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“Hey, Alex. I’ll just have a vodka soda. Thanks.” I smile at him, and he doesn’t seem upset with me, so I’ll consider it water under the bridge.
He leaves to make the drink while I look around the bar. A couple of familiar faces are wandering around and they send me a friendly wave. It’s weird having so many eyes on me. They all knew me from here, so when the story broke about my kidnapping and Helen’s death, I’m sure many of them recognized me. It was big news in Philly for a while, seeing as it involved the Hayes brothers, who are practically royalty in this city. It was a relief that the details about Jackson’s relationship to Helen and his involvement with the underground kink scene stayed out of the press. They kept the stalker angle in the story. Exactly where her obsession began, however, was thankfully left out.
The memories of the week I spent trapped in Helen’s basement begin filtering through my mind. Darkness starts to creep around the edges of my vision as sweat beads at the base of my neck and trails down my spine. My hands begin to go numb as fear quickly tightens around my throat. Shit, not here. I’ve been doing so well. This panic attack is creeping up fast and unexpectedly. I attempt some of the deep breathing exercises Dr. Thomason taught me, including counting things you can touch, see, hear, and smell. I’m calming down a bit, but it’s in the back of my mind, nagging me like a little buzz you can’t swat away. Jackson and Abigail are actively avoiding each other’s presence, both of them looking in opposite directions of the other, not noticing the riot of emotions I’m sure are running across my face.
“I need to use the restroom,” I tell Abigail.
“Okay, sweets. Want me to go with you?”
“No, that’s okay. You stay here and ignore Jackson.” I’m trying to joke to get my head out of the place it suddenly went to. I just need to splash a little water on my face and take a few deep breaths, then I’ll be fine.
There’s one stall occupied in the restroom, but thankfully no one is at the sink. When I look at my reflection in the mirror, it strikes me how pale my face looks, with beads of moisture dotting my hairline. I shake my head, attempting to relieve my racing thoughts. Turning on the faucet with shaky hands, I run my hands and wrists under the water, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath. I splash a little cool water on my cheeks, not wanting to completely destroy my makeup, having made an effort, after all.Just take deep, calm breaths, Lindsey. You got this.
The stall door opens, and I glance in the mirror at who’s coming out. A girl with brown hair and a small stature exits. She’s hunched over a bit as she walks toward me, looking down at something on her phone. Immediately, I’m taken back to my time in the basement. The first time I laid eyes on Helen. Suddenly, a wave of dizziness crashes into me and I can’t catch my breath.
“Oh, you’re awake.” I hear Helen’s voice speaking to me. I see Helen’s face in the mirror.She can’t be here. She can’t. Oh God, how is this possible?
White spots begin dancing in my eyes as my breathing becomes fast and shallow. I back myself into the corner and see the girl from the stall coming to talk to me, but all I hear is Helen’s voice calling me a slut, telling me Jackson will never love me, saying I’m getting in the way of their relationship. Tears are streaming down my face. When the girl reaches for me, I slap her hand away.
“Don’t touch me,” I scream, sliding to the floor and curling myself into a tight ball against the dingy wall. I’m pulling at my hair with shaky fists as tears stream down my face. All I hear is Helen’s voice telling me she’s going to make sure she makes me ugly, so that Jackson doesn’t want me.
“No, no, no. Stop it.” With my eyes squeezed tightly shut, I begin crying out and kicking my legs, trying to get her away from me, screaming for someone to save me.She can’t get to me. She can’t hurt me. Please God, someone save me.
Chapter thirteen
Aiden
I’malmosthome.God,I forgot what it was like to do these out-of-town trips with Donovan. It’s been several weeks since we hit the campaign trail together, and I certainly don’t miss it. That may have something to do with the feisty blonde waiting for me at home. The last few weeks with Lindsey have been the stuff dreams are made of. Erotic sensual dreams. I smile to myself. The way her body instinctually reacts to everything I do to her in bed has me getting hard just thinking about it. Fuck, that girl is amazing.
I decided to beg off a few hours early so I can surprise her. We’ve talked several times and texted throughout the weekend, but she has no idea I’m coming home a little early. Honestly, I just don’t feel like spending another minute away from her. Does this make me some sort of lovesick sap? Maybe. Do I care? Hell no. I know what’s waiting for me at home, and the pull to get back to it is strong. Maybe I can convince her to come with her sister on the next trip. Not having her warm my bed these last couple nights has made it almost impossible to get a good night’s sleep. Not that we do much sleeping when we are in bed. The anticipation of being with her again has me breaking a few speeding laws. But fuck, the need to see her, to touch her, is overwhelming every other thought right now.
My phone rings and I see Jackson’s name flash across my screen. We’ve yet to have another chat after meeting at the bar when I told him I didn’t like him always being around. I don’t know why he would be calling me now. Knowing him, it could be just about anything.
“Hello, Jackson.” My tone is cool. He will not be preventing me from getting to Lindsey as fast as humanly possible.
“Aiden. We have a situation. It’s Lindsey.” The worry in his voice is evident and it sets off blaring alarms in my head.
My hand immediately tightens around my phone.
“What are you talking about? Where is she?” My jaw is tense as I grit out the words. I swear to God if he had anything to do with something happening to her, he’s a fucking dead man walking, Hayes or not.
“She decided she wanted to try going to a bar. It’s one she used to go to regularly, so she felt like it would be a good place for her to start. Abigail and I are with her,” he begins to say.
I pull over to the side of the road, practically seeing red as Jackson tries to explain what the hell is going on.
“She went to use the restroom and a couple minutes later I saw a girl running out telling the bartender that there’s a girl in there having a total meltdown. We’re in here now, and Lindsey won’t let anyone near her. I don’t think she realizes it’s us, man. We’re trying to get her calm, but she won’t let us near her.” Uncertainty and fear lace his words as he recounts the events of the last few minutes.Godammit.
“Send me the location of the bar. I’m close to the apartment now.”
I hang up the call, and within seconds I get the location.
Fuck, what were they thinking? She’s been doing better, but she should have never rushed this. And Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dumb should’ve talked her out of it.
Flipping a quick U-turn, I head to the bar. If I had gotten a ticket for how fast I was trying to get home moments ago, my license would surely be revoked for how fast I’m driving now.
In a few short minutes I’m outside of the bar, leaving my car directly in front of the entrance. All I can hope is that it doesn’t get towed before I get back out here.
I dart into the bar and spot the bartender immediately. The first time I saw him, I was at Club Noir. It was the first night I saw Lindsey. I walk up to him, not wasting time to politely ask people to move out of my way.
