| EXCERPT
:
Isabel
heard a vehicle and jumped up to flag down the driver. She’d
been waiting more than an hour and hadn’t seen one single
person. She’d considered walking toward the next town,
but something held her back. She could hardly believe it when
she saw Joe’s red truck coming. Her heart lunged and
beat ferociously.
He stopped behind her, got out of the truck, and walked toward
her with an incredulous look on his face. “I was going
to the park to find you,” he called as he approached.
“I had a flat,” she said, pointing at the tire.
He looked at it. “It sure is. You have a spare?”
She nodded, looking sheepish. “It’s pathetic not
to be able to change a flat, isn’t it?”
He grinned. “Betcha’ most women can’t change
a flat. Don’t worry about it.” He turned and walked
back to his truck, rolling up his shirt sleeves as he went.
He pulled a jack from under the seat and retrieved the Thermos
and walked back to her. “Cold lemonade, made just for
you,” he said, handing it over.
“My white knight,” she said, blushing as she took
it. “Thank you. Again.”
“I’ve never been called that,” he replied
with a pleased twinkle in his eyes.
She uncapped and poured herself a drink and watched him jack
up the car. “You were going to the park?”
He nodded. “I decided I could spare another day.”
The lemonade was sweet and refreshing, and she was thirsty.
“What can I say? I already missed you,” he said
lightly.
She burst into a smile. She couldn’t help herself, the
words were so wonderful to hear. “I almost called you
this morning,” she admitted. “I had to stop myself.”
He looked up at her, curious at this bit of information. “Why
would you stop yourself?”
She shrugged. “I thought I might--” A sudden wave
of dizziness overwhelmed her and she swayed.
“Are you okay?”
He was looking at her with concern in his deep brown eyes.
He got up and reached for her. He was so gorgeous and so sweet.
She was already in love with him, no matter how crazy it sounded.
“Isabel?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” she said slowly, although
she was anything but sure of it. It had gotten warm, but she
wasn’t dehydrated or overheated. Fluids. She needed
fluids. She drank some more.
“Are you sure?” he fretted.
“I think so. Yeah. I’m not sure what that was.”
“Okay, then.” He dropped his hands and stepped
back to deal with the tire. “Does everyone call you
Isabel, or do you have a nickname?”
“Isy,” she replied. Did her voice sound strange
or was it her imagination? Her body felt heavy and strange,
and she sank to the ground to sit. Joe was jacking up the
car and it made her feel like she was moving. She had to close
her eyes to fight the dizziness.
Suddenly, Joe’s hands were back on her arms and he was
calling her name, asking what was wrong with her. What was
wrong with her? Joe’s voice sounded like it was coming
from far away, yet he was so close. She was so heavy and there
was a roaring in her head and she was falling into darkness.
* * * *
“Isy?”
She didn’t respond.
Joe hoisted her limp body and carried her back to the truck.
He maneuvered the handle easily and slid her into the passenger
side, then shut the door and went back for the Thermos and
jack. He’d never felt so alive, so vibrant. It was her.
It was Isabel who made the difference.
He went back to the car for her purse and cell phone. It should
look like she had a flat and went for help. He took out his
handkerchief to wipe down anything he’d touched and
to lock and shut the doors. He backed up, looking at the car,
then scuffed any footprints he could see.
He returned to the truck, tossed her purse and cell phone
on the floorboard and drove away, eventually making a U-turn.
He glanced over at Isabel. Her fine, pale hair spilled all
over the seat. He reached over and caressed a silky strand,
then laid a protective hand on her shoulder. She was his now—to
care for and protect and love. She’d become his wife
and have his children. At least one of them would be a little
girl with hair the color of her mother’s. She’d
be a little beauty.
He passed two trucks on the way back home and knew the drivers
of both. He threw up a hand in a casual wave, as was the local
custom. He drove down his long, winding driveway and grinned
as the dogs came running. “We’re home, babe,”
he said, glancing over at Isy.
* * * *
Her mouth was dry. That was the first thing she became aware
of. She opened her eyes and saw blue-gray walls and white
curtains. Where was she?
