Page 28 of Regret

He stomped off toward the door and grabbed his keys off the side table. “None of your business.”

“Wait. Are you just going to leave me here, handcuffed to your damn couch?”

“Yup.”

“You can’t—”

And then the door slammed shut.

“Asshole!” she yelled, hoping he could hear it. The loud bang against the door told her he did.Fucker.

“Goddammit.” Her head fell back and she stared up at the ceiling.

What the hell did she get herself into this time? Trusting people wasn’t something she did—ever. And no, she didn’t trust this guy either. There was just something telling her that she didn’t have a choice. There was nothing else she could do but to trust him, and pray to God that it didn’t come back to bite her in the ass.

Scarlet sighed and rubbed her hand down her face. That was when she noticed the bottle of Jack still on the coffee table.

By God, the universe was finally throwing her a bone.

Stretching as far as she could, she ignored all the aching in her body. There was only one short term goal she had in mind, and it was a clear one.Get that damn bottle of Jack and drink as much of it as possible, in the shortest amount of time.

Not only was whiskey the answer to keeping away the nightmares and the memories, but it was her only cure to the headache pounding like a bitch through the back of her skull while she waited for Mr. Gorilla-man to return from wherever the fuck he went.

Hell. Maybe that was where he went. To hell so that he could discuss with Lucifer himself new ways in which he could piss her off and make her want to kill him in unimaginable ways. Yes, that was exactly where he went.

The handcuff pressed a groove into her wrist as she desperately pulled and stretched to reach the bottle. With her index finger she managed to slowly, strategically, maneuver the bottle closer. And finally, after about five minutes of pretending she was part of the Fantastic Four, she held the bottle in her hand and silently sangKumbaya.

Once she opened the bottle, she swallowed a good mouthful. That first taste was always the best, giving the worst sting as it slowly travelled down your throat, settling in your stomach. Funny how alcohol had the power to make one forget, even if just for a few hours. She never understood how some people could judge those who had to depend on alcohol to make them forget their nightmares. Scarlet got it. She understood it. Until a person fell smack bang right in the middle of their own hell, they would never be able to understand how or why some people needed an escape. And that was what alcohol was to some people—an escape, a coping mechanism.

For what seemed like hours, Scarlet sat there on the couch drinking whiskey and just staring out the floor-to-ceiling windows. She had to admit, when she first laid eyes on Hunter, she did not imagine him living in a place like this. In fact, she was one hundred percent sure he would be living in a dump. But no. He was living in one huge-ass, open-plan bachelor pad with what she could only assume was one of the best views of Chicago.

There was a time in her life when she had woken up to a beautiful view just like this one every morning. The only difference, her view was of a beautiful green landscape. An estate with trees and flowers, her own childhood playground. She was young. Her life was simple then. Until one morning everything changed, and that view with all its beauty turned into nothing but gray.

Scarlet—Blanchette—shared a room with her older sister. It wasn’t because there weren’t any other rooms, or because their house was small. In fact, it was quite the opposite. They lived in a huge mansion decorated and fitted with only the best. But they preferred it that way. They wanted to share a room, to be close. They were inseparable.

Scarlet still remembered how she would watch her sister comb and tie her light blonde hair every morning, wishing and hoping that one day she would be just as beautiful. Her sister was a flawless beauty, the fair-skinned, light blue-eyed princess, while Scarlet was what you would call an imperfect beauty. Her lips weren’t so full back then, her eyes not as bright, and her boobs definitely not as big. Her mother used to tell her not to worry, that the time would come when she would bloom into a beauty.

Scarlet looked down at her cleavage.

Oh, she’d bloomed all right. It was just unfortunate that her cousin also noticed how she hadbloomedthe day of her seventeenth birthday. The same day he came home no longer a Marine, but a monster.

They said he had psychological issues, that when triggered he became unpredictable. And because of that he could no longer serve. It was a shock to everyone in her family. Just like everyone else, Scarlet was so sure that it wasn’t true. Her cousin, Brent, was one of the most stable people she had ever known. Brent was adopted by her uncle when he was seven years old, the same year Scarlet was born. Yet, even though they weren’t related by blood, she loved him. She adored him. He was like a brother to her. So of course no one believed it. Not even her.

Until the day she experienced firsthand just how deep hispsychological issueswent. The day her life no longer had any color.

Pouring the last bit of whiskey down her throat, Scarlet felt the pain starting to consume her as she allowed her mind to wander in the past. The pain in her ribs, the pounding ache in her head, nothing compared to the agony of thinking back, remembering what she had been through, what was taken from her.

With every ounce of strength she had, she fought it. She fought the pain, the memories, the flashing images. But it seemed like not even a half a bottle of whiskey had the power to help her with that.

The sun was starting to rise, the soft yellows and pinks forcing some color into a very clean, very boring, dreary-looking white and gray apartment. Seriously, would a simple red or magenta scatter cushion kill this guy?

All the whiskey Scarlet consumed didn’t really have the desired numbing effect she had hoped for, but she really needed to pee.

She glanced from the bathroom to the cuff around her arm. “Well, shit.”

There was a sound at the door, and Scarlet immediately felt her spine chill. Sure, the apartment wasn’t registered under Hunter’s name, but she had learned by now that no matter what,hewould always find her.

Pulling violently at the cuffs, Scarlet fought against the fear that had both her heart and stomach fighting for a way up her throat. Out of instinct, she thought about all the ways she would be able to haul her ass out of that apartment. But the damn handcuff shot all those ideas to shit.

---