Shame (Ruin #3) (28 page)

“Jack, you’re scaring me.” I fumbled with my phone, trying to unlock it so I could call 911. “Are you okay?” Keep him talking; keep him from doing something crazy.

“I’m scaring you?” He laughed. “Oh, that’s right, coming from the girl who ruined my life… coming from the girl who took a video of a fifteen-year-old boy getting rejected in front of a hot model… pants wrapped around his ankles… looking all kinds of aroused for all the world to see. Do you remember? Well, do you? Or how about the second video? You know, the one that was posted of me in the bathroom? I’m sure that should jolt something.”

The phone dropped out of my hands.

“Oh, so she remembers. He asked you to do it… to put me up on the website, but what’s so funny is I know something you don’t know. I know so much and your time… is up.”

“You?” I sputtered. “You’ve been sending the notes? Breaking into my apartment?”

“Let’s go for a ride.” He stood and held out his hand.

“No.” I shook my head.

He showed me the blade of a knife. “Well, hell, this wasn’t in the plan, but I don’t give a rat’s ass anymore. You scream, and I move so fast that you don’t even feel the pain as I slice your throat open. Get up.”

I stood, gripping my phone in my hand as I frantically looked for help. I made eye contact with several people, but they looked away.

“Let’s go.” Jack hit my butt. I scurried away, but he gripped my arm and led me out the door. “I’ve studied you… like a book. I know everything about you, and the thing is… I was totally sane until you ruined me… and slowly it turned into an obsession  finding you, destroying you.”

He led me to a brand new blue Mustang. “Get in.”

“Jack,” I tried, using a calming voice. “Whatever I did, I’m sorry. It was so long ago and—”

He slapped me hard across the face. How did nobody notice? Why didn’t anyone come to my rescue? I vaguely recalled a social experiment where a woman was screaming
rape
in the street, and no one had helped; it wasn’t until she said
fire
that they’d come running.

I opened my mouth to do just that when he covered it with his hand. “I don’t think so.” The knife touched my throat. “Now, we do this the easy way or the hard way…”

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

Terror is something a person experiences when fear is long gone, and in its place is nothing but the evidence that you aren’t going to make it out alive. —
Lisa

Tristan

T
HE MEETING WAS
going too long. I was fidgety, and my phone kept buzzing. Finally I held up my hand. “One minute.”

The dean looked ready to swallow his tongue.

“Gabe, sorry I’m in—”

“It’s Jack, one of your students!” Gabe’s yell split my eardrum, and I winced away from the phone. “He owns the damn website!”

“Shit!”

“Where’s Lisa?”

“Starbucks. I left her there, since there’s a crowd.”

Gabe swore. “Wes was closer to campus. He’s about a minute away. I’m on my way too.”

I hung up and started walking out of the room.

“We aren’t finished,” the Dean barked after me.

“I quit. My family still donates money. We’re finished.” Leaving him with his jaw dragging on the floor, I sprinted from the room and raced down the hallway. In the parking lot, I jumped into my car and prayed that Jack hadn’t figured out where Lisa was hiding in plain sight. Hopefully, he’d go back to the apartment.

Hopefully, I wasn’t too late.

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

Sometimes you spend your whole life being a victim — until you decide you want to be a survivor. —
Lisa

Lisa

“
J
ACK!”
I
PUSHED
against him. He was too strong to move very far, but I knew if I got in that car, I was dead. He’d kill me. He was crazy, not thinking straight. And something else was very, very wrong.

I squinted. His eyes were wild like pinpoints, like he was high on something.

“Jack…” Tears clogged in my throat. “…did you take something?”

“To make me feel better after you chose
him
over me? Hell, yeah, I did!”

The knife dug deeper, raising a stinging sensation. I wasn’t sure, but that wet sensation trickling down my neck might have been blood.

“And I feel great. Now I know what I have to do. I’m sorry. If you had just listened to me, let me save you… I could have saved you!”

“So save me now,” I said, trying to fight crazy with crazy. “Don’t hurt me. Save me now.”

