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I slept hard but then, being dosed with major pain killers will do that for you.
I awoke groggy and disoriented but after a few terrifying moments, I remembered what’d happened to me — and what I’d narrowly escaped — and I couldn’t stop the tears.
I wasn’t a weak person by nature. An enabler when it came to Frankie, sure, but weak? No.
But I felt like a weakling right now, blubbering about a circumstance that hadn’t actually happened.
I wasn’t raped.
But I was beaten.
The only reason I hadn’t been raped was because of Jameson.
I had mixed feelings about that.
On one hand, I was grateful; on the other, I was angry. I didn’t want him to be my savior.
He was the devil.
I’d like to say I was being dramatic but I couldn’t understand how a man who was so blackened inside could possibly end up the one who saved me.
Maybe I was being ridiculous. Victims shouldn’t lament who had saved their ass.
But Jameson Reed wasn’t a good guy.
He was no knight in shining armor. He was the bad guy, the one who manipulated a situation for his own benefit.
I couldn’t wholly extend my heartfelt gratitude to someone like that.
The nurse came in with a brief, efficient smile.
“How are you feeling this morning?” she asked, immediately checking my vitals and noting the results. “Your swelling seems a little better but it’ll take a few days for it to completely go down.”
“Thanks,” I said, fiddling with the hem on the coarse hospital blanket. “Do you know when I can leave?”
“Your vitals look stable. That’s a good sign. Your doctor will let you know.”
Of course she probably couldn’t give me a straight answer. Liability concerns and all that. But I really wanted to go home.
Just then, Roxy appeared anxiously at the door and I smiled through instant tears. The nurse excused herself and left us alone.
“How did you know I was here?”
“I guess I’m your emergency contact. I got a call this morning that you’d been attacked and that you were here,” Roxy answered, coming to stand by my bed, her brown eyes wet with tears. “You look God-awful, girl. What happened?”
“That college kid with the bad attitude came back to teach me some manners, apparently,” I replied with a faint smile that immediately caused me to wince because my lip was still swollen. “He tried to rape me.”
“Did he….” she let the question trail, her gaze apprehensive.
“No.”
“Oh thank God,” Roxy breathed, her hand fluttering to her chest. “I feel somehow responsible for this. If I hadn’t caught a ride home with Ricky, this wouldn’t have happened.”
“Don’t blame yourself for the actions of some over-privileged kid,” I tried to tell Roxy but she was already berating herself pretty hard. It hurt to see Roxy take that blame when it wasn’t her fault. “Look, shit happens. But I got off lucky. The cop seems to think I wasn’t the only victim. Hopefully, with my statement, more victims will come forward and this guy can be punished properly.”
Roxy wiped at her eyes and nodded. “Let’s hope so. I fucking hate rapists. Dirty bastards. They all deserve to have their nuts cut off and fed to them.”
I chuckled weakly. “Agreed.”
“So what happened? How did you escape?”
“A cop saved me. He happened to be in the right place at the right time,” I lied. Well, maybe it wasn’t technically a lie but it sure was a variation of the truth.
Jameson hadn’t dropped by for altruistic reasons and I wasn’t stupid enough to believe that he was.
He wanted something.
“That man deserves a medal,” Roxy said with an adamant nod. “Or at the very least a gift basket, right?”
I stifled a laugh at the idea of sending Jameson a gift basket. The only basket Jameson would find of value would have to include condoms, booze and ammo.
“I think he’d probably say he was just doing his job,” I said, not wanting to extoll on Jameson’s good qualities. Things were complicated enough without adding one-off attributes.
“Well, not all cops are good,” Roxy said as if she knew from experience. “You got lucky.”
I nodded, too wiped out to argue. I needed to conserve my energy so I could get out of this place. Hospitals creeped me out. I wanted to be home, in my own bed, hiding beneath my own covers.
“Don’t worry about Marg, I’ll handle her,” Roxy assured me. “If she even tries to give you attitude about taking a few days off I’ll just draw to her attention to the fact that everyone knows she and Jose are doing it in the pantry. I doubt Jose’s wife will take too kindly to that information.”
“Ouch. Fighting below the belt,” I chuckled. “But I like it. Marg is pretty self-righteous for someone living in a glass house.”
“Yeah, exactly. And I’m tired of her shit, anyway,” Roxy grumbled. “I’d leap at the chance of taking her down a peg.”
