Chapter Seven
G reg set a blanket on the last cot on the gym floor. Aubrey brushed her hands together, making sure they hadn't missed one. They were only permitted to house fifty people overnight per the city permit.
"We've checked and double-checked. Everything is ready, Aubrey. You should go home. You've been here all day." Vic took the extra blankets from the chair in front of her. "If we need anything, we'll call."
In the last three weeks, she assembled a crew of six employees to work overnight with Greg and Vic. All were men who were experiencing homelessness and were willing to work for the little pay she could offer them.
"Okay. Thanks, guys." She walked halfway across the gym and stopped. "Don't forget to put the hampers by the locker room door."
Greg waved. She hurried into the office to grab her keys and sweater. As she stepped out of the front door, she paused and looked around. A small part of her always hoped that Serge would show up, but she hadn't seen him since the night he came to her house covered in blood and bruises.
She walked to the end of the block and got into her car. At the light, she turned and immediately chastised herself for taking the wrong street. She hated getting caught in one-way traffic.
Since she was in the area, she'd stop at her favorite Chinese restaurant to get takeout. She deserved a little pampering to finish off the week.
She parked at a meter, checked the time on her phone, and added enough money to cover her until five o'clock when the meters stopped working.
The restaurant was three blocks away. As she stared up at the tall buildings, her mind drifted to Serge. He worked somewhere around here. Pulling up his contact, she had the address from his business card. Focusing on his name, she read the information.
He worked on Sixth Avenue.
Ignoring the direction she needed to go for dinner, she headed in the opposite way and found the address. Looking up, she counted the rows of windows. It was a four-story gray building with a stone exterior at ground level. There were a few lights, but no one entered or exited through the double front doors.
Despite her efforts to rid herself of thoughts of Serge, who had taken up residence in her mind, she tried to convince herself that she stood outside his workplace because she worried about his health and safety—he had come to her beaten. She even attempted to attribute her obsessive interest in him to mere sexual curiosity.
But it was all a lie. She wanted to see him.
There was nothing practical or sane about her. Tonight, she felt absolutely crazy, thinking about a man who was one— out of her league, and two– someone who had his own troubles.
Her infatuation with him frightened her. She wouldn't be surprised if he had a Surgeon General's Warning tattooed on his ass.
The fact that she was outside Serge's building at five o'clock at night proved she was exactly like her mother. The same mother who despised everything about her and died after telling her what a huge disappointment she was. Because of her wild thoughts, she forced herself to believe Serge was just like her father and would never get into a real relationship with her.
Unfair?
Yes.
Necessary?
Absolutely.
Faced with her inability to control herself, she stopped at the corner, pushed the crosswalk light, and waited for her signal to cross the street. Chinese food was in her future, not Serge Adams.
Tomorrow was Saturday. The weekends always had many people waiting to get into the shelter. Unfortunately, she couldn't help them all. Some would get turned away, and she'd worry about them.
"Aubrey?" called a male voice.
She jolted, turning around. Her smile came easily. "Hello, Mr. Cartmen."
Carrying his suit coat over his shoulder, his tie loosened, and the first couple buttons of his shirt undone, Mr. Cartmen glanced around. She followed his gaze, thinking he was looking for his ride.
"Please, call me Keith. How's the shelter doing?" he said.
Mr. Cartman helped her get her permits approved by the city. Without him, she would've had to wait months to get in front of the Planning Commission.
She smiled. "Full to capacity every night."
"Wonderful." He stepped closer. "I'm done for the day and planned on going out for dinner and a drink. I'd love it if you'd join me."
"Oh, I couldn't." She lifted her phone and looked at the display as if she were running late. "It's nice of you to ask, though. Thank you."
"Come on, a drink then...it won't take any time at all." He placed his hand on her back and turned her around.
"No, really." She planted her feet. "I'm running late."
"Aubrey," he practically cooed as he put his hands on her shoulders, working his way up until he hooked her neck. "A little drink. Just you and me."
She pulled against his hold, but he wouldn't let go. "Mr. Cartmen, please."