“I can’t have you,” he whimpered. “He promised I could. He promised me!”

“Who? Who promised!”

“
He
did!” Jack yelled. “You promised! You promised!” The knife moved away from my neck as Jack stepped back, tears streaming down his face. “All I ever wanted was you.” He looked at me, his face twisted in rage. “And now you’re going to—”

In a blur, Jack was on the ground. Wes was on top of him, beating the crap out of his face. I didn’t pull Wes away, just watched as blood splattered everywhere. Another car pulled up. Gabe jumped out and pulled Wes off Jack, just in time for arms to brace me came from behind.

I screamed and jerked against the arms.

They tightened. “Shh… sweetheart, it’s me, it’s me. You’re going to be okay. It’s just me.”

I turned into Tristan’s embrace and sobbed.

The next hour moved by in a blur as we all gave our accounts of what had happened to both the campus security and the police department. Jack had had no record, no history of violence or psychological issues. It was just like… he’d snapped.

The year before, he’d been on the dean’s list.

The guy wasn’t the typical guy to go on a killing rampage. Nothing made sense, but Tristan said that those cases rarely did — that it’s people you least suspect.

We learned that Jack didn’t even work at the pizza place. All in all, two of the workers had been beaten senseless each time we’d ordered. Each delivery he’d used as a time to try to gain access into my room, but because Tristan had been there, he hadn’t been able to get past the door.

“You okay?” Tristan whispered into my hair once we were back at my room.

I was packing up another bag to take to his house. Shrugging, I shook my head. “It just doesn’t make sense.”

A soft knock on the door made me jump.

Tristan left me with a steadying pat and walked across the room and opened it. Gabe came through, followed closely by Wes, both of their expressions grim.

Wes spoke first. “They searched Jack’s room and found this.”

He threw a worn leather journal onto the table.

I gasped. “That’s… how did he get the journal?”

“He didn’t.” Tristan looked at the journal, his face pale. “There’s no way he got into my house. The security is too good. Besides, Taylor… he wrote about making more than one copy. I just didn’t know it was Jack who had it all along.”

A tingling chill worked its way into my knees, weakening them. I slumped onto the couch. “He knew everything about me… why? Why would he do that? He kept saying he wanted to save me. From what?”

Tristan put his arm around me. “Maybe himself? Who knows, Lisa? He was bat-shit crazy.”

“Yeah.” The knot in my stomach tightened. We were missing something. We had to be missing something. It just… it didn’t make sense. I mean, who spent half their life going after someone only to change their plans? I shivered.

“You guys ready?” Wes asked. “The car’s downstairs.”

“Yeah,” I whispered and took Tristan’s hand. “We’re ready.”

****

The week flew by. The story, unfortunately, had leaked to the media, but by the time it had, the videos weren’t of me and Tristan naked, just kissing. The damning one of me and Taylor had been taken off the website. I didn’t ask him if his father was pissed, because I knew that was probably a very firm yes. But Tristan didn’t seem to care.

If anything, he seemed happier that his dad knew what was going on… like he was finally able to be himself. I spent every night at his house — I’d never felt safer.

But something was still bothering me about the whole situation. I couldn’t explain it or put my finger on it. I stopped bringing it up whenever Tristan gave me the impression he was worried about me. He’d give me that look like he knew I was thinking too hard, and I’d flash a smile and pat his hand like nothing was wrong. But something was very wrong. I’d thought Jack was a friend, but clearly he’d been watching me the whole time; yet he kept hinting that he was protecting me from something. I mean, why tell me to move and then attack me that very next day? Things didn’t make sense, and when I broached the subject with Tristan one night, he said that crazy didn’t ever make sense and left it at that. I could tell that talking about it bothered him just as much as it bothered me, and maybe I would never have the answers or closure I needed.

I still hadn’t kissed Tristan since the incident. I couldn’t. I felt dirty… but more than that, I felt like if I did, I wouldn’t be able to stop, and I didn’t want my first time with him to be something I did to take away the fear or the pain. I wanted it to be something we shared because we loved each other. I had too many demons and ghosts haunting me. I knew it would turn into something different, and my heart couldn’t handle that possibility.

