Chapter 2
Chapter
Two
July 21 st
11:24 P.M.
An unexpected stab of jealousy pierced him at the sight of Susanna in another man’s arms.
It was ridiculous.
Cole didn't even like his neighbor, not even now. He felt sorry for her, absolutely, but that didn't mean that he liked her. While everyone could live the way they chose, so long as they weren't hurting another person, and he knew he shouldn’t judge, the fact that she worked as a prostitute was something he just couldn’t understand.
“I’m so sorry this happened, Suse,” the man she’d called Phillip said as he kept her tucked close against him, a hand smoothing up and down her spine.
It was obvious this man must be her boyfriend, although Cole had never seen him around the building. Likely, she didn't want her partner popping up at her place whenever he felt like it because he could show up while she had one of her clients there.
Well, if she’d lied about where she lived then her boyfriend was going to be in for a shock. Because there was no way Susanna could have walked far in her condition. Either she was attacked in her apartment or possibly outside the building, but he’d bet everything he owned that it was one of her clients who had hurt her, and her whole life was going to come crumbling down around her.
Given that no woman, regardless of who they were or what they did, deserved to be sexually assaulted, he actually felt sorry for her.
Maybe he better stick around just in case the boyfriend lashed out when he learned the truth about the woman he was dating. Of course, he’d be entitled to his shock, but Susanna was in no condition to take another blow right now.
Taking a step away from the bed, Cole crossed his arms over his chest.
The movement drew both their attention, and Phillip nodded in his direction. “Who’s that?”
Susanna looked at him from eyes that swam with tears. Tears that hadn't fallen yet. Whatever else she was, his neighbor was obviously good at controlling her emotions when she wanted to. Maybe that was how she managed to live a double life.
Lifting a hand, Susanna rubbed at her temples like she had a headache. Not surprising given there was a lump on the side of her head he’d noticed while he was triaging her as he waited for the ambulance.
“He’s my neighbor. Apparently … I went to his apartment … after. But … I don’t know why I would do that,” Susanna said, brow furrowing once again in confusion.
Cole had been hoping she’d know what had brought her to his door, because it was so unexpected given their relationship—or complete lack of one—but it appeared he wasn't going to get an answer to that particular question. Or at least not yet. More memories could return later, and she’d confirmed she remembered the attack, of which he’d been eternally grateful for because he hadn't wanted to break the news to her that she’d been raped.
Voices outside Susanna’s cubicle curtain had them all turning to look as it was shoved backward, and about half a dozen cops came barreling through. Some were in uniform, and a woman had a detective’s badge hanging around her neck.
What were so many cops doing in her room? Sure, she’d have to give a statement, but it didn't need this many of them.
Had they figured out she was a prostitute?
Were they here to arrest her?
A surge of protectiveness caught him off-guard, and he found himself shifting slightly to stand between the newcomers and the small, fragile woman lying in the bed. Tomorrow, he’d go back to hating her, but right now, all he felt for her was pity. She’d come to him tonight, and he’d been the one to take care of her. When he was sure she had someone who wouldn't hurt her in her corner, he’d back off, but for now, he wasn't allowing anyone else to cause her pain.
“Polly,” Susanna called out, her voice shaking.
The detective easily veered around him and quickly pulled Susanna out of Phillip’s arms and into hers. Her touch was gentle, and her expression was stricken. It was clear that these two women were friends.
How did that even work?
Did Susanna have everyone in her life fooled?
The other cops had come to hover around the bed. None of them looked at Susanna with contempt or like they were there to arrest her.
Maybe they hadn't found out the truth about her?
But then what were they all doing there?
And why did they all look at her with genuine concern, like they were friends?
Were they?
What the hell was going on?
Was he the only one who knew how Susanna supported herself?
Even if he was, how and why would she befriend a bunch of cops? Did she have some kind of kink where she got a kick out of playing with fire and seeing how long she could last before she got burned?
“You know we’ll have to ask questions, right, sweetie?” Polly asked, smoothing Susanna’s tangled locks.
Susanna gave a shaky nod, but he could already see she was snapping her armor into place, ready to do something that would no doubt be painful and humiliating. Not that she had anything to be ashamed about. Her rapist alone was the one to blame for what had happened to her. Even if it had been a client and things had spun out of control, that didn't give anyone the right to touch her in any way she hadn't given express permission.
Still a little suspicious of why so many cops had come into her room, and not wanting Susanna to be blindsided after she’d given her statement, Cole took a step closer to the bed. “Do you know all these cops?”
Giving him a funny look, Susanna nodded.
