Page 44 of Tripp

I had no doubt she would. Carla had come to be a good friend over the short time I’d known her, so I didn’t take any offense to her threatening to stick her nose further into my business. Besides, I thought it just might be worth watching that interaction between the two of them. For amusement purposes.

The next few hours passed relatively quickly. The crowd grew in size, and thankfully everyone seemed to be on their best behavior. Surely the overly large bouncers spread throughout the club didn’t have anything to do with it. Coming back from the ladies’ room, Carla caught me before I walked back behind the bar.

“Hey, there’s a guy over there asking for you.”

Craning my neck around her and the few men blocking the view to the other end of the bar, I didn’t see anyone I knew.

“Is he a customer?”

“I don’t think so.”

Again I tried to see anyone who might look familiar, my heart racing inside my chest all of a sudden. “What does he look like?”

“Cute. Tall. Slim build. Blond hair. Oh, and he has a small scar on his chin.” Carla nodded toward one of the dancers needing her assistance before leaving me to stand there all alone, my fear taking hold and wrapping its horrid arms around me so tightly I suddenly found it hard to breathe. My eyes bounced all over the club and still I didn’t see him.

Not until one of the drunken patrons hopped off his stool and staggered toward the stage.

A terror I was unfortunately all too familiar with ripped me apart from the inside, threatening to destroy my very existence. My sudden panic stole my remaining breath as soon as my eyes connected with his. A wry, lecherous smile spread across his face before he shoved away from the bar. Each step he took toward me warned me to run, but I couldn’t. My body froze, locking me in place. My heart rammed against my ribs as fearful tears stung my eyes.

A cold sweat broke out over my skin when he’d finally reached me, his fingers curling around my small wrist and tightening. He saw fear in my eyes, a reaction he’d come to love from me.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. My brain fired off a plethora of words, but my lips refused to give them sound. “You didn’t honestly think I’d let you leave me? That I wouldn’t find you?” He sucked on his teeth while he shook his head, an indication that harm was about to find me. But surely he wouldn’t do anything in public. Right?

Breaking eye contact, I glanced around the club in a panic, desperate to find one of the security men Tripp had hired. I saw a couple of them, but they were busy keeping the customers in line. I screamed in my head for one of them to look over at me but it was useless. They obviously couldn’t hear me as they weren’t mind readers. Next I searched for Carla, but she was busy serving drinks.

When my eyes found his again I flinched. His cold stare froze me. The way he looked me up and down, wearing a disgusted expression as he did so, told me his rage was building.

“What the fuck are you doin’ here, anyway? And dressed like some kind of street whore?” His hold on my wrist intensified, making me wince from the pain.

“Please let me go,” I pleaded. “Please.”

All of a sudden we were nose to nose. “Don’t you think you deserve to be punished for running away?” My only reaction was to shake my head. He disagreed with my silent response. “I think you do.” His eyes darkened as his other hand seized my upper arm, turning me around and shoving me in front of him toward the hallway. I tried to look over my shoulder to see if anyone had noticed the man gripping me up, but the club was packed. As he pushed his way through the crowd, I knew there was no hope of being rescued.

Reece

Dread filled my veins as he shoved me into one of the empty private rooms. In that moment I would have preferred that bastard who’d attacked me the night Tripp saved me over the soulless man standing in front of me right then.

The way his cold stare devoured me made me feel weak and pathetic. Gone was any ounce of strength I’d gained since fleeing from him all those weeks prior, only to be reduced to the sniveling, pleading shell of a woman pushing short pants of air from my lungs.

“Rick . . . please don’t do this,” I begged, raising my hands in front of me as if my feeble attempt to ward him off wasn’t laughable.

“Don’t do what?” He cocked his head. “Make you see the error of your ways for taking off? For forcing me to hire someone to track you clear across the fucking country?”

I’d been so careful, disposing of the single credit card I had and only paying with cash. I thought I’d fled far enough, leaving him back in Maine, but his daunting presence just reiterated how much of a fool I’d been to think I could ever escape him.

With each word he spoke his voice became louder, raising the hairs at the nape of my neck. I knew what would happen once he ran out of rhetorical questions.

Threats.

Pain.

Bruises.

“Fuckin’ answer me,” he roared, spittle hitting my face as he backed me against the wall. “Did you really think I’d let you go?” Running his fingertip down my arm, he sneered at me before puncturing my skin with his nails. Blood trickled down my arm and I flinched in pain, praying this was the worst he’d subject me to. But I should have known better. “I swear to Christ if you don’t answer me, you’re gonna regret it.” The lower half of his body pinned me to the wall behind me.

“No,” I meekly whispered.

Placing his fingers at his ear he said, “Sorry. What was that?”

---