The Masseuse (30 page)

T
he airbags deployed like an explosion, and I was only just able to block my face with my forearms. My head slammed against the headrest, and for several dizzy moments, time seemed to stand still.

Bobby’s face gradually came back into focus. The airbag had broken his nose; it was already bruising, and blood poured from both nostrils. I started to pull at the bindings around my wrists only to find that the crash had dislodged the cord. As I found my breath, I searched for his gun, but it wasn’t on his lap any longer. It must have been on the floor.

I didn’t have time to look. I needed to run.

Shaking the cord free, I reached for the door handle and gave it a jerk. It was stuck. I tried again and again, but the door didn’t budge. Panic flooded me. I was trapped in a car with a man who wanted me dead. My time had run out.

“What the fuck . . .” Bobby touched his face, looked at the blood on his hands. In a matter of seconds he would realize what I’d done. I needed to hurry.

Abandoning the door handle, I looked up. The windshield had cracked but was still in place. Behind me, the table had slid forward in the impact and my duffle bag was now within reach.

I scooted down in the seat, wedged my shoulders against the cushion, and kicked at the windshield with my bare feet. My twisted knee sent a jolt of pain up my leg as I gritted my teeth and kicked it again.

“You crashed us?” Bobby asked.

He was staring at me, blinking. And as a light from behind the car drew closer, a bright reflection off the broken rearview mirror shone on his face, and I could see that his eyes were out of focus.

Frantically, I reached between the seats and snagged the first thing I could get my hand on in the duffle bag—the box of massage oils. They’d broken in the crash and the sharp scents of peppermint and cinnamon invaded my senses.

Survival instincts took over. I backhanded him in the face with the box. He swore again and clutched his nose.

“You stupid little bitch,” he said.

The windshield had popped out in the corner. One more kick and I had my exit.

Outside, the lights were blinding. The driver who had been following us was finally here, but I couldn’t wait for a rescue. I had to keep fighting.

I had to get back to Alec.

Bobby grabbed my hair, and I hit him again. The box opened, and the shards of glass rained down over his sweatshirt. I snatched one of the larger pieces and drove it into the hand that restrained me, making him howl in pain. At that moment his car door ripped open and he was dragged from the vehicle. The distraction was all I needed to dislodge the window. I scrambled up over the swollen airbag onto the hood and down the crunched metal with only one broken headlight to guide the way.

Falling gracelessly to the ground, I crawled as fast as I could over the asphalt toward the car that had followed us. I paused when a grunt and the distinctive crunch of fists striking flesh came from behind me.

I glanced back, shocked to find Alec on top of Bobby, pummeling him in the face.

“Alec!”

Bobby wasn’t moving.

“Alec!”

As if waking from a dream, Alec stopped. He rose, and dragged Bobby by the shoulders to his Jeep—the car that had been behind us. There, he removed a set of plastic zip-tie cuffs, the same kind he’d used on Melvin Herman at the salon, and bound Bobby’s hands behind his back.

From far away came the haunting wail of sirens. I turned and could just make out the blue and red flashing lights of two patrol cars a few miles behind us.

“You’re a dead man, Alec.” Bobby’s voice was muffled. “Both of you. You’re dead. When Max finds out . . .”

Alec kicked him hard in the gut. He didn’t say much after that.

He left Bobby there on the street and headed to where I was, still on my knees near the Jeep’s tailgate. There was something different about him, wild and animalistic. His body moved with a fluid, dangerous power and his fists were clenched and covered with blood. I could see the muscles of his neck standing taut, and a flash of white teeth.

This was not a man you wanted to mess with.

I crab-walked back a few steps, still shaking with adrenaline. Moving because my body demanded it, not because I was afraid. Alec would never hurt me. And because I knew this, it baffled me when he stopped and lowered to a crouch a few feet away.

“Anna,” he said softly. “It’s okay. You’re safe now.”

He reached out a hand, and after a moment I took it. He didn’t move fast; maybe he knew it would have fried my last nerve. Instead we stayed that way—him holding my hand, rubbing his thumb over my knuckles, while my heartbeat slowed one beat at a time.

“You came.” My voice cracked.

“As fast as I could.”

“How’d you find me?”

He gave me a guilty smile. “Remember that GPS tracking device I put in your car?”

