Wounded Birds (The Grayson Series Book 1) (22 page)

I dial his number waiting with anticipation. My heart fires up with exhilaration when he answers.

“Good morning, Ariana.” His amorous voice seeps through, making my skin quiver and sending chills over my body.

“
Buon giorno
, Michael, how was your flight?” I ask.

“Tiresome, and yours?”

“Marvelous! This place is enchanting. You really must make a point to visit.”

“Enchanting? Hmm, I may have to do some exploring, on one condition.”

“What?”

“You partake in the trip with me.”

“Without a doubt,” I say, twirling hair around my finger.

“Everything quiet?” He asks.

“If you’re questioning about our friend, yes, very peaceful.”

“I wouldn’t go so far as calling him a buddy. He’s a fuckin’ demented, psychotic fuck,” he lashes out with anguish.

I sense his raw tension bleeding over the phone. I had better change the subject.

“I was told you called here looking for me,” I say.

“Yes, I did. I was concerned when you didn’t answer your cell phone. A bit unhinged to put it lightly. Therefore, I phoned the hotel, and they transferred me over to the suite. Blake was kind enough to ease my tension.”

“I’m relieved to hear that.”

“My apologies, Ariana, I just noticed the time. I need to leave. I’m meeting Mr. Yabuki for a late lunch, and he’ll be here shortly,” he says regretfully.

“You don’t sound yourself. Is everything all right?”

“I’m feeling dejected; you’re in Italy, and I’m in Hong Kong. We are worlds apart, Ariana, and I miss you like crazy. I’m also overwrought with fear.”

“Aw, Michael.” My heart bleeds. I’m as unhappy as he is. “I miss you too . . . immensely, and please don’t worry about me.”

“I can’t control this, Ariana. This demented fuck has me in a disconcerted rage,” he hisses out and lets out a long breath. “I don’t think I can keep busy enough for the time to pass quickly. I’m eager to get back to you, and yet I only arrived hours ago. You’re a little black spider, Ariana,” he says jokingly.

I gasp. “What? Why?” I kick one leg up at a time with glee, getting all giddy.

“You . . . you lured me into your precious little web.” He exhales out. “I need to go. I’ll call you when I get a break.”

“Bye, Michael. Good luck in your meeting.” We hang up. I stretch my legs, and I’m jolted back on my seat.

“Ahhh!” I squeal out. I look up to see Blake staring me straight in the eyes with a huge grin on his face. He pulled my chair back, so now I’m parallel to the floor facing him and the ceiling. “You little twit, payback is sweet,” I threaten, giggling.

He laughs at me. “Come on, get dressed. We’ll go enjoy breakfast while the others sleep off their liquor.”

Chapter 19

Roped

I had another memorable time in Italy. The filming went well as I expected, and it should be ready for broadcasting for next week’s segment.

Michael phoned yesterday morning to inform me of a few complications with his project, and that he would need to extend his stay to oversee them. It’s been over a week since we’ve been apart, and it feels like an eternity.

After Michael’s call, I was heartbroken and to be honest I felt lonely. I missed him so much, so to fill the void, I rushed over to the studio to work. When I walked into my office, there was a beautiful package enclosed in shimmering, embossed pink-and-green
paisley
wrapping paper
sitting on my desk addressed to me.

I sat down and shook the box like a little kid on Christmas morning. I eagerly tore it open with animation. After I had removed the last piece of tape from the delicate box, my eyes grew wide, and I froze, feeling numb as the blood in my veins ran cold, and goose bumps formed throughout my entire body.

Nestled inside, staring right at me with glassy, blue eyes, was a twelve-inch doll tainted in blood, and bounded in ropes and the words “baby doll” echoed from the box repeatedly.

I leaped out of the chair and ran out with my heart pounding in my throat. Thank God, it was early in the morning, and no one was around to witness the panic on my face or my trembling limbs. I still can’t remember how I rushed out of the office without collapsing or tripping over my own two feet.

I called Trent, and he immediately came to my rescue. He shut the recorder off. He placed the box containing the figurine in a bag, and a card fluttered onto the floor. He put his hand up and told me not to touch the evidence. He reached into his pocket, pulled out tweezers, and carefully picked up the note, in hopes that he would get lucky enough to get some fingerprints. He shook open the letter and read it aloud.

Dear, baby doll,

I’m sick at heart, Ariana, you disconnected my only form of hearing your breathless voice. Why are you hurting me like this? What did I ever do to you? All I want to do is show you how much I love you. But that’s okay because I can still follow your every move.

I was practicing on all the ways I would show you my undying affection to you on the doll. Do you believe the ropes would be comfortable or should I use chains when I finally make you mine?

Your beloved future husband, LOL.

Trent muttered a few curses. “This bastard is sick and twisted, a true mental case.” He punched the desk, causing a slight tremor, and shoved his fingers through his blond hair as he paced around my office like a raging bull.

