My head jerked up; I'd been picturing Silver so clearly that I expected him to be the one speaking. Instead, a police officer with a flashlight crouched over me. He offered a hand, shining the light in my eyes. “Did someone assault you? Are you injured?”
Swallowing, I let him help me to my feet. “I'm fine,” I lied.
He glanced down at my bare feet pointedly.
I smiled, but it was frail and ready to crack. “I left my shoes at a... friend's place.”
The cop clearly read 'friend' as hookup. His eyebrow quirked, his look of worry turning into one of amused defeat. I wasn't the only girl he'd find tonight doing a walk of shame.
“Let me give you a ride,” he sighed, thumbing at his parked car.
I came close to saying no. Overhead, thunder rampaged through the blackening clouds. I couldn't walk home the way I was, and taking a taxi didn't offer the same comfort as a police escort. I had no clue if Silver might come after me.
He knew where I lived, after all.
With a sheepish nod, I let the cop open the rear door of his car for me.
“It's messy out there,” he said, settling in the front. His hooded eyes peeked at me through the rear-view mirror. “I'm Officer Santile.”
Fingering the pockets of the jacket, I hunched my shoulders. “Alexis. Alexis Willow.”
I sounded too forlorn. His forehead crinkled. “You sure you're alright, Miss Willow?”
Not at all. “Yeah. Just a long evening.”
Officer Santile turned the engine over, leaving me to wallow. And I would have wallowed, I was in prime woe-is-me mode.
Inside the jacket pocket, something poked my finger.
Curious, I slid the tiny card into the air. There wasn't much light in the car, just the lazy bursts as we passed by buildings or other vehicles. It was enough, though, for me to read the words on the piece of stiff paper.
Keswick Silverwell
CEO of Pure Pleasure Inc.
1223 Avelera Ave, Portland OR
I breathed in through my nose, loud enough that Santile peered at me. “Ma'am?”
It's his business card. It has to be! Holy shit. Shaking myself, I stuttered, “I'm fine. Everything is fine back here.”
Tracing the edge of the card, I experienced my stomach flipping. I knew his name. I knew his actual fucking name. I even knew where he worked!
So what? The tiny voice in my skull buzzed. It doesn't matter. You don't want to see him again! What good could come from interacting with a guy like him?
As if on cue, his scent wafted off of the jacket. A helpless flutter traveled into my scraped knees. It was too easy to be reminded of what it had been like to be so close to him. How he'd teased me, bound me, made me come while his cock drove into me at full capacity.
Keswick Silverwell.
I had so many questions I wanted answers to.
Would I ever get them?
“Have a good night,” the cop said as he pulled outside my home.
Climbing from the car, I shivered at the cold puddles around my ankles. “Thanks for the ride.”
“You sure you're alright?”
Considering his question, I came close to asking him to stay nearby. If I said I had a stalker, would he believe me? Wouldn't I have to give him the name of the man who might show up here?
Deep down, I realized I didn't want to get Silver in trouble.
I really was fucked up.
“I'm fine. Thank you again.” Turning, I ran up to my door. But here's the truth. As much as I didn't want to cause harm to Silver... I still took my phone out, dialing most of the emergency number before stalking around my house with a baseball bat in hand.
I was alone.
Except for my torrent of thoughts... I was alone.
****
Water hit me in the face.
“Hey!” I shouted, gaping at Laralie.
Her face pinched in, no humor in her usually cheery features. “Talk to me.”
It had been three days since I'd last seen Silver. Or Keswick. I didn't know what to call him anymore. Either way, Laralie had sensed my brooding mood—not that I'd been subtle—and asked me out to lunch.
I was regretting agreeing to it, especially as she sat across from me, her straw at the ready. Pushing my half-eaten sandwich away, I sighed. “There's nothing to talk about—ah!” She'd flicked more water; I hastily wiped it from my shirt. “Laralie, come on.”
“I gave you fair warning. Talk to me, or be water boarded!”
“This is unnecessary torture!”
“Only if you keep resisting!”
Throwing my hands up, I rolled my eyes. “Okay, okay! I surrender, I'll talk.”
Grinning, she pushed the cup away, folding her hands under her chin expectantly.
Drying my cheek, I held back a small smile. Laralie was ridiculous, but maybe I needed this kind of blunt tactic. “You know the guy that sent me that dress?”
Her eyes flashed. “Of course I do. It was gorgeous.”
I decided not to tell her what the fate of the dress had been. After getting home and seeing how ruined it was, I'd regretfully tossed it in the trash. “We had a bit of a... fight.” There wasn't a better word.
Laralie nodded sagely, not acting surprised. “I figured that was what was going on. Did he do something stupid?”
Opening my mouth, I hesitated. “Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
“I don't know. I'm still trying to figure it all out.”