An Unknown Place
Authors: Felicite Lilly
AN UNKNOWN PLACE
Felicite D. Lilly
A Standalone Romance
This book contains some serious content. Not recommended for ages under seventeen.
Copyright © 2016 by Felicite D. Lilly
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact Felicite Lilly directly through the copyright office or
[email protected]
.
First Edition February 2016
Synopsis:
Mackayla Montgomery has built walls so high she can't see the outside world anymore. Kellan Freemont is a man on a mission to keep everyone at arm’s length. But when the two collide in an unexpected meeting, their worlds intertwine and build together in a way they never saw coming. Will their past history catch up to them and wreck their fragile relationship? Or will their past push them together?
Kellan
"Flight 563 is now boarding. All passengers, all zones now boarding." The voice of the airline desk attendant pounded its way, ungracefully, through the domed terminal. I was hung over and wanted to plug my ears. I didn’t want to hear any more voices booming through any more speakers. I'd already maxed out on pain killers and taken five Ibuprofen.
This was my own person hell: stuck in an airport listening to peppy voices on loud speakers. I straightened my sunglasses, even though it was dark out, close to eight, and I was ready to board the plane. An arm snaked around my middle and I decided that if I had a personal hell, Denise would definitely be there. Why had I brought her to Vegas with me?
"You ready baby? I brought you some water." Her annoyingly nice-fake voice ate at my nerves.
"I'm good. I just want to pass out on the plane."
"Seriously, you'll feel better," She said as she pushed the water under my nose. Her annoying level rose exponentially every second she stood in front of me. I took a drink just to get her to close that skilled mouth of hers.
The woman was possessive, as I’d found out on the trip. I had brought her because we’d been out a few times and she hadn't completely made me want to clam-up and run away. She was taller than most women, curvy, blonde hair that was made for pulling, and a seductive look on her face that, normally, made my pants tent. I thought it would be fun. I was wrong. That should be written down somewhere. I’m not one to admit when I’m wrong often.
While we had partied in the Ghost Bar at the Palms she went jealous girlfriend on me. Which I had told her she was not. When I asked her to come on the trip, I had made it very clear we were just friends having a little fun. I always made sure those lines were clear. In this situation they were apparently not clear enough.
I leaned over at the Ghost Bar to tell the bartender, an attractive brunette, what I wanted to drink. She had flirted a little, which every bartender did for tips. Even the male ones. I had missed the blonde attitude-filled woman I had brought to Vegas standing behind me and watching. She proceeded to degrade the bartender and me in front of everyone standing in the bar.
After the initial shock of the fact she thought she could talk down to me, let alone in front of anyone, wore off I took her back to the bathrooms, pushed her against the wall and told her if she ever did that again I would leave her where she stood. She then proceeded to apologize by getting on her knees. I hated her attitude but I loved her mouth. So, naturally, I let her apologize. After that, the fun was pretty much over for me. I was ready to get back to Maryland and booked our flights home a day early.
"Go ahead and get on. I'm going to hit the head." I turned around, not even looking to see if she got on the plane.
I made my way to the closest bar in the terminal. I'd catch the next flight.
Kellan
I raised my hand to waive down the bartender. At least, I tried to. My hand was suddenly very heavy. I tried to lift it again and couldn't get it more than an inch off the bar. I tried to focus on anyone or anything around me. I could see the blurry face of the bartender. She was a short wisp of a thing, with long brown hair and a breath-taking face. I tried to focus on her face, but my vision dimmed further. I could see the fear in her eyes and was completely caught off guard as I lost sight of her and hit the ground hard on my back and head. I saw her momentarily again, unable to move a muscle, slurring my words together like I was drunk as a skunk. I closed my eyes to calm my nerves. Had I drank?
I opened my eyes again and found myself in the back of an ambulance with that same good looking bartender sitting next to me. My vision had cleared and I could see more clearly now just how gorgeous she was.
"He's coming around," The paramedic said. She was a good looking African American woman. I wondered if her and the bartender would be interested in a threesome. I was having visions of them making out.
“Well, that was weird," I said. I felt like a fish out of water.
"It happens a lot in Vegas. More than people think," The paramedic said. And then I was confused as to if we were talking about my fantasy or the fact I had passed out.
"What do you mean?"
"Handsome, you were roofied. It was the common one: Rohypnol. It must've been a lot to take a man your size down, though."
"It wasn't me. I swear." I looked over to find the little bartender, holding my hand. Why would she get so defensive? I hadn't even had a drink at her bar.
