Blyssfully Undone: The Blyss Trilogy - book 3 (16 page)

My God, he’s a sex trafficker!
His touch on my shoulders becomes too much. I jerk myself away from his hold and scoot back in the bed until my back hits the headboard. Terror stricken, I need to get away from him. Travis reaches out for me, and I hold my hands out to stop him. “Don’t…don’t touch me. I can’t…I can’t do this right now.” My heart hammers in my chest. Pain…I feel so much pain.

“You’re not thinking straight right now, baby.” The look on his face turns worried, his voice tender and soft. “I think it’s time we discuss the big elephant in the room.”

“Which elephant, Travis? Are you referring to my state of captivity, or the fact I had to shoot and kill a human being in the last forty-eight hours?” I bite out.

His lips thin and he ignores the captive remark. He takes a deep breath before letting out a dramatic sigh, as if the world is weighing heavy on his shoulders. His eyes plead with mine. “I need you to trust me. There are things I want to tell you, but I can’t right now.” He waves his hand between our bodies as he continues his petition. “We need to get our relationship back on track.”

“Relationship? Are you delusional?” I bark. “All I’ve done is take leaps of faith with you, trust you, but each leap is lined with deception, and each lie is delivered with a stone wall face. I can never tell what’s real with you. What are you trying to say, Travis? Because there is no black or white with you. You only live in shades of grey.”

His eyes close briefly in defeat before he answers me. “I can’t expect you to understand any of this, Julianna.” He reaches out and gently places his hand over my chest, supporting the weight of my medallion in his hand. His green eyes bore into mine, piercing me deep within my soul. “I’m begging you to keep trusting in me, because the less you know, the more preserved your life will be. I swear to you, I have your best interests at heart. What we have, Jules, it’s real.”

I shake my head. “You’re trying to confuse me. You’re so good at manipulation I don’t know which end is up.”

“Tell me something.” He pauses to study me. “In our most intimate moments, tell me you didn’t feel the same spark of soul-connecting electricity as me. Tell me you felt the very same connection with Adam. I want to hear you say he made your heart race ten times more when he kissed you. I want you to tell me you wished he were your next breath to breathe at the mere sight of him. Tell me I’m lying about that, Jules.”

It’s a sight to watch this grown man soften his felonious eyes as he pleads with me. He’s twisting my heart all around, making an unsolvable puzzle in his wake. When I don’t answer, he leans in nose-to-nose, daring me to deny his claims as he hisses through clenched teeth, “Tell me, dammit! Tell me I’m wrong.”

I’m taken aback by the ferocity in his voice, and my stomach twists with angst. “I can’t do this. I just can’t. I can’t just jump in with both feet, Travis,” I hoarsely whisper as a lone teardrop leaks out of the corner of my eye. “I don’t know what awaits in your murky pool of lies, and I can’t see through the hordes of piranhas swimming around you, ready to eat me alive.” Another teardrop slips, and my eyes become blurry. “I had a life, you know,” I cry through clenched teeth. “I had a fiancé, and God knows what he’s going through right now. You just can’t erase my past like this, and then expect me to fall in line with a compliant smile on my face.”

I suck in a ragged breath, tears clogging my throat, both pain and frustration taking over my emotions. “You’re telling me my previous life as I once knew it is now over. You’re saying I have to stay with you, because you’re
protecting me,
but yet you won’t tell me why. You’re sugarcoating reality, and the actual reality is you’re holding me captive.” A pained cry leaves my lungs as I pound on his chest with my fists. “Everything is wrong with this picture, Travis! Everything.”

I slide my body to the side of his, trying to get away from him. I need some breathing room. He grabs my elbow to stop me, but I yank my arm out of his grasp and glare at him through watery eyes. “Don’t,” I hoarsely warn. The crushing weight of the combined stressors is too much to for me to handle. Anger and pain are thick inside my chest like the viscosity of saltwater taffy, causing me to gasp for air. “Just let me be.”