She turned her head and saw Joe sitting in a chair to the
side of the bed. Her inclination was to smile because she
was relieved to see him, but her muscles were not behaving.
Seeing her awake, he moved to the side of the bed and lifted
her to a sitting position. He brought a glass of water to
her lips. “Drink.”
She did, then collapsed against him. She’d wanted this,
wanted him, but what would he think of her? He’d think
she was weak and pathetic, that’s what. “What
happened?” she muttered. She was in a powder blue silk
nightgown she’d never seen before. How had she gotten
into a gown?
He lowered her back onto her pillows. It was as if she had
no strength and no will of her own.
“Rest,” he said soothingly. “You’ll
be fine. You just fainted.”
“I...never get sick,” she explained. “I
never faint. Never.”
“You know what I think?” He picked up her hand
and pressed a kiss to it. “I think you’re supposed
to be here.”
Her eyes filled. He was being so sweet. “But I never
faint,” she said again. “I swear it. I don’t
know what—”
What had happened? She tried to think, to remember. She’d
been stranded and Joe had come to save her. She’d been
drinking lemonade. The lemonade he’d brought. Then she’d
gotten dizzy. It was almost as if—
She swallowed and fought a wave of sick panic. No--he wouldn’t
have. He’d been her knight in shining armor. “My
car—”
“Don’t worry about anything. They’ll find
it.”
They’ll find it? “W-what do you mean?”
“You want more water?”
She nodded stiffly. She tried to sit, but couldn’t do
it on her own. Worse that that, she had to pee. He reached
for her and helped her back up, then brought the glass to
her lips. His eyes were on hers, but she couldn’t look
at him, not with the horrible suspicion gripping her insides.
“Joe, I have to...use the bathroom,” she said,
when he’d taken the glass away.
“Okay.” He whisked the covers back, slipped his
arms beneath her, and picked her up.
She started to object, but she absolutely had to pee. He carried
her into the bathroom, set her on her feet in front of the
toilet, and steadied her. “Can you stand a second?”
She gave a brief nod and concentrated on doing that. Unfortunately,
it felt like the room was moving.
He lifted the bottom of her gown.
“No, wait, I can do it,” she said, mortified that
he was trying to assist her.
He ignored her and hoisted up her gown. “Take hold of
my shoulders and sit,” he commanded.
She did. “Now, please, go away.” Her face had
grown hot from embarrassment.
He squatted in front of her. “Isy, do what you have
to do. You don’t have to be shy.”
“I’m not shy, I’m humiliated. Please, Joe.
Leave.”
“No. You’re going to do what you have to do and
I’m going to help you back up, wipe you clean, and take
you back to bed. And that’s it. End of story.”
“Damn it,” she exploded.
“We all urinate, Isabel. We all have bowel movements.
Every day. So, just do it. I’m not embarrassed and you
shouldn’t be. Not with me.”
She couldn’t hold back anymore. She squeezed her eyes
shut and peed.
“Is that all?” he asked when she’d finished.
She nodded. She felt like she was choking on rage and humiliation.
He rose. “Tell you what would be easier,” he muttered.
He whisked her gown totally off her, leaving her naked. He
reached for a wad of toilet paper, leaned her forward with
a gentle, “lean toward me, baby,” and wiped her
dry from behind.
And she couldn’t stop him. It was all she could do to
keep her tears in check.
He helped her back to her feet and flushed the commode. “Try
walking,” he suggested. He placed her arm around his
shoulders and wrapped his arms around her.
It was unbelievable. She was naked. And he was acting like
her nursemaid. After he’d drugged her. No, he wouldn’t
have done that. He couldn’t have done that. “Joe—”
“Yeah?”
“Was there anything s-strange in the lemonade?”
She couldn’t help asking. Drinking that lemonade he’d
brought was the last thing she remembered. And that had been
late morning. Judging by the light, it had to be late afternoon
or early evening now.
“Walk,” he insisted.
He hadn’t answered her question. Why hadn’t he
answered her question? She took a deep breath and tried walking.
If only the room would stop moving. It felt like the whole
house was on wheels and careening down a road at a high rate
of speed. This was the worst, most humiliating thing that
had ever happened to her, and that was saying something. “Like
a drug?” she pushed.
