Page 58 of Savage Seduction

“See you there.” Ben disconnects the call before I can respond.

I can’t tell if Ben is being standoffish or if I am internalizing our last date. If roles were reversed, I’m not even sure I’d meet a guy again for coffee after a date where he got into a fight in the bathroom with a crazy person. But we’d left that night on good terms, and I owe it to him to be honest and forthcoming about my past.

Despite my rising anxiety about opening up to Ben, I can’t help but feel if anyone was going to be accepting and okay with what happened to me those years in the past, it would be him. He has such a calming sense about him. Like an all-knowing sage. Only, in a rocking hot body I would love to get to know in absolute detail.

It doesn’t take long to get ready; even my hair falls intoplace as if to say,good luck, buddy.I make my way into the living room and spot my backpack and lab coat. I’d forgotten to bring it back to my locker, but since I’d be working in the next few days, it’d be fine.

The car keys are in my coat pocket, and I reach in to grab them. My hand wraps around the package, and I freeze. How the hell did I forget about it being in there? That’s when I also remember the photos.

I take out my phone and begin looking through the images I’d taken. They are surveillance-style pictures as if someone was on a stakeout, following me. Who and why, I have no idea, but the creep factor goes up tenfold when I see one of me in the locker room.

I swipe through the pictures and zoom in to get a better look at something dark at the edge of the image. “What the hell is that?” I squint, rotating the image a little, but it won’t come clear. I look over at the laptop; it would be a lot easier to look at them on a bigger screen, but my watch buzzes indicating I need to leave, or I will be late. “Dammit,” I say, shoving the phone into my front pocket and taking one last look at the small package that had been delivered to the museum.

The little hairs on the back of my neck tingle, and I decide to leave the box where it is. I’ll open it with London the next time I see her. Maybe it will be something we need to investigate together. Grabbing my keys, I rush out the door, locking it behind me.

I steel myself against the rising nerves as I stride across the Coffee Bean and Me parking lot. I'm not anxious about the date—I have more self-confidence than that—but I'm worried about opening up and telling someone about my traumas. Tenminutes early, I pull the door open and step inside to find a nice place in the back where we can talk in private, and I can escape if things go south.

I look to my left, and there in the back, where I would have picked, is Ben. He stands and smiles, motioning for me to join him.

“You’re even earlier than me,” I say.

Ben chuckles. “If I’m being honest, I’m a little nervous, and when that happens I end up getting to places early.”

I half-smile and take my seat. Ben follows suit and joins me in a few moments of silence.

“Should I just go ahead and start? Or do you want to ask me a few questions first?” I say. “I’d really like you to get the answers you deserve but just know this isn’t going to be easy for me.”

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” Ben reaches over and squeezes my hand. “Even though we shared that kiss and embrace the other night, if I’m being honest… I didn’t expect you to call me. I’m nervous to hear what you have to say, not because I would ever judge you, but because learning painful and traumatic experiences about those I care about, affects me.”

“But you’re an ER doctor.”

“Another reason doctors often don’t treat their loved ones. It’s much easier to keep the necessary walls in place with those you don’t know well.”

“Makes sense,” I say. “Where should I start?”

“I’d like to know what happened the other night at Delicate Seas… and why.” His wide-eyed boyish expression of concern softens my self-imposed, hard-coated exterior even further and I fight back tears. Years of pent-up emotions are knocking on the door.

“Okay,” I say. “It’s a long-ish conversation, but I’m goingto condense it for ease of telling and to protect us both from having to hear and relive some of the grittier details. Deal?”

“Deal.”

“It was a few years ago. My partner, Officer Dominique and I had been pursuing the L.A. Butcher for months.”

“The serial killer?”

I nod. “That’s the one. He always seemed to be one or two steps ahead of us no matter what we did. We’d find his victims anywhere from a day to just a few minutes after they’d been killed.”

“Damn.”

“Exactly, so we received an anonymous tip of his whereabouts, and we were sure we would catch him in time to save the latest victim… a young girl from East Los Angeles—taken right off her front porch, middle of the day with family home.”

“Wow,” Ben says, sitting back in his seat and crossing his arms. “It’s crazy how fast something like that can happen. Were you able to save her?”

I shake my head. “We drove in the middle of the night to an abandoned warehouse where we were told he would be—where the victim could be saved. When we got there, the Chief said we had to wait for backup, but we were twitchy. If we could save the little girl, we were going to do it. Fuck backup.”

“Oh, my goodness.” Ben sits up straight and puts his elbows on the table, not looking away from me for a second.

“We went inside and came to a T in the building. It was a tough decision, backup wasn’t there and we should have stayed together. But that is all in hinesight. Instead, we split up… we had to.” I shake my head. “I still stand by that decision. If we could save a life, it was worth the risk. But the farther I went into the facility, the sense that I wasn’t alone grew stronger. The only thing I convinced myself in that moment, was that it was the little girl. She was just a few more feet ahead, tied up and waiting for me to find her.”

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