Can't Slow Down (2 page)

I PULL INTO LEXI’S
driveway around 7:15 p.m., shut the car off, and go knock on her door.

“Lexi! You there?”

I knock again. There’s still no answer. That’s when I look down and notice a folded note sticking out from under the doormat. I look around to see if anything looks out of place. Nothing is.

I open the note on my walk across the street to my best friend Derek’s. He lives across the street and seems to be home. Maybe Lexi is over there hanging out while waiting for me to pick her up.

I unfold the note.

If you want any chance of seeing her again bring $500,000 to the abandoned warehouses off the quarter mile. Don’t bother calling the cops. Come alone. You have until 7:30 p.m. If you’re even a minute late, the little slut will get what she deserves. Clock is ticking . . .

What the fuck?! I stop dead in the middle of the street in shock as someone just barely misses me in their car, honking their horn and screaming at me out the window. I look at my car and back at Derek’s place and then at my watch.
Fuck!
No time to get Derek. And they said to come alone. I only have ten minutes to get there and if I did the speed limit it would take me fifteen. No time to waste. No time to get that kind of money. I shove the paper in my back pocket and run back to my car. It’s barely started before I peel out of the driveway.
That should get Derek’s attention.

My car swerves in and out of traffic. I’m blowing past stop signs, running red lights, and passing cars while drivers are blaring their horns and giving me their middle fingers. Just barely escaping an accident at every intersection. Derek calls during the chaos and I press the button on the steering wheel to answer. I don’t give him a chance to say anything.

“Meet me at the abandoned warehouses! Please! Someone has Lexi! No time to explain!”

I hang up the call just as I pull into the parking lot of the warehouses and spot a car parked next to the building at the end of the alley. Thank God I managed to avoid the cops, although I’m sure my car’s description has been called in by quite a few people after all that.

My heart is about to beat out of my chest by the time I get out of my car. I grit my teeth and crack my knuckles as I start to sweat. And then I hear the most earth-shattering scream I have ever heard in my entire life. Worse than the scream I heard from Aunt Sarah at 3:32 that night.

It’s 7:31 p.m.

WHY DOES MY HEAD
hurt? It’s dark in here and it smells like old blood. My heart starts to beat hard in my chest. I’m sweating. My wrists hurt. I try to move them but I can’t. I can’t move my feet either. Panic starts to set in. Where am I? How did I get here? Why am I tied to this rusty chair? I try to scream but there’s something tied around my mouth, muffling the sound.

I hear the sound of a door squeaking followed by a slam that makes me jump, at least as much as I can jump while tied to a chair. Then footsteps that echo on the cement floor. I squint my eyes to try and make out what this person looks like, but it’s just not light enough in here and they’re still too far away.

“So you thought you could just get rid of me that easily, did you? You stupid little bitch.”

His voice gradually gets louder as he stalks closer to me.
Oh my God. It’s Patrick!
He’s gone completely off the deep end. The closer he gets to me¸ the more I can smell the strong odor of alcohol. I bet he hasn’t stopped drinking since I broke up with him a couple nights ago.

His hand grips the back of my hair and he pulls my head back hard. Tears sting my eyes but I refuse to let him know he’s getting to me. I sneer my nose and turn my gaze to the far wall. His face is so close to mine that I can feel his hot, rancid breath on my cheek. I swallow hard, trying to hold back the tears.

“Fucking look at me when I’m talking to you!”

SLAP!

I gasp and try hard to scream through the fabric tied around my mouth. If looks could kill I would have gutted him by now. My face stings, but instead of wanting to cry now there is a rage deep inside of me, and I want nothing more than to hurt him like he’s hurting me. I wiggle and squirm trying to free my hands or my feet, but it’s no use.

Patrick roughly let’s go of my hair, throwing my head forward, and starts pacing around me, looking down at his watch repeatedly.

“You know, Lexi, I thought we had a good thing going.” His voice is a little calmer now and eerily quiet. He’s still eyeing his watch as he paces back and forth in front of me.

“I know I lose my temper once and awhile, Lex. But deep down all I ever did was love you.” He suddenly stops pacing, taps his watch three times, and sighs. He removes the gag from my mouth. “Don’t make a sound or this is going back on that pretty little mouth of yours.”

My heart is still beating hard in my chest and the pulse thumps loud in my ears. I feel a shiver run down my spine when his demeanor changes again. His eyes now flicker with hatred and fire. He wouldn’t
kill
me . . . would he? I start to feel the bile rise up my throat but I fight to keep it down.

“Looks like your new
boy toy
isn’t going to show up to save the day.” Patrick looks at me with an evil grin, tilting my chin up with his index finger. Tears threaten to sting my eyes again.
Coen.
He’ll think I stood him up. I remember now! I was getting ready to head home with Jo to get ready for our date tonight. My heart sinks. I have to get out of here. I have to get back to Coen. I struggle, trying to free myself again, and I scream in hopes that someone, anyone might hear me. Patrick stops and shoves my shoulders down hard and sticks the gag back in my mouth.

“It’s no use, Lexi. No one can hear you out here.” My shoulders hurt as he squeezes them harder. He leans in close to my face again. “I left him a little note on your doorstep.” He shoves his watch in front of my face and taps the face of it. “It’s 7:31 p.m., doll face. Your new lover boy had until 7:30 to bring me five hundred thousand dollars and I’d leave you two alone. But I don’t s—”

Patrick groans as he’s knocked to the floor.

