Three Broken Promises (28 page)

My pen skids across the check I’m about to write at the staggering amount that just fell from his lips. I glance up at him. “Are you fucking serious?”

He nods, his expression miserable. “You’re going to think I’m a fucking fool, but I got some thugs breathing down my neck. Gambling debt I owe from way back. I gotta pay it by Monday and or I’m in deep shit.”

“Sounds like you’re already in deep shit,” I say, setting the pen down and leaning back in my chair. I run my fingers through my hair, clutching it tight for a moment before I release it. How does he always end up in these risky situations? He grew up spoiled and turned reckless at an early age. The man likes living on the edge. He always has. I had no idea he had a gambling problem, though. “Hell, I really don’t have that kind of money to spare.”

“Come on, Colin. I’d do it for you,” he pleads.

Ouch, thanks for the guilt. Love you too, Dad
. Not that I’d ever deny him, but hell. That’s a lot of money.

“Yeah, things might get a little tight for you for a bit, but you always bounce back. I know it. You’re a Wilder.” He grins, his over-bleached teeth seeming to glow. “We’re just alike. I know you’re raking it in here. And you have your new restaurant opening up soon. That’s going to be a huge success—I don’t doubt it for one minute.”

Shit.
I really do have that kind of money to loan him, but what he’s asking for is no loan. I’ll never get one dime of it back. “How about fifty,” I offer.

The unmistakable disappointment etched across his face isn’t easy to ignore. “I guess that’ll work. I’ll take what I can get. Maybe they’ll only break one of my legs instead of both.”

I write him a check for seventy-five, because I’m a sucker and he’s my dad. If he’s really involved with guys who’ll physically hurt him, I could never live with myself if they really did break his legs.

Tearing the check off, I hand it to him, then see his face go from disappointed to relieved in an instant. “Thanks, son. I’ll pay it back as soon as I can,” he says.

Sure he will
.

“I have to ask a favor from
you
, though,” I say as I watch him fold the check and put it in the pocket of his button-down shirt.

“Anything,” he says eagerly. “Whatever you need, I’m here for you.”

“I need you to help me locate Jen.” I ignore his flabbergasted look. “Use your wily ways and track her down. I know you can do it. You can dig up information on anyone and anything.”

“But I’m leaving in less than an hour,” he whines.

I silence him with a look. “You owe me. I’ll give you the other twenty-five if you find her.”

Ah, greed always talks when it comes to Con Wilder. It usually talks to me too, as loath as I am to admit it. “Well, now you’re talkin’.”

I barely restrain from rolling my eyes. “Find her in the next few hours and that twenty-five thousand is yours.” I can’t believe I’m essentially paying him to find Jen, but a desperate man falls to desperate measures.

And I am beyond desperate to find Jen.

Jen

The bus ride took a lot longer than I thought it would. It felt like we stopped in every single town along the way, which I really think we did. I was stuck on that gross, stinky, hot bus for so long, my phone battery died. Then I realized I’d forgotten to pack my charger. I bet it’s still plugged in at the kitchen counter in Colin’s house.

Talk about a bonehead move. Yet again, I don’t think things through.

Tired, frustrated, and hungry, I finally arrive at the bus station in Sacramento, thankful my new roommate, Angela, is kind enough to come pick me up. I pull my suitcase behind me, my giant purse filled with everything I couldn’t fit in my luggage slung over my arm, when I think I spot her.

Dread fills my gut the moment I see her face. She is the complete opposite of me. Short and curvy, with bright, bleached blond hair and a fake tan, she comes running over to me, a big smile curving her freshly pink-glossed lips.

“You’re Jennifer?” she asks, clapping her hands together like a seal.

Shit.
She is way too enthusiastic for her own good. “I am. You must be Angela.”

“It’s so good to finally meet you!” She wraps me in a bear hug, holding me so tight I’m afraid she might suffocate me. I carefully detach myself from her grip, offering her a faint smile in return for her giant grin. “Is that all your stuff? Wow, you pack light.”

“It’s everything I own,” I say, trying to joke but feeling sort of dumb.

“You don’t have a bed or any furniture?”

“Um . . .” My voice trails off and I clutch my purse even closer to my side. Colin made good on his promise and had brought home my final check the night before. Though I’d told him I didn’t want it, I took it anyway. Thank God. I need every single dollar I can get.

