Obscured Page 13

The door behind me opens and he steps out.

  “Been out here long?” he asks.

  “Just a few minutes.”

  “I didn’t mean to scare you this afternoon,” he says.

  “I know.”

  “And yet I did.” He steps forward so he’s in front of me, but not facing me. “And I’ll probably have to do it again.”

  “I know.”

  “Do you, Athena?”

  I stand up and move behind him. Something tells me to touch his shoulder, but I hesitate. This type of touch is like a foreign language to me. I know all about bringing a man pleasure, but next to nothing about how to bring him comfort.

  Never going to learn if you don’t practice.

  I place my hand on top of his shoulder. He sucks in a breath, and I wonder if he knows how difficult that simple move was for me.

  “I gave you my word that I’d trust you,” I say. “You haven’t let me down yet.”

  “Give me time.”

  “You could have ratted me out to Mike anytime you wanted and you didn’t. Not just today, but lots of other times, too. Well,” I said remembering, “except for that first night with Theo.”

  “What first night with Theo?”

  “When you told Mike I was late.”

  He turns around to face me. “I didn’t tell Mike you were late.”

  “You didn’t?”

  He shakes his head.

  “Then who did?”

  “I don’t know. It might have been Theo. I promise it wasn’t me.”

  I tilt my head. The moonlight makes his hair look lighter then it really is, and his eyes are more intense than they’ve ever been before.

  “Why are you so nice to me?” I ask.

  “What?”

  “Why are you so nice to me?” I repeat.

  His voice drops an octave. “I thought that much was clear.” He cups my face and runs his thumb over my bottom lip. “I want all good things for you. I want you to be safe, doing a job you’re excited about. I want you to never feel like you have to look over your shoulder for fear of who you’ll find there. I want too damn much, Athena, and I’m the worst kind of hypocrite there is because when you stood naked in my living room, I just wanted you period.”

  I gasp, and he gives me a sad smile.

  He’s been beating himself up over this all day. Because a naked woman stood before him and he wanted her. I could go back to bed and pretend like I never heard him. I’m pretty sure that’s what he wants, and he’ll act like we never had this conversation in the morning.

  Or....

  I cover his hand with mine. “Caden.”

  “Don’t, Athena.”

  “Don’t you dare tell me what to do, Harris. I’m damn tired of people telling me what to do.”

  And with that, I pull him to me and brush my lips against his.

  He’s frozen in place. Either that or he’s told himself he’s not going to respond. I pull away slightly and whisper, “Damn it. Kiss me back.” But again, he doesn’t move. “Please,” I add.

  Just when I think he’s going to stay in that same spot forever, he groans and takes me in his arms. His head tilts, and his lips cover mine, and holy hell I had no idea.

  This. This is a kiss. This urging of his mouth in time with mine. The way he tastes and takes and gives and licks. I didn’t know so much could be conveyed in a kiss and I almost weep that it’s taken me so long to understand. What had been missing with Isaiah, was present with Harris. I don’t know if it’s because Isaiah was somewhat familiar or if Harris still has that hint of danger.

  His hands come up to frame my face and he deepens the kiss.

  Never. It’s never been like this with anyone. And I want more and I don’t want it to stop. He takes a step closer and it’s obvious that he wants more and doesn’t want it to stop, either. He runs one of his hands down my side, ghosting my breast, and my body shivers in a new and decadent way. I shouldn’t be feeling like this. Isaiah is a good man, I should be drawn to him, but I’m not. It’s Harris who’s touch is awakening those parts and feelings I long thought dead.

  I need to touch more of him, and I slide my hand down his back, enjoying the hardness of his muscles beneath my fingertips. I can tell he is beautiful beneath his clothes, and I almost laugh because whoever heard of a man being beautiful?

  I’m desperate to see him. My fingers dip under the hem of his shirt and inch it upward. His skin is hot to my touch. Hot and hard and lean and I’ve never wanted so much before.