He leaned in at the same time the squeal from a car's tires rounded the corner. She jerked her head and saw a black BMW skid to a stop at the curb, the window down, and Serge filling the car. Every muscle in her body relaxed at the sight of him, and she exhaled.
"Get in the car," Serge said.
"Hey, Adams." Mr. Cartmen let her go and held out his arms as a sign of no foul. "Nice night."
"You ever touch her again, you'll fucking die." Serge stepped out of the car, escorted her to the passenger side, opened the door, and shielded her from Mr. Cartmen.
Safe inside the car, she watched Serge walk around to the driver's side, ignoring Mr. Cartman, and climb in. She hurried and latched the seatbelt, ready to get out of there. He had never hit on her before.
She glanced at Serge, thankful he had shown up when he did. His whole body screamed that he wasn't lying when he had threatened Mr. Cartmen. Her stomach rolled. If that happened, she'd be responsible because of her foolish idea to gawk at his office building.
Serge hit the accelerator. "What the hell were you thinking?"
"I wanted to get Chinese food," she whispered. "I wasn't with Mr. Cartmen."
"He'd fuck you and leave you before you could get a dime out of his pocket." He shifted into a higher gear. "Do you think you're any different to him than the whores he hangs around?"
"Serge, I wasn't with him." She pressed her hands into her thighs. "I hired him to do the paperwork for the permits I needed before I opened the shelter, and he saw me walking. I stopped, and he asked me out. I told him no."
"The nearest Chinese restaurant is three streets back." He braked on the turn and circled the block. "You were staring up at my office."
Her mouth opened, and she refused to look at him. He couldn't possibly know. Sure, he could guess, but he had no idea what she was doing on the sidewalk.
He pulled in behind her car and shut off the engine. "I want to know why you're here, looking for me. And so help me God, if you don't tell me what I want to hear, the next time someone like Cartmen comes around, I won't be there to save your ass."
She looked at him, then jerked off her seatbelt and exited the car. Furious with herself for even caring if he was okay, she marched to her car. At the door, she punched in the keyless entry code.
When her fingers curled under the door handle, two strong hands whirled her around and backed her against the vehicle. "What are you doing? Let go of me."
First, Mr. Cartman and now Serge. Did she have a sign around her neck asking to be assaulted?
"Answer me," he said.
In her personal space, he refused to back down. She stared into his eyes, aware of the anger and the position he'd put her in.
Finally, she eased her curiosity about his health—his lip was healed, and his cheek was no longer swollen.
"I hoped to see you," she whispered. "I've thought of every excuse to stay away, but I wanted to make sure you were okay. And you are. I can see that for myself. That's all I need."
"Fuck," he murmured, the tension eased from his face right before he captured her mouth.
Nothing about his kiss was gentle. His lips bruised hers as he hungrily tasted her with his tongue. Her body slid down the car, and he shoved his thigh between her legs, trapping her, and yet keeping her standing while he continued taking everything he could. And she let him.
No, she needed him.
She tasted his desperation and anger, and yet, she took it as if it were oxygen keeping her alive. She swiped her tongue along his, pulled back, and sucked his bottom lip, then dove back in. Her breath came fast as she clutched at him, scared he'd stop.
"Bree," he mumbled against her lips.
"No, please." She plastered herself against his body. "Don't go."
She trembled. The heat that had her climbing his body moments ago vanished into a cold, dark fear she couldn't name. Left hollow, she clung to him with all the strength she possessed, which wasn't much considering he'd taken her higher in one kiss than any other man.
"Sh." He smoothed the hair away from her face. "Look at me."
She raised her gaze. He looked back at her intently, rubbing his lips together. An urge to cry came over her, and she could no longer hold her emotions inside than explain what was happening to her.
"I don't know what I'm doing here," she whispered.
Not one to let herself become vulnerable around others, she couldn't understand what it was about Serge that made her spill her deep secrets. All he would do was use her weakness against her in the end, leaving her worse off than she was without him.
"Lock your car," he whispered, kissing her forehead. "I'm taking you home with me."
She hurried to do what he instructed. Disoriented and unable to comprehend what was happening, she held on to the hand he offered. He led her to his car, and she reluctantly let go to climb into the passenger seat before grabbing his hand again.