I most certainly did not.

“Wait,” I said, recalling a joke he’d made after he’d found me at a restaurant with Randall. “I thought you were kidding about that.”

For some reason this was suddenly hilarious to me, and my tear-drenched laugh broke through the tension.

“I’m coming closer,” he said. A little while ago he’d been terrifying, but now his touch soothed me, and his voice was calm and steady.

I nodded. He scooped me up off the ground, cradling me against his chest. I closed my eyes and breathed him in, savoring his dark, heady scent and the steady beat of his heart. He carried me to the passenger side of his Jeep and gently set me down on the seat. It was too soon; I could have stayed in his arms for the rest of my life and been happy.

Carefully, Alec tucked my hair back behind my ears and examined my face. His eyes narrowed as his thumb brushed over my cheek and cracked lip. I jerked as his other hand came to rest on my sprained knee.

“I’m going to kill him,” he said, jaw flexing. For a flash I feared what he was capable of.

“No,” I said. “Stay with me.”

The sirens were closer now, their volume deafening as the patrol cars blocked the road.

I held his face in my hands and forced him to look at me. After a moment he nodded, and then he held me as tightly as he allowed himself to while the shudder raked through his body.

“It’s over,” he said. And I nestled my face against his shoulder and finally let myself cry.

The police came to the car soon after, and a Latino man with salt-and-pepper hair and a short goatee introduced himself as Terrance Benitez, a friend of my father’s.

“You called it.” He shook Alec’s hand. “You were right about Herman, too. He broke when he realized no one was going to come bail him out. He’ll be going away for some time.”

“Thanks for the help.” Alec’s hand came to rest on my lower back, a move that made me feel safe and strong all at once. “I got in a jam at your apartment. I’m not sure asking your dad to call in a favor with his friend at the Tampa PD earned me a lot of points.” He sighed.

“You called my dad?” It was probably a death sentence, but for some reason I found this endearing.

“Bobby set me up. He had Melvin trash the place, and then, when the cops showed up, blamed it on me. They would have carted me away if Terry hadn’t been there.”

Once again, I had to hand it to Bobby. Things had played out just as he had anticipated. I looked up as he was shoved into the back of a patrol car. He was repeating the same line over and over: “Do you know who my uncle is?”

Pretty soon the whole country would know who his uncle was.

“Your dad called me about the stalker issue and asked that I keep an eye on you,” said Terry. “When your name came up on the screen, I hightailed it over to your apartment, only to find this guy swearing up and down that you’d been abducted.” He stuck a thumb out in Alec’s direction.

“Melvin let that slip just before the police took off your door. Cocky bastard.” Alec mumbled something about taking it too easy on him.

“Where was the FBI?” I asked. “Why didn’t they vouch for you?”

“They were busy.” Alec grinned. “Raiding Max’s house. It’s really over, Anna.”

The weight I’d been carrying on my shoulders suddenly felt lighter. Maxim Stein couldn’t hurt Alec anymore, Bobby was going to jail, and we were safe. There was just one more piece.

“Bobby ran Charlotte off the road,” I said. “He confessed the whole thing to me. He threatened her, ran her down, and then destroyed the bridge footage to cover his tracks.”

Terry scratched his chin. “We’ll look into it. We have enough, between the white-collar crimes and the abduction charge, to hold him for long enough to wrangle a murder confession out of him, don’t worry.”

I breathed in slowly and tucked myself against Alec’s side. My cheek rested against his warm chest, and my arms circled his waist. This really was over, and now Alec and I could move forward, together.

A shared look passed between him and Terry, and then Alec pulled me even closer. Something was still wrong, I could feel it. I pulled back and looked up at him, seeing my suspicions confirmed in his scowl.

“Terry, can you give us a few minutes?” he asked.

Terry hesitated, then nodded toward where Bobby was still shouting for his uncle from the backseat of a cop car.

“I’ll have my hands tied with this asshole for a while. Maybe we can finish our business back at the station. Eight a.m. sounds like a good time.”

Alec shook his hand again. “I’ll be there.”

“You’d better be.”

I stared at Alec, searching for some hint as to what was going on, but Terry patted my shoulder. “Call your dad,” he said. “He wanted to let you know he’ll be flying in first thing tomorrow.”

