Navy SEAL Bad Boy Page 13

  I grab the remote and flick on the large, flat television suspended on the wall. A crowded table of aging ladies fills the screen as The View comes on. I watch for a second, as they talk over each other, all trying to make their point loudly and at the same time. It sounds like the chaos of the rehab cafeteria. The noise settles my nerves and I grab my food, not really focusing on what they’re saying, just enjoying that they’re saying it.

  Plopping down on the couch, I smile stupidly at the toast on my plate. It probably makes me weird, but getting groceries with Jake a couple of days ago, was a real highlight of the week for me. I’m sure for most people it’s a chore, just another thing to check off their weekly to-do list, but I loved the simple luxury of choosing food with my man. Being out, on his arm, doing something as meaningless as picking out apples with him was a real treat.

  I never realized how pent up Knox kept me for over five years of my life. We rarely ever left his place, between his job and his cocaine-induced paranoia, he didn’t like leaving his apartment much. I was never allowed to go anywhere on my own, and I let that become a normal part of my existence. How? I shake my head. He treated me more like an animal than a person, telling me when I could eat, when I could speak. For years, we lived almost exclusively on food he ordered in. It’s amazing I still have my health at all. Not that my cocaine addiction left me much of an appetite anyway.

  My body was as hollow and vacant on the outside as my soul was on the inside. So, yeah, maybe I’m a huge dork for loving trips to the grocery store, but it’s the little things.

  I drop the crusts down onto my plate and brush the crumbs from my top. My thoughts trail off to my parents. I wish they could see how happy I am now. They were so upset about me coming to live here, I hope they take Jake up on his offer to come visit us. I know after only a few hours, they’re minds would be put to rest if they saw how peaceful and happy my life is now.

  I should give them a call. The idea of listening to my mother’s frosty tone squeezes my heart too hard to bring myself to do it. Maybe an e-mail would be better. Before he left Edgewood, my father wrote down all his contact information and stuffed it in my hand. None of it had changed from when I was a kid, the phone number, his ‘PapaBear’ email address. Hell, he even wrote down their house address, like I hadn’t just taken a taxi there a couple of months ago. I guess after I disappeared from their lives, he didn’t want to take any chances that I would lose touch with them again.

  I walk over to Jake’s computer, which he gave me the password to earlier. “Mi casa es su casa,” he smiled. “This is your place, eat what you want, do what you want, ok?” He kissed my forehead and I closed my eyes with a smile.

  I open my e-mail and can’t get in. What the hell? Oh, I forgot that I changed the password before I headed off to rehab so Knox wouldn’t be able to access my account anymore. My email was just one more thing that he controlled when I lived with him. I never gave him a reason not to trust me, I was stupidly loyal to that asshole, but he still insisted on checking my messages whenever he was feeling jealous.

  I log in properly with the new password and gasp. My inbox is filled with message after message from Knox. I scroll the screen, he sent the first one a couple of days after I left. There must be hundreds of them here! I click them, scanning the messages and my heart sinks. Most of the messages are short and read pretty much the same way, he’s going to find me. I can’t escape.

  I scroll up through the madness and see his tone started to change when he found out I was at Edgewood. That’s when he started the death threats. I guess he figured out I wasn’t reading his messages and that’s why he sent me that letter.

  Flicking past a bunch of unopened e-mails I look at the last one he sent me. It’s dated from a week ago. Clicking the message, I see it’s more of the same. Another death threat. It seems like he’s losing steam though. The messages are spaced further and further apart. That must be a good sign.

  I hover my mouse over the little x in the corner, I don’t have the heart to get a hold of my parents right now. I think I need to take a long bath and soak of the black stain that Knox has left on me.

  Da-ding!

  I jump in the leather chair and my eyes grow wide as a new e-mail pops into my inbox. It’s from him. My arms feel like a thousand tiny acupuncture needles are prickling my skin as a shiver violently runs down my spine.

  Does he know I’ve been checking my e-mails? Paranoia washes over me, I look around Jake’s house, like I expect Knox to walk out from behind the living room curtain or something.

