Shiela Stewart - [Darkness 08] Read online

  Fully expecting Peter to come back into the room, Deborah closed her eyes and cried.

  “Deb? Oh, sweet Jesus.”

  Her eyes flew open to see Bruce staggering toward her. The sleeve of his left arm was drenched in blood, and his face was bruised and bloody.

  He was alive.

  “What the hell did he do to you? This might hurt.”

  With a quick tug he pulled the tape from her mouth. Though it stung like hell, she was glad to finally have her mouth back and when he pulled the cloth away she took a deep breath. She’d been saved.

  “I need to call an ambulance. This cut is deep.”

  “You need an ambulance too,” she managed though her throat was a more than a little dry. “He shot you.”

  “This,” he nudged his head to his bleeding arm. “Just a flesh wound. Let’s get you free.” But before he began untying her, he pulled the blanket from the chair by the window and draped it over her.

  “Is he…”

  “Dead? No. I knocked him out and tied his hands and feet with the silk curtain ties. One down.”

  “Why did you come back?”

  “Casey’s out of town visiting her parents. I figured instead of booking a hotel room, I’d come back here. There you go.”

  Her hands free, she pulled them together and rubbed her wrist. She saw the welts, felt the pain and remembered all she had been through. And like a damn that had burst, her tears came flooding out.

  “Oh, Deb. I am so sorry.”

  He took her in his arms, carefully holding her while she sobbed against his chest.

  ***

  Lying on the uncomfortable hospital bed, Deborah stared up at the ceiling. She had an I.V. in her left hand that was making an odd humming noise at the same time as it drip, drip, dripped. She’d been listening to it for who knew how long now. There was no clock in the room she was in, but she was sure it had been over an hour since she’d been left alone.

  She’d been through hell tonight, and she had the wounds to prove it. Because the doctor hadn’t wanted her scarred any more than possible, he’d opted for gluing her chest back together rather than stitching it. The wound hadn’t been too deep and for that she should have felt grateful, only…she didn’t. She’d rather she didn’t have it at all.

  Bruce was in a room somewhere down the hall, though she wondered if he’d stayed in bed as he’d been instructed. He’d been wrong about his injury being merely a flesh wound. They’d had to dig the bullet out of his arm and because of that, they’d kept him in the hospital for observation. Last she’d heard he was bitching up a storm, insisting to be released.

  She owed him her life.

  The police had taken her statement and reassured her that Peter Milligan would not be getting out of jail anytime soon.

  She could only hope that was true.

  Closing her eyes, she drew in a deep breath and reminded herself she was safe.

  Yet every sound she heard put her on edge.

  She jumped when the door to her room opened, then relaxed when she saw the nurse.

  “I’ve been instructed to give you a sedative.”

  Deborah stayed silent as the nurse inserted a syringe into her I.V.

  “There you go. That should help you sleep.”

  Deborah smiled politely, and before the nurse made it to the door she could feel the drug taking effect.

  Her eyes drooping, Deborah let the drug take her down.

  Chapter Three

  Deborah woke with the scream choking inside her chest. She gasped, gagged and fought for the air that was stolen from her in her dream. She sat up, her eyes wide as she stared into the space around her. It took her several moments to realize where she was.

  She was safe, in her hotel room.

  It was just a dream. It was just a dream.

  But Deborah knew better.

  Her head was throbbing with the mother of all headaches, which she’d had ever since her ordeal. Well, she’d managed three hours of sleep before the nightmare had woken her. Not bad. Not good, but these days, Deborah didn’t seem to mind the lack of sleep.

  Tossing the blankets aside, her body drenched in sweat, she slipped her feet into the pink fuzzy slippers on the floor then grabbed the white robe tossed carelessly over the chair by the bed. What she needed was a good hot shower to wash the nightmare away.

  Though the hotel room was fitted with a Jet tub, Deborah preferred the shower. After her nightmare, she didn’t want to chance falling asleep in a bath. She dreaded falling asleep as it was.

  Tucking her cell phone in the pocket of her robe, Deborah grabbed one of the steel chairs from the kitchenette and took it with her to the shower. Once inside, she went about her usual ritual of peering behind the door to make sure no one was hiding behind it. Her pulse sped up and her heart raced. Seeing no one inside, she let the breath out she’d been holding and stepped through the doorway.

  She closed the bathroom door, jammed the chair under the door knob before turning to the tub. The shower curtain was still in the exact place she’d left it, folded neatly on the gigantic vanity. Taking the cell phone from the pocket of her robe, she set it on the back of the toilet, then began to undress. If the phone were waterproof she would have preferred taking it into the shower with her. But since it wasn’t she had to make do with leaving it within reach outside.

  She hung the robe on the hook on the inside of the washroom door, and dropped her nightgown on the floor along with her underwear. She started the water, good and hot—it had to be hot enough to scorch away the memory of his hands on her skin—Deborah stepped beneath the spray.

  And let the tears fall.

