Wounded Birds (The Grayson Series Book 1) (14 page)

I had to figure a way to get him off me. He had my arms pinned beneath me. I wiggle a little to lift up my right side just enough to get my hand loose. God, he weighed a ton. I combed the ground for a branch, a rock, or anything, only to be disappointed when I grasped a bunch of roots embedded in the dirt, feeling defeated.

“Oh Ariana, you smell delicious. I’m taking you home with me. We are going to have some fun,” he rasped out, breathing heavy against my neck. “I bought a king-size bed for us,” he whispered, and I cringed as his grimy hands touched me all over. Terrifying thoughts rushed through my mind. There is no way in hell I’m going anywhere with this crazed maniac. Oh, God. Think fast Ariana.

I decided my only chance of survival was to use a few of my kickboxing moves, so I jerked and twisted my body violently, kicking my legs with full force. I pushed my elbow into his gut so hard he rolled off, grunting in pain. I gasped as he took hold of my hair and pulled it as he cursed, calling me a bitch.

Relief coursed through me when Blake’s voice sang out from a distance. The psycho immediately stood up, and I turned to face him, only to get a view of his big, bulky back scurrying off in a sprint into the trees.

“Ariana, Ariana,” Blake called out. Oh, Blake, how fast could he have been running? The poor man was wheezing, panting for breath.

I crawled across the cold ground, wincing as rocks and branches tore through my yoga pants and into my skin. I tried to call Blake’s name, but nothing came out. I got onto the paved trail, and Blake found me, collapsing next to me on his hands and knees.

“Ariana, oh my God, Jesus . . . what the . . . hell happened?” Blake said breathlessly as he wrapped me in his trembling arms.

“Blake! Thank God you showed up when you did,” I cried out as I pulled away, brushing off the grit and dirt from my body with shaking hands. Blake drew me back into his chest, his body still shuddering with mine. “Blake . . . baby . . . the attacker, he called me doll . . . Baby,” I explained in a heated rush, but I wasn’t making any sense.

“Ariana!”

I jolted by the familiar voice with eyes wide as an owl. I gazed up, and Trent was standing right beside us.

“Damn, Ariana, what the hell were you thinking coming out here in the dark and by yourself. Are you crazy?” Trent exploded.

Trent’s tone of voice didn’t just express concern; he was livid and angry with me. He knelt down beside us.

“How did you . . . how did you know I . . .” I asked, surprised, feeling weak and disoriented.

Both men helped me to my feet. I glanced at myself all covered in filth, and every laceration over my body stung like hell.

“I called him,” Blake blurted out in a rush, still catching his breath and examining me from head to toe. Blake muttered something about the blood all over my face.

“I’m sorry, guys; I was going stir-crazy. I needed a run,” I said as the shock began to set in, pouring through me like a violent storm. I started to tremble, and a cold and clammy sensation began to settle over me. I felt light-headed.

“Blake, she needs to get to the hospital,” Trent ordered.

“No,” I yelled out, glaring at both men.

“Yes, Ariana, you’re bleeding,” Blake argued.

“It’s just from my ear. Can you call Josh to come out, please?” I beg.

Trent pulled his phone out in haste and called Josh. After a few minutes, he disconnected the call and glared at me.

“Josh is on his way. Let’s get you back to your apartment. In the meantime, I have my guys combing through the park for the bastard.” From his facial expression and the sound of his tone, I could tell he was still angry . . . well, more like furious with me. He brushes his hands over his pale face.

“Did you get a good look at him, Ariana?” Trent asked.

I shake my head, closing my eyes. “No. I tried to look, but he hit me and laid his heavy body over me. He reeked of alcohol, cigarettes and body order. I did get a glimpse of his back when he took off after he heard Blake’s voice. He appeared tall, built big, solid and had blond hair.”

We walked through the park in silence and out into the busy city streets of Manhattan. My body trembled uncontrollably and my head spun in so many different directions everything was a blur. What would have happened if I hadn’t called Blake? I shivered at the unwanted thoughts of this man, this stalker, attacking me. Blake pulled me so tight up against his body I was breathless.

We reached my apartment, and minutes after, Josh showed up.

“Ariana,” he spoke, with disapproval seeping through his voice.

I couldn’t bear to face him.

“You are going for an x-ray. I have a friend who’s a radiologist and his clinic is not far from here. This is the second head injury you’ve encountered. This is not a game,” Josh orders, with a disapproving look in his eyes.

I’ve read enough about head injuries and people dying, even from a minor blow, to know better. I may have been lucky the first time, but I may not be so lucky the second time around.

“Yes,” I said without argument.

“Ariana, you’re going to need a forensic examination. I’ve already placed a call to Angela, who works for the organization. She is a general practitioner. She worked part-time for the police. I’ll have her meet us at the clinic.