  I’m being irrational. It’s a coincidence. Nothing more. I take a deep breath, but the icy feeling in my gut doesn’t melt away. My hand trembles as I let my curiosity battle with my fear. Finally, I click the message open and jolt upright in the chair, clasping both of my hands over my mouth to contain a scream that rattles in my throat.

  I leap to my feet, my heart thrashing in my chest and look at the screen in horror. There, glowing from Jake’s computer is a picture of us, standing with a half-filled grocery cart and wide smiles frozen on our faces. We’re completely oblivious to our picture being taken, our eyes locked on one another in what would be a sweet picture if it was taken under any other circumstance.

  Under the picture, his message is simple. Tears spring to my eyes and I struggle to breathe. This time, there’s no death threat. No detailed plans to shoot my legs or explicit messages about how he plans to fuck me. Instead, only two words are under the photo: Found you.

  Fuck. Shit. Fuck!

  There’s no way Knox was at the grocery store, was there? Is there any possible chance he could’ve been standing close enough to us to take our photograph, but I didn’t see him? No. It’s impossible.

  The thought brings me no comfort. That means he’s got someone else following me. He knows where we are. It’s only a matter of time until he comes to collect.

  I rush over to the kitchen drawer and pull out the biggest knife I can find, racing down the hall, I lock myself in Jake’s room. He could come for me in a week, or a month, or fucking today. The only thing I know for sure is that he will stop at nothing to take me back. To teach me his lessons. To kill me.

  I slide under the comforter, shivering like a little girl afraid of the monsters in her closet. It’s funny how, when we’re kids, we’re so afraid of scary creatures lurking under our beds. Crazy concoctions our imaginations come up with that have no basis in reality. No one tells us that the real monsters live among us. That we work with them, we date them, we see them every day.

  As long as my monster is out there, lurking in the shadows, I’ll never be safe.

  He’ll never stop, until he destroys me.

  29

  Jake

  “So, we’re standing there, trying not to sway all over the place,” Black is leaning into the crowd, loving that they’re hanging off his every word. “And were trying to not even breathe too heavily, cause we absolutely reek of liquor,” Black’s eyes twinkle as he captivates the table full of sailors.

  I can’t help but smile at how he paints a picture. Black can be a dick, but him and I have history. We ripped it up in every port together. Most of the time, the party didn’t stop when we hit home soil either. I can’t count the number of drunken, coked out nights we’ve had. Mostly because I can’t remember them.

  “And he says to us,” he continues, “‘I’m only going to ask you one more time, how the fuck did this monkey get on board?’” He drops his voice as he imitates our old Captain. “And this one,” he starts to laugh, jutting his thumb at me, “says ‘I don’t know, sir. Maybe he enlisted.’” The table erupts with laughter as Black doubles over. I can’t help but chuckle too, even if I’d rather forget what a shit show I used to be.

  “That’s fucking epic!” A young recruit with no more than three haircuts in the navy beams at us. He looks at us the way I remember looking at the older guys when I first joined. Like they were rock stars and royalty rolled into one. In my world, t
here was nothing cooler than the grizzled SEALs who had a bunch of deployments under their belt.

  “What happened to the monkey?” Some other guy I only met today asks.

  “The Captain tossed him off the ship,” Black smirks.

  “Really?” His deep brown eyes squint.

  “No, he’s shitting you. The Singapore government sent some animal control people to take him back before we left port,” I explain.

  “You always gotta ruin my fun.” Black pretends to pout for a second, but he can’t keep the wide smile from his face. “Man, we had some wild days, didn’t we?”

  “We did,” I agree. To hear him tell it, you’d think it had just been a non-stop party. Of course, telling stories about late night cocaine confessions and hugging toilet bowls probably wouldn’t get the same idolization. Even if we did spend just as much time doing those things as we did messing around and being crazy. Maybe even more.

