With His Protection (For His Pleasure, Book 15) (3 page)

“He was calling with some fairly bad news.”

Scarlett wanted to run, to cover her ears.

Kallie continued. “The police found Trevor yesterday at an associate’s house in South Boston. Apparently he’d been hiding there since Terrence’s death.”

“Well that’s good news, isn’t it?” Scarlett said. “I mean, they caught him. He’s in police custody now.”

“Not really.” Kallie picked up her wine glass and quickly gulped down the rest of her wine, started pouring another glassful as she continued speaking. “They arrested him and they were preparing to arraign him this morning for assaulting me and other related charges. But it seems the District Attorney’s office decided not to press charges after all.”

“Why?” Scarlett asked, as a wave of terror and unreality flooded her body.

Kallie shrugged. “Detective Phillips had no answer. He said he was angry and nearly got into a fistfight with the prosecutor, but at the end of the day, they told him they didn’t have enough evidence to build a case. The Detective said it probably had more to do with the network of money and power that Trevor’s father had built up over the years, as well as an organization that’s still going strong. Terrence has tremendous political influence, even now that he’s dead.”

“That’s crazy,” Scarlett said. “That’s just wrong. I mean, you can still bring a case against Trevor, though, can’t you?”

“I can bring a civil case against him, but not a criminal case.”

“So you can sue him for money, but he won’t go to jail.”

Kallie shrugged. “I think that’s about the size of it.”

“That is so unfair. We need to do something about this. Can’t we call a reporter or something—can’t we tell someone?”

Kallie sat back. “I don’t really know,” she said, shaking her head slowly. “I need to tell Hunter about this.” She looked around the restaurant, her eyes suddenly wary, suspicious.

Of course, this caused Scarlett’s hair-trigger paranoia, and she also began scanning the room for signs of men with malicious intent. “We should probably get home,” Scarlett said. “I’m not feeling very safe in public anymore.”

Kallie signaled the waiter and quickly paid the check over Scarlett’s protests.

As they left the restaurant together, both of them had fallen silent. The celebratory feeling they’d shared was now completely gone, and it had been replaced by an air of doom and gloom. For the first time in a little while, they both knew that they had real reason to be afraid of the dark.

Once outside, Kallie turned to Scarlett with concern. “Maybe you should come home with me tonight,” she said.

“Because of Trevor?”

“Yes, because of Trevor. He’s completely free to go where he pleases, and Detective Phillips said that we should be very careful now—and he mentioned your name specifically.”

Scarlett shuddered involuntarily, and the cold gust of wind that blew around the corner of the building didn’t help her to stop shaking. “I know I need to be careful. And I do appreciate the offer,” she continued, “but I just don’t think it would be fair to impose on you and Hunter more than I already have.”

“I don’t consider it an imposition. I’m worried about you being alone right now.”

Maybe she’s right
.
Maybe I should just go with her and at least spend one night
at their house until I can figure out how much danger I’m in and what to do next.

But as the cab rolled up to the corner, Scarlett realized she simply didn’t feel comfortable spending the night with Hunter and Kallie. They were engaged and they’d been through so much together. As it was, Scarlett felt partially responsible for bringing Terrence and Trevor into their lives—and if Terrence’s crazy son was coming for her, she certainly didn’t want to lead him straight to Kallie’s home. It wasn’t right to put her safety above theirs.

“I’m sorry, Kallie. I can’t go with you. I hope you’re not upset with me,” she said, opening the door to the taxi for her.

“I’m not upset. I’m worried about you.” Kallie pulled her coat tighter around herself as another gust of wind blew across the street.

“I’ll be fine, I promise. Tomorrow I’ll try to figure out what to do next.”

Kallie looked at her a long while. “I really think you should come with me.”

“I just can’t right now.”

“Okay then,” Kallie sighed. “Stay safe. Keep in touch, all right?”

“I will.”

Kallie got into the back of the cab and a moment later she was gone. Scarlett looked up and down the street and another chill ran through her—cut through her thin coat and to her very bones.