You’ll never make it on your own.

I ignore the rude voice in my head.

“Hey, I’ll take you the Goodwill tomorrow, or Target or Walmart. Wherever you want to go—we’ll find you something. You can sleep on the couch tonight. I’ll make sure and warn Roger you’re going to be there.” She giggles as we emerge outside into the parking lot of the bus station, the waning late afternoon sun warm on my skin.

“Who’s Roger?” I ask.

“My boyfriend, silly. He stays over a lot. I hope you don’t mind.” She tosses her hair over her shoulder. “He’s really nice. I’m sure you two will get along great.”

“No, of course I don’t mind. I bet he’s a great guy,” I say, not really meaning it. I mind like crazy. I had no idea I’d have to deal with a near live-in boyfriend. Just great.

“So hey! I worked earlier today and my boss said she’s looking to hire someone part-time at the store.” Her smile never, ever fades. I wonder if her cheeks hurt. “Would you be interested?”

“Absolutely,” I say, a hint of excitement filling me. I’m not as cheerful as Angela, but maybe if I hang out with her for a bit, my mood will brighten.

Maybe.

“We’ll stop by there tomorrow too, and you can fill out an application.” She stops at a candy-apple-red Volkswagen Bug, clapping her hands together again. Reminding me of an overenthusiastic little kid at her birthday party when she sees all her presents. “This is my car! Let’s get you loaded up.”

Oh. My. God
. I don’t know if I’ll be able to handle this chick. She’s obnoxious as hell and I have zero tolerance for any bimbos at the moment. Not that she’s a bimbo. I don’t know her at all, so I need to chill.

And I need to remember to be grateful. She came and picked me up from the bus station. I know that was a long drive from her apartment. She might have even found me a job. And she wants to help me find some furniture.

I think this has the potential to really work out. Maybe I can move on and truly forget my past once and for all. Start a new future and finally find that freedom I’ve been so desperately seeking . . .

Hours later, I’ve come to the conclusion that she never,
ever
stops talking, my new roommate. Angela ordered in Chinese for dinner, enough to feed an overindulging family of eight, and then her boyfriend showed up, all sullen and moody. With the typical boy band, swing-it-constantly-out-of-his-eyes sandy-brown hair and glittery golden eyes. He, on the other hand, doesn’t talk much at all, but I don’t like the way he looks at me.

It gives me the creeps.

Deciding to ignore him, I instead concentrate on Angela, who prattles on and on, telling me essentially her entire life story. I pretend that I’m listening. That I’m not nodding off in the middle of our conversation, trying my best to stay awake. Considering I’ve been up since before five a.m., I’m having a heck of a time.

“You’re tired,” Angela says with a sympathetic look. “Let’s get you a pillow and a blanket and you can crash out on the couch. Sounds good?”

“Yeah.” I nod gratefully, offering her a small smile. “Sounds awesome. I can barely keep my eyes open.”

“I’m boring you with my endless talking.” She flashes the creepy boyfriend a look. “Rodge says I talk too much.”

Rodge is one hundred percent correct, but I’m not about to validate anything he says. He gives me such a bad vibe I don’t know what to think about him. “I don’t mind,” I tell her, neither confirming nor denying her statement. “You’re so sweet to help me out. You don’t know how much this means to me.”

“You’re helping me out too, you know. I’ve had a hard time finding a roommate, and Rodge didn’t want to move in. Says I’ll try and take away his independence.” She sends him a withering stare. There’s unmistakable tension between these two and not the good kind. “I think we’re going to make a perfect match.”

I don’t know if I’d go that far, but I’m so damn grateful for her and everything she’s already done for me, I can only nod in agreement. “Yeah,” I say weakly, glaring at Roger when I catch him staring at me. Again. “We’re the perfect match.”

Chapter 23

Jen

“I need your forgiveness," he whispers in my ear. “I’ve hurt you and I’m sorry. I want you back in my life, Jenny. I need you.”

My heart expands, making my chest so tight I’m afraid it might burst. “I forgive you, Colin,” I say, throwing my arms around his warm, familiar body and hugging him tight. “Thank you for coming for me.”

