Chapter 20
CIGARS AND SCOTCH
Lexi
I searched the crowded room for Micah.
Not Killian. Definitely not Killian.
I was looking for my date, Micah. Damn it, Lexi, get it together. I hated the way my body reacted to Killian’s when he dragged me on the dance floor earlier. She was one traitorous little bitch. A single sexy nibble from that asshole, and my brain had turned into mush.
I rose to my tiptoes and scanned the opulent room, skimming over the older couples swaying to the melancholy tune. One second the space was filled with frat guys in penguin suits, and then a second later, it seemed like half of them had disappeared, leaving us with only silver-haired alumni.
Both Micah and Killian were missing.
If it weren’t for what Micah had said earlier, I would’ve been in a complete panic, certain that Killian was somewhere beating the shit out of my friend. He must have been right, though. The brothers and the pledges must have gone off to do whatever creepy thing it was that secret societies did.
Cordelia shimmied over with two glasses of champagne and an overzealous butt bump.
Unlike the opening night party with the banging bass, the music this evening was more Mozart than Miley Cyrus.
You pretty much needed a date leading you in a fancy waltz to be on the black and white checkered dance floor.
“You definitely look like you could use another one of these,” she said.
I wiped my sweaty palms on the back of my dress and plastered on a smile. Reaching for the crystal flute, I gulped it down in one go.
“What are you talking about? I’m totally fine.” The lie came out way too easily, and I was proud my voice didn’t shake. “Have you seen Micah?”
She shook her head. “Axel told me they had some top-secret fraternity shit to do and he’d be back in a little.” She opened her sparkly clutch and revealed its contents. “And he gave me these.”
A snack-sized Ziploc bag with four white pills caught my eye mixed in with the lip-gloss, compact, and enough condoms to supply the entire fraternity in a week-long orgy. Which after the last party, might not have been completely off base.
“The condoms?” I smirked.
“No, hoe, the Hug Drug. This shit is the best. Have you ever had sex on it?”
I shook my head. I tried to stay far away from the hard stuff. Sure, I’d smoked some weed in high school, but I hated the feeling of losing control. Ever since that day on the highway, I needed to be aware. At all times. “It’s not really my thing.”
She shrugged as she popped one of the little white pills under her tongue. “Your loss.”
My stomach twisted. “You’re going to take that here, right now?” I scanned the sea of gray-haired alum surrounding us. “What if you start humping one of those old guys?”
She let out a wicked laugh. “Lexi, old guys need pussy too.” Then she waggled a manicured fingernail. “Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.”
My lips screwed into a disgusted pucker. Any time I saw an older man, especially with a cigar, my thoughts instantly flew to him.
The smell always hit me first. Cigars. Scotch. Expensive cologne.
My stomach dropped like I’d just stepped off a cliff.
Sometimes, I wondered what he’d look like now, if he was still picking up innocent girls on the side of the street.
Stanford Davenport would’ve been easy enough to Google, but I refused on principle.
Just the idea of seeing that man’s face again…
A blast of anger singed my veins as darkness raced to the surface.
I tried so hard to forget everything about that day, but no matter how badly I attempted to block the nightmares, they always returned. I should have fought harder, I should have clawed at him, kicked him in the balls, anything. And most of all, I never should’ve let him get away with it.
I should have made everyone believe me.
Especially Killian.
My throat tightened, the familiar steel bands lacing around my lungs at the thought. My best friend should have fucking believed me. He should have defended me from that monster.
“Um, hello, Lexi? You still with me?” Cordelia snapped her fingers an inch from my nose.
I focused on my friend, then the sharp slam of a door sent my gaze lifting over her shoulder. To a figure darkening the doorway.
My heart ground to a halt, and the remaining air evacuated my lungs. The scent of cigars and scotch muddled with cologne floated through my subconscious. The smell of leather seats. The feel of his watch pressed into my skin. The sound of the car doors locking.
No. No. No.
Panic’s claws ripped into my gut, carving up my insides.
The man stepped fully into the light.
My heart stopped.
Blonde hair threaded with silver. The same cold smile.
Stanford Davenport.
The man who tried to rape me.
He’d stolen my innocence and left me broken and ruined for anyone else.
And beside him...
Killian.
Standing shoulder to shoulder with the man who destroyed me. The monster who still haunted my nightmares.
The pair shared an easy smile, and something inside me broke. The contents of my stomach threatened to make a reappearance.
My vision tunneled.
I whirled around so fast, I slammed into an older man in a white tux. “Sorry, excuse me! Sorry!” The walls seemed to press inward, the music warping into something distant and distorted.
I couldn’t breathe.
If I stayed one more second, I was going to collapse right here on the marble floor.
All my years of therapy went to shit, and a complete meltdown threatened to drown me as I ran. My vision blurred, and darkness seeped into the corners as long-buried memories surged to the surface.
Four Years Ago
It had been a week.
Seven days of showers so hot my skin turned red. Seven days of scrubbing until my arms shook.
And still I could feel him.
His hands.
His breath.
The weight of him pinning me to the seat.
No amount of soap could wash that away.
Stan’s hands were permanently imprinted in my skin, branding me for life.
Papá thought I’d lost my mind.
I hadn’t left my room in seven days, pretending to be sick just so I didn’t have to face anyone.
Killian had been blowing up my phone the entire week, but I’d kept it to short text replies.
