Page 73 of Bedroom Therapy

Zach. Oh Lord, Zach, she silently whispered. But as much as she wanted him to come charging to her rescue, she knew it wasn’t going to happen. He didn’t even realize she was missing; and if he did, he wouldn’t have a clue where she had gone—or why.

He’d stomped out of the house to go for a walk. He’d been angry. And probably he’d jump to the conclusion that she was angry, too—that she’d run out on him? Oh God, she didn’t want him to think that. Because she wasn’t going to let him go that easily. She would stay and fight for the two of them.

She smiled, feeling her own resolve building. She wanted to keep focusing on him. On their relationship. On what they could mean to each other if he’d only drop the iron barriers that he’d erected around his emotions. She would make him let her get close to him. Really close.

But she knew all that was just a comforting daydream. Thinking about Zachary Grant wasn’t going to do anything for her at the present moment. She was with another man, a man who was going to do something terrible to her—unless she could talk him out of it. Which she had a good chance of doing, she told herself. Because she understood people and their motivations.

The pep talk helped. Sitting up straighter, she looked toward the front of the van, then cleared her throat. “What do you want with me?” she asked.

He kept her waiting for several agonizing seconds before answering, “You’ll find out.”

“You were stalking me,” she heard herself say and instantly regretted the observation. What good did it do to point out the obvious? Maybe he’d resent having a label put on his behavior.

He answered in a casual voice. Too casual. “If that’s what you want to call it. To me, it was more like a stakeout. Like the police do when they’re after a criminal.”

A criminal? Was that how he saw her? Well, it fit with the way he’d hauled her off in handcuffs. He was going to punish her. But for what?

“You thought you were pretty tricky, hiding out in a different house. But all you had to do was go to the grocery store, with that stupid couples act, and I found you.”

She absorbed that piece of information like a blow to the chest. He’d followed them home from the grocery. That was her stupid fault. She should have listened to Zack and stayed home.

And she couldn’t say she wouldn’t make that mistake next time. There wasn’t going to be a next time. This was it.

He was speaking again, riveting her attention to him.”

“You had the arrogance to think you could pull that off. Just like you had the arrogance to step into Esther Knight’s shoes,” he spat out, and now she felt his anger building. “You’re going to be Esther Scott, and you deserve the same punishment that she got. More punishment, actually.”

Because she didn’t want him to focus on punishment, she changed the subject abruptly. “What did I do to you?”

“You think you have all the answers.”

“No. If I thought I had all the answers, I wouldn’t be asking questions.”

Ignoring her, he plowed on. “Yeah, you do. You’re like her. My girlfriend wrote Esther Knight a letter, and she answered her. And Vicki left me.”

“That’s not my fault,” she tried again.

He wasn’t listening to her. Instead he began to recite in a singsong voice, a letter he had obviously memorized:

“Dear Esther, I have a problem, and I need help. My boyfriend and I have been together for several months. At first he was really great. He worked really hard to get me to be his girlfriend. He was really attentive. He wrote me poetry. He bought me surprise little presents all the time.”

The man in the front seat turned and glared at Amanda before directing his attention back to the road.

“But now I’m starting to be afraid of him. He wants to control everything in my life. He made me quit my job, because he says he can take care of me. I have lots of time on my hands now. But he doesn’t let me go shopping, and he doesn’t let me see my friends. And we only see my parents when he’s with me. When we’re in bed together, he wants to tie me up and do stuff to me that I don’t like. Tell me how to get away from him. Signed, desperate in New York.”

The man turned again, his angry gaze drilling into her. “What do you think of that?”

“I. . .” she said but couldn’t get any farther.

“Speak up,” he snapped. “I want to hear what you have to say about it.”

This guy was angry. Out of control. And she recognized that whatever she said was going to be wrong.

She sat there paralyzed as he went on, her world contracted to the interior of this van.

“I’ll tell you the crappy advice Esther gave Vicki: Dear desperate, you have to get away from this man. He sounds dangerous. There are shelters for abused women. The next time you are alone in the house, walk away. If there’s no time to pack, leave your clothing and everything else. Go to a relative or friend you trust. Don’t let this man destroy your life,” he ended with a sound that was a cross between a growl and a curse.

“And she did just what Esther told her. She left all her stuff and ran away. But she left the magazine open on the kitchen table, letting me see where she’d gotten the nerve to go against me. Would you believe she left me a note saying she was sorry? She said she was going to some shelter where I couldn’t find her. She must have started planning it in secret. Then she waited for her chance and left. Do you know how mad that made me?” he snarled.

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