“She’s experienced in dealing with all aspects of assaults as well as forensic examinations. She will take a description of the events that happened during the attack and get your medical history before she examines you. You will be asked to remove all your clothing and place them in a bag to be sent out to the lab for DNA testing.” Trent explains.

God, this sounds so invasive I cringed just thinking about his wretched hands against my face. I didn’t even want to relive the scene, but I had to agree.

“Yes, of course,” I said, and out of nowhere Michael pops into my head. I could only imagine how Michael would react knowing his two brothers were here because of my inconceivable actions. The man would go into cardiac arrest, lock me away and throw away the key.

Thank God, I broke it off with him, but for a brief moment, memories of his emerald eyes, his deep voice whispering over my ear, his kisses and his warm flesh against my skin invade my mind. I squeeze my eyes shut as my chest begins to constrict painfully, the thought of possibly seeing him again makes me uneasy and edgy. Damn it! Why do I miss him so much? What is it about him that has every cell in my body feels so alive, so full of energy and glowing as bright as the stars? I tried countless times to convince myself that I made the right choice. He’s like Danny, controlling and dominating, but it didn’t help. I still miss the pompous ass.

“Ariana,” Trent calls out, pulling me back to the present.

He had my attention, and I knew where this conversation was leading.

“Yes, Trent?”

“Michael is going to go off the wall when he gets wind of this. You should at least call him.”

I shook my head. “No. I don’t owe him any explanations,” I expressed, pacing around the room nervously.

“He’s going to demand to see you, Ariana. You know he’ll make a scene if you don’t let him up here,” Josh explained, sounding irritated.

“Then I’m confident you will keep this little mishap to yourselves,” I snapped. “I’m sorry . . . I didn’t mean to bite your heads off, but I never want to see him again.”

“You don’t mean that, I know you still care for him. I can see it in your eyes every time someone mentions his name.” He took in a frustrated breath and continued, “It’s not even an option, Ariana. This isn’t something I can keep from my brother. He’s worried sick about you. I know he hurt you. He made a mistake. We all do,” Trent commented. “Just sleep on what I said.”

“Look, we understand where you’re coming from, but he cares a great deal for you, and he’s sorry. We’ve never seen our brother like this over any woman. You’ve turned his whole world inside out. It scares him and maybe that’s why he acted the way he did. He doesn’t know what to do with all these mixed emotions stirring inside of him, and he’s not the man you think he is. Yes, he can be controlling at times, overbearing, but you have him all wrong. Think about it,” Josh said defending Michael.

I nodded and blew out a long breath.

Chapter 11

Polo

Angela was already at the clinic when we arrived. The examination and questioning wasn’t as invasive as I thought it would be. I hope the examiners find something to track this psycho before I go insane.

I was relieved when the results of the x-rays came back negative. I suffered no concussions or fractures. Josh attended to the minor cuts and scrapes, and my ear had a minute gash. Amazing how much blood oozes out from a tiny cut.

I sank deeper and deeper into the back seat of Trent’s BMW convertible as, he, Josh and Blake included all scolded me the whole way home, which felt like an eternity. Trent took it even further, and when he stopped at a red light, he turned his head around, looked me straight in the eyes and swore, if I ever pull a trick like that again he would place me over his knees and spank me. I laughed at the last remark. As if I would ever allow such an act.

Blake insisted he spend the night with me, which I was grateful for. I was restless most of the night. I couldn’t stop thinking about what happened. I tossed and turned numerous times before I finally fell asleep, only to jerk out of bed from a nightmare, screaming in my sleep, covered in sweat and breathing fast and hard.

Blake rushed in, pulled me into his arms, and held me close until the tremors abated, and I fell back to sleep.

***

I wake up feeling achy and sore and to a familiar scent. Blake had made me a cup coffee and placed it on my nightstand before he left to be with Francis. I brush my teeth, shower and get dressed. I grab my mug, which was once hot and heat it in the microwave.

I stand staring out the glass doors, watching the patches of clouds float by across the blue sky as I berate myself for the stupid stunt I pulled yesterday. I don’t know what came over me except that I was losing my sanity and needed a run. I shake my head and walk out onto the terrace. I sit on one of the chaises and take a long sip of my hot coffee, relishing the sweet aroma of hazelnut. I shouldn’t be out here. The damn psycho is probably watching me.

God, what a nightmare this is turning out to be. This jerk is way too smart, but he’ll get caught; they all do. The question is when? After he’s driven me to a nervous breakdown, kidnaps me or . . . kills me? Ahhh! I just want to scream.

Michael hasn’t made any contact with me this whole week. Why should I be surprised? I told him I never wanted to see him again. I’ll admit; on a few occasions, I wished he came after me, and convince me he’s not the man I’m accusing him of being, and not give up until I heard what he had to say and then leave it up to me to decide. Oh God, I’m just kidding myself? I can be so stubborn I probably would have thrown him out or hung up on him.