I can’t see well enough in the dark to tell who it is, but their cologne is familiar and comforting. I try my best to scream again and fight against my restraints. The chair screeches and rattles as I scoot and bang it on the cement floor of the warehouse trying everything I can to break free, but there’s still no budging these ropes. Looking over to where Patrick lies on the floor I see the shadow of him starting to stir.

“Lexi, are you okay?”

Oh, thank God! It’s Coen!

I’m so relieved to hear his voice that I forget I can’t speak clearly.

“Oh God, Lex, are you gagged? Where are you? I can barely see in here.”

Coen manages to make his way over to me, almost tripping over me in the chair.

“Whoa, babe.” He steadies himself and removes the gag from my mouth. “Are you okay? Am I too late? Did he hurt you?” He caresses my cheeks and tries to study my eyes, though the darkness of the warehouse makes that almost impossible.

“Coen!” I scream. He and I both duck as Patrick stumbles to his feet and tries to swing at Coen. He’s too drunk and too disoriented from Coen’s hit to make contact with either of us. Coen swings around and they both stumble back into the darkness. All I can hear is grunting and bones cracking, no clue what sound is coming from whom. Punch after punch echoes through the warehouse and I can’t hold back the tears anymore.

“Coen!” The only sound I can hear now is the pounding of my heartbeat in my ears and my sobs as I cry uncontrollably.

I MUST’VE PASSED
out, because when I open my eyes I’m no longer in the warehouse. I’m lying back on the front passenger seat of Coen’s car. Streetlights appear as streaks of orange as we speed down the city streets. I’m a little groggy, but I reach down to find the lever that adjusts the seat back upright. The movement of me sitting up gets Coen’s attention. He quickly glances over at me and places his right hand on my leg.

“Just stay still, Lex. I’m taking you to the hospital to get checked out. Does anything hurt?” His eyes bounce back and forth between me and the road as he waits for me to reply. He stops at a red light and I can see well enough to tell that his eye is a bit swollen.

“I have a headache, but it isn’t bad. I just want to go home, Coen.” I look to him with exhausted, pleading eyes. After the day I’ve had, all I want to do is curl up in my favorite blanket and go to sleep. “Are
you
okay? Maybe you should get checked out?” I slide my palm under his and lace our fingers together. My thumb caresses his as I turn myself towards him, waiting for him to answer. The light turns green. Coen shrugs and continues driving.

“It’s just a black eye, Lexi, I’ll be fine.” His hand grips mine a little tighter and his foot presses a little harder on the gas.

I decide to take his word for it.
For now.
I’m too exhausted to argue with him. Taking my eyes off him to look out at the road, I see that we’re coming up to another intersection. If we go left, we’ll be on our way to the hospital, if we go right, we’ll be just a couple more minutes closer to my bed.

“Please just take me home, Coen,” I plead. “No hospital tonight. I just want a nice warm bath and my bed.” He stops at the stop sign and puts the car in park.

“What are you doing? You can’t park in the middle of the road!” I check the mirrors and turn around to see that thankfully, there’s no one behind us.

“Relax, Lex, no one is honking yet.” Coen flips the overhead light on. I blink a few times, trying to adjust my eyes to the brightness. “Let me get a good look at you.”

He tenderly holds my chin between his thumb and index finger, moving my head slowly right and then left.

“Son of a fucking bitch, Lexi, I should’ve killed the little worthless bastard. Fuck!” Coen slams his hand against the light, turning it back off. Throwing the car back in drive he stomps on the gas and turns right. I lean back and sigh in relief.
He’s taking me home.

“Does your cheek hurt? Do you hurt anywhere else at all?” he asks again, gripping the steering wheel tighter. He’s really upset about this. I knew he liked me, but he’s acting like it’s his job to take care of me. Part of me wants to tell him that I’m not a damn ragdoll, that I can take care of myself. But the other part of me is overcome with relief and thankfulness. If Coen hadn’t shown up when he did, who knows what Patrick would have done to me.

“Really, Coen. I just need a bath and some sleep.”

He doesn’t say anything else the rest of the drive to my place. He seems concerned, but distant. Instead of letting me walk, he carries me inside the house. I’ve never been this fussed over before. Normally I wouldn’t stand for this sort of thing. I can take care of myself. I don’t need a man, or anyone else for that matter, looking after me. But tonight, with him, it feels different. Like he belongs here. Like I’m right where I should be.

Coen sits me on the edge of the sink in the bathroom and draws me a bath. As we wait for the tub to fill he takes my shoes and socks off and finally breaks his silence.

“I know you’re probably wondering what happened after you passed out.” He walks over to me and starts to gently help me out of my dirty work uniform.

“Derek showed up and pulled me off of Patrick, I’m guessing not long after you passed out. He told me to get you looked at and somewhere safe and he would deal with that fucking asshole. He was extremely drunk and I might have banged him up a little, but he’ll live. Not that he deserves to.” Coen undoes the last button on my shirt and gently slips it off my shoulders. His eyes wander up one arm, across my chest, and down the other. He’s checking me for more injuries. Grabbing me gently by the waist, he lifts me off the sink so that I’m standing in front of him in nothing but my purple bra and black work pants. He then reaches over and shuts the water off in the bathtub.

Coen is avoiding eye contact with me and I’m not sure why. When he stands back up he starts to undo the button of my pants but I stop him, placing both of my hands on either side of his face.