And that was strike three.
“Wait!” I heard Daisy cry before I disconnected.
I tossed my cell into the passenger seat, put my hands on the steering wheel and rested my head on them.
You think she should talk to him now? Hear his side of the story? Listen to him explain about how he tried it on with half the Rock Chicks? How he broke it off with Sandra Whoever-she-was without batting an eye? How he didn’t mention any of this shit during his “straight talk”? Bad Ava taunted Good Ava.
Good Ava didn’t answer. She was too busy quietly crying.
* * * * *
I turned off my phone and went to a travel agent. I booked a last minute trip to an all-inclusive in St. Croix, leaving the next morning at oh-dark-thirty.
I went to a card shop, bought a card, paper and a pen and wrote Sissy a long note, explaining everything. Then I went to an Internet Café, e-mailed my clients and told them I had a family emergency that would mean I’d be out of town for two weeks and I looked up the address for Nightingale Investigations on the web. I posted the card to Sissy, care of Nightingale Investigations. Then I went to the mall and bought a bunch of new stuff for my trip, including luggage because mine was at Luke’s.
Then I went home, scanned the street for Luke’s Porsche or any black Ford SUVs and finding none there I parked in my garage. I lugged my bags inside and took them upstairs. I was going to spend the night in a hotel close to the airport.
I dumped my shopping bags on the bed and rolled the suitcase beside it. Then I walked downstairs and arranged my purse and all the paperwork I’d need for my trip, including my tickets, on the dining room table. After that, I went to the kitchen to get a drink, a heavy one. I was going to call a taxi to take me to the hotel so I could get as drunk as I liked.
And I was going to get way drunk.
I was mixing it, my back to the kitchen door, when two arms closed around my waist.
Shit.
I hated it when Luke moved so quietly.
“Let me go,” I whispered and even to my ears my voice sounded broken.
“Not until I teach you a lesson.”
My body went solid.
It did this not because it was Luke who was speaking.
It did this because it was Noah Dexter who was speaking.
Fuckity, f**k, f**k, f**k.
* * * * *
I fought him.
I lost and got hurt doing it, so hurt, I lost consciousness for long enough for him to carry me downstairs to my creepy basement.
The fight had been ugly. I kicked, screamed, bit, punched, tugged and tumbled.
He mostly punched and he was better at it.
Before getting knocked out, I felt wetness on my face that I was certain was blood coming from a tear in my lip or from my nose or both.
By the time I came to, I had something over my mouth, strong and sticky and I knew it was tape. I licked it and pushed at it with my tongue but it didn’t move. He had me in the old coal room, the smallest, darkest, most cramped, most creepy part of the basement and he was taping my hands well over my head to a steel support pole.
I made a noise that was supposed to communicate “No!” but it didn’t come out as much due to the tape.
I felt sick, my head was groggy, I felt dull pain in too many parts of my body and I was scared out of my ever lovin’ mind.
I got myself together enough to try to pull my body away from him taping my hands but the tape held strong and tore at my skin. Before I could get anywhere, he moved around and pressed into me, moving from my hands and starting to tape my arms to the beam. I kept pushing against him and trying to kick at him but he just pressed deeper until my breastbone connected with the beam so hard I cried out under the tape.