Unlike a certain someone who I’m not thinking about at all.
Once free from the stifling club environment, I take a deep pull of fresh, cool desert air. Fresh might be an exaggeration. But the chilly winter temps help to clear my head. I need to sober up. Across the parking lot, I spot a bench. Perfect place to wait for a cab. I weave my way through the cars to—
The sound of a woman’s keening makes my body stiffen. I look around, but can’t see anyone except for the small cluster of smokers huddled at the far end of the building, in the opposite direction. I scan the lot, hold my breath, and concentrate on my hearing. Another soft moan and I’m moving, following the sound. Scouring the surrounding area, I tiptoe through rows of cars, my heart hammering in my chest.
“Oh God.” The murmured voice again, this time a little louder and closer.
A deep grumble filters from a nearby SUV. I duck down low and creep up to the car.
The woman screeches. Oh no. Panic floods my system. Visions flash behind my eyes. The struggle. The fear. The pain of being taken against my will.
I’m at the door, my hand moving on its own to grasp the handle.
The deep voice again. Another female whimper.
I swing open the car door and lean into the backseat. “No!” The word flies, powered by the ferocity of my anger. The door bounces back from my aggressive yank, slamming against my thighs and pinching my legs.
“What the fuck?” The angered roar of the rapist ricochets off the windows.
I grab at the back of his jeans. “Leave her alone!”
My fingers burn, digging into denim as I struggle to pull him off.
“Crazy bitch, get out!” the victim says, her voice not at all panicked, but pissed.
Blinking away the fog, my eyes adjust to the dome light in the car. A pretty blonde girl frantically covers her naked body, pulling her bra down and sliding on her panties. The rapist is up, buttoning his jeans and righting his shirt. My eyes are painfully wide and firmly fixed on the man’s familiar green glare.
Shit.
“Blake…” His name slides from my lips on a whisper.
“What are you doing?” The girl’s pretty face twists in anger. “Get out!”
I scramble backwards, out of the backseat. Stumbling, my butt hits the car parked next to the SUV. I just stormed in on Blake’s make-out session like a fucking lunatic. He already thinks I’m crazy. I just proved him right. Oh, God!
His tall, wide body folds out of the back of the car. He’s fastening his belt—were they? Oh. My. God!
“I… I’m sorry Blake… I didn’t—”
He steps into my space, his jaw clenched tight. “What the fuck’s wrong with you?”
What’s wrong with me? Where do I begin? I roll my lips between my teeth and shake my head. The urge to run, to get the hell away from the embarrassment, is overwhelming, but I can’t move. It’s like my feet are sunk in concrete.
The horror of my past mixes with total humiliation. My eyes burn. Rivers of emotion stream down my face. I’d blame the alcohol if that little surprise hadn’t sobered me up completely.
The blond from the club pulls her shirt on over her head and leans toward me. “You’re a fucking psycho!”
“I’m sor—”
“Hey!” Blake turns his back to me and faces the girl, his body blocking my view of her. “Don’t talk to her. Don’t even look at her. Understand?”
He’s sticking up for me?
“She jumped all over us in my car. How can you defend her?” The girl’s high-pitched shriek draws the attention of a few people by the front door.
Great. An audience.
I try to sidestep away on shaky legs, ignoring the sickening twist that plagues my belly.
“I’ll take care of her. You get yourself together.” Blake’s voice is low, clearly trying to avoid any more attention.
“She saw us…” She’s speaking softly so that I can’t hear, but the words I do pick up on are unmistakable. “… inside me.”
Crap. I knew it. A spasm rocks my chest so hard that I grasp my neck. My lungs struggle for breath. He was having sex in the backseat of a car.
A sob rips from my throat. I’ve got to get out of here. “I’m really sorry, you guys.”
I turn and make my way… away. My eyes follow the asphalt forward, no clue which direction I’m walking. Salty tears burn my nose, and I’m grateful no one can see my breakdown. What was I thinking? Nausea threatens to upheave my tequila shots. I breathe in through my nose and out my mouth, trying to calm my overactive gut. I mistook her cries of pleasure for cries of pain. The memories flicker behind my eyes, the burn from his hold, his weight on my chest, still so vivid and—
“Mouse.”
Blake grabs my arm from behind. I thrash out of his hold and flip around. He flinches and holds up his hands, running his gaze from my neck to my hairline, his eyebrows pinched together.