“I can’t live without you. I couldn’t not come for you.” He holds me tight, his mouth pressed against my cheek in the sweetest of kisses. “I love you, Jen. So much I can hardly stand it.”

I burst out laughing. Only Colin would make love sound painful. But it’s a good kind of pain. One I revel in, especially when it comes from him. “I love you, too.”

He holds me tighter, his arms like bands around me, my face smothered against his chest. At first it’s comforting and I relax in his hold. But his arms squeeze me even tighter and I suddenly feel like I can’t breathe.

“Colin.” I try and push at his chest, but my arms are trapped in between our bodies. “Stop. Please. Let me go.”

“Just let me hold you,” he whispers, his voice sharp. Foreign. “That’s all I want. Just to hold you.”

I’m struggling now, trying to duck under and out of his arms, but it’s no use. I can’t break free. Panic fills me, threatens to bubble out of my throat, and I part my lips, ready to scream. He slaps his hand over my mouth, silencing me. He doesn’t smell like Colin. The scent of sweat and fear hits my nostrils and I grimace beneath his soft, damp palm.

“Shut up,” he hisses, his voice reminding me of the guy who stole my purse. My panic grows and I’m thrashing about in his restrictive arms, anything to get out of his grip.

But I can’t.

“Knock that shit off,” he continues, his hot, heavy breath in my face. I wrinkle my nose. This . . . isn’t Colin. My skin crawls when I feel this strange man’s hand skim down my back, cupping my butt and hauling me close to his unmistakable erection.

Oh, God. This stranger, this unknown man, is going to rape me.

“You know you want it. Just let it happen. It can be our little dirty secret.”

Dirty secrets. I have enough of those to last a lifetime. I definitely don’t need any more.

I open my eyes to discover my nightmare is a reality. And it’s not Colin holding me too tight with his strong arms, his hand still clamped against my mouth.

It’s Roger.

A muffled scream escapes me, and he thrusts his face in mine, his golden eyes blazing with unmistakable fury. “Shut the fuck up,” he mutters. “I know you want it. You were looking at me all night.”

He
was the one who looked at
me
, not that I’m able to tell him that. I can’t speak at all with his hand covering my mouth. My heart’s racing and I swear to God I’m going to have a panic attack if he doesn’t let me go. I struggle against him again, yelling the word
please
against his hand again and again.

His brows lower as he glares at me hard. “If I drop my hand, you promise not to scream?”

I nod furiously, willing to promise just about anything so I can breathe again. My muscles are tense, my body so rigid I’m afraid I might shatter.

Slowly he removes his hand from my face and I take a long, deep breath, exhaling through pursed lips. I’m shaking, trying my best to act like it’s no big deal that Roger is lying on top of me on his girlfriend’s couch. His hands are everywhere, his mouth pressed against my neck, and I press my lips together, breathing through my nose.

Oh God
, he really is going to rape me. All while his girlfriend is sleeping just a few feet away.

“You yell and I’ll tell Angie you asked for it. That you came on to me. She’ll believe me over you. She always does,” he threatens, his hand gripping my left breast so hard tears spring to my eyes. I’m going to have bruises from the rough way he’s touching me.

He’s disgusting, and clearly he’s done this sort of thing before. Poor Angela! She has a total douchebag for a boyfriend. A douchebag who’s going to force himself on me and there’s nothing I can do about it.

“Your tits are small.” He squeezes me again, then delves his hand beneath my T-shirt to touch my bare breasts. He pinches my nipple and I bite my lip at the intense pain that shoots through me. “I bet you’re a decent fuck, though. And those sexy lips would look real nice wrapped around my dick.”

I can’t take it. I can’t. Shutting my eyes against his words, I think of myself not so long ago, on my knees and with a stranger’s penis in my mouth. How my brain would shut down every time I did it, how I’d become numb to the men’s grunts and groans, to the way they touched me, their hands in my hair, their guttural voices encouraging me to suck harder, take it deeper.

Remembering when I snuck into Colin’s office and gave him a blow job. The first one that I actually enjoyed. How powerful I’d felt, how much pleasure it had given me to see the rapturous expression on his beautiful face, the sweet, sexy things he said to me. His fingers delving into my hair, lifting it away so he could watch.