He looked up. “What?”
“There was nobody on the phone. Was it Shelly?”
“It was a guy.” Rick shrugged and looked back down at his work. “Asked for you by name.”
“Huh.” Weird. My dad? Not likely.
My heart still beat too fast, thumping erratically as if my body couldn’t make up its mind whether to squeal like a teenage girl or to worry like the woman it had become.
I called Shelly just to check. It hadn’t been her, but she agreed to watch Bailey late tonight. Only after I hung up did I think about using Call Return to call the guy back. Not that it was a big deal. Guys weren’t exactly standing in line to talk to me.
That’s what I kept telling myself. At least until I dropped the entire tray of frosted cupcakes on the floor. Count backward from ten. Everything will be fine.
Chapter Five
By that night I was practically climbing out of my skin. I needed the release that my monthly date nights provided. They were rough, dirty, and more than a little unsafe—but they were on my terms. Without my fix I felt panicked and jumpy.
It must have showed, because Shelly took one look at me and told me to drop Bailey back off before her bedtime. I said no and took Bailey to the park, then to the library, anything to distract us both from the anxiety that threatened to tear me apart. In the end I gave in, tucking Bailey into Shelly’s bed and singing her to sleep before heading out to the club.
As I entered the building, the stench of stale alcohol and sweat hit me. I took a deep breath, a drag. Unsteady on my heels, I wove through the crowd toward the bar. Without planning it, I ended up where Colin had sat last time, and I felt an irrational pang of disappointment to find the bar stool empty. I sat there instead, my ass where his had been, nostalgic over some dirty, cracked plastic.
I signaled the bartender for my usual, but it burned on the way down. I glanced around, feeling cornered, even though I was right in the middle. Everything—the bar, the people, the strobing lights—was covered with a film of grime and dirt and shame. No, that didn’t make sense. It was me.
A hard body pressed against me from behind. Some part of my brain flickered with hope that it was Colin. But the body pressed harder, grinding its erection into my back, and I knew it wasn’t him. Not that I could recognize his cock print, just that it was too cheesy of a move for him. Too aggressive.
The acrid scent of sweat wafted from behind me. I started to turn, but hands clasped around my waist and squeezed.
“Where do you think you’re going?” a rasping voice whispered in my ear. Cold lips slid down the side of my neck, leaving a trail of wetness like a slug.
I shivered. He chuckled.
At the other end of the bar the bartender was serving a group. If I screamed, he would probably hear me, even over the racket of music. He’d help, maybe.
“It’s okay, baby. I’m not going to hurt you.” A lie. My skin prickled in warning. I wanted someone who could be mean, but I tried not to cross the line into outright crazy, and this guy was ringing all the warning bells. His hands were already so tight on my hips that they’d leave bruises. Without having seen his eyes, I knew they would be empty, lifeless. He would be more than rough—he’d be brutal, dangerous.
“Come outside and play?” he said.
This was what I’d come for, but now that it was here, I didn’t want it.
“No.”
He yanked on my arm, and I toppled from the stool. I finally got a look at him. I looked up to angry eyes and a shaved head. His bulging stomach did nothing to negate the meaty muscle everywhere else.
His eyes looked like I’d envisioned, but with something else: a cruel amusement. Oh, he’d hurt me, all right, and he’d enjoy it. Chills raced through me.
He grabbed my arm and turned to leave, but the bartender called us back. “Hey, stop.”
The man paused and turned. “What’s up?” he said.
The bartender looked from me, to the guy holding me, then back at me. “You okay?”
I don’t want this. Help me. “No, I…” Fingers tightened on my arm, cutting into the flesh. I cleared my throat against the thickness. “I’m okay.”
The bartender narrowed his eyes; then he was gone, lost in the swirl of flesh and nylon as I was dragged through the crowd and out the door. The man pulled me over to the side of a building, toward an overflow parking lot, mostly vacant. The heavy beat of the music boomed even outside the club, but I could still hear my blood rushing through my ears. I struggled, but it didn’t slow him down.
A truck was parked in the corner, against two brick walls.