Page 69 of Rush of Jealousy

“Perhaps not enough. It’s not personal, Angie,” he says, moving over to the minibar to fix some drinks. “You’ve just been hand selected for the trials. And we are still trying to figure out your tolerance levels. You are definitely a special case.”

I try to roll and am unable to feel my limbs. It’s as if I am paralyzed. My mind races at what to do. How to get out of here. How to alert anyone in the hall that I need help. Whatever he has slipped into me may wear off if I can keep him busy long enough to regain my wits.

The pressure on the bed alerts me to Mark being back again. He sits me up against a mound of pillows and grips my chin in his palm. He squeezes it to hold it in place. A pen light shines into my eyes, and I blink over the brightness.

“Fascinating,” he mutters. He pulls out a folded piece of paper from his pants pocket and jots something onto it with a pen.

“Oww?” I manage to squeak out. My head still has some range of motion, so at least I can turn my neck.

“Shhhh…”

He grabs a hammer tool, and I watch stupidly as he hits my knee with it. He then puts it back into his briefcase and rubs at my feet.

“Let’s have a drink,” he suggests, walking over to the ice bucket to retrieve the bottle of bubbly. The popping sound echoes in my ears. He pours two flutes and fiddles with his briefcase, pulling out a vial. He adds it to one flute, emptying it entirely into the bubbling liquid. He moves over to the bed and presses that glass to my lips. “To help you be more”—his brows rise—“amicable.”

He tips back the champagne glass into my mouth, since I cannot use my floppy hands. No! I slam my head forward in a rush. The glass knocks out of his hand and onto the floor.

“Bitch!” he snaps. “That was my only expendable dose!”

He just confirmed my fears. He drugged me tonight. And planned to do it again. Maybe I still have a chance to get away. Maybe the first dose, which he must have slipped into my seltzer when I was in the restroom at Fortune, did not take as much effect as he wanted. Maybe I can get this nightmare to have an ending that is less tragic than he planned.

And then it hits me. A series of events merged into a video montage starts to play in my head. Graham has been warning me from the start not to drink anything from Mark. At El Pastel, Mark sent over a drink to our table which was returned. On the night I met with Mark’s business associates, Graham warned me not to drink anything. The handoff with Paul at River Valley U was probably drugs. Graham knew all along that Mark was drugging the women he employed. He probably just didn’t have enough evidence to prove it. But he knew. That is why he has been trying so hard to get me to stay away from Tanner.

And then there is his sister, Penny, who probably got caught up in the crossfire. She is the reason why Graham has been on this manhunt from the beginning. He has a personal investment to prove who drugged her.

“Howww?” I exhale, watching Mark’s eyes grow dark. He is frazzled, and his demeanor is scary. “Waa eee?”

“I’ll tell you, my sweet and naive Angie. But only because you won’t remember a thing in an hour or two.”

I swallow hard as he continues to speak.

“After a few failing businesses, I discovered that the easiest money to be made was to manufacture some newer age drugs. Test them and then distribute them using my pushers. Narcotics for pain. Drugs that can cause temporary paralysis…you know, for men who want some easy fun with the ladies. Sleeping pills that actually work. But the FDA is a nasty organization that is controlled by politics and deep pockets. So I am just bypassing all the red tape bullshit. Selling my product locally—but with hope to expand internationally. Mexico, Russia, China, and the Middle East surprisingly have a high demand for easy-to-access pills. It is the new culture.”

“Sick.”

“It is basically like self-help in a pill form. There’s something for everybody.”

I sit in silence as he talks. I try to lock on to certain keywords—despite him warning me that my memory will be gone. He is crazy. He is a criminal. His business associates Benjamin, Samson, and Edward probably are too. And Paul.

“So here we are, my helpless Angie. And while this trial of the testing did not work out one hundred percent as planned, I think we can still have a little fun, right? Why waste a perfectly good supplemental dose I snuck into your drink back during dinner?” He leans in closer to my ear and hovers at the shell. “We better hurry since you will probably metabolize the strains faster since you ate food.” He glances at his watch. “And since it has already been an hour, let’s see how immobile you can be. Don’t worry, though; you don’t have to perform. This is more for me than it is for you. So just lie back and enjoy the ride.”

Mark pushes me into the pillows and forces my mouth to his. I’m going to be sick. I squeeze my eyes shut as he pulls at my dress and curses over how to get it off me. There is a hidden zipper in back, but I cannot even focus on how to make my mouth talk, and I definitely do not want to help him out. I scream. But the only one who hears is me. I no longer have a voice. It is like someone suctioned it out of my throat, leaving me verbally impaired.

I hear a ripping sound. My eyes fly open. Panic wants to rise, but I shove it into another section of my brain, compartmentalizing my protest.

Tears fall down my cheeks as my lungs seek air. The throbbing of my head escalates, making my eyes want to shut.Don’t close them. Look for a way out. I need to be coherent and not get inside my headspace and zone out, even though every preprogrammed self-preservation mechanism in my brain is telling me to go there. To hide. To curl up and wait out this hellish nightmare. I swallow hard and urge my mind to stay still and wait for the effects of the drug to work its way through my bloodstream and then dissipate. I just need time.

Panicked thoughts lead to physical trauma.

Stay calm, Angie.

I want to escape the present and travel to another time. A time when decisions didn’t seem so tough. I can’t go there, though. I need to stay alert to try to protect myself.

Fabric slides down to my curvy hips, and the carnal groan vibrates in my ears, furthering the disgust of what I am physically unable to stop. My knees are forced apart, and the animalistic stare of Mark makes me want to die. He wants me. As clueless as I am at times, this I know with certainty.

Mark Tanner is going to rape me.

And I very well might not remember a thing.

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