I have to say, I was touched and tempted to call him when he sent me another two-dozen roses to my office this past Friday. Enclosed with his recent delivery were a set of keys, pass code, and directions to his home in Sands Point, suggesting, if I ever needed to escape, I was more than welcome to hide out at his place, and if I came to the decision to take him up on his offer, he promised to stay in the apartment in the city. It was thoughtful and heartwarming of him.

I look at the calendar and gasp. Oh, no it’s Sunday and the last game of polo for the season. I can’t get over how obsessed I am with this sport. I fell in love with polo ‘The Sport of Kings’ two years ago when I went to watch my first match at Bridgehampton. I was excited when I found out they play every Sunday from June to mid-October at Bethpage State Park. So if it’s a Sunday, and I’m not traveling, you’ll find me sitting at the park watching my favorite sport. Then again, after last night’s incident, I’m wary of going, but how can I miss the last game? Frustration and anger wash over me, I’m imprisoned in my own home all because of some fuckin’ asshole that has an obsession with me. The bastard! I wish they would find him all ready.

Maybe we could set a trap and use me as bait. Sure Ariana, I can see Trent jumping at the idea. Whom am I kidding? He would never go for that idea, and Michael would have his head on a platter.

The phone rings jerking me out of my thoughts. I insisted Trent forward the calls back to me. He can still record the messages. He resisted at first, but I told him I needed to give this jerk a piece of my mind. I’m tired of his charades. This has to stop. I want him to know that he doesn’t scare me.

I reach for the phone with a trembling hand, but I pull back as if he’s going to pull me into the receiver. “That’s crazy, stop it, stop it, Ariana, you’re acting foolish,” I scold myself and finally answer the call. Even with the momentary silence, I can tell by his revolting breathing it’s him. I wait patiently for the fuck to say something.

“Hey, baby doll,” he rasps out. “Do you have any idea how badly I wanted to fuck you. I enjoyed touching your soft, smooth skin. I loved hearing you scream. You are a feisty little one too; it’s going to be fun fucking you.

“I have special plans for you and me. I built a house for us, secluded far away from the world.” He snickers and begins to breath heavy into the receiver. “You hear that baby doll, I’m ready to come in my pants. I’m giving myself a hand job while I imagine those lips around my cock.” His laugh echoes eerily through the phone.

I cringe at his repulsive words. My heart is pounding hard against my chest, my body shivering and I think about his disgusting, grimy hands touching me. He’s a sick and demented man who needs to be put away for life.

“You’re a sick bastard. You’re nothing but a lowlife piece of shit, a coward.” I explode out, my hands shaking, muscles quivering.

“I’m no coward, something you’ll find out soon enough. I’m happy your not seeing pretty boy anymore. He was becoming a big thorn on my side,” he grates out, followed by a repugnant laugh, which seeps into me like poison filtering through my blood, scorching the lining of my veins.

Damn him! I’m so angry I throw the phone across the room and yank the plug from the answering machine. “When are they going to catch this bastard? ” I yell out at the top of my lungs. I’m so sick and tired of this crap. Fuck him! I am not going to miss the last match of the season, nor am I calling one of Trent’s guys to come pick me up. There’s no time, and I have to get out of here.

If he’s smart, he won’t be stupid enough to try something in the middle of the day with so many witnesses, and I can bet my life that Trent has Peterson following my every move after the stunt I pulled last night.

I rush out and retrieve the car from valet. I’m not letting this jackass get the best of me. I’m tired of being a victim.

There is a long line of cars waiting to get into the polo field. Big mistake to take the top down because now I’m roasting like a turkey. The weather should be cooler in October, except that today, the temperature has reached seventy-eight degrees. I’m sure by the time I arrive at the gate I’ll be well done and singed.

I park the car and search for a seat at the grandstand. I glance around the beautiful landscaped grounds and see a few of the players mounted on their horses, practicing out on the expanded green lawn the size of nine football fields. Hard to believe, but true.

A cool breeze sweeps through my hair, invigorating me. I smell the scent of fresh cut grass as my heart pumps with anticipation. I bite my lower lip anxious for the game to begin, just as the kids, and their families who sit in their private tents, or perched in their seats with a picnic basket at their side. This is what I call the perfect Sunday afternoon.

Opposite of me is the VIP Tent. This season Ferrari-Maserati of Long Island is sponsoring the event. My eyes grow wide as I skim over the elegant sports cars parked alongside the tent looking sleek and shimmering with beauty.

The tent is filled with excited spectators, drinks in hand dressed sophisticated, and the ladies’ in their stylish hats and trendy sunglasses. I glance up at the top of the grandstand and wave at Debra, who keeps score and Jerry, one of polo finest commentators.