“How?” The question popped out because he was giving himself a headache trying to figure all this out.
“Through work,” Susanna told him.
Huh?
That made even less sense.
So, they all knew she was a prostitute and just … didn't care?
“And her charity,” Phillip added, shooting a proud smile Susanna’s way.
“Charity?” he repeated, completely lost. Apparently, he was the only one in the room who was, though, because everyone else seemed to know exactly who Susanna was. Cole, on the other hand, felt like maybe he didn't know her at all. Had he made a huge presumption about her based on his own insecurities?
“Yeah, my girl here started a charity to provide advocates for every single victim of a violent crime in the city,” Polly explained, giving Susanna a warm smile. “Victims are presented with a card either at the hospital or the precinct. If they want, they’ll have their own advocate provided. That person will help them organize counseling, and ensure they’re informed of the legal process every step of the way. They kind of act like a point of contact and a PA all wrapped up in one. They take care of everything, even simple things like making sure the victim has groceries in their kitchen when they go home. For as long as they need them, the advocate is there, even if all the victim wants is someone to check in on them from time to time. It’s changed lives.”
Susanna ran a charity?
How did that fit in with her job as a prostitute?
Only he was pretty sure now that wasn't actually her job.
So why did men come and go from her apartment at all hours?
What was he missing here?
“Job?” he asked lamely as guilt and horror swirled in his stomach. He had the horrible feeling that he had indeed allowed his history with women to paint this particular one with the same brush. A brush she didn't deserve in the least.
“Susanna is a psychologist who works with addicts,” Phillip informed him. Then the man looked at Susanna. “I thought you knew him.”
“I know who he is, he lives next door to me, but we’re not friends,” Susanna replied, sinking wearily back into the mattress as she tugged the blanket right up to her chin, looking so fragile and vulnerable Cole’s chest ached.
He’d made some major assumptions when it came to her, and he owed her one hell of an apology. Not only had he assumed she was a trust fund baby and prostitute, but he hadn't been shy about making his assumptions known. He constantly threw barbs at her, and since Susanna had never once refuted any of them, he’d falsely expected that everything he thought about her was true.
Why hadn't she corrected him the first time he insinuated that she was a hooker?
And why the hell had she turned up at his apartment after she’d just been assaulted when she knew without a shadow of a doubt that he despised her?
July 21 st
11:31 P.M.
Cole was staring at her in shock, the realization that he’d hated her for things she’d never done clearly sinking in, and Susanna couldn’t deny there was a thread of satisfaction inside her.
If it hadn't been for her attack and the fact that several of her cop friends had all shown up while Cole was still there, she never would have told him the truth about herself. He’d made assumptions without knowing a thing about her other than her name. So, what if her family was well-known and wealthy. Why did that automatically equate in his mind that she must live off their money? And what the heck was the whole prostitute thing about and where had it come from?
Regardless of how his constant barbs hurt, she never would have told him the truth. In her experience, people believed what they wanted to over the truth every single time. So, telling him wouldn't have changed anything.
But now he had to accept it.
He’d heard from other people that she was no hooker. She was a trained psychologist who worked with addicts, and in her spare time, she ran her charity. She worked hard, and she’d dedicated her life to helping those in need, and yet Susanna also knew that if other people hadn't been there to support her assertions on who she really was, Cole wouldn't have believed her.
And that right there smothered out any satisfaction she found in Cole’s obvious discomfort in learning just how wrong about her he’d been.
Susanna was so tired of no one ever really seeing her. Of no one really caring about her. Sure, she had good friends in her life, several of them surrounding her right now when she needed them the most, but still she believed if she shared her secrets, they’d laugh in her face just like those she’d shared those secrets with as a child had done.
One thing her childhood had taught her was don’t bother expecting anyone to actually care about you.
A motto she now lived by.
Keeping distance between her and the people in her life. Let them in a little but not enough so that it would hurt you too badly when they wound up betraying you.
Right now, though, it seemed pointless to worry about anything other than what had happened tonight.
Cole was a jerk, but she did have good people in her life who would support her if she let them.
The question was, could she let them?
Or would old pain and insecurities lead her to push them away?
“We’re going to need to take your statement, sweetie,” Polly said gently, her brown eyes full of empathy as she watched Susanna carefully, as though fearing she might fall apart.
That was one thing none of her friends had to worry about.
Was what had happened to her horrific?
Of course it was.
But would it break her?
Not a chance.
She’d been conditioned from birth to withstand the most brutal of torture and she hadn't broken yet. Maybe if she’d ever had a safe place to fall apart with people there who she trusted would catch her when she fell, she might have. But she had neither of those things, so she managed the best way she could. By locking everything away and just continuing to trudge forward, being the best version of herself she knew how to be.