“Just don’t get yourself fired,” I warned. “Jobs are scarce these days.”
“Good point,” Roxy conceded with a sigh, looking disappointed in having to rein in her revenge plot. “Ah well, at least Ricky is working, too. It sucks when your guy is sitting his ass at home while you’re slaving away at a shit job for shit money.”
I wouldn’t put myself in that position — however, Frankie was just as much a financial drain at times as a deadbeat boyfriend so who was I to judge?
The sound of a throat clearing had Roxy turning to see Jameson standing in the doorway.
Damn, I’d hoped that Roxy was gone by the time he returned.
As much as I wanted to hate everything about Jameson, it was hard to ignore the tiny flutters that erupted as soon as he appeared.
He looked every inch the hard-ass. I knew only too well just how it felt to be pressed against all that steel.
And how it felt to have him buried inside me.
The memory intruded on every private thought, leaving me nowhere to run.
As expected, as soon as Roxy set eyes on Jameson, she turned on the flirt.
“You must be the tall drink of water that saved our girl,” she said, her gaze fastening on Jameson with approval. “You deserve a medal of honor or something like that. Do they give out special awards to cops who go above and beyond the call of duty?”
I mentally cringed. Please stop, Roxy. The man is insufferable as it is. Don’t make it worse.
Jameson’s faint smile toyed with flirtation as he said, “Just doing my job.”
Oh, please. The false humility was going to choke me.
I wanted to clear up any misconceptions clinging to the illusion Jameson was weaving but I remained silent because I couldn’t take him down without going down with him.
I made quiet introductions to get it over with. “Detective Reed, this is my friend Roxy. We work together at Mamie’s Diner.”
Jameson acknowledged Roxy with a slow nod then asked, “Roxy would you mind if I took up some of Ivy’s time? I have some more questions to ask her.”
“Of course,” Roxy agreed quickly, moving out of his way and out the door with a wave. “I’ll see you later, hon. You’re in good hands!” She made a desperate thumbs up behind Jameson’s back for my benefit and then was gone.
Roxy, bless her romantic heart, was always talking about how I needed a good man — even though Roxy had dubious experience in picking out a good man.
I didn’t fault her for caring and for thinking that a woman needed a ‘good man’ to settle down with but if Roxy knew how far from ‘good’ Jameson Reed was, she’d brain him with a frying pan.
“You’ve made a fan,” I stated, narrowing my st
are as I added. “Too bad she doesn’t know the real you.”
“Claws are back out,” he noted but he seemed to be relieved. “Good. Because we have to talk.”
“About the case?”
“A different case.”
“Which case would that be?”
“Your brother’s.”
That caught my attention. “Per our deal, you said you would get him out.”
“I never actually said that,” he corrected me. “I said my report could influence the judge.”
“Semantics. You know what I meant.”
“Look, your brother is in a heap of shit. He’s not very popular on the inside but he still has connections that may be of use on the outside.”
“No,” I said firmly, knowing exactly where this was going. “You’re not using my brother as bait. He’s not…smart enough to handle that kind of responsibility. He’ll crack and get himself killed.”
I hated throwing Frankie under the bus but I was trying to save his life.
“You’re right,” he shocked me when he agreed. “That’s why we need you.”
“Me?” I stared. “What are you talking about? I don’t know anything about Frankie’s drug business.”
“I’m going to cut to the chase — you can get in with Frankie’s help. You’ve got what he doesn’t — a pretty face and a smoking body. Those two things will open any door.”
“Fuck you,” I said, hating him all over again. “Is that all I am to you? A piece of ass? Just because I agreed to your stupid deal doesn’t mean I’m open to being your whore, no matter how you dress it up.”
Jameson dropped into the chair beside my bed. I could smell the sharp masculine musk of his skin.
I wanted to despise the scent but there was something alluring about the way I instantly softened against my will at one whiff.
“It ain’t ideal,” he agreed. “You’re busted all to hell and your pretty face ain’t so pretty right now but the doc says you’ll heal quickly and within a few days, you should be able to cover the rest up with make up. Frankie is going to die, either on the streets or behind bars. It’s just a matter of time. The only thing that’s going to save his worthless ass is if we find the man pulling all the strings. That’s where you come in.”
“I’m not a cop. I don’t know how to lie to people like you do,” I shot back.
