she couldn't overdo it. Instead, she would enjoy her
momentary burst of control.

Gathering a hold of his senses, Evan replied,
“You're still here.”

“Where am I gonna go?” she quipped, grabbing
her clothes and heading for the bathroom.

Evan clutched his pounding head as he watched
her disappear and managed a smile.
Exactly,
he thought.
Where was she going to go?

***

A thick silence descended between them as they
sat across from one another at the restaurant nearby. They picked
at their breakfasts, both unwilling to be the first one to speak.
Evan nervously surveyed his surroundings, hoping that Emily wasn't
around.

Jaime, on the other hand, concentrated on the
plate in front of her, eating little as she avoided eye contact
with him. Time passed without a single word spoken between them.
Frustrated, Evan attempted to elicit some sort of reaction from
her.

“Talk to me,” he said with
exasperation.

Jaime looked up from her plate, sadness
flashing within her eyes. A slight sheen of moisture brightened
them as tears rose to the surface. She shook her head at him and
whispered softly, “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“It's obvious you're upset with me.”

“We have no ties to each other, Evan. Why on
earth would I be upset with you?” she spat, her voice
bitter.

Evan sighed. “I know you're angry with me for
going out last night and having a shag, but . . .” He tried to make
his words sound as delicate as possible. “You need to understand .
. .”

“I don't need to understand you at
all!”

It was then that he knew exactly what was going
on inside of her head. She was embarrassed about his rejection of
her the previous night and she was employing the defense mechanism
of suddenly pretending to despise him. He knew deep down that she
didn't, but part of her desperately wanted him to believe that she
did.

“Never-the-less, I'm still sorry.”

“I'm not mad at you for having a . . . whatever
you called it,” she insisted softly. “It bothers me that you left
me all alone. I was scared!”

“I'm sorry.”

A fresh wave of tears threatened to fall, but
she held them back. “I wanted to leave. I even debated it within my
head if I should or not. I thought about where I would go, how I
would call my uncle and what I would tell him. But you know what? I
didn't do any of it. I was too frightened to even leave the
room!”

“I'm sorry, Jaime!” he breathed. “What do you
want me to do? Get down on my hands and knees and beg for your
forgiveness? Do you want me to offer you diamonds and . . . and
fuckin' roses or something to make it up to you? Seriously, what do
you want from me?”

She covered her mouth as her tears spilled down
her cheeks because of his angry outburst. “I want to go home!” she
proclaimed.

She realized that she was beginning to push his
buttons, but she didn't care anymore. Despite the fact that he had
sworn to her that he wasn't a killer, it was a possibility that he
had fabricated that lie to appease her in hopes of making her more
comfortable with him so that he could strike without warning.
Perhaps if she got him angry enough, he’d retaliate against her
somehow. Still, she didn't care.

He took a deep breath in hopes of calming his
own anger. He nervously looked about, worried that the few patrons
in the restaurant had heard her outburst. Part of him wondered if
anyone was aware of the fact that she was a kidnap
victim.

“I'll find the nearest airport,” he said,
moments later. “And I'll put you on a plane to Philadelphia. How
does that sound?”

“Fine!” she grated. “And when I get home, I'll
tell the police all about you!”

She was no longer fearful of him, uncaring as
to what he had in store for her. She felt emboldened by what she
was doing, unaware of the fact that it was her way of coping with
his rejection of her. He, on the other hand, knew exactly what she
was experiencing, then and there.