“Great,” I said, but couldn’t blame him. Dad would have to see I was in one piece for himself—anyone else’s word, including my own, wouldn’t matter. I could only imagine how he and Alec were going to get along now. I hoped that he’d be grateful Alec had come after me, but I doubted it would be that simple.

“Come on,” said Alec. “I’ll take you home.”

A
fter a short visit with the EMT, Alec drove us toward home in his Jeep. I refused to go anywhere in an ambulance and insisted that Alec would take me to a hospital immediately, should I show any signs of concussion. We left my car as part of the crime scene, and Terry agreed, as a friend of my father’s, to take my statement about what had happened the following morning.

I was still ramped up, but at least I wasn’t afraid. What peace of mind Bobby had stolen from me Alec had replaced, just by staying close. He didn’t say much while he drove, but I could feel him watching me. It still brought the same rush as it had the first time I’d met him, even if it came from a place of worry, not lust.

My forearms had minor burns from the airbag, and I blew on them to take away some of the sting. I felt like I was coming down from three pots of coffee—a little buzzed, a little twitchy—and when the jitters made it hard to stay still, my heels began to tap the floor mat.

“Can we stop?” I asked. We were still an hour away from the city, and I couldn’t sit any longer.

“Sure.” Immediately he cut across the empty lanes toward an exit.

“Is there a motel or something close by? There has to be, right? This is Florida.”

He glanced over at me. “I’ll find one.”

“I just want to take a shower,” I explained. I twisted my hair around my finger. “I know it sounds crazy. I just need to clean up. I’d settle for a hose at a car wash at this point.” I wanted the memories of Bobby’s hands and fists on me scrubbed away as soon as possible.

“Of course.”

I eyed him across the car. “You’re being awfully agreeable.”

At the end of the off-ramp, he stopped, and turned to me.

“I’ll do whatever you need tonight.” His eyes fell to my lips, and a sudden wave of heat stole my breath. I wanted him to kiss me senseless, make these last hours disappear. I wanted his mouth to race over me while he made love to me like he couldn’t restrain himself, but instead he was so calm and controlled. It made me even more antsy.

“You’re not going to tell me we’re only an hour away from Tampa?”

He shook his head, the darkness hiding his expression.

“If you say you want to stop and take a shower, we’ll stop. If you say you want dessert for dinner, we’ll get you dessert. I’m not in the business of telling the woman I love no.”

My heart seemed to stop, then restart, doubling up on beats to make up for the skip. I wasn’t sure I’d ever get used to hearing him say that he loved me. When I was with Bobby, the thought had crossed my mind that I’d never hear it again. It was what had driven me to crash my own car, kick out a windshield, fight for my life.

Alec leaned toward me, as if to kiss me. He was a few inches away when he hesitated, and lifted his thumb to trace the cut Bobby had left on my lip. It stopped him short, and he shoved back in his seat, then pulled out his smartphone and waited for the map program to pick up our location. That simple, dismissive move made me feel a hundred times grimier. A minute later we were back on the road.

We couldn’t stop soon enough.

He found a pretty beach motel, and after a quick exchange with the night manager, we were headed to a second-floor room. It was small but cozy, with a view of the Gulf and a king-size bed. The walls were the color of lilacs, and there were white sand dollars lined up on a bookcase filled with worn paperbacks.

While he stood on the balcony and stared out over the dark waves, I retreated to the bathroom. The shower was pristine white and surprisingly large. While the water began to steam up the room, I took off my ripped, dirty T-shirt and sweatpants, and examined myself in the mirror.

My cheek was still red from Bobby’s fist, and my lip was a little swollen. The seat belt had bruised my shoulder, and my hands and feet were scratched and dirty. I could clean myself up, but I would probably look worse tomorrow.

The door creaked open, and the steam dissipated. Framed in the entry stood Alec, still wearing a faded red T-shirt and jeans. His hands were now clean of Bobby’s blood and hung loosely by his sides. I stared at them, wishing they were holding me, making me feel good, and then I crossed my own arms over my breasts because I’d never in my life felt as vulnerable as I did in that moment.

He took a step forward. “Can I wash you?”

Just the words were enough to send shimmers through me. I nodded slowly and lowered my hands. Gingerly, I stepped into the water and waited for him to come in behind me. Knowing his eyes were traveling down my back, over my naked body, sent a hard contraction through my core.