“Does it matter?”
She stopped and looked at him, too astonished to even speak.
Does it matter?
“You’re here,” he said. “Because it’s
meant to be.”
“You drugged me,” she accused, her voice shaking
with emotion. He wasn’t denying it. She couldn’t
believe it. “What did you give me?”
He bent and swept her off her feet and carried her back to
bed. “Rohypnol,” he said as they went. “And
you’re highly susceptible. It’s supposed to take
about twenty minutes.” He shook his head. “With
you, not even five.” He put her back in bed and covered
her.
“This is a crime, Joe. You’ve committed a crime!”
“The sedative should be completely worn off soon. So,
what do you want to eat? Do you like prime rib?”
“I don’t understand,” she burst. “What
the hell are you thinking? What are you doing?”
He sat, facing her. “I’m thinking in my whole,
miserable life, you’re the one good thing that’s
happened to me.”
She exhaled strongly, surprised by the answer.
“And you just showed up. Everything I’ve ever
wanted. Beautiful, bright, kind. I’ve always felt...removed
from everything and everyone. But not you. I feel connected
to you.”
He was insane. She’d thought he was her knight in shining
armor, and, instead, he was insane. Her luck was the same
as it had always been. It was shit.
His eyes raked over her flushed face. “What am I doing?
I’m claiming what I want. What I need.”
“You cannot just drug someone and keep them, Joe. You
know you can’t. It’s illegal. It’s immoral.”
“Illegal?” he repeated as if it amused him. “Immoral?
Are you kidding?”
“Kidnapping,” she snapped. “It’s a
crime. Look it up.”
Joe studied her a moment, then got up and walked to the window.
“When I was ten, my mother left us. My dad was a truck
driver, long haul, and she was an artist. She did sculpture.
She was the one who taught me to work with wood.” He
turned back to face her fully. “I was an only child,
alone a lot because Mom was always on the road exhibiting
her stuff. You wouldn’t have thought everything would
change so much when she left. But it did. My father—”
Joe shook his head. “It was like he became someone else.
Closed off. Angry. Bitter. He could fly into a rage over nothing,
and if he was drinking at the time, he wouldn’t even
remember it the next day. He’d beat the hell out of
me, then demand to know where I got the bruises the next day.”
She swallowed. She’d seen and heard way too much of
that kind of thing in her life.
“When I was seventeen,” Joe continued, “he
had my mother declared legally dead and collected her life
insurance. Then he got drunker than I’d ever seen him
and he admitted to me that he’d killed her.”
Isabel stopped breathing for a second.
Joe turned and faced her. “He said he tracked her down,
brought her back here, and killed her. Then he weighted her
body down and threw it in the river.”
“My God, that’s terrible,” she said in a
harsh whisper.
He nodded. “Yeah, but so was what she did.”
“Did he ever get caught?”
Joe shook his head. “I don’t even think he remembered
telling me the next day. About a month later, his truck went
off a cliff. It was storming at the time, so they called it
an accident.” He paused. “It wasn’t. I knew
it wasn’t. After that, I collected the money on his
life insurance. I had half a million dollars and all this
property. It was all mine. And I had nothing.” He walked
back toward her, his gaze frighteningly intense. “So,
I’ve committed a crime?” He shook his head slowly.
“I found what I want and I’m going to claim it
and I’m going to take care of it.”
“I’m not an ‘it,’” Isabel said
in a small voice.
“I’ll take care of you, Isabel. I’ll make
you happy. We’ll make each other happy. I know we will.
I know it like I’ve never known anything.”
She didn’t know what to say. The only things that were
perfectly clear were that he was dangerous and she was incapacitated.
The drug had to wear off before she could do anything and,
in the meantime, there was no sense in antagonizing him.
“So...do you like steak?” he asked.
She hesitated. “Yes.”
“Are you allergic to anything?”
“Rohypnol,” she replied wryly.
He smiled a beautiful smile and it made her heart skip a beat.
He was so handsome. How could anyone so gorgeous be so totally
insane? And why had she not seen it?
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