  Dan blazes into another story and I pat my hands over my jacket pockets. Where’s my phone? I slide my palms over my pants, but it’s not there either. Shit. I must’ve left it in the car.

  I peer around the bar, but there’s no clock on any of the walls. Glancing out the window, the sky is already turning a murky cocktail of deep blues. Is it night already? How long have we been here?

  “Hey man, sorry to interrupt,” I cut off Black, “what time is it?”

  “Uh, I dunno,” he shrugs and pulls out his cell. “Almost eight, why?”

  What? How is that possible? We came in here for a couple of drinks almost four hours ago. How did the day slide into night without me noticing?

  “I’ve gotta get moving,” I start to stand up but Black grabs my arm.

  “What? No way! It’s still early, bro. I haven’t seen you in forever, you can’t take off yet,” he demands.

  “No, I’ve got my girl waiting for me at home. I’m going to head out,” I pull my arm back and stand up.

  “Oh, come on, she’s a big girl. She can look after herself for a few hours while you catch up with old friends, right? Besides,” he drops his voice, but everyone at the table can still hear him, “after this I was gonna have you come over. You know, and give our buddy Paul a call.” He throws the name of my old dealer out casually.

  “No, I’m not interested,” I clamp my jaw and look him in the eyes.

  “For fuck’s sake!” He throws his hands up in the air. “I knew they got to you,” he eyes me up with disgust. “You going to be one of those holier-than-thou guys now who tells everyone they party too much? You can’t even go out and have a good time anymore? What did they do to you in that place? Shove a stick up your ass?” Black slurs at me.

  “Things change, man. People do too.” I blow him off and start to leave.

  “Ok, ok. Listen, I’m sorry man. That wasn’t cool of me. Hey, lemme buy you a shot, ok? I wanna make it up to you.” Black grasps my coat sleeve and I look down into his hopeful face.

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “No, I want to. You know what?” He stands up and waves his hand at the perky bartender across the room, “Hey, sweetheart! How about you grab us a round of Irish Car Bombs. One for everyone, ok?” He circles his finger around the table. “It’s on me,” he smirks at his happy group of friends.

  I look over at the young lady putting together Black’s order and then back to the man. “Ok, one shot,” I shrug. “Just one and then I’ve gotta peel out of here, ok?”

  “All right! That’s the guy I know!” Black claps my shoulders enthusiastically and pulls my chair out for me to sit back down. I plop into it, sinking into the wooden chair and watch as he sits tall next to me, puffing out his chest proudly.

  Just one shot, then I’m out. That’s it. No wild night with Black, no trolling for cocaine, none of that. Just one shot.

  Just one.

  30

  Holly

  I peer over at the alarm clock on Jake’s night table. It’s almost eleven. It’s pitch black outside and every set of car headlights that passes by the bedroom window, casting ominous light across the walls, grips my gut with fear. Is it Jake?

  Or is it Knox?

  I know the house is in a gated community, but I also know it won’t stop Knox. He’s already tracked me down to this city, it’s only a matter of time until he zeros in on this house.

  Where is Jake? My eyes squeeze shut and I silently pray, again, for him to come home safe. Did Knox follow him? Did he kill him? Did he take him? He was supposed to be home over six hours ago, I’ve called his phone a hundred times, and have only managed to fill up his voicemail with frantic messages.

  Jake is a Navy SEAL, he can take care of himself, I reassure myself. Except the thought does little to comfort me. Especially when Knox is a stalker with a cold gun in his hand and the heat of revenge burning through him. You can be the most elite combat arms soldier with the most rigorous and specialized training in the world, but it won’t save you from being shot in the back of the head. Nausea overwhelms me at the thought of Jake being slumped over his steering wheel, with blood dripping down his face and a hole blown into the back of his skull. I’ll never forgive myself if something happens to him.

  Of course, the guilt won’t have time to consume my flesh like burning flames, because if Knox got to Jake, then my time is ticking down. I’ll be dead by morning. Or whenever he’s finally done “punishing me”.