“Suse,” Phillip said, nudging her shoulder and she realized she was just sitting there like she was in shock.
Okay, so she was in shock, but that was no excuse for zoning out.
She knew better than that.
If she didn't figure out how to compartmentalize this and hold it together, no one else would. There was no one to help her pick up the pieces, just herself. Susanna had been self-sufficient since she was a little girl, it shouldn’t be hard to figure out how to add this to the overflowing box of traumas she’d endured and just move on.
“Yeah, I can give my statement now,” she said, voice flat as she did her best to control her emotions, which, of course, meant ignoring them and shoving them down.
“We can wait until the doctors finish with you,” Polly offered.
“No. I'd rather just do it and get it over with,” she replied.
“Okay,” Phillip said, his voice’s soothing tone doing the opposite of what he intended. It was meant to calm her, but instead, it hiked up her anxiety because she wasn't used to anyone being soft and gentle with her. She was used to being dismissed or used as a punching bag. Sick as it was, she was somewhat comfortable with that attitude from the people in her life. There had never been anyone to care about her emotional needs and she’d compensated for that by just pretending she didn't have any.
When someone was nice to her, it served to remind her that she did have needs, and they weren't and never had been met.
Maybe that was why she allowed Cole to go on treating her badly. It was all she knew, and that provided a sick sense of security because at least she knew how to handle it.
“We’ll head out, Susanna, call if you need anything,” one of the cops standing around her bed told her, and she offered him the best smile she had in her in return.
After the officers left, she realized Cole was still standing there. He was staring at her with an inscrutable expression, and his muscled arms still crossed over his very broad chest. Just because she hated him didn't mean she couldn’t appreciate his body, and it was absolutely a work of art. It was sculpted to perfection, with a six-pack women drooled over, and the kind of sturdy arms that could carry any weight.
It just wouldn't be hers.
Susanna carried her own weight.
Always.
“Umm …” Phillip drew the word out as he looked from her to Cole, and back to her again. “Do you want him to stay?”
Yes .
The thought burst into her head without warning, and Susanna was immediately taken aback.
Of course, she didn't want Cole to stay. Why would she? He hated her and she hated him. There was no comfort his presence should offer her even though he clearly had the build and likely the training to back it up, to eliminate any threat that might present itself.
She was being silly. Both Phillip and Polly were police detectives and friends. They could keep her safe if she needed protection from anyone, although it was almost definite that whoever had attacked her had done so simply because she was a young woman out alone at night.
The person wouldn't be back, they wouldn't stalk her or return to hurt her again. If they wanted her dead, she’d be dead right now. Her assailant was, however, a threat to other young women and she would do whatever she could to make sure he was caught and prosecuted.
“No, he can go,” she said softly, wondering why she felt as though she was fighting against her instincts. Her instincts had nothing to do with a man who happened to live next door to her and hated her for no reason.
“Susanna, I?—”
“Thank you for helping me tonight,” Susanna cut in, not wanting to hear whatever it was he was going to say. She didn't want him to apologize—if he even had that in him—to her for thinking what he had about her in front of her friends. That would lead to questions from Phillip and Polly as to why she never corrected Cole, and she didn't want to be any more vulnerable than she already was by having to answer them.
Besides, his apology meant nothing to her just like he meant nothing to her.
Since Cole hadn't moved, she kept talking. “I’m sorry to have disturbed your night. I honestly don’t know why I knocked on your door, but I'm truly grateful you got me to the hospital. And stuck around,” she added not really understanding why he’d done that. If he’d called an ambulance, he could have just stayed at home when it took off with her, and if he’d driven her there himself he could have left once he handed her over to the ER staff.
Why did he stay?
And why did she care about the reason he decided to stay?
Thankfully, Cole seemed to get the hint that she wanted him out of her space sooner rather than later. Giving a terse nod he uncrossed his arms. “You're welcome. If you need anything when you get home, you know I'm right next door.”
Why would he say that?
They were enemies more than anything else. Given their constant negative interactions, she couldn’t quite say they were just acquaintances. Her going to him tonight was an anomaly, one she was going to blame on shock and trauma. There was no way she would ever go to him again and she didn't understand why he would make the offer.
Guilt maybe?
Because he’d been so wrong about her?
“I’m sorry this happened to you, Susanna,” Cole’s deep voice said.
With that, he turned and left, and it took everything she had not to call out and take back her words, beg him to stay because, for some crazy reason, he actually made her feel safe for the first time in … forever.
What was happening to her?