I Know What Love Is (13 page)

Shit.

I forced myself to swallow and take a deep breath. I told myself to remember all the plans I'd made, all the ways I'd plotted to get out of a situation such as this. Run out the front. Trip the alarm. Fight the motherfucker.

Hurt him.

Kill him.

I realized I had the knife in my hand and I tightened my grip on it. Trace was backing up, and the man in black came into my field of vision. A silver gun was in his hand, trained right on my fiancé . Trace didn't look to me, perhaps trying to avoid drawing attention to me, but I already knew what the man in black wanted.

He wanted me.

After two years, he'd finally come for me.

*****

Joan Martina Vasquez.

That's her full name.

It's beautiful. As beautiful as she was, in her white dress, her shoulders and legs bare to my gaze as I stood beside the pool in her parents' backyard. I knew she wore the dress just for me, like she could sense I was coming for her. She looked pure and clean, like a bride on her wedding day. Her eyes were wide and wild, her thick dark hair brushing her shoulders. I'd heard her scream a few minutes before, and the sound sent a pang of longing through me. I'd missed the sound.

I'd missed everything about her.

Two years was a long time to be without the woman you loved. Too long.

I had my friend Mark at the DMV look up the license plate for me. When I saw a dark-haired woman scouting out the construction site, a ripple of anticipation went through me. It had to have been my girl, looking for me. And sure enough. The black BMW was registered to a Martin Vasquez, 2567 Magnolia Lane, Dallas Texas. An hour on the internet revealed that Mr. Vasquez had a 24-year-old daughter named Joan. Joan Vasquez had graduated Summa Cum Laude from the University of Texas in Austin and had a degree in business. Joan Vasquez had an inactive MySpace account she hadn't bothered to steel against prying eyes. Amazing what an internet search could reveal.

Joan and Elliot.

Putting the names together almost made us sound like two normal people, in a normal relationship.
Joan and Elliot live down the block. Joan and Elliot are coming over tonight for dinner. Joan and Elliot are going to fuck later.

It had a nice ring to it.

First, I had some shit to take care of. Mainly, the motherfucker who stood in front of me. He was tall but younger than me, and I could see the fear in his eyes. He wanted to look at Joan, but he kept his face to mine. He loved my Joan, I could tell. I glanced to the table. Candles flickered, and a glass of wine with pink lipstick on the rim was half empty. I'd interrupted a romantic dinner, apparently. He probably thought he was going to get lucky with my woman later. How wrong he was.

His luck had run out.

Keeping my gun steady pointed at him, I reached around to my back pocket and found my handcuffs. I bought them online, but they were decent. Thick metal and police-approved. I tossed them through the air and he caught them. He had the reflexes of an athlete, and I cocked my head, sensing what Joan must see in him. He didn't look very smart, but he wasn't screaming and acting like a pussy. He was quiet, trying to stay strong for Joan's benefit.

I wondered how much longer he'd be quiet.

“Put them on,” I said, motioning to a support pillar behind him on the patio. “Lock yourself to that.”

“
Listen, man, whatever you want, just tell me. I can get it for you,” he began to bargain, stepping backward to the pillar. “My wallet is in my back pocket. I can get it for you.”

“
Put on the cuffs,” I repeated, beginning to get impatient. Joan was still standing in the kitchen, her body pressed against the door, like she thought that flimsy barrier would keep me from her. She was watching her boyfriend and I, a blank expression on her face. His eyes flicked to her, following my gaze.

“
Please,” he said, and I knew that he was going to start being a problem. “Please, don't hurt her.”

“
Who is she?” I asked, keeping my voice neutral.

“
My fiancée. We're getting married next month,” he said, the cuffs still dangling from one wrist.

Wrong answer.

I sent a sharp glance to Joan and her eyes widened. She could see my anger, sense that I was about to snap. I pointed my finger at her, accusing her across the space between us, without words. How dare she? How dare she put some other motherfucker's ring on her finger when she belonged to me?
Before I knew what I was doing, I stepped forward and swung my arm, smacking him hard in the head with the gun. He didn't go down, but blood streamed down his face as he reeled back.

I swung again, catching his jaw this time. He fell to his knees against the stone-paved patio and I kneed him in the face, breaking his nose. I heard the crunch of the bone and his grunt of pain and it satisfied me. I didn't completely blame him, of course, but a flare of hatred still shot through me. This
boy
had been touching my woman, fucking her, putting his dick in the pussy that belonged to me.

Joan screamed again, banging her palm on the glass window pane of the door. The sound only got me more riled up. I bent, grabbing the guy's hands roughly. I was impatient, and I wasn't exactly gentle as I locked him to the pillar, his arms wrapped around it and the cuffs in front. His face was a bloody mess now, but it looked worse than it was.

“What do you want? Just take my wallet,” he said, his voice strained. Both she and I knew what I wanted, but I was pretty sure her fiancé  wasn't going to like it. I took a step back, tucking the gun back in my jeans. It was time.

The moment I'd been waiting for for two years was finally happening.

Come on out, Joanie, I thought.

Come for me.

Chapter Ten

I
pressed my forehead against the warm pane of glass, completely unsure of what to do. I felt horrible that Trace had gotten mixed up in my fucked up situation. He was bleeding and in pain now because of me. It was totally my fault that Elliot had found me. I had made a huge, stupid mistake, and I knew I would have to pay. But I was terrified. His anger was palpable in the air. I'd forgotten the thick air of violence and sex that followed him like a cloud. It hung heavy between us and I knew exactly what would happen to me if I surrendered.