His eyes convey hurt, but I refuse to look at him anymore and have him affect me. I quickly slip off the bed and stop to grab a few clothes from the tipped over laundry basket. With my hands full, I make my way to the bathroom, and then lock the door behind me. I grab onto the sink’s countertop and close my eyes, stealing a deep, shaky breath. I notice my hands are trembling. I think I’m on the verge of a nervous breakdown. For all I know, maybe I’m having one now. A few more silent tears spill over my cheeks. My insides are torn to shreds.

Insanity hangs in the balance by a mere thread. The only thing keeping me from entering no man’s land is a tiny glimmer of hope. I have to keep the faith I will see my dad and Jake again, the only family and unconditional love I have left. I quickly slip on a t-shirt and panties. A firm knock sounds on the wooden door and it startles me. There is nothing he can do or say to ease my pain.

“Jules, open the door. You’re in distress, and I can’t have you shutting down on me,” he orders with a stern voice. “The things you’ve been through over the last forty-eight hours,” he pauses, and then softens his voice, “well…you really shouldn’t be alone and upset like this. I’m concerned, baby.”

Concerned?
If he were concerned for me, he’d let me call home. Anger bubbles up from the pit of my stomach, and I’m glad for it. I’d rather pour my energy into anger than spend the time in a mess of self-pity, so I snap.

My lungs explode with vehement sarcasm, “What’s the matter, Travis? Did you run out of Blyss, or do you have a dose waiting for me if I open the door?”

A loud boom crashes into the wall on the other side of the door, and I jump back. Startled, my heart leaps into my throat. By the sound of it, Travis has punched a hole in the wall. I know what I said was a low blow, but I don’t care; he asked for it.

“Open the goddamn door, now!” he roars as he pounds on the door with a heavy fist. My eyes bolt open wide in alarm. He’s so enraged his voice and actions scare me. I back up a few feet, wondering if he’s going to bust down the door.
Has he gone crazy?
Why would I want to open the door to a raging lunatic who’s seeing nothing but red?

It sounds as if a herd of cattle are barreling into the bedroom, and then the next thing I hear is Stryker’s voice bellowing out, “What the fuck, man?”

“Get the fuck out, Stryker. This isn’t your battle,” Travis yells back.

Then I hear Quinn jump into the mix with his deep baritone voice. “You need to back off a minute and chill.”

“You don’t tell me what to do…” His voice is cut off as I hear a rustle ensue outside the door. Then Quinn’s voice emits an ominous tone full of such vexation it scares the crap out of me. “I said to back the fuck off, Travis. If you don’t, I’ll throw you in a set of handcuffs ’til you settle your ass down.”

I press the palm of my hand against my pounding heart. Quinn’s threatening tone would have me opening the door if he told me to, because I’d hate to know what he’d do if I didn’t. Thank God he’s on my side right now, providing me with a little distance from Travis.

Some very colorful words are exchanged, but the end result is a tremendously mad Travis slamming the bedroom door behind him, and then I’m left in ear-ringing silence.
Well, that was exciting.
I slide my body down to the floor, the cold tiles giving me a slight chill. I rest my head against the wall and close my eyes.

It’s times like this I wish I had some music to escape into. I would especially love a set of noise-canceling headphones right now. There is only one band in particular that can always be counted upon to soothe my soul, no matter the mood or circumstance I find myself in. I know Def Leppard doesn’t sound soothing or consoling to many people, especially in this type of adversity, but their music has always been able to reach me, providing an inner clarity like no other.

I close my eyes and imagine the band on stage, with the bright lights shining overhead as the crowd roars for another song. The music starts, and I hum along with the tune. I have every single beat memorized in my head, both forward and backward to my favorite song, “Hysteri
a”.

I’m imagining I’m the set of drums…no, not the drummer, but the drums themselves. I’m the Tom-Toms, the snare, the bass, and the cymbals all in one as I feel every beat of percussion vibrate through me. Totally immersed now, the calm beat and cadence envelops me, and I can breathe a little easier now. The feeling I get with music has to be equivalent to an alcoholic getting his first drink of the day; it’s indescribable.