I hope my pride isn’t going to be my downfall, she thought, and then started for home.

***

Scarlett arrived home safely after a tense, but ultimately uneventful trip. When she got into her own apartment and closed and locked the door, she felt better.

Everything was familiar, and she turned all the lights on and made sure to check through the rooms and closets.

It was as if the boogey man was real, and so checking all the nooks and crannies wasn’t some silly game anymore, but a meaningful activity that left her relieved. Trevor wasn’t here and he wouldn’t be getting inside tonight. If she heard any strange noises, she would call the police right away.

She undressed and washed her face, brushed her teeth. Occasionally, when she looked in the mirror, she had the gruesome fantasy of Trevor jumping out from behind the shower curtain with an enormous kitchen knife raised high above his head and a maniacal grin on his face.

She knew it wasn’t real because she’d already checked the tub (more than once, for good measure). But the image was disturbing, and it caused her to want to get out of the bathroom as quickly as possible.

After everything that had gone on that day, she didn’t feel ready to go to sleep just yet. The entire day had been so chaotic and strange and she was still trying to process all of it. She thought about how the day had begun, with Bryson’s betrayal, followed by her father’s ambush, and then the wonderful time spent with Kallie that was marred, in the end, by the discovery that Terrence’s son was loose and capable of anything.

Even though the apartment was plenty warm, a chill ran through her. She turned on the TV and the news was on. They were talking in-depth about the upcoming storm that was expected to land in just some hours, hitting most of the East Coast and pummeling the shoreline in particular.

Realizing she hadn’t checked her phone in some time, Scarlett grabbed her purse and picked up her cell. Surprisingly, it told her that she had three missed calls, a text, and a voicemail.

She imagined that they might be from Kallie, perhaps the detective, maybe even—gag—Lydia. But she didn’t allow herself to hope that Bryson might have tried to contact her.

However, when she checked, she saw that they were all from Bryson—and every single one of them had come within the last hour. The text had come in first. It read:
I just spoke with Hunter. Call me as soon as u can.

She sighed. Warmth flooded her body, and she fought back the feelings of hope and delight and relief that were coursing through her veins.

It isn’t real. He’s a bastard who hurt you and won’t stop hurting you.

Still, it felt real enough. She felt the sting of tears in her eyes. Of course you’re crying again, she thought. She was sick of feeling so fragile that the mere thought of a man caring about her—even one who’d hurt her so badly—was music to her soul.

But it was hard to resist the need to be cared for by somebody in the world. She was so alone, and desperate to know that she mattered somewhere, to some person out there.

She didn’t reply to the text. After the text, Bryson had called twice but hadn’t left messages. Finally, on the third attempt, which had come in just minutes ago, he’d left a short message.

His voice was deep and the intensity of his tone brought feelings alive inside of her that she couldn’t push away.

“Scarlett,” he said, almost a growl. “I need to speak to you. I’m worried for your safety and I refuse to be ignored. Call me.”

She re-listened to the message perhaps six times, and then erased it.

You need to be strong, Scarlett. He’s bad news. You cannot give in, no matter
how hard it is, no matter how painful.

Somehow, despite herself, she managed to keep from responding to him, even though it was like a junky wanting a fix that was just a few inches away. It would be so easy, she thought, to reach over and grab the phone and send him a text, to reply and start the conversation back up again.

She could even write him something passive aggressive.

Is Eliza still there?

But it wasn’t worth it, no matter how tempting. Instead, she made herself some toast and jelly, and a cup of tea. She watched TV, most of it was coverage of the storm, and then eventually she changed over to a silly movie.

Outside, the wind was picking up.

It rattled the windows a few times, and Scarlett sat up on the couch, startled.

She’d begun dozing and the sound of the windows shuddering had caused her to be alarmed.

It was pitch black outside, the kind of darkness that seemed almost menacing and deliberately frightening.

Anybody could be out there, she realized. Anybody. They could be watching from the street, or perhaps sitting in a car, looking up with binoculars and seeing her moving around inside.

