Chapter 10 Holland
HOLLAND
I stretched in an attempt to ease my aching muscles.
As much as I hated Ambien, I had been desperate for sleep, but even then, my nightmares followed me most of the time.
Not last night, though. I dreamed of a masked man breaking into my house and fucking me with a …
My brows furrowed. A cross? I rolled my eyes at the crazy dream and slowly sat up.
My pussy ached as if I’d been thoroughly fucked last night, and a flicker of panic ripped through me as I saw the envelope with the death certificate in it.
I must have walked in my sleep, but then the note on top of it caught my eye.
I snatched it up and read it, my pulse skyrocketing as my legs threatened to give out.
Mine.
My head snapped up and my attention traveled around the room to see if anything else was out of place.
The evening was hazy after the sleeping pill, but I pieced together everything I’d done before I downed the medication.
The envelope had been in my guest room. Not here.
But the note was what was messing me up in the head.
Who wrote it? Had someone been here again, or had I written it in my sleep? Why would I have written that note?
I stared at it, wondering if my handwriting could look that shaky and spidery.
“You’re losing your fucking mind, Holland,” I muttered while I tried to talk myself out of the idea that someone had been in my home.
Ambien side effects could be brutal, and people had all kinds of crazy stories.
That was why I hated taking it, but I also understood what happened mentally and emotionally if someone didn’t sleep.
I’d argued with myself about it until I gave in, but I only took half of the prescribed pill.
I stood, my thoughts spinning with the other possibility …
that Draco had broken in and touched me.
My chin trembled as I fought against the tears, knowing from the way my body ached that it was a more plausible explanation.
Had he left marks? I searched every inch of myself for any bruises or red marks, but I didn’t find any.
My pussy throbbed with the recollection of being thoroughly fucked …
and that was what messed me up most of all.
Why did it feel like I’d wanted it? The ache, the arousal—it clung to me like guilt soaked in gasoline—and I didn’t know whether to scream or cry.
Deep inside, I knew someone had been here. There was only one man looking for revenge, and I had to come to terms with the fact that I was no longer safe in my own home.
My attention landed on my phone as I toyed with the idea of meeting Kip and telling him more about my past with Draco. After this, I needed more protection, and I was out of options.
I picked up my phone and located his number under Monster. I tapped out a quick text message.
Me:
I need your help. Can you meet me at my office around three?
I typed out the address for him, then his response came a few minutes later.
Monster:
Let me check my calendar. I’ll get back to you.
An annoyed huff slipped from my lips as I pulled up my playlist on Spotify and turned on “Killed Me” by XV Nauthiz.
My chest tightened with the title, reminding me of …
that was another matter for another day.
I set my phone down and made my way to the shower.
If Draco had touched me, I wanted to scrub every inch of my skin to remove any traces of that bastard.
In the back of my mind, I realized I needed a rape kit, but if I did, they would have my DNA, and when they searched for Holland Alder, no one with that name would show up.
As I showered, I racked my brain, attempting to think of anyone else who might have been in my house, but I was coming up empty-handed.
It had to be Draco or … I swallowed hard, not wanting to admit the other possibility.
Seeing Draco had triggered my PTSD so badly that my hallucinations had returned, fueled by the Ambien.
Was anything real from last night? If dreams were vivid enough, it was possible to feel as though I’d had sex.
“That’s all it was. You were severely triggered, and your brain is playing tricks on you,” I said into the running water.
Once I was clean and dried my hair, I walked to the closet and searched for the right blouse for the day at my office. I retrieved a navy one and held it up.
“What the hell is that?” I scrunched up my nose as I stared at it, trying to identify what was all over one of my favorite tops.
“Dammit.” I tossed it onto the floor, making a mental note to drop it off at the dry cleaners on my way to work.
Maybe they could get out whatever it was.
Instead, I chose a baby blue V-neck blouse and gray slacks.
Twenty minutes later, I collected my purse and laptop bag.
Kip still hadn’t responded, which annoyed the hell out of me.
I had zero patience right now. Draco was a real threat again, and I didn’t have time to play games.
Maybe Kip really could help me handle that situation.
It’s not like you mind seeing him again.
You might not want a relationship, but he’s hot as sin and a good fuck would do you some good.
There was an undertow to the way Kip communicated, like he was always pressing for more, always testing.
I hated that it worked on me. I hated more that he didn’t frighten me—at least not in the way Draco did.
I should have been scared of Kip. I should have told him to leave that night in my car.
But all I felt was relief, as if he’d thrown a switch in my brain and every threat and every panic had drained away.
His presence made even the memory of Draco seem laughable—a Chihuahua barking at a trained wolf.
I kept picturing Kip, the way the corner of his mouth twitched when he was about to say something clever, or the way he measured and nearly leveled me with his stare as if he could see the skeleton in my closet, and the shame that wrapped around it like wet sheets.
The first time we’d met, he’d been so unsettlingly perceptive, pinning me down without laying a hand on me, and I’d known even then that he could be a problem.
I fought it, but every cell in my body seemed to vibrate on the same wavelength as his.
It was sickening and exhilarating, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to fuck him or punch him in the nose.
Irritated with the direction my thoughts had turned, I headed to my car. How could I think about him like that when I had much bigger problems to solve?
My day passed in a blur with patients back-to-back. It was two-thirty before I had a break. At least my busy schedule had kept me focused on someone else’s problems, which was a relief. I checked my phone. It was a quarter to three. I tapped the text icon and Kip’s message appeared.