As for me, the reaction I experienced was internal. Thoughts of my death flashed before me. I had heaviness in my limbs, a sensation of not wanting to move, or maybe I couldn’t. I prayed, begging this madness would stop.

One person came to mind. Michael. I needed to figure out a way to keep Trent quiet. “Please don’t tell Michael,” I pleaded.

“He needs to know Ari,” he answered with remorse.

“Please, Trent.” He still didn’t budge. I had no other choice but to rattle him. “I’ll tell Joanne,” I threatened. “I’ll have her hang your balls if you so much as utter a word to Michael.”

He laughed so hard at my threat that his eyes watered. I was not amused. I was concerned about Michael’s reaction. The man is going to turn gray with worry and all because of me.

“Ari, there is no way, as a client and as my brother, that I could keep such information from him,” he said with a gentle tone and left it at that.

***

Trent insisted we have dinner together every night, and he stayed at my apartment until eleven when two of his guys from his security team took the shift downstairs to guard the elevator doors, and the stairs. I told him he was going overboard. He shot me a glare and said he’d rather deal with my complaining than with Michael.

During our dinners, I tried to pry information out of Trent regarding my secretive Michael. He refused to talk, not even disclosing anything regarding Michael’s previous girlfriends. The damn stubborn mule. I finally gave up. He did mention his mother passed away, but I already knew that, he remained quiet for the rest of the evening. I didn’t push any further.

Three nights before Michael’s arrival, Trent and I departed to go to a quaint little Mediterranean restaurant. The night air was nippy. The stars were out dancing blissfully in the universe, and the moon’s reflection cast an iridescent glow upon the city.

Cars, taxis, and buses zipped by to reach their destination and people rushed through the avenues. Some were dressed to the hilt and others casual, taking pictures like tourists and laughing with merriment.

We were standing on the corner near Columbus Circle waiting for the light to change when a loud roar echoed through the area. Within a matter of seconds, everything went into a whirlwind of chaos.

A man on a motorcycle came tearing down the road, screeched to a halt, and before I knew what was going on, I was lassoed in a thick rope and yanked toward the busy streets of Manhattan. I skidded a few feet, landing on my knees, but, as I grabbed hold of a lamppost, Trent pulled out a knife, cut the rope, and it collapsed, pooling around my legs. I watched in dismay as another car raced down the street, chasing the motorcycle.

My heart started pounding hard against my chest, pumping blood viciously through my veins. My lungs screamed for air, and shivers, tremors, and chills coursed through me like violent waves. I ached from the rope, feeling the stinging, burning sensation around my arms, chest, and back. I needed to shake off the fog in my head. This was too eerie and overwhelming to consume. I took a deep breath, and I slowly stood back up.

“Oh shit, damn fuckin’ ass,” Trent screamed out, cursing, using words I’ve never heard come out of this gentleman’s mouth. He whipped the phone out of his jacket and started conversing with Peterson, who works for him.

“Peterson, did you get the little fuck . . . ? What do you mean you lost him . . . ? How the hell did that happen . . . ? Fuckin’ shit, fuckin’ demented piece of shit,” Trent exploded out, his body trembled with anger, emitting tension in the air, and muscles taut and rigid as steel. He shoved his phone back in his jacket pocket with rage.

When realization came crashing over him, he stared at me with an expression of pure horror.

I stood still, hands frozen to the post, holding on for dear life, convulsing uncontrollably, my eyes wide with terror. Holy crap. I can’t fathom what just happened. Oh, God, how the hell did Trent pull his knife out so quickly to cut me loose before I took the last trip of my life down the avenue?

I was completely and utterly in a state of disbelief and shocked. My nerves exploded into a million neurons, and I don’t think my body could have convulsed any more than it did. I definitely needed a shot of brandy, two, hell, maybe the whole bottle. I was hoping this was all a dreadful nightmare. I pleaded to God, to let this be a figment of my imagination.

Trent approached me after he unglued himself from the street beneath his feet, looking pale, white as paper. “Oh, my God, Ari,” he chokes out. “Are you okay?” He tugged me into his solid chest, and I broke down, crying like an imbecile. My body was nowhere near sedated. Trent’s body was trembling, most likely from anger, befuddlement, and his adrenaline pumping at an all-time high.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” Trent whispered and whistled for a taxi. “Ari, come on, let’s get you home.” He pulled me away, and we walked toward the cab. My legs were like noodles, and I lost my balance, almost collapsing to the ground. Trent quickly grasped me around the waist and helped me into the backseat.

I was beyond traumatized. I didn’t even recall stepping out of the cab and riding up the elevator to the apartment. I sat down on the sofa with lids partially closed. As I peeked through my lashes, there were two muscular legs standing before me. “Ari, drink this,” Trent ordered. Sounds just like Michael.
Oh God, Michael!
How in God’s name are we going to tell him about this? He’s going to flip, more than flip, he’s going to burst an artery.

