Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Allora
All I can think when I start to come to is that he smells good.
The guy from the gas station.
Everything is fuzzy, but I distinctly remember the relief I felt when the door to the van opened and it wasn’t the guy who’s held me captive the last forty-eight hours.
The cute guy from the gas station caught me as I fell and then darkness overtook me again.
I’m in another vehicle—this one isn’t the van—and the man from the gas station is talking in a quiet, soothing voice.
“You’re okay. Just hang on until we get to the hospital. Hang on, honey.”
Honey.
If I didn’t feel so woozy and confused I would have smiled at the endearment.
He’s driving fast but the sound of the engine is oddly soothing.
Hell, anything after the last two days would be soothing.
The two men who grabbed and assaulted me as I was walking back to my car after having dinner with one of my friends.
How sick whatever they forced me to swallow made me.
The horrible things—the truck slows to a stop and there are suddenly bright lights. I hold up my hands to block the light and hear my savior’s quiet voice.
“We’re at the hospital—I’m going to get help.”
“No!” My voice is a croaked whisper and I snake out a hand to grip his forearm.
His very solid, muscular forearm.
“Hon, you need medical attention.”
“Don’t…leave.”
I can practically feel the restraint it takes for him not to move. The way his muscles twitch beneath my fingers. How still he’s sitting. How warm he is.
“Okay.” And that soft, gentle voice.
“You need help, Grim?” Someone yells from outside.
Grim? I must’ve misheard. His name can’t possibly be…Grim? What fresh hell is this?
“Where…” I have so many questions but getting my vocal chords to cooperate seems to be problematic.
“We’re at County Medical in Oceanside.” His voice is calm. Quiet. Gentle.
“You need to call—” I’m interrupted as the door opens and a guy in scrubs gives me a friendly smile.
“Can you walk?”
I shake my head.
“Okay, we’ve got you.” Next thing I know, a mountain of a man reaches in and lifts me like I don’t weigh anything. Ever so gently, he sets me on a gurney.
“Grim.” My voice is shaky but determined. I don’t know why I call to him, but I hear the mountain man chuckle.
Then, for the first time since the gas station, I look into his face.
He doesn’t look…grim.
In fact, he’s a lot more handsome than I first thought—I’d love to take pictures of him. So many magazines would want someone as handsome as he is…
Christ.
How am I thinking about work at a time like this?
“I’m right here.” Grim doesn’t smile, he just meets my gaze with a steady one of his own. Flanking the gurney as two nurses wheel me inside.
“Can you tell us your name?” one of them asks.
“A-llora.”
“Laura what?”
I shake my head. “A-llora.” Why the fuck can’t I say it all at once?
The nurse frowns. “Not Laura?”
“I think she’s saying her name is…Allora?” Grim gets it. Thank fuck.
I nod.
“Last name?”
“St-sterling.”
“How old are you, sweetie?”
“Twenty-eight.”
“Can you tell us what happened?”
I shudder involuntarily.
No.
No, I absolutely can’t talk about what happened.
Not yet.
“She’s in shock,” someone says. “Let’s get her in the back. Grim, why don’t you wait—”
“No.” I blindly reach for Grim’s arm. I don’t know what this obsession with him is, but right now he’s the only person I trust. The only person I can count on.
The drugs and trauma probably play a big part in feeling that way, but that doesn’t matter.
All I know is that I need him to be in the room with me.
He saved me. He listened when I asked for help.
Then he put himself in danger to follow us. I’ll always be grateful.
“I’ll stay out of your way,” Grim says.
The nurse must notice how agitated I am and she nods. “Okay.”
“Thank you,” I croak.
“We’re going to get you a blanket,” the nurse says to me. “Then I need you to tell me what you’re on.”
“I’m not on anything!” I whisper harshly, tears spilling for the first time. “They drugged me—it’s not the same.” Finally, my mouth appears to be connecting with my brain.
“Who did?” the nurse’s eyes sharpen.
I turn to Grim questioningly. “Did you…get him?”
“No, we were focused on you,” Grim says quietly. “But I have a description. Maybe the police will get prints off the van.” I hear him telling his version of the events to the nurse. And once again, his voice soothes me to the point of sleepiness.
“Not yet, sweetie,” the nurse says, her tone softer. “Stay awake a little longer, okay?”
I nod even though I don’t want to. Sleep is calling and I want to succumb. To sleep through the trauma of the last two days. What they did to me. The drugs and the beatings and— A wave of nausea overcomes me that’s so powerful I gag.
Someone grabs one of those little puke containers they give at hospitals, holding it out. “It’s okay if you need to puke.”