  She hated the dreams, hated that the brute who had abducted her had invaded the last place she had as a sanctuary—her sleep. Opening her mouth, she gulped down the water that poured from the shower head but still she tasted his hand. She wondered if she would ever be rid of it. Nothing had taste any longer; everything tasted like the grease on his hand when he’d held it over her mouth. Grabbing the toothpaste sitting on the shelf in the shower, she squirted a good dollop into her mouth and though the mint burnt, she held in for several minutes.

  It helped to take away the taste even for a little while.

  She washed her hair. She spent more time scrubbing it than she knew was necessary, but she couldn’t get it clean enough. Anything he’d touched never got clean enough. She lathered her body, careful of the scar along her chest which was slowly healing, and scrubbed her skin nearly to the raw point. She still felt his hands on her. She rinsed the suds off, and then turned off the water.

  Grabbing a towel for her hair and another for her body, she stepped out of the tub and walked to the mirror. Wiping the mist away, she looked at the pale woman staring back at her.

  She hardly recognized her.

  Her finger trailed along the wound running along the center of her chest. It was healing slowly, but she would forever have a reminder of her ordeal.

  Not so long ago, she had been pretty and full of life. Now…she was broken. Pulling the towel from her hair, she blotted it dry before hanging it on the rack. Once upon a time her brown hair shone like gold. Now it hung lifelessly to her shoulders.

  She ran the brush through it, pulling it away from her face which only made her hollow eyes stand out more. She’d lost far too much weight in the past few months, and even more so the past few days.

  Had it really been three days?

  She dried off, then threw her robe on and scooped up her clothing before pulling the chair from the door and tucking the cell phone in her robe pocket.

  Holding her breath, she slowly slid the door open—at first, only an inch, then another, and another. She felt dizzy and nearly closed the door again and locked herself in. Instead, she held her head high and move
d on. When she had it open all the way, she cautiously looked out around the room. Her heart was pounding, her hands were shaking, and she thought for sure she might black out. When she saw no one waiting for her on the other side, she finally exhaled.

  Grabbing the chair in her free hand, she set it back with its twin at the table, then dumped her nightgown on the bed.

  She nearly jumped to the ceiling when her cell phone rang. Her heart pounding, she pulled the phone from her pocket and with a great deal of fear, looked at the caller I.D.

  She was safe. He was in jail and she was safe.

  With a heavy sigh of relief, she answered it with a shaky, “Hello.”

  “Deborah? Detective Michaels here. How’re you doing today?”

  She sat on the bed and she was sure it shook with the pounding of her heart. “I’ve been better.”

  “I’m sure. Um…I wanted to come tell you this in person but my wife had the baby early this morning and…well…”

  “Congratulations. What did you have?”

  “A boy,” he laughed and she could hear the proud father coming out. She imagined he was beaming from ear to ear.

  Detective Michaels had been so kind to her in the hospital when he’d taken her statement. He’d been patient, understanding as she fought to tell her story through her sobs. He’d told her about his wife being due any day now and how they were both looking forward to their new addition. It looked like there was some happiness in the world even if it wasn’t hers.

  “How wonderful for you both. I hope mother and son are doing well?”

  “The wife is tired but good. My son is…well, perfect. Look, I’m not calling with good news, so I hope you’re sitting.”

  She really didn’t like the way this was sounding. “I am.”

  “Good. Milligan was released this morning on bail.”

  Her heart stopped, the blood drained from her body, and she had to take several deep breaths to prevent herself from blacking out.

  “Deborah? You okay?”

  No, she was far from okay. “Why?” she managed in a croak of a voice.

  “No priors, upstanding citizen. Judge saw no reason to keep him behind bars. I’m sorry.”

  Upstanding citizen? The guy was an obsessed lunatic. “How can this be? He abducted me, held me against my will, assaulted me, and shot my bodygaurd. How is it the judge can let him go?”

  “It’s shitty, I know, Deborah. The law doesn’t always work.”

  He was so right about that. When a psychotic abductor was released because he was supposedly an upstanding citizen, how were the innocent supposed to feel safe?

  Released. He was free. Her hand started to shake, her heart was hammering. She ran to the door, double checking the locks. “He’ll come after me.”

  “He doesn’t know where you are.”

  The laugh that bubbled from her mouth startled her. “Like that’s ever stopped him before. He’ll find me, Detective, and when he does, he’ll finish the job. I can’t stay here.”

  “Look, I wish I could do more for you, and it kills me that he’s been released—”

  “I know. It’s out of your hands.” A lot of good that did her, though. “Thank you for calling to tell me. Give your wife my congratulations, Detective.” She shut the phone off, stood in her spot just staring out at the room. She’d registered under her mother’s name but still, he practically knew everything there was to know about her. He could call around looking for her. She wasn’t safe here.

  She had to get out, go somewhere he couldn’t find her. But where?

  She threw her clothes into the suitcase by the bed, not bothering to fold them neatly. She tossed her toiletries into the sack then into the suitcase. It was then she realized she wasn’t even dressed.

  God…what was she going to do?

  Falling down to her knees, she wept with sobs that shook her body.

  How could they release him after what he’d done? He’d been caught, red handed as it were by her body guard, Bruce. Even after Peter shot him, Bruce had taken him down. And now the bastard was out on bail?

  What kind of world did she live in?