I heard his shoes click against the tile. The water soaked through my hair and made a river between my shoulder blades. The warmth did nothing to relax the growing tension in my breasts. The hard peaks began to ache as the seconds passed.

He entered the shower behind me and I held still, waiting for him to make the first move. After a moment, the gentle pressure of a washcloth skimmed over my shoulder. It lowered down my back, and then returned to clean my other side. The soap smelled fresh, like the ocean.

Unable to stand the distance between us, I glanced over my shoulder, surprised to find him still wearing his clothes. The water splashed off my body, peppering his T-shirt, and soaked the worn cuffs around his bare feet.

“I think you forgot something,” I said.

He continued his slow, tender work, moving over my bottom and down my legs, where he washed one foot, then the other. He was so careful where Bobby had been so brutal that it brought tears to my eyes. When he rose, I turned to face him, watching the way his features tightened as his eyes lowered. His hair was responding to the dampness and curling around his ears.

“Did he hurt you, Anna?” he asked in a quiet voice.

My breathing hitched. He applied more soap to the washcloth and wove it through my fingers, careful to avoid the bandages on my knuckles from the EMT.

He wasn’t talking about Bobby hitting me; he was asking if Bobby had tried to rape me.

“No,” I said, suddenly angry. “Would it matter if he had?”

He froze, leveled me with his gaze. “Of course it would matter.”

I couldn’t stand his soft voice or his gentle touch any longer. I didn’t want his pity, I wanted his love.

“I’m not broken.” I’d begun to shake again. “Stop acting like I’m broken!”

He stepped forward, pushing me farther into the water. It soaked his shirt, making the fabric cling to his chest.

“You’re not,” he said. “Look at you. You’re anything but broken.”

I buried my face in my hands, frustrated because he wouldn’t give me what I needed.

“I thought you were gone, Anna.” His voice was rough with emotion. “I followed your position on my GPS for an hour, losing my mind with what was happening to you. And then you stopped.” He twisted the washcloth so vigorously his knuckles turned white. “Christ. I thought I’d never see you again.”

I felt his fear then. It was bright and toxic, big enough to swallow us both.

“I couldn’t let that happen,” I said.

“You were there because of me. What I’d done.”

“I was there because Bobby’s a psycho, and his uncle is a rich, maniacal fuck.”

“Goddammit, Anna. You could have died because of me!” He threw the washcloth down. “A better man would leave.”

“So go!” I pushed him back. “If you want to go so bad, do it!”

He lunged forward and kissed me, hard enough to sting my bruised lip. His hands rose to my face, cupped my cheeks, and pulled me closer. His tongue plunged into my mouth, claiming me with hard, frantic licks. The emotions were surging through us, clashing at every point we connected.

Thrown off-balance, my front rasped against his wet T-shirt, and twin bolts of electricity shot from my nipples straight into my sex. With a desperate cry, I arched into him, the desire to feel his skin more acute than the need to breathe. I tugged at his shirt, shoved it up his stomach, and felt the groan rumble through his chest as my breasts smashed against him.

“Tell me to stop.” His hands flew over my shoulders and down my back, pulling me hard against him. “Tell me it’s wrong to want you like this right now.” His hands slid between us, and my nails dug into his shoulders as he tugged at one nipple. “Tell me if you’re scared.”

“I’m not scared. I need you.” My knee traveled up his thigh, and he gripped it and ground his hips against me. His eyes, deep and mesmerizing, locked on mine, and in them at last was the need I’d been longing to see.

“Make me forget,” I said.

He swallowed. Nodded once.

His shirt came over his head and was discarded on the shower floor, and then he was kissing me again. I winced as his teeth grazed the cut on my lip, and his shoulders bunched in response.

“Don’t stop,” I begged. “Don’t stop.”

He swore sharply. “I love you, Anna. I’m sorry. I love you so damn much.” He lowered, drawing one nipple in his mouth while the other hand dragged down my wet stomach. His fingers slid through my slit, finding it slippery and hungry for his touch.