My body made the decision for me as I backed away from the door without thinking. I had no choice but to make a run for it. Elliot cocked his head, stepping toward the house, sensing what I was going to do. I turned and ran, my bare feet slapping against the marble tiles in the kitchen. I heard a huge splintering crash as the French doors to the kitchen busted open. I didn't look back, even though my heart was in my throat. I could feel him behind me. He was so close. I made it halfway through the living room before he reached me, slinging a thick arm around my waist and throwing me off my feet.

We landed in a painful heap on my mother's expensive striped Dhurrie rug and the knife bounced out of my grasp and across the room. I screamed again, although I knew that it turned him on. I wished I could stay quiet, but my mouth wouldn't cooperate. I pummeled his shoulders and face, still covered in a ski mask that hid everything but his manic eyes and his cruel mouth, until he forced my wrists down to the ground. I swung my hips, throwing my legs back and forth, trying to push him off. But, as always, it was useless. He was too big, too strong, and too persistent.

“
Joan,” he whispered, drawing out the word. I stilled under him, my heart stopping. Of course he knew my name. If he knew where I lived, he knew my real name, but hearing it out of his lips was still a shock. My last line of defense against him was gone. He would be able to find me wherever I went now.

“
Get the fuck off of me,” I growled, hiding my fear under false bravado.

“
Baby,” he whispered, running his leather-covered hand down my wet cheek, and I realized that tears were streaming out of my eyes. “I missed you.”

“
Leave me alone,” I hissed, swinging my hips again.

“
Jo! Jo!” I could hear Trace screaming out on the patio. “Don't touch her!
Jo!
”

“
Do you love him?” Elliot asked, gripping my chin tightly.

“
Elliot, get off me,” I said, using his name, hoping it would help my plight, somehow. I saw his lips curl in an evil smile.

“
I asked if you loved him,” he repeated, his voice dangerously low. I clamped my mouth shut. I knew no answer would satisfy him. If I said yes, then he would kill Trace. If I said no, he would punish me for being with him, anyway. Really, there was no way he wasn't going to punish me.

“
Jo!
” Trace howled.

“
Fuck,” Elliot said, fisting his hand in my hair and standing, dragging me with him. I gritted my teeth at the pain, knowing it was just a hint of what was surely to come. “He's gotta shut up, baby. Tell him to shut up.”

“
Sugar?” I called out, shakily. I heard Elliot draw in a sharp breath next to my ear. He didn't like me calling Trace 'Sugar' but I didn't want to use his real name. Elliot didn't need any more ammo to use against us. He may have found me, but Trace was still an innocent.

“
Jo?!”

“
Babe, I'm fine. Just be quiet, okay?”

“
Don't touch her, you son of a bitch!” Trace screamed. “If you touch her, I'll kill you!”

“
Be quiet!” I called back. “Please.”

Trace didn't answer back and I breathed a sigh of relief.

“Good boy,” Elliot said, his breath tickling my ear. “Joanie, what am I going to do with you?”

“
How did you find me?” I asked, trying to distract him, trying to stall, anything.

“
You found me first.” His hands were roaming up the bodice of my gown. “You were looking for me.”

“
I was,” I admitted, swallowing hard as he slid his gloved hand inside the top of my dress and cupped my right breast. It was bare, ripe for his plucking. I immediately regretted the decision to not wear a bra, although a bra wouldn't have stopped him. It would have just slowed him down.

“
Why?”

“
I don't know.” I cut my eyes to look at him and he was breathing heavy, his face still hidden by the mask.

“
Why did you leave me?” He moved in, his nose brushing my cheek. His fingers worked my nipple, not painfully, but roughly. My body started reacting to him, my heart speeding up my chest and my pussy clenching. I was already wet, and I didn't know whether it was a curse or a blessing. I had a feeling I was going to find out soon. I could feel his erection through his black jeans, pressed against my hip. I didn't answer him. “I've been going crazy without you,” he whispered.

“
You were already crazy,” I said, not able to help myself. He chuckled, the sound sending a shiver of memory down my spine.

“
I can't argue with that.” He dropped his head to nuzzle my neck, his teeth skimming along my skin.

“
Were there other girls?” I asked. I'd been eaten up with guilt ever since I fled Austin, worried that he was preying on other girls. I needed to know.

“
Jealous?” he asked, his hand leaving my breast so abruptly I almost whimpered. He cupped my chin, guiding my mouth to his.

“
Did you hurt anyone else?” I ask, breathless, but needing to know.

“
No. None like you,” he said, then kissed me. I shoved against his shoulder, pulling away for a brief moment.

“
You piece of shit,” I whispered, and I felt the sting of tears as the waterworks began again.  This time, he was the one that didn't answer, just stared down at me with his dark, manic eyes.

“
I didn't,” he finally said, brushing his lips across mine.

“
You're a liar,” I said before he slipped his tongue into my mouth, just like how he used to kiss me. Like he was conquering me. Torturing me. He pulled my chin down, opening my mouth wider for him. He slanted his mouth over mine, thrusting inside and sucking. He slung his free hand around my waist, turning me to face him. My breasts pressed against his hard chest as he abused my mouth, bruising my lips with the force of him. His body surrounded me, and the memories welled up in my mind. All the horrible things he'd done. All the ways he'd used me. The ways he'd wrung orgasms out of me like he deserved them. His fingers dug into my ass, cupping me through my dress, and I squirmed into him. I knew how much he wanted me. I knew he would overpower me. I knew fighting was useless.

I hated him.

Elliot, the man I hated with all of my heart, kissed me like he loved me with all of his.

It was a strange dichotomy. My arms hung limp at my sides, but my nipples poked through my dress, inviting his attention. My mind was screaming bloody-murder, but my body was softening, preparing for his intrusion. It was like no time had passed and we were back in Austin in his dark and mysterious house, where he had me all to himself.