Travis’ loud, thunderous voice suddenly erupts through every wall in the house as he yells at the top of his lungs, and then another door slams with a thunderous crash. My eyes pop open with alarm, and the trance I put myself in is gone.

His rage echoes through the bathroom, bouncing off the walls, and I can’t take it. I press my fingers into my ears, trying to drown out the shouting. I begin to hum again while methodically rocking back and forth, trying to calm my frayed nerves.

After a few minutes, I remove my fingers and find all is quiet and calm for the moment. Knowing the bedroom is empty, curiosity gets the better of me. I soundlessly open the bathroom door and hear Travis’ deep voice filtering through the wall of the next room. Carefully, I creep to the other side of the room that’s adjacent to mine and press my ear to the cool drywall to eavesdrop.

“Give her some breathing room, Trav,” Stryker tries to reason. It’s amazing to me how many hats Stryker wears as he seamlessly and effortlessly adapts to each situation he finds himself in. He goes from a hard-ass gun-toter, psychologist, happy-go-lucky surfer dude, to an all-business, hard-edged medic on the front lines.

“She’s in a fuckload of emotional distress right now,” he calmly states, and then suddenly raises his voice, startling me. “Back the fuck off. She just got her memory back, killed a man, watched a couple more drop before her very eyes, and she’s still in your possession—by force, I might add. How the hell is she supposed to digest all that in two days?”

“She should know...”

Stryker interrupts him with a loud scoff. “You’re such a self-centered dick sometimes, Travis. Can’t you push aside your needs for one minute, and put yourself in her shoes?” His voice goes from displeasure to heated hostility. “Did you even stop to think how you’ve not only put her in eminent danger, but all of us too by letting your foolish heart get in the way? You decided what was best for you. You didn’t even consider us. You’re in the fucking slave trade business for God’s sake!” he roars. “And you’re not helping matters by scaring the shit out of her and punching holes in the wall.”

I surmised they all knew what Travis did, but to hear Stryker verbally confirm it has me going numb on the inside. It leads me to believe they all support his lifestyle then. Maybe Stryker and the others are involved too. A cold shiver runs down my spine. Who knows? They could’ve been the actual men who took me that fateful night. Everything was such a blur, it was dark to boot, and then they promptly knocked me out.

Travis’ voice lowers to a mumble, and I can’t make out what he’s saying. I give up pressing my ear to the wall and lower my head into my hands. I have no one to turn to at this point, and I really need someone to talk to. Better yet, I should find a way to escape, and for some stupid reason, a large part of me doesn’t want to. The thought of leaving Travis twists my heart like a wrung out rag. I shake my head at myself. I’m sure I have Stockholm Syndrome now, and I seriously think I need professional help.

My mind is like a piece of unclaimed luggage, thoughts endlessly cycling the same route on a conveyor belt, taking the same path over and over again. I have never in all my life been faced with such an odd internal struggle of this magnitude before.

I’m sure if I could separate myself from this entire situation, I could process and sort my mind out. The thought of being in my dad’s and Jake’s arms again makes my heart speed up with anticipation. It’s been too long. I miss my family, my home, and my simple little life. If I can get out of here, I know they can protect me from Nick and his men. I’m more than certain once I’m surrounded by my dad’s army of men I’ll be guarded better than the Queen of England, and then I can call Adam once I know I’m safe. The prospect of being able to obtain my freedom gives me a sense of renewed hope.

Morning sunlight streams into the room, and judging from the brightness, I’m guessing it’s close to ten in the morning. I glance at the alarm clock on the nightstand, and sure enough, it’s a little after ten. I must’ve slept hard last night, because the last thing I remember was being curled up in the fetal position crying my eyes out; the emotional exhaustion wiped me out.

Loneliness fills me up inside seeing his empty side of the bed. I had locked Travis out of the bedroom for the entire night, and he wasn’t happy about it. I wasn’t happy about it either, but I felt like I needed the space. Unfortunately, I’m left just as confused this morning about my feelings as I was last night.