When I was escorted to my meals with Clark I had watched for any other guards. Apart from whoever was with me there didn’t seem to be any. I knew there was one directly outside the front door; I knew this from watching from my library. What I also knew was that at precisely twenty minutes after sunrise a van came to the front door to deliver what I guessed was groceries. Or it could be drugs. Or freaking Beanie Bag toys for all I knew. It wasn’t important. What was important was this truck came every day at the same time. That truck was my ticket out. All I had to do was somehow overpower Rafe, get his gun, silence the guard at the door and commandeer the truck. I’d put on false eyelashes after five cosmos; I was sure I could manage a simple escape.
I couldn’t sleep. Partly because I had been unconscious for twenty-four hours, partly because I was anxious as hell about my plan and partly because my legs hurt like a motherfucker. How I was going to manage this when I was barely able to walk was a mystery to me. But I had committed. Rafe would be here any second and I’d rather take my chances with escape than actually sleep with the sicko. Yuck.
I had gone over my plan continuously throughout the night and I knew what little chance I had. I was relying on a lot of shoddy information and uncertainties, and the fact I was injured would hamper me. Chances were I would probably get caught; I might not even make it past Rafe. But I had to try.
In waiting for dawn to arrive and for whatever preceded my mind wandered to Ian, the way it did when I lay in the dark and the memories crept in like demons in the night.
CHAPTER SIX
One year ago
It was the day. The day Ian was going to arrive in Amber. I was a mess.
“Are you high?” Rosie asked me curiously as a customer left the store.
“What? No,” I replied in shock. I wished I was high. Maybe a joint would take the edge off. I wondered where I could get some weed in this place. I’m sure Lucky would give me some.
“You just gave that lady a hundred bucks change instead of ten. And you looked for a sweater for ten straight minutes until you realized it was in your hand,” Rosie said lightly, part teasing, but concern flickered in her gaze.
She knew something was up. “What’s going on?” she asked. “Has it got anything to do with the fact Gwen’s brother is arriving today?”
My eyes bulged. Maybe she was a mind reader. “How did you know?” I asked quietly.
She raised an eyebrow then gave me a sympathetic gaze. “It’s not hard. Every time Gwen mentions how excited she is to see him you go a delightful shade of green and make some excuse to escape.”
My stomach dropped. “Do you think Gwen noticed?”
Rosie shook her head. “No, she’s too excited to see him, plus she’s like encased in a cocoon of infatuation with my brother.”
I let out a sigh of relief.
“Want to talk about it?” she asked.
I shook my head, but before I knew it the whole damn story came tumbling out, along with my very confusing feelings for Brock.
“Wow,” she said when I had finished. Her mouth was open slightly.
“I know,” I said sadly. “You don’t think I could convince them to have a reverse polygamy type situation and they could be brother husbands?” I joked weakly.
She smiled dreamily. “Imagine having two bad ass men doting over you.”
I thought for a second. “I think I have my hands full with Brock at the moment. Literally. He is very well endowed.” On that thought my head snapped up. “I’m sorry, I know he’s your friend, I haven’t meant to be such a witch to him.”
Rosie waved her hand. “Don’t you dare apologize. Brock’s a big boy, and by the sounds of it he’s been an asshole. This isn’t all on you. Unfortunately, I have a feeling they might meet. And I don’t think the first thing on their mind will be becoming brother husbands.”
I put my face in my hands. “Why can’t I be a lesbian? I feel like my problems would be so much easier if I liked girls.”
“I agree—if it wasn’t for the fact I liked sex with men I would have turned a long time a ago,” Rosie said, folding some sweaters. She glanced up at me, her face turning from joking to serious. “What are you going to do?”
I looked at her, feeling overwhelmed. “I honestly don’t know. I was getting over Ian. I was at peace with the fact we weren’t going to be together. And Brock…” I trailed off. I couldn’t articulate my feelings for him right now. They didn’t exactly rival the feelings I had for Ian. They were different. Raw and all consuming.
“I need to go for a walk,” I declared. We had been quiet all morning. “I’ll take my cell. You get busy, call me,” I said.
“I’ll be fine. Go and clear your head. But you can’t take off to Canada, no matter how enticing the prospect,” she joked.
I had been tossing up the merits of leaving the country and seeking asylum. A few minutes later I walked along the beach, carrying my heels in my hand and letting the water kiss my toes. I was sure I’d regret it later when I got sand in my seven hundred dollar shoes, but right now it was therapeutic. I was letting the water wash all my man troubles away when it washed something else right up in front of me. Running out of the surf, holding a board and looking all wet and delicious was Brock.
I stopped walking.
“Shit,” I muttered.
We hadn’t spoken since our yelling match four days ago and I was surprised to realize how much I had missed him. I itched to go running into the surf and pounce on him, no matter the fact I was wearing a white lace Chloe dress that would not survive salt water. It must be serious if I was willing to risk couture. The fact that his abs looked great dripping with water and his long wet hair framing his attractive face had me willing to throw my entire wardrobe into the ocean if need be. I had already decided to turn and remove myself from the situation when Brock’s head turned my way and his eyes locked on mine.