  But he pulls back. “I can’t.” He’s panting, his forehead presses against mine. “I can’t, Athena.”

  “Why?” Why when I’m so close and need so much is he shutting the door to keep me where I am? Hot tears burn in my eyes. He knows I’m no good. Why would he want me?

  “Don’t. Don’t cry.” He sweeps his thumb beneath my lashes, catching my tears before they fall. “And don’t think for a minute that I don’t want you so bad I’m nearly blind over it.”

  “Then why?”

  “Because when we make love, it’s going to be when we’re both free.”

  “But —” I want to protest, but he stops me with a finger over my lips.

  “No buts. I will have you, count on it, but not like this. Not when you’re here this way and not when you have no choice about where you live.”

  Even with his words, the doubt that consumes me is painful. “Are you sure?”

  And then he completely steals my heart, “I’m more than sure. When I finally have you in my bed, I’m going to do more than just steal a kiss.” His mouth drops to my ear and his words are wicked and hot in my ear. “I’m going to feast on you. I’m going to fucking devour you.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  We’re having dinner two nights later when Caden gets a phone call. He’s not happy; he’s frowning when he sees the display, frowning when he takes the call to the other room, and frowning when he returns.

  “I have to go,” he says. “I hate leaving you.”

  I hate it, too. I don’t want to be alone in this house. “Is it him?”

  He nods, and even though I don’t like it, maybe it’s better for him to go now. Maybe that means we won’t have to have a another web session anytime soon.

  “Go on,” I say. “I’ll be fine.”

  But he doesn’t look convinced.

  I’m cleaning up the kitchen shortly after Caden leaves when I hear a knock on the back door. I ignore it at first. Who knocks on the back door? Besides, it’s the first time Harris has left me in the house alone, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t just a little freaked out that the minute he’s gone someone’s knocking on the door.

  But whoever it is, they’re dedicated to getting my attention and I decide I can at least peek out the window to see who it is. I head up the stairs to look at them from the second story. That way, they won’t see me checking them out.

  Once upstairs, I pull the curtain aside and look down.

  Isaiah?

  What is he doing here? My heart leaps into my chest at the sight of him. But then I remember Harris told me Isaiah was married, and all I feel is conflicted. I want to believe Harris hasn’t lied to me about anything.

  In the end, it comes down to one of two things: Isaiah is married, or potentially everything Harris has told me over the last few days has been a lie. I don’t know which would hurt more.

  I scurry down the stairs. At least I can talk to Isaiah. See what this visit is about.

  I crack the door open a bit, and I’m confronted with Isaiah’s troubled brown eyes.

  “Isaiah?” I ask. “What are you doing here? Come in.”

  “No, I can’t. It’s not safe. I’m only here now because Harris left. It’s dangerous for me to be in there.” He glances around the yard. “You, too.”

  “Harris dangerous?” I can’t even fathom it anymore. “Nah, I’m safer here than I’ve been anywhere.”

  He looks hurt. “Safer than you were with me?”

  �
��Mike trusts him.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I want to talk with you about. Will you come out?”

  I look back inside. I don't know how long Harris will be gone. But it wouldn’t hurt to just step outside. Besides, it’s Isaiah.

  “Okay,” I say. “But only for a second. Give me a minute.”

  I finish tidying up the kitchen, and by the time I make it outside, he’s pacing around the yard.

  “What’s up?”

  He stops and runs his fingers through his hair. “Mike knows you were with me. He’s going to ruin me. He’s started a rumor I’m married. I should...I should have listened to you.”

  My stomach plummets. There’s only one way Mike would know. Only one person who would have started that particular rumor. I close my eyes. I won’t cry over Harris. I won’t. At least not now.

  One day I’ll let myself cry for the man I thought he was. And bitter, bitter tears for what I thought we could be together. I try not to think about being in his arms, how good and protective they felt around me. I don’t want to recall the way he set my body burning with his words alone.

  Because if I do, I’ll have to accept that I mean nothing to him and that hurts too much.