Tristan was a perfect gentleman. He cooked for me, made me laugh. We watched movies… I mean, it was like living with the perfect man. Except at night, I still had bad dreams. Tristan said I should talk to someone, but I wasn’t sure I was ready for that.

On Friday, I finally returned to class.

When I walked into Tristan’s old classroom, another teacher stood behind the desk. It felt… wrong to have someone take his place. I kept my eyes averted the whole class period.

“Lisa?” the professor asked at the end of class. “I have a new partner for your end-of-the-semester project. He wasn’t able to make it to class today, but he did send me an email and say he’s available to meet you at Starbucks before your next class. He wanted to at least introduce himself.”

“Right.” Starbucks. The bane of my existence.

“Remember, Lisa, your grade depends on this.”

“Starbucks, it is,” I said, mumbling
“bastard”
under my breath. Since it was Friday, I had around an hour before my next class. I hightailed it to Starbucks and shivered as memories of the incident washed over me.

“Cold?” a voice said from behind me.

I jumped about a foot.

“Didn’t mean to scare you.” The voice was so smooth… so familiar.

I turned around, ready to offer an apology and a polite smile. I lifted my head, and the smile froze on my face.

“Or maybe…” He leaned in. “…that’s exactly what I meant to do.”

“Taylor.” I couldn’t breathe.

“Miss me?”

CHAPTER FIFTY

It always comes full circle — life. The choices you make, even the ones you don’t make on purpose. They always come back to haunt you. They always come back. —
Lisa

Tristan

“
S
HE’S NOT ANSWERING
her phone,” I barked into the receiver while Gabe swore on the other end.

“She could be in class,” he said in a hopeful voice.

Urgent rapping on the door sent a blast of relief through me. It must be Lisa; she could have forgotten her key. I quickly ran to the door and jerked it open.

“Dad?”

“Son…” He shook his head. “I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry.”

He collapsed into a fit of tears, holding on to me like I was his lifeline.

“Dad, what—?”

Then I looked behind him.

Lisa was crying softly.

I reached out to her just as my dad stepped to the side, revealing a very pissed-off looking Taylor. He held a gun to her head, his eyes blazing with fury. I recognized that face; it was the same face in the picture, the same one that looked like it was hanging on by a thread.

In a cold detached voice he said, “Brother, we finally meet. Tell me, did you like the nighttime reading? I always thought it was kind of heavy stuff, but you never know, to each his own, I suppose. Oh, by the way, I hope it’s alright for us to come in.”

He stepped past me and my sobbing father and jerked Lisa toward the living room. She met my gaze briefly and then averted her eyes as she stumbled with Taylor.

I followed them but not before dialing Gabe’s number and leaving the phone on, my only prayer was that he’d still be available, that it wouldn’t go to voicemail — that he’d hear everything.

“Get ahold of yourself,” I snapped to my father, grabbing his arm. “What’s going on?”

“Well, damn!” Taylor shouted from the living room as I dragged my father with me. “This place sure is nice. Did Daddy buy it for you?”

“No!” I barked. “I bought it myself. How kind of you to ask.”

“So…” He released Lisa, throwing her onto the couch, then sat down across from us, scratching his head with the gun. “…tell me everything.”

“Everything?” I repeated, making my way toward Lisa. Her arms were wrapped around her middle as she rocked back and forth.

“No, no.” Taylor laughed. “I don’t think you get to touch her… that might make me angry, and you do
not
want to see me angry.”

I held my hands up and stepped back, while my dad sat on the couch near Lisa. His face was tortured, pulled tight. Swear, it looked like he was about ready to have a heart attack. Where the hell was his security detail?

“Was she good?” Taylor asked.

“What?” I snapped.

“In bed.” Taylor nodded encouragingly. “I remember some good moments, some not so good. Then again, when someone’s unconscious…” His voice trailed off as he winked at Lisa. “She liked it, though.”

Her entire body started convulsing as her face paled.

“So?” Taylor folded his arms, the gun resting against his shoulder.