I couldn’t bear the thought of talking to him.
My best friend. Not after discovering Stan’s car at his house.
Yes, he was the only one I really needed, but he was also the last person I could confide in now.
Thanks to my new best friend, Google, I’d researched everything I could about the scumbag Stanford Davenport.
The millionaire attempted rapist was squeaky clean.
I’d called the police and hung up at least a dozen times since Saturday.
Not only was this man uber rich and well-connected, he was a freaking U.S. senator.
No one would ever believe he’d tried to abduct and rape me. Me... a poor, random girl from San Carlo, Arizona. Hell, I didn’t even believe it.
But every day that passed, the guilt ate away at me. Not for me, or what I’d endured, but for the girls out there that could become his next targets. Every day that he walked free put them in danger.
The guilt would consume me, rotting away my insides until nothing good remained. I couldn’t live like this. But how could I tell Killian?
All week he’d texted me about how great this asshole was. How he was madly in love with his mom and how happy she was. After only a month of dating, he was already talking about taking them on a trip to the east coast.
My chest tightened, my ribcage becoming too small to hold in the swirl of anxiety, fear and disgust. Stan was a wolf in sheep’s designer clothing.
What if he attacked Killian’s mom? I couldn’t just sit around here without saying anything.
Fuck! I dragged my hand through my wet hair, tearing at the ends.
I had to do it. I had to tell my best friend that his mom’s new boyfriend was a sick monster who preyed on innocent young girls.
I forced myself to the edge of the bed and reached for my phone on the nightstand.
Scanning the screen, I found more texts from Killian.
Each one brought a smile to my face, then another stab of pain.
I hated hurting him, hated disappointing my best friend.
His dad had been such a piece of shit, and I knew he was desperate to have a decent father figure in his life.
Too bad Stan was not that man. He deserved to know.
And that son of a bitch deserved to be punished for his sins.
Jabbing my finger into the call button, I held my breath. One ring, two, three... My knee bounced up and down, my heart kicking at my ribs. If he doesn’t answer by the fourth ring, I’ll just hang up.
“Hey, Red, where have you been?” Killian’s smooth drawl sent a wave of warmth through my shredded insides the minute I heard it. “You feeling any better?”
“A little,” I murmured.
“Good, because I’m coming over.”
Panic flared at the thought of facing him. I was going to break the news over the phone like a big coward. “What? Right now?”
A thunk vibrated my bedroom wall, and my eyes snapped toward the window. The top rung of a ladder appeared through the glass. Shit. “I’ve been texting you for the past hour. Don’t you ever check your phone?”
“Kill, this isn’t a good idea. I’m still contagious.”
“I’ll stay far away, okay? I have big news, and I need to tell you in person.” The line cut off, and the squeak of the ladder rungs sent my pulse skyrocketing.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I darted out of bed and raced into the bathroom, tightening the tie around my robe. Dragging my hand through my hair, I forced the wild auburn waves back, then splashed some water on my face.
“Hey, Red, where the hell are you?” Killian’s voice seeped through the bathroom door.
I stared at the light wood separating us and heaved in a steadying breath. You can do this; just tell him. Forcing my feet forward, I twisted the knob and whipped it open.
Killian stood in front of my bed, the adorable smile curling his lips sending a knife to my heart before it was smothered by a frown.
“Shit, you look like death, Red.” He pulled me into a hug, squeezing me against his solid chest. He’d been my anchor through the worst years with my mom, and hurting him would be like carving out my own heart.
Heat burned my eyes as he held me, and it took everything I had not to break down again.
“You were supposed to stay away from me.” I glared up at him and pushed out of his arms, despite every bone in my body screaming at me to stay put and revel in this moment. What I was about to tell him could change everything.
Piercing green eyes locked on mine, a wry grin curling those perfect lips. “I can’t help myself sometimes.”
I took a big step back and wrapped my arms across my chest, flesh and blood armor to prepare for the storm to come. “There’s something I have to tell you,” I forced out.
“Wait, me first.” His smile widened and gawd damn it, it was the most beautiful thing I’d seen in days. “Stan proposed to my mom.”
My stomach dropped.
“We’re moving to Maine.”
My heart sank next, plummeting to the soles of my feet. “What?” I rasped out as my world unraveled.
He closed the distance between us and took my trembling hands in his warm ones. “Oh Red, it’s not that bad. I came up with an idea... Stan has some great connections. He can get us into some amazing boarding school and—”
“Us?” I blurted.
Killian’s head bounced up and down. “I want you to come with us. There are scholarships, and you’re so smart you’d have no problem getting one.”
“Killian...” My head whipped back and forth. “I can’t.”
“But why? You always said how badly you wanted to get out of San Carlo, and now you can. A whole year early. It won’t even matter that you missed your ACTs.”
Nausea crawled up my gut, my stomach churning so badly, I was a second away from puking.
There was no way I’d be able to get the dreaded words out now.
There was only one thing to do. “Stop, Killian. Just stop!” I dragged my hands across my face, sucking in a desperate breath. “Please, stop talking.”
He stared at me, dark brows furrowed and a slight tremble to his lower lip. “What’s wrong?”
“Killian...” My voice shook.
“What is it? You’re scaring me, Red.”
My throat burned as the words clawed their way out. “Your mom’s new fiancé tried to rape me.”