Monster:
See you at three.
My stomach flip-flopped at the idea of seeing him again—even under shitty circumstances.
My obsession with bad boys was going to get me into trouble again if I didn’t watch it.
Needing to pee, I grabbed my purse, stepped out of my office, and headed down the hall. The other office doors were all closed. Quiet. Everyone must have left early.
That worked. No prying ears while I talked to Kip about my past. I hadn’t decided how much I would tell him—just enough to get his help.
Once I relieved myself, I spent two minutes obsessively reapplying lip gloss and fixing my hair.
I was ridiculous, but the situation with Draco had shaken me, and some primitive part of me wanted Kip to approve of how I kept my shit together.
Or maybe I wanted him to think I needed help.
Maybe I wanted him to believe I was breakable. I was.
I left the restroom and started toward my office.
Then everything blurred.
A flash. A man standing over my bed. His face was a smear of shadows.
My pulse stuttered. I stumbled, pressing a hand against the wall to steady myself.
Was it real? Or were the lingering effects of the Ambien playing with me?
I pressed my palm to my throat and breathed through it. My body remembered. Even if my mind didn’t.
Count your steps.
I forced myself to walk, letting each step pull me out of the fear.
Back in my office, I opened the mini fridge and grabbed a yogurt and a bottle of water—pretending everything was fine.
I was so lost in thought about the man in the mask I didn’t hear the footsteps behind me.
“Well, well, well. Holland Alder, or should I call you Samantha?”
Fear clawed at my throat, the familiar voice nearly sending my adrenaline into overdrive. He shouldn’t know that information.
I turned slowly, my attention meeting cold, steely blue eyes full of hate and rage.
I gulped. “What are you doing here, Cooper?” I thought I’d left the asshole behind in California. But maybe he’d never really let me go. Maybe he’d followed me all along. But if that was true … someone must’ve told him where I was. There was no way he found me on his own.
He scratched his chin thoughtfully, his stare piercing through my soul.
At one time, things had been good with Coop, and those were the times my brain remembered.
Other times, he was downright terrifying, especially after stints of drinking and gambling.
It was the main reason I moved back to Portland.
I thought he might leave me alone with some distance between us. Clearly, I was wrong.
“I wanted to meet this Samantha lady. Have you seen her? She’s about five foot four, red hair, gorgeous with big tits. She’s a psychiatrist if I recall.” He smirked. “And here I thought you were boring and stuffy. Turns out you’re a dark and twisted bitch.”
He closed the gap between us, his presence dominating and filling the room, suffocating me while he pressed me against the wall.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I fisted my hands in order not to shake in front of him.
He tsked and placed his fingers under my chin, roughly forcing me to look up at him.
“You need to leave. Now. I have a client on the way, and they’ll be here any minute.” As hard as I tried, I couldn’t disguise the tremble in my command.
“Holland … I mean Samantha, there’s no need to be scared of little ol’ me.” He lowered his head, the tip of his nose grazing my ear. “How I’ve missed you.”
My palms pressed against his chest, but the shove barely moved him.
His laugh echoed in the small room, mocking my effort, mocking me.
My pulse hammered in my throat, each beat so loud I was sure he could hear it.
A cold sweat broke across the back of my neck, goosebumps rioting over my skin.
My stomach clenched, threatening to betray me with a tremor, but I forced it down, locking my knees to stay steady.
He wouldn’t get the satisfaction of seeing me break. Not again.
I wanted to demand how he’d found me, after all the careful hiding, the new life I’d built brick by brick. But the words tangled in my throat, strangled by fear.
“You’re so beautiful, Samantha.” His knuckles trailed down the side of my neck, and then his thumb stroked over my throat. He pressed his hips against mine, his hard-on pushing into my stomach. At one time, I’d adored his touch, but now my stomach twisted in disgust.
“Leave. I’ll scream if you don’t, and my coworkers will hear and come to help. This is your final warning.”
He grabbed my throat, and my skin crawled with a familiar tingle. My eyes narrowed at him as I raised my knee as hard as I could straight to his hard cock.
He grunted and dropped his hand while he stepped away and grabbed his groin. I took advantage of the space between us and moved away from him.
“You little bitch. There’s no running this time.”
My nostrils flared as I delivered a swift kick to his ribs. He yelped and dropped to the floor.
“Were you in my house last night?” I said through clenched teeth.
His deep chuckle raised the hair on the back of my neck.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
I barely got the words out before his hand clamped around my ankle.
He yanked hard. My leg shot out from under me, and I hit the floor with a crack that rattled my bones. The breath whooshed from my lungs as he dragged me across the floor like I weighed nothing, and before I could scream, he was on top of me.
The weight of him was suffocating. Cold. Wrong.
I thrashed instinctively, kicking, shoving, anything to get him off, but he pinned me like it was effortless. My hands scrabbled against the floor, useless, igniting a rage in me that burned all fear to ash on my tongue.
His face hovered too close, and bile rose in the back of my throat. I couldn’t look at him without my skin crawling, the need to sink my teeth into his nose overwhelming. Every inch of me recoiled, my heart pounding so hard it hurt.
This wasn’t just a show of strength from Cooper. It was a threat. A reminder.
He could do whatever he wanted, and he knew it. “Listen here, Samantha.” He said my name with enough venom and hate to make my plants wither.
“Fuck you.” I spat in his face. Finally able to suck in some air, I screamed at the top of my lungs for help.