  Headlights pour through the window and wash the bedroom wall with white light. I can hear the rubber tires of a car slowly pull into the driveway. I grip the handle of the knife I pilfered from the kitchen and tiptoe over to the side of the window, peering out through the side of the blinds.

  It’s not Jake’s car. My heart sinks and the lump I’ve been trying to swallow all day grows even larger in my throat. It’s a cab.

  Fuck.

  I watch in horror as a shadowy shape slides out of the back seat and slams the door shut. Would Knox show up here in a taxi, to kill me? I did steal his car, but I can’t imagine him not replacing it. Unless he’s trying to keep his attack anonymous from the suburban busy bodies. It’s a lot harder to identify a man arriving in the middle of the night in a taxi than in a tricked-out Escalade.

  I lunge away from the window and twist my neck as I search the room for a place to hide. Under the bed? No, I can’t use my knife if I’m wedged under there. The closet? Maybe.

  I can hear a clash of keys fall on the front steps and the intruder groan as he picks them up. How did Knox get a key? It shouldn’t surprise me that he managed. I’ve seen the lengths he’s gone to just to track down men who’ve tried to screw him out of cash. He would brag to me about how he found them, how he finished them himself, so people would hear of it and know not to fuck with him. He took a lot of pride in winning the game of cat and mouse, and even more pride in slowly, painfully extracting his revenge.

  That was just about money. I shot him in the leg, stole his car, took his hidden stash of cash and left a man who thought he owned my body. No, not just my body. My soul.

  The front door creaks open and someone stomps inside, bumping up against the counter and thumping into the wall.

  Fuck.

  It has to be Knox. Jake wouldn’t be crashing around his own place. He knows where the fucking counter is in his own kitchen. I leap across the bedroom floor on my tiptoes and try to contain the screams of terror welling up inside me as I stand behind the door. At least here, if he comes in the room, I can try to escape. If I lock myself in a closet, it’s too easy for him to grab me. To control me. Like he always has.

  Did he kill Jake?

  Tears spring to my eyes for the thousandth time today. My hands tremble as I twist my fingers around the hilt of the knife and listen.

  “Hey! Holly? Anyone ho-ome?” He calls out as he thumps down the hallway, with the grace of a stampeding bull. His body thuds against the wall and my mind reels. That’s not Knox’s voice. Not unless he’s trying to disguise it. I know I haven’t heard him speak in ove
r two months, but I will never forget the voice of evil.

  “Hey! Holly!” The doorknob rattles and my mind spins out of control. Did he send someone else to bring me to him?

  As the bedroom door squeaks open, I push all thoughts from my mind. It’s not time to think. It’s time to do.

  I raise the knife over my head, prepared to sink it into the throat of whoever Knox has sent to find me. The door flies open and a man trips into the room and falls to the floor and I scream.

  “Holly? What the fuck!” He yells, staring up at me with his familiar, deep blue eyes. “What are you doing with that knife?”

  Lying on the floor, at my feet, isn’t Knox. It isn’t anyone sent by him either. Instead, it’s the man I love. I lower the knife and tears slide down my face. Jake is home. The man I’ve been terrified was left for dead. The man who was supposed to come back to me hours and hours ago. The man who promised me he’d keep me safe, he’s finally here.

  And he’s drunk.

  31

  Holly

  “Jesus, Holly, what are you doing?” Jake sits up and manages to get his wobbly legs back under him. I don’t answer him, all of my emotions are spilling down my cheeks as my body is drained of energy. I drop the knife I’ve been clinging to all day to the floor, and my shoulders slump forward.

  “What’s going on?” Jake presses me. The heat of his boozy breath erupting over me like lava, rooting me to the spot with a horrified look etched to my face.

  “You’re drunk,” I glance up at him.

  “I’m not drunk, I had a few drinks,” he frowns at me. “Why the fuck are you hiding in the bedroom, trying to attack me with a knife?” He accuses me.

  “I wasn’t going to attack you,” my eyelids are heavy. It’s too much. Today has been too much and I can feel myself shutting down.