"I didn't drink..." I let my thought trail off as I remembered the last drink I had.
The water the horrible blonde I had brought on the trip had basically forced down my throat while we were waiting to get on the plane. She had to have been the one to drug me. What did she expect to get from me while I was passed out on the plane? My wallet? She could've done that in the room, not that I had left her alone with my wallet at any point. I was wealthy and came from a well-known family. It made me a target, but I never thought it would make me susceptible to being drugged. I thought that only happened to girls who partied with asshole frat boys. Jesus.
"I can’t believe this." I stared at the ceiling, embarrassed a money-grubber had gotten one over on me.
"Do you know who drugged you?" The paramedic said with a sass I hadn't heard from her yet. I liked her even more.
"Yeah." I finally looked at the bartender, squeezed her hand and smiled. "I'm an idiot huh?" But as I smiled and the paramedic laughed, the bartender looked like she wanted to puke.
"You alright Mac?" The paramedic asked the bartender, who I assumed was Mac.
"Yeah, of course. I'm fine." She shook her head a little bit and looked up at me. I could actually see the mask sliding over her features, and I commended her. Most women I ran across weren't able to control their emotions like that. I nodded slightly and she did the same.
"Alright doll, we're here. You’ll probably have to stay overnight for observation," The paramedic said to me.
"Nice. I could use a sponge bath," I said, trying to play off the whole interaction with a joke.
I was pretty good at that – lightening a serious subject with a well placed joke. And then my ears picked up the most musical sound I had ever heard. Mac laughed. I stared at her as they pulled me off the ambulance. I felt desperate to hear her laugh again. It was one of the strangest feelings I'd ever had: desperation.
"You aren't going to hold my hand anymore? I need support," I said to Mac. It was my lame attempt to keep her with me.
"I think you'll be okay…mister...I don't know your name."
"Come see me tomorrow and I'll give it to you."
I saw the conflict on her face. I got it, I was a weirdo trying to get a cute girl to come see me in the hospital. But what did she want from me? I was still just a man. I had to try. Although the old me wouldn't have cared. What the hell did those drugs do to me?
"We'll see. Maybe if you're lucky."
I was really hoping my luck was going to change. With the way things had gone, it wasn’t looking good.
Mac
The poor guy had been out of it for over an hour before Camille, Cam for short, was able to get him into the back of the ambulance and hydrated. I felt a pang of sympathy for him.
As I watched Cam and Steve wheel the gurney into the ER, I felt relieved. Am I an idiot for feeling relieved that I didn't have to be around the hot man hitting on me? Maybe. But I knew myself well enough to know that no matter how good looking a face is, it means nothing to what lies underneath.
I was still in shock that he had been roofied. No one had been roofied in my airport bar the entire time I had worked there. Heart attack? Yes. Alcohol poisoning? Yes. Overdose of Heroin? Yes. I worked in Vegas, I saw a lot. But working in the airport kept me from having regulars at my bar. Which I preferred. No one got close and I could exist in my own world as people came and went. I had only repetitively seen a couple business men a few times over the last year, but that was it.
The guy they had just wheeled in the door hit close to home. But, he had been in the bar by himself and I knew how scary it could be to wake up by yourself, not knowing what happened. I had gone with him for that reason. I didn't want him to have to be alone. I was glad it had been my friend Cam who had come to pick him up.
I met Cam the first time we had to call 911 to the bar. She had shown up, and the guy who had a heart attack in the bar had survived because of her. I knew a person who saved peoples’ lives had to be a good person. Turned out she didn't take shit from anyone and was fiercely loyal to her friends, too. I was lucky to have her. I didn't befriend people easily. I had lost too many people in my life to let just anyone in. Hence, the reason I didn't date, either.
The last guy I had dated raped me. He was a cop. I thought I could trust him and he had held me down and taken what trust I had. As I tried to fend him off, he beat the fight out of me until I blacked out. When I woke up with a mouthful of blood, my eyes almost completely swollen shut and a soreness between my legs that hadn't been there before, I had given up on peace or happiness. I hadn't called anyone to help me heal. I decided to move somewhere that I wouldn’t be noticed and could live my life quietly and cheaply. I’d packed up all of my things, moved to Vegas and healed on my own – well tried to. It was debatable how much I had really healed. But I had friends. It was more than I had ever allowed myself before.
I’d kept to myself for a long time anyway, so there was little difference.
I minded my own business.