  I must be showing more emotion than I thought, because Isaiah’s looking at me with pity. “I’m sorry. I know it’s hard to take in. I wish...I wish he really was everything you thought he was. That he could be for you what I’m not.”

  “I”m that easy to read?” I sniffle.

  “I’m sorry, but yeah, your face gave it away.”

  “It’s okay. You’d think I’d be used to it by now. Being disappointed in people.”

  “Have I disappointed you?”

  It’s a bittersweet truth, but the truth all the same. “No. No you haven’t.”

  “Let’s get out of here.” His eyes are wide with excitement. “Let’s go tonight. I can take you away from all this. Let me, Athena.”

  It’s so tempting. To leave Vegas once and for all. I glance over my shoulder to the house behind me. It’s what I told Harris I wanted, wasn’t it? To leave his house.

  “I can’t be him. I know. But please.” He touches my shoulder. “I would cherish you. Always.”

  I’m a fool and a half because standing before me is a fine, upstanding man and my heart is breaking because of Mike’s henchman. I should be jumping and down that Isaiah wants to run away with me. And, the truth is, had he bought it up before my hospital stay, I would have.

  Being with Harris changed me. And even if it all turned out to be a lie on his part, the feelings I felt were real, and I know now what it means to really feel. Will I ever have that with Isaiah? I sigh because even if the answer is ‘no,’ I’ll at least be safe.

  I smile at him. “Should I pack?”

  Something a lot like victory surges in his eyes. “No, leave it all here. You don't want those clothes. Paid for with Mike’s dirty money.” My protest is on the tip of my tongue, but it dies there because Mike pays Harris. Everything Harris buys is bought with dirty money.

  “Let’s get out of here,” I say, and we head toward his car.

  We haven’t been in the car long when I get the feeling something’s not right. I can’t put my finger on it. It’s not Isaiah. His focus is solely on the road. Maybe it’s me. I’m finally on my way out of the mess that has been my life for the latest ten years and I’m not experiencing the joy I thought I would.

  Caden’s words echo in my head.

  “I want all good things for you. I want you to be safe, doing a job you’re excited about. I want you to never feel like you have to look over your shoulder for fear of who you’ll find there.”

  I blame Caden. It’s his fault I want to do more than just survive. I want to delight in life as well. I want to feel the way I felt when he pulled me to his chest and whispered his plans for me in bed.

  “Not like this. Not when you’re here this way and not when you have no choice about where you live.”

  I’d thought his words sweet when he first said them, but sitting in Isaiah’s car, I’m reminded of another night, not too long ago.

  “Shhh. Let me do this. You can tell me to stop at any time and I will.” Isaiah pressing me down on the couch. “Are you okay with this?”

  Two different men. Two different responses to me. One who wanted to give and one who wanted to take.

  A shiver runs down my spine.

  I turn my head slightly so I can watch Isaiah. He looks rather calm for a man who supposedly has Mike out to ruin him. In fact, he looks nothing like the nervous man who knocked on Harris’s door.

  I glance out the window, and we’re not on a highway, but in a residential part of town. An upper-class neighborhood. Something’s way off. I rest my fingers on the door handle.

  “Where are we?” I’m trying to sound natural and not like I’m suddenly scared as hell about what’s going on.

  “I need to drop something off before we head out of town.” He doesn’t shift his gaze from the road.

  “Here?” Why would Isaiah be in this part of the city?

  “Around here. Not much further.”

  I tell myself this is Isaiah. I’ve known him since elementary school. He won’t hurt me. He’s a pastor. I try to calm myself by reasoning that I’m highly emotional after the last few weeks and it’s perfectly normal to second guess everyone’s motives.

  Nothing’s working.

  My hands are trembling when we pull onto a driveway that is secluded and set off the road. I can’t even see the house until we continue along the winding drive. It’s huge. A brick fortress that looks inhospitable and cold.

  “You know the people who live here?” I ask, as he pulls to a stop in front of the garage.

