I shoved the heels of my hands into my eyes, trying to clear the remaining blur from my vision. A footbal jersey bearing the number twelve shimmered on the wal . The single word across its top read Jamieson.
My hands gripped the comforter and I realized where here had to be. Derek’s bedroom. My stomach lurched as I tried to make sense of things.
I shook my head to clear it but gasped as pain shot through my temples, blinding me. There was a door off the side of the room, light glowing around its edges, water splashing. A bathroom. Inside, Derek whistled the same cheery tune as earlier.
On the nightstand a phone in the shape of a footbal rested in its cradle. I grabbed it, punching in the numbers.
“Allo? ”
“Max,” I whispered. “I need a ride.”
“Jessie? What number are you cal ing from? Where are you?”
“Umm … a bedroom. On the Hil .”
Across the miles I heard a door slam. “With him? ”
He had to hear me choke on my shame.
“Shit. Address?”
“I don’t…” I’d crushed on Derek for years. But I’d never looked up his address or phone number. I’d never had the guts to try a ride-by.
I heard Max’s car door slam and the convertible snarled to life. “It’s a piss-poor day for tracking,” he grumbled. “Jessie.”
My stomach curled in my gut. “Yeah?”
“Stay clear of him. Don’t let him get his hands on you.”
“Okay.”
“Jessie, you hear me? Don’t let him touch you.”
A smile dimpling his face, Derek took the phone and set it on the nightstand. Not in the cradle.
“Who are you talking to, Jessica?” he asked, loud enough for Max to hear. “Someone coming to pick you up?” He reached for me, and I scooted away. “Shhhh. It’s okay.”
I trembled. “How did I get here, Derek?”
“My driver brought us. Don’t you remember?” He snagged my wrist, and my head fil ed with images of us curled in the backseat of the Merecedes, kissing. But it was strange—the view skewed somehow.
“I don’t remember—” I began, but the visions pushed back into my head, stealing my words as he covered my mouth with his.
He dragged his lips across my mouth, assuring me, “You wil ,” as his hand shifted its grip and he pul ed my arm over my head and pushed me down.
For a moment I thought I heard the Rusakovas’ convertible roar to its fastest speed, squealing through the phone’s receiver. And there was cursing. In Russian. Though I didn’t understand the words, the intent was clear, even across the distance.
Then everything faded away and there was only the warmth of Derek’s hands. As if miles away, I heard him coax, “This is al so much easier this way.…” and I felt something flutter through my mind, my brain like the Rolodex that Counselor Maloy kept on his desk. Spinning. “Interesting,” Derek whispered, his lips tracing across mine, their warmth blurring my worry, blunting my fear, washing away my cares.…
I sighed, sinking back, head fil ing with pleasant images; pictures of Pietr floated to the surface. Kisses scorched along my face and neck. “Pietr…”
There was a growl, and I felt fingers at the waistband of my jeans. The button opened and a hand traced along the top of my underpants.
“No,” I said.
The kissing resumed, harder. “Jessica.” The word rumbled in someone’s throat. Not Pietr’s. To him, I was Jess.
“No,” I insisted, trying to pry my eyes open. Something was wrong … Not Pietr … I pushed at the chest above me, my eyelids stinging as I wil ed them apart.
“Relax…” a voice said, lips dragging along the corner of my jaw, fil ing my head with honey, sticky and sweet.…
There was a crash, and my world snapped into screamingly sharp focus. My head quaked like it’d been jackhammered open. My eyes wide, I saw Max reach for me. “Button your jeans,” he growled.
What? Oh, God. I fumbled, buttoning up.
Neanderthal-style, Max slung me over his shoulder. Derek clambered to his feet.
“Don’t you ever touch her again,” Max demanded.
Derek just grinned.
Sensation swirled in my head—kissing, touching, a single word—“No…” I was going to throw up. I was certain.
What had Derek done?
Max headed to a door hanging by a single hinge, and fast as a striking snake, Derek lunged, clutching my wrist. Images ripped through my head, twisting, quivering, fogging and evaporating—stealing my thoughts and wrenching away my memories. Something jolted through me like lightning.…
Muscles cramping, I convulsed.
Max roared, spinning back to Derek.
My world went black.
Silent.
* * *
The ocean crashed in my ears, surf tearing at sand, grinding away the ground beneath my feet.
“Jessie. Jessie. Jess-ie,” someone crooned my name.
I covered my ears. “Shut. Up.” My brain—or what was left of it—was on fire. It danced and jumped in my skul , threatening to burst free.
“Good girl. Wake up.” Fingers snapped. “Snap out of it. Jessie…”
“Max?” I blinked, sunlight stabbing into my eyes. I squeezed them shut with a whimper. “Where the—?”
“Jessie.” He shook my shoulder with his huge, hot hand.
“God, you’re so loud…” My eyes popped open, and I grabbed the steering wheel as a horn shrieked at us. “Stay on our side of the road!”
His attention snapped back to the road. “How do you feel?”
“Like—” My head was folding in on itself like my brain had landed on the lip of a black hole. “Like you better pul over if you want this al -leather interior to stay smel ing anything like leather.”
It was the fastest I’d seen a Rusakova pul a car over. I opened my door, Max’s hand undoing my seat belt. I tumbled out.
As did the contents of my stomach.
“Oh. Boy.”
Leather creaked as Max leaned across and the glove compartment squealed open. Napkins were thrust into my shaking hand.
I swabbed off my mouth and slid careful y into the car. I rubbed the back of my hand over my forehead.
“How did we get here? Why am I here?”
“What do you remember?”