I took the small glass filled with warm, amber liquid and gulped it in one-shot. The brandy slammed down my throat like a fireball, easing in with a burning sensation through every one of my arteries, soothing my nerve endings and abated the tremors. Trent paced around the room once and finally sat beside me.

“Ari, how are you now? Do you need another shot?” He asked with solicitude.

I was so tempted to say yes, but I don’t want to keep relying on any substance that can make me incoherent. I lifted my head up. Poor Trent, he seemed so pale and unhinged. His expression was filled with frustration, anger, and pure terror.

“I’m doing better now. Thanks for the shot. I’m getting used to this stuff. This seems to be a part of my daily diet,” I replied, suppressing a laugh.

I pulled my coat off and winced from the pain, and Trent hissed out a curse. I stared at my arms in horror; they were red and tender, but not raw. There were small holes on my blue jeans around the knees, probably when I skidded on the ground.

“Fuckin’ ass,” Trent cursed again, punching his thighs angrily.

“I’m fine. They’re a little inflamed, but that will fade. The ropes didn’t cut into my skin,” I said, rubbing my arms gently. They stung like hell, and so did my back.

“Thank God you were wearing your coat. God knows how bad your arms would have been if you hadn’t with just wearing that sleeveless top,” he said through clenched teeth, still shaking off the after-effects of the incident. He glanced at my legs. “How are your knees?” He asked.

“I’m fine, nothing major. A few scrapes and I’m sure some bruising by tomorrow.”

“Are you sure you don’t want another drink?” He enquired nervously.

“No, but you need one.”

He laughed, which broke the anxiety in the air. “What happened, Trent? I don’t mean to sound foolish. I’m just not able to grasp any of this. The scene was like out of the movies. How did you cut the rope so fast?” I rushed out.

“Quick reflexes, darlin’. I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared in my entire life until tonight.” A multitude of shockwaves ripped through him, and his Texas accent became more pronounced. “Damn, Ari,” he said, shaking his head. “When I saw you lassoed like a bull, ready to go for a ride to your death, I nearly died. My heart is still in my throat. Once I cut the rope and knew you were free, I called Peterson. He was standing by not far from where we were.

“I watched him pass us like lightning. The fuck still got away. He rode into a narrow alleyway. Unfortunately, Peterson couldn’t get through. This fuck is clever.

“I forcibly tugged the rope to yank him off the bike, but he let go the moment I sliced it. He’s a fuckin’ piece of shit.”

“Relax, Trent, this isn’t your fault. You and Peterson did everything in your power to catch him, and you saved my life.” I give him a big hug, feeling a massive knot forming in my stomach. “Thank you,” I mumbled into his chest.

He embraced me closer. The narrow escape of losing me still affected him. He continued to tremble, rocking me back and forth, easing his own tension, as well as mine. He pulled me away and said, “I need to call Michael.”

The blood circulating within my veins made a mad dash down to my toes. “Oh, no, Trent, please don’t. I can only imagine how Michael is going to react to this. I’m afraid he’ll lock me up in a room until you find this asshole.”

Trent busted out with the same sweet laugh as Michael’s. I, however, could not join in because Michael’s reaction wasn’t going to be a pleasant one for me.

“Ari, let me worry about Michael. If I need to tie him down to keep his cool, I will.”

“Okay, I’m holding you to your promise because if this man comes charging through here like a bull with steam coming from his nose and handcuffs me to him for safekeeping, I’ll have your head.”

Trent’s head fell back, and he let out a laugh that was infectious I had to join in, causing tears to trickle down my cheeks from all the laughing.

“Now, to business. Your fundraiser is tomorrow night. I’ll have Janet and three others watching you. I need you to add them on the guest list. I’ll notify you of what they’ll be dressed as. I promise you they will be on you like Krazy Glue. Understand?”

I saluted him, and he tapped my head playfully.

***

Tonight is our fundraiser for the Battered Women and Children’s Shelter. I pick up my Cleopatra costume and rush home with only two hours to get ready before Blake and Francis pick me up.

The gown, which looks very authentic for a costume, is made of a delicate pale coral silk organza material with layers of silk chiffon overlaying the organza. It has a gold-embroidered bodice, a braided crystal belt, and an embellished ornate gold collar.

The heavily adorned headpiece fits perfectly over my long black wig. The cape is attached to the shoulders and to the included gold wrist cuffs gives it a more regal appearance.

I had Jackie do my makeup before I picked up my costume. She did an incredible job. I stare at my reflection, admiring her makeup artistry and the costume, and then a gut-wrenching feeling of guilt surfaces. Michael’s been gone for nearly two weeks. Now I regret not inviting him. I’m confident he would have made it a point to attend this special event with me.