  “You could say that.” He presses a button on the car’s visor and the long garage door starts to open. “I live here alone. I’m a recent widower.”

  I’m staring in horror at the car that ran me off the road.

  Chapter Nineteen

  I have my seat belt off and the car door open in under two seconds. Within four seconds, I’m running down his driveway. I don’t stop to think about where I’m going. I’m just running. I had the element of surprise; I don’t think he anticipated me taking off like I did, but he’s got me beat with strength and speed.

  He’s behind me, and he’s gaining ground. I push myself to run faster, but I’m too weak, and it’s too dark, and I don’t know where I’m going. I look over my shoulder to see how close he is, and that’s a mistake, because I trip over a twig and land on my knees.

  He’s on top of me almost immediately and pins me to the ground. “Stop it.”

  “It was you!” I’m jerking as hard as I can, but I can’t get away. “You’re the one in the car. You killed that woman. Oh my God, she was your wife. You killed your wife.”

  His eyes are wild and dangerous. “Yes, she outlived her usefulness. Something you’re getting pretty close to doing yourself.”

  “You’re a sick fuck.”

  “And you’re a dumb whore. It’s pathetic how easily I had you eating out of my hand. I bet you’d have believed anything I told you.” He brings my arms over my head and ties them together. “But that little outburst did confirm what we suspected. Harris told you I was married, didn’t he?”

  Harris!

  He hadn’t been lying after all.

  Isaiah’s the one who has been telling lies. And I believed every fucking one.

  “What I don’t understand is why you spread your legs so easily for him and acted like an ice queen around me.”

  I try to kick him, but I can’t move my legs with the way he’s on top of them.

  “What’s wrong? Your old childhood friend not good enough for you? You think your whore cunt is something special? Just give me a few days; I’ll show you how not special it is.”

  I spit in his eye.

  I barely register the fist headed my way before it collides and I slip into darkness.

  ***


  I wake up with a jerk. The light in the room I’m in is too bright and it’s hurting my head. The white walls intensify the light. I squint and look around. I’m on a bed and I’m naked. There are two windows, but they’re covered from the outside. I’m assuming I’m still in Isaiah’s house.

  I swing my legs over the bed and I’m shocked at how weak I am. How long have I been out of it? There’s a glass of water by the bed, but I’m afraid it’s drugged, and I won’t let myself drink it.

  Isaiah.

  His name resonates in my head. I can’t believe any of this. How did he manage to completely snow me? Has he been working with Mike this entire time?

  My blood runs cold at that thought, because if Isaiah works for Mike, they’re probably aware of what Harris has been doing to protect me. If only I had a way to warn him.

  Starting on the if onlys is a bad idea, because now I go through them all.

  If only I’d trusted Harris sooner.

  If only I hadn’t opened the door to Isaiah.

  If only I hadn’t been so stupid.

  I go to the door and turn the knob. It’s locked, of course. Just that little bit of walking has zapped all my energy, and I slowly make it back to the bed. How long has it been since I ate?

  It’s too hard to think. Isaiah must have given me something for my mind to be this fuzzy.

  I lay back on the bed, and my eyes close.

  Closing my eyes is a bad idea, because that’s when the voices come and I see flashbacks of the faces of my past.

  My dad’s grief before he ran off.

  A knowing smile.

  “I don’t even know your name.”

  “Mike. Mike Randolph.”

  “I’m a pastor.”

  The bluest eyes I’ve ever seen.

  “Goddess of wisdom?”

  “I need you to trust me.”

  The last breath of a woman who paid for her mistakes with her life.

  “Not the police.”

  The frightened whisper of a young girl who had no idea the evil that waited for her.

  “Thank you.”

  They surround me in my sleep, whispering of last chances and missed opportunities. They tell me it’s too late now and I’m never going to get out. I’m pressed into the bed and I feel the weight of the last ten years struggle to keep me there. It’s not really a fair fight with all of them against me.