Jesus. The last thing I want to do is vomit in front of the hottest guy I’ve seen in ages, but my body has other ideas.
I haven’t eaten in close to two days so the only thing coming out is bile but I can’t stop it.
The next thing I know there’s a pinch in my arm, and then something cool on the back of my neck.
I jerk, averse to being touched, to the pain.
“You’re going to be okay, Allora.” This is Grim’s voice. “Relax and let them help you. It’s just an IV.”
“Please…don’t leave,” I say, panting as I heave again.
Much to my horror, I miss the little bucket and I see liquid soak into the fabric covering his thighs. I’m mortified but can’t do anything about it.
Will this horror ever end?
But Grim doesn’t react, one hand on the back of my neck with the cool cloth, the other holding the bucket as if nothing happened.
“Let it out,” he says. “Hopefully, that’ll get the drugs out of your system.”
The next half hour is a blur of pokes, prods, and sleep. I drift in and out, jolting awake when I hear certain words.
Police.
Sexual Assault Forensic Exam?
Oh, right.
A rape kit.
Bloodwork.
Ugh.
Can’t they just let me rest?
But I know they can’t.
This is the only way I get justice for what happened to me.
And I’m many things, but a coward isn’t one of them.
So, I close my eyes, grit my teeth and endure all of it.
The tests and the pitying looks and the pictures they take of my bruised body.
And finally, they put me in a hospital gown and get me settled in a private room.
Thank fuck this is the hospital I go to when I need care, so they have my information on file.
Even though I don’t have my ID.
My phone is long gone.
I don’t even have my purse or keys.
Dammit. The keys to my convertible are going to be expensive to replace. Assuming my car is still where I left it.
Oh, hell. It’s probably been towed after two days.
Fuck.
“You okay?” Grim’s voice startles me. I didn’t realize he was still here. They wouldn’t allow him in the room during the tests and pictures, but I guess he’s back now.
“My car,” I mutter. “It’s on Main Street in Oceanside. I had dinner on Monday…what day is it? Wednesday?”
“It’s almost midnight, but yes, it’s still Wednesday.”
“They’ve definitely towed it.” Of course, it seems like that should be the least of my problems at the moment.
“Is there anyone I can call for you? Family? Boyfriend? Husband?”
Ugh. I need to call my dad. He’s a pain in my ass sometimes, but he’ll raise a ruckus if the cops don’t take me seriously. And my dad is an imposing man.
“My father,” I say quietly. “Do you have a phone I can use?”
“Of course.” I watch as he types something in, most likely his passcode, and then hands me the phone open to the screen where I can dial.
I punch in my father’s number and wait. The question is whether or not he’ll answer a call from an unknown number.
“Who is this?” His voice is sharp, filled with annoyance.
“Dad, it’s me.” My voice shakes just a little.
“Baby, you okay?” His tone changes instantly. Softer. Worried.
“No.” For the first time, I feel myself on the verge of breaking down. Really breaking down. But I can’t. Because Dad doesn’t like to see—or hear—me cry.
“Where are you?” Now he’s on alert, ready to burn down the city.
“County Medical.”
“I’m on my way!”
He disconnects before I can tell him to come alone.
Shit. This is the last thing I need tonight. Dad and his brothers, storming the hospital in their leather cuts, dusty boots, and rangy beards.
Before I can contemplate any of that, the cops arrive. I have to talk to them, but I’m not sure I can accurately relay the story. Or put into words the things I endured the last two days.
I’m not a child, nor am I na?ve. I was a model based in Los Angeles and New York all through college and up until about a year ago when I realized I loved being behind the camera more than I liked being in front of it. So, I quit and changed jobs. It’s been the best decision of my life.
Until the day before yesterday.
The police try to ask Grim to leave, but I shake my head. “No. He stays. He was there for the last part of it anyway.”
I don’t dare look at him because we haven’t even introduced ourselves yet. He’s been this strong, quiet presence at my side simply because I asked. I don’t know why he stayed, but at some point, I need to express my gratitude.
“I’m Detective Roswell and this is Detective James. Do you think you’re up to telling us what happened?” A no-nonsense woman who introduces herself as part of the sex crimes unit asks in a level tone.
My body reacts at the very thought of giving those horrible acts verbal confirmation. A shudder that chills me to the bone. Slight shaking of my hands. The blood coursing through my veins suddenly feels like it’s going to explode out in every direction.
Maybe I’m not as strong as I thought I was.
Because I can’t move, can’t think, can barely breathe.
Then two big, warm hands cover one of mine. “I’ll be right here, Allora.”