23. Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Three
Lillian
W ith the adrenaline coursing through my veins and the sting of betrayal enhanced by my suspicions about Karl, I keep my emotions at bay until I reach Jayne's front door.
Banging on it a tad harder than I probably need to, I lean against the door while waiting for her to open it. I could have called first. I probably should have, but all I could do while sitting in the cab was run through every interaction I'd had with Karl the last few weeks. Nothing had changed other than Byron's interest in me.
And Karl has been seeing Samatha for years now. They were talking about having a kid together.
Or at least that's what he tells me.
"Balls, what's with the racket," Jayne says as she opens the door, her lips pursing as she takes me in. "What the hell, babe? You look like a ghost is chasing you. Come, come in." She ushers me inside and steps to the side, barely giving me the space to squeeze by.
"Shit. Jayne, I'm sorry. I should have called but didn't know where else to go." I rush over the words as I head to the kitchen counter, falling on one of the bar stools. Resting my head in my hands on the counter, I lean forward, trying to get a handle on everything.
"Puh-lease. I'm glad you came here. Now tell me what's going on so I can help," Jayne urges me, sitting on the stool next to me, resting her hand on my upper thigh. Though slightly higher than I'm comfortable with, the touch grounds me in a way I really need right now.
I carefully walk her through the events of the last hour, trying to keep everything in the right order. I can't believe how much my life has flipped on its head in such a short time.
I know I should call Byron and tell him about my suspicions, but I am nowhere ready to talk to him, and in all honesty, it could probably wait until morning. Karl might think I'm a little weird for how I took off, but I'm semi-sure he won't suspect I believe it's him. If it even is him.
During my rant, Jayne gets up from her stool and grabs me a large wine glass. I continue to tell my story as I watch her open the bottle with graceful movements. It looks like a fancy, expensive bottle, and I want to protest as she pours me a generous helping, but I can do with the spoils right now, so I shut up and let her do it.
She sits back down, urging me to sip at the wine as my story unfolds.
"Hell of an afternoon you've had there, babe. Fucking hell." She's playing with the bottle opener, twisting the corkscrew in and out in slow, rhythmic movements. "You're welcome to stay here. I'll keep you safe from the big bad serial killer and the serial killer's son."
"No!" I cry out in panic as a thought strikes me. "I can't have that. The creepy, fucked up stalker might just be dangerous enough to hurt you too. I just need some time to clear my head to figure out my next move."
And maybe close my eyes just for a bit. Suddenly, getting a bit of shut-eye sounds exactly like what I want right now.
"Don't worry about a thing, babe," Jayne says as she stands up, using my hand to get me to follow her example. Her arm wraps around my waist as she helps me walk to the couch. "I've got you. You'll just take a little nap, and then after that, everything will be perfect. Exactly the way it should be."
Her words creep me out, but as much as I want to fight against them and her, I have no energy to do it.
With a sense of impending doom, I let her lay me on the couch before she carefully tucks a throw around me.
"Sleep, little Lily. I'll watch over you."
***
My mouth feels like cotton, and the headache pounding away behind my eyes makes it hard to open them. I'm definitely in an unfamiliar bed, though.
My heart rate spikes when I try to bring my hands to rub at the sand in my eyes. My fucking arms are tied. An experimental tug of my feet proves they are at least able to move. Carefully, I blink my eyes open, trying to bring the room into focus.
It's a plain, stark white bedroom with minimal furniture and nothing else to indicate where I am. Last night is a blur, but as I take in my surroundings, I try to piece together the sequence of events from yesterday.
Byron and Jones showing up at the morgue. Karl creeping me the fuck out. Jayne... did I see Jayne? I know I was going there, but maybe Karl caught up with me before I got there?
I test the restraints—carefully coiled ropes—and find them pretty damn tight. Not so much that my circulation is cut off, but there's no give in them. The bed I'm lying on is a large one, easily a king-sized one, so I can't even see myself sneaking off the side and reaching something with my feet.
It's probably time to get out of here, Lily.
While scouring the room for anything that might help me, I notice the door handle moving when a quiet creak alerts me.
Gearing up to face Karl and whatever the heck he has planned for me, nothing shocks me more than the face peeking past the door.
"Jayne!" I whisper-shout her name. Did she see Karl grab me? Is she here to break me out? "What are you doing here?" I hiss at her, saying silent prayers that my scary stalker doesn't happen upon us. "You should have called the cops!"
Her brows furrow as she takes in my words before straightening up and slowly walking to the bed. "Why on earth would I call the cops, my luscious Lillian? They would interrupt our quiet time together. I've waited months for it."
I can't make sense of her words. How could I?
I stare at her unblinkingly, trying to figure out where the heck I'd gone so wrong. None of our interactions were anything other than friendly. Dammit! She was sweet and supportive.
"I can see you're figuring things out now, and I must admit, I'm sorry that things happened this way. But when you showed up on my doorstep last night, running from Karl, I had to take advantage."
Her face is a careful mask, giving nothing away. As she talks, she walks around the bed and takes a seat on the end of the bed, grabbing hold of my foot. When I try to shake it off, she tightens her grip, almost to the point of hurting me. Her message is clear. Hold still.
"I've been waiting months for this, Lillian. It took at least half of that time to get you to even pay attention to me in the damn cafeteria. Then, Mister Fancy Suit shows up and steals all of your focus. Now it's my turn. And you'll give me what I'm due. Do you understand me?" Her words are scary, but the tone she uses to deliver her threat is the same friendly one she's been showing me the past few weeks.
Her grip tightens around my ankle again, and I rush to answer her. "Yes, I understand. I just don't know what is going on."
Her head is thrown back as she roars with laughter. "Isn't it obvious? You're mine. And the time has come for me to claim you. You can pretend to be as reluctant as you want, but I know you, Lillian. I know you and your history better than anyone, and we were made for each other."
She pats my foot before pushing up off the bed. "Now, you're probably bursting, so let's get you up and into the bathroom so you can use the facilities and get cleaned up."
Hope rears its head at the mention of her getting me up from the bed. Just maybe I can get away from her. I have to be careful to control my expression so she can't tell I'm looking for an escape route.
Jayne bends over me, reaching across to undo the binding, and helps pull me up to get off the bed. I still haven't spotted anything in the room that can help me get away, but there may be a window in the bathroom I can get a signal out of or a weapon of some sort.
My hopes are dashed when she slips into the small, barren room with me and keeps the door open behind her.
"There are no secrets between us," she says, winking at me. I have to suppress a shiver of repulsion. Turning my back on her, I try to figure out the best way to make this work.
There's nothing around the toilet—not even a toilet paper holder. She's been planning this for a while, and that scares me more than anything else.
Unable to picture myself using the bathroom in front of her, no matter how desperate I am, I turn back to face her, prepared to make my case, when I see her looking down at her phone.
Her moment of distraction will be my chance.
Like something from a movie scene, I rush her, my shoulder hitting her midriff. The loud ‘oomph’ noise she makes satisfies my bruised ego. I use the momentum to continue pushing until her back hits the wall behind us. Her head snaps back with a loud thump, and a burst of air wooshes from her lungs.
Unwilling to see if I'd knocked her out, I take my chance and rush for the bedroom door. No noises are coming from the bathroom behind me, so I hope she won't follow me out.
The bedroom door leads into Jayne's walk-in closet, and my brain tries to figure out where the hell she was hiding it all this time.
I find my bag on her kitchen counter and grab it as I rush out and down the stairs, unwilling to wait for the elevator. As I run for my life, I dig through my bag and push the speed dial I'd set up for Byron.
"Lily!" His relieved voice is the most beautiful sound in the world.