  Grabbing a shirt and a pair of jeans, Deborah threw them on. She had to get out of here before he found her.

  When her cell phone jangled again she actually let out a scream. Calming her rapid breath, she looked at the I.D. and answered it with a sigh of relief. “Hi, Ginny.”

  “Hey, BFF. How you doing today?”

  “He’s out.” It just all came bubbling out. “They released him on bail. He’s free, Ginny. Free to finish the job,” she babbled breathlessly as she held the phone against her shoulder while she dressed.

  “What? That’s nuts. Shit, what are you gonna do?”

  “I don’t know.” She slid her feet into her sneakers forgoing the socks.

  “Okay, sit down, take a few deep breaths. I can tell you’re close to hyperventilating.”

  She did as Ginny suggested but it didn’t make her feel any better. “I’m so scared, Ginny. I can’t go through that again.”

  “I know. Just keep breathing. Okay, here is what you’re going to do. Pack your bags and come stay with me.”

  “I couldn’t do that to you. I don’t want anyone else getting hurt.” As it was she felt bad enough that Bruce had been injured.

  “No one knows where you grew up, well, aside from your manager and Bruce. But the press, you never give a place of birth. You’d be safe here and besides, it’s been ages since we’ve seen each other. I’d love the company. This place is rather…dead. No pun intended.”

  “I told you to start over somewhere else.”

  “I know, but hell…this place is home. I couldn’t bear the thought of moving somewhere else. Seriously, Deb. Come stay with me, for however long you need to. Please. I worry about you.”

  Deborah took a deep breath and thought it over. It would be nice to see her friend again. Ginny was right, the outside world didn’t know where she’d grown up. “Are you sure?” And it would be nice to see Ginny again. They’d grown up together and even after Deborah had gone out on concert tours, they’d still kept in touch. Aside from her mother, Ginny was all she had that was as close to her as family.

  “Would I have asked if I wasn’t? It’ll be fun. Come on, you know you want to.”

  The smile that filled her face was foreign to her. It had been far too long since she’d had a reason to be happy. “Okay, you twisted my arm.”

  “Yippee. So when can I expect you?”

  “In about seven hours. I’m leaving now.” Hanging up, Deborah tucked the phone in her jeans pocket and grabbing her suitcase, rushed from the room.

  The sooner she left the better.

  Chapter Four

  Taking the elevator up from his underground suite, Zach ran through the e-mails on his phone. He preferred the privacy and darkness of the basement suite in the Demon’s Lair over his Penthouse suite in Los Angeles. Given his office hours were typically nights, being underground gave him more peace and quiet than the penthouse did. Finished with his e-mails, he tucked the phone back in his jacket pocket as he stepped from the elevator to the sound of a heavy metal band thumping the walls. Though he preferred the soft sounds of Bach or Mozart he knew his customers like the harder stuff. So he gave them what they wanted, in music and anything else they desired.

  The Demon’s Lair was the only demon/human friendly club in Jacob’s Cove and practically anything was allowed once you entered. As long as the other patron agreed to it. Oh, he’d made sure everything he did was on the up and up, insisting everyone who entered his establishment sign a waiver, but that didn’t stop the cops from harassing him whenever they had the yen.

  As was the case now.

  Since the darkness had been lifted and the city taken over
by the Royal Vampire family, rules had been put in place. Vampires were no longer permitted to grab innocent victims and drink their blood. The penalty for doing so was not only a jail sentence but if the vampire was a repeat offender, his fangs were removed.

  A vampire friendly blood bank had been set up for the vampires to get their life source but there were still those who enjoyed the thrill of taking it fresh from a human’s veins. They could do that in the Demon’s Lair. For a price.

  The back of the nightclub was set up for those who liked to get their blood from something other than a glass. It was quite like a brothel in that he had paid ladies and gentleman supplying their bodies for a price. Whether it be to have their blood drawn, or some kinky sexual act, it was allowed. Providing his employees agreed to it.

  It was all on the up and up.

  Still…he was harassed.

  Zach greeted the waitresses with a smile as they passed his way, threw a hand in the air to wave at Wade, his loyal bartender to let him know he was here now. He saw the two officers sitting at the bar impatiently waiting for him to come out. Zach figured they could wait just a little longer.

  When Wade came over, Zach stepped off to the side to talk. “Did they say why they were here this time?”

  Wade, a rather large man in height but as thin as a rail frowned as he ran a hand through his dusty brown hair. “They wouldn’t tell me. Said they needed to talk to you and only you.”

  “Perfect. Well, let’s not keep the boys in blue waiting much longer.” He smoothed out his black Armani jacket, ran a hand over his hair still tied back and in perfect place before stepping out to greet the officers.

  He could easily go a week without seeing them.

  Though he despised cops, he knew better then to piss them off. “Officers,” he spoke in a friendly manner. “How may I be of service to you today?”

  They swiveled in their stools almost simultaneously and Zach recognized both as having been in his establishment several times in the past few months. Officers Headly and Lewis were becoming a thorn in his side he eagerly wanted removed.

  “We’ve had a complaint from a young woman stating that she was assaulted in your bar this evening.”