For the first time since getting the news that Trevor had been released from police custody, the truth of it actually hit her full force. A very dangerous man was out there and quite possibly waiting for the moment where he could quickly kill her to get revenge for his father’s murder.

It was sickening and it made her blood run cold. Instead of feeling safe and warm, she’d begun to see this apartment as patently unsafe. How long would it take someone like Trevor and his friends to bust inside and put a bullet in her head?

Minutes at most.

She was beginning to hardily regret turning down Kallie’s offer to go home with her. No matter how awkward it might have been, she knew Hunter would stop at nothing to protect Kallie, and therefore Scarlett could have been protected as well. At least for tonight, she could have rested and relaxed. Instead she was cowering in her little apartment, scared to look out the window for fear of what she might and see—and who might see her in return.

What’s wrong with you? Do you have a death wish?

No. It wasn’t a death wish—she was just sick and tired of running to other people to handle her problems. She’d caused enough pain and agony by doing that kind of thing in the recent past. It was time to take ownership of her own life, and if that meant a night of fear and sleeplessness, than so be it.

She just hoped it wasn’t going to lead to something worse than that.

Maybe this was the night she’d needed to lean on someone else, and this was the one night she’d decided to take a stand.

Scarlett got up from the couch and went to the closet by the front door. Opening it, she saw the aluminum baseball bat that she’d put there for just such a purpose. It wasn’t much, but it was something—some kind of protection—and holding its weight made her feel ever so slightly better.

Hunter had once suggested that she buy a gun and learn how to use it, or, failing that, he’d offered to get her a Taser or pepper spray. But she hadn’t really wanted to own anything lethal or even semi-lethal that she’d have to always carry and worry about.

Having a weapon in her purse made everything seem more real, more dangerous, and she’d always wanted to put the danger out of her mind.

Now she was beginning to second-guess that decision. She wouldn’t have minded holding a pistol right at this moment.

And then it happened. As she was sitting on the couch once more, baseball bat across her lap, trying and failing to concentrate on the TV—she heard something from the hallway just outside her apartment.

Her breath caught in her chest. Instantly, she sprang from the couch, holding the baseball bat like she was about to swing it, walking slowly towards the door. If someone came in, or broke in, she was going to make sure to get in one good swing of the bat before they could so much as say, “hello, Johnny.”

There was a loud rapport from the door. BANG, BANG, BANG. Someone was knocking loud of enough to wake the dead.

Scarlett’s hands shook and the bat trembled as she squeezed it tighter.

She imagined Trevor standing with his arm outstretched, gun poised to shoot through, easily piercing the door and then almost simultaneously piercing her chest, killing her almost instantly.

Another loud knock made her jump.

“Scarlett!” Came the muffled call through the door.

It was Bryson. She knew it was Bryson, and yet she couldn’t be completely sure.

His voice was muffled and somewhat indistinct, and she was too desperate. Maybe she was just imagining it was him.

She hesitated to respond, because if it was Trevor and she was wrong, then he would surely know she was inside.

“Scarlett, it’s me. I know you’re in there. Please open up and let me in.”

This time she was beyond certain, and instantly relief poured through her, as she let the bat drop to her side. Part of her was ecstatic that he was here and that she was safe—while another part of her was absolutely incensed that he’d just shown up unannounced after everything he’d done.

She unbolted and unlocked the door, opening it only partway. “What the hell do you want?” she hissed at him.

He was standing in the hallway, wearing cargo pants and a leather jacket. As usual, he looked unreasonably gorgeous given his casual attire and the five o’clock shadow on his jaw and cheeks. “Can you let me in, at least?” he asked, as his eyes met hers and settled there with disarming intensity.

Now that she knew she was safe, her relief turned quickly to rage. He’d come up to her apartment and scared the crap out of her. “No, I can’t just let you in,” she replied, even though everything inside of her wanted to. “You don’t deserve to be let in.”

Bryson nodded. “I want to explain.”