Both teams are lined up in the middle of the field. We stand as the “Star-Spangled Banner” echoes throughout the park by a young, inspiring artist. The thrill begins after one of the official rolls out the ball between the two teams. After the third chukker—half time—the spectators are invited out onto the field to stomp the divots. I flip the dirt back into the plush, green grass, which I find to be soothing.

“Ariana.”

I jump out of my skin when I recognize the deep, seductive voice. I lift my head and my brain malfunctions when I’m eye to eye with Michael. I stop breathing, and my heart begins to thunder within my chest. I had no idea how much I missed him until now, as he stands there before me looking so beautiful and our chemistry sizzling like bacon on a grill. Butterflies begin swarm around my stomach making me queasy. I take a deep breath and another to keep my cool and temper under control or is it the sexual side of me I’m afraid might surface.

“Ariana,” he says, his tone soft and gentle. He raises his hand to touch me, and then he lowers it.

“Michael, why are you here?” I snap.

“I . . . I miss you, Ariana. Please, can we talk somewhere?” He asks with his hands in his pockets. He looks nervous, a bit rattled. I don’t think anyone has ever seen him this way.

“I told you I didn’t want to see you again. Are you having a memory lapse, Mr. Grayson?” I ask, and my chest begins to squeeze to the point I can’t breathe. I feel that gaping hole in my stomach expanding and the void growing stronger. I missed him so much. Damn him. Maybe he isn’t like Danny, but what if he is, or maybe his brothers are right. I’m so confused. I don’t want to fall into the same trap.

His face changes from soft to hard. “I’m well aware of what you wrote, and, not to change the subject but, Trent called me. He told me about the attack. What the hell were you thinking going out at night for a run on your own? I’m surprised you came out here by yourself. Are you suicidal?” He asks me with an alarmed look on his face.

I’m stunned. “What kind of question is that?”

His hands are out of his pockets and on his hips. His nostrils flare. “It’s a logical query. Are you suicidal? You must be to walk out of your apartment by yourself. Thank God Peterson followed you and told Trent of your whereabouts. What didn’t you get about last night’s attack?” He spews out, his eyebrows pulled in, and lips pressed into a thin line.

“Since when do I have to answer to you, or anyone else for that matter? I am sick and tired of this lunatic imprisoning me in my home, of being a victim. If you hadn’t noticed, it’s broad daylight and take note of all the spectators. I parked right in front, near the concession stand. I’m sure he wouldn’t be stupid enough to try anything here. I was also aware that Peterson followed me,” I say waving my hands in the air.

His eyes narrow, “I’m aware the fuck called you today, and the message he left,” he says as he traverses around me, and then stops to face me, biting his lower lip with a disappointed look. “Unfortunately, he uses a prepaid phone, so when Trent traced the call, the signal was picked up at one of the cell towers thirty miles away,” he says with a softer tone.

My blood begins to turn cold and I grow numb. I shut my eyes, and thank God, he can’t see through the sunglasses. I was hoping Trent would have been able to trace at least one call and finally put a stop to this travesty. Now I’m back to square one. How are they going to find him when he seems to be a few steps ahead of us.

I open my eyes and look at Michael. “You said your peace. If you don’t mind, I have some divots to stomp. Good day, Mr. Grayson,” I say and stare at the ground.

Seeing Michael only triggered the harsh words we exchanged to one another along with the hateful and disgusted expression he wore on his face that night. I curl my fingers into a fist and pray he will leave, but whom am I kidding? We’re talking about Michael, who doesn’t understand what the word,
no
means.

Michael threads his hands through his hair with a deep frown. He stares down at me “This is a public place. If I want to sit and watch a polo game, I’m damn well going to,” he snaps and stomps the divots alongside me with pure aggression.

“God, Ariana, you’re not thinking straight. Listen to me. I came here to apologize. I’m sorry about last week. Please let me explain.

“I met this woman a few years ago,” he starts to explain. “She was in my office, and we were discussing the architectural drawings for her new building. After our meeting, she invited me for drinks. We had a connection, or at least I thought we did. We wined, dined, and had sex. A few weeks later, I stopped by her place to take her out to lunch. She asked me to come in and excused herself for a moment. Her laptop was open, and I just happened to glance at it and saw my name. Of course, curiosity got the best of me, and I began to read it. I was shocked. She had our most intimate conversations on the laptop.” His eyes filled with the pain of betrayal.

“When she walked back in the room, I confronted her, and she confessed about the set-up and that she would be paid a handsome fee writing the article about me for one of those raunchy magazines. She explained how she was wearing a wire and recorded our every conversation.

“I told her I would let my lawyers loose on her. I would make her life a living hell if she so much as printed one sentence in those magazines. I scared the living daylights out of her. Let’s just say the article was never published.” He held his hand around the back of his neck and gazed at me with those piercing emerald-green eyes, which has my heart diving into the pool with a big splash.