I fumbled with his belt, the need to be filled overwhelming. His jeans were stiff from the water and hard to remove, so he threaded my fingers behind his neck and did it himself. The zipper lowered, and as he tugged the fabric down his hips, his cock, dark and engorged, came free. I gasped at the sight of it, at the physical proof of his desire. Before he could disrobe completely, he bent his knees, and drove into me in one stroke. The breath expelled from my lungs in a huff. I was on my toes, holding on to his slick, wet shoulders for support as he flattened my back against the cold shower wall.

Before he could withdraw and thrust again I was coming. It was like no other orgasm he’d ever given me. It was hard, and punishing, and it slashed through the fear that had pooled inside of me. I cried in relief, tears streaming from the corners of my eyes as he tucked his face against my shoulder. He buried himself again and again, destroying any hold this night might have had on us. It was fast and urgent, and with his teeth scraping my neck and his hands gripping the soft flesh of my thighs, he followed my lead, filling me with every ounce of his love.

“Anna,” he murmured against my neck.

“More,” was all I could respond. His cock twitched inside of me, making my muscles bear down on him. He shuddered.

He carried me from the bathroom to the bed, his hard length still embedded deep in my body. Throwing aside the comforter, he laid me down on the sheets, placing feather-soft kisses on my cheek and lips. My hips beckoned him on, but he slowly withdrew, and I threw back my head in protest.

As quickly as he could, he maneuvered out of his wet jeans and underwear and soon was sliding over me again. I could feel the thick weight of him on my thigh, but though his head pressed against my tender opening, he had yet to push inside.

“Please,” I said as his tongue stroked my nipple. “Make me yours.”

His hand slipped under my lower back as his mouth rose up my neck to my ear. I wound my legs around him, crossing them at the ankles.

“You’re already mine, Anna,” he said, a clear possession in his tone. “But now, you need to do this. Everything I am belongs to you.”

His words sang through my veins, making me strong. I stared into his eyes, seeing his intent as clear as any truth. My power had been stolen from me, and now he was giving it back.

In one fluid move, he flipped us over, and I hovered over him, savoring that last step off the ledge. His hands rode up my thighs to my hips, and I grabbed them and moved them to my breasts. My heavy lids drifted closed as he began his gentle kneading, and I squeezed his grip, showing him the firm pressure I needed.

“Make me yours, baby,” he said, voice husky.

I adjusted my hips so that he was pressing against me, and then I lowered. I was still slippery with our combined juices, but though he slid into my body, his substantial size stretched my flesh, burning my muscles with the impact. I moaned, unable to hold still, and swiveled my hips the way he did when he made love to me. His thighs tensed, and the growl that slipped through his lips spurred me on. I rotated my hips again, until he was nestled in the perfect place.

Then I rode him harder than I ever had.

When my muscles began to quiver, I leaned forward, and he moved his hands down to my hips, but still did not help me. I did it all myself, taking from him what I needed, while he whispered in my ear about my beautiful body, and my strength, and his love for me.

“Come with me,” I cried just before I let go. And he did, holding me tight against his chest as he emptied his very soul into me.

We stayed that way for some time, and as the tremors passed, I grew drowsy. Before I could sleep, he lifted my chin to kiss me tenderly on the lips.

“Whatever happens in the morning, remember this,” he said.

Sensing his sadness, I rose on my elbows.

“I remember all of it,” I said. “Every second with you.”

He kissed me again and rolled onto his side so I could rest my cheek on his biceps. I traced the rise and fall of his abs with one finger while he dragged my knee up over his hip.

“What is it?” I asked.

His brows pulled together, and I smoothed them with my thumb, wishing I could fix what was bothering him.

“I have to go away for a while,” he said. His eyes moved over my face, as if memorizing every feature.

I wondered if he was still worried about Max and Bobby.

“I’ll go with you,” I said.

He gave me a small smile, but his expression grew serious once again. “The district attorney agreed to work with the FBI, but she couldn’t let me off with nothing. I . . .” He cleared his throat. “I have to serve three months in prison, then six months parole.”

I sat up. “No.” I shook my head emphatically. “You did the right thing. They can’t punish you for that!”

He pushed himself up so that his back was against the headboard, and drew me onto his lap. I couldn’t believe this was happening. We’d fought to be together, and now we couldn’t be?

“I did a lot of wrong things to get to that right thing,” he said, nuzzling his face against my neck. “Terry told me earlier. I have to check in at the station in a few hours.”