Strapped Down Page 3

  “Do you know why Eric left the room, giving you time to call?”

  “I think he was trying to wipe things down like the doorknobs, but I’m not sure since I couldn’t see and was too preoccupied with trying to call Taylor. I only had a few seconds and I was terrified of what he had planned for me when he returned. Thankfully, Taylor’s call seemed to throw everything off for him.”

  “Yes, that was very brave of you. You may have saved yourself from a much worse fate. Can you tell me why you called Taylor instead of 911?” I hold my breath for a millisecond; the question feels mildly accusatory.

  “I guess because I am so used to calling him. I guess I trust him the most. Eric is his brother, he understood the history and I thought if I didn’t make it, he might be able to shed some light…I don’t know, it was just instinctual.” Uttering that thought aloud, that Eric might kill me, raises goosebumps on my forearms. All this time, I never truly feared Eric. At least, not in the way that made me wonder if he was capable of killing me. After I found out that he was the man in the suit, it wasn’t fear I experienced, but ambivalence and later, anger. Even when Taylor told me about the hit Eric put out on him, I just couldn’t reconcile the Eric I met with the Eric who Taylor described. For all of Taylor’s warnings that Eric wants to hurt me, last night, he never touched me except to help me off the ground…and to kiss me.

  “So Ms. Ball, tell me about your relationship with Eric.”

  “My relationship?”

  “I mean before this happened, you said he was following you?”

  “Yes, he would show up at random places, trying to talk to me about Taylor. They don’t get along and it freaked me out, but I never thought he would resort to this.” I purposely leave out the phone calls, as that would open up more layers, which Taylor advised against.

  “Did you report this to the police?”

  “Well, no. It didn’t seem like I had much to hold against him. It was my word against his. Like I mentioned, I thought he was misguided, but not this depraved.”

  “Why don’t Eric and Taylor get along?”

  This was not a question we had rehearsed an answer to. Just as Taylor instructed, I keep it simple. “A very serious case of sibling rivalry. As far as I know, they just can’t stand each other. Never could. Mainly it’s because Taylor inherited the family business and Eric did not.”

  The detective jots some notes on a pad. I try and take a peek, but the handwriting is illegible.

  “Did Eric tell you anything about where he might be headed?”

  “No, he left so abruptly.”

  “And did he mention why he was doing this? Revenge towards Taylor?”

  “No. He did say he thought we had a connection. That he knew me better than I thought. Maybe it was a mixture of both, revenge towards Taylor and an obsession with me.”

  “Is there anything else? Anything else he told you that could provide some clues as to his whereabouts or motivations?” Emily Brown. I had completely forgotten how adamant Eric was that I look into her. This will lead back to Taylor though, so I keep that out of my account. Keep it simple.

  “No. I have told you everything I can recall. If anything else comes up, you will be the first to know.”

  Acosta’s cell phone rings and he raises a finger to excuse himself as he takes the call. There a few yeses and nods and then he hangs up.

  “Good news. We were able to get our hands on the surveillance footage from your building. It shows Mr.Holden entering and exiting the building according to your timeline.” It takes me a second to realize he is referring to Eric and not Taylor; just that moment of confusion makes my heart speed up. Lying this big has put me so on edge, it makes me nervous about the truth. Acosta closes his notepad, shoves it inside his jacket pocket, picks up the recorder and rises from his stool. “Alright Miss Ball, we have an APB out on Eric Holden. As soon as I have any updates, I will let you know. Here is my card. If you remember anything, any new details, please call me. Forensics is still at your house trying to collect evidence so it would be best if you stayed with someone who you are comfortable with. Do you need to reach family?”

  No, no way can anyone know about this but Taylor and me. “I’ll go home with Taylor. Thank you.”

  “I understand this might be difficult, but I may have to come to you with more questions. You have been very helpful, but often it helps to come in when you are more refreshed and go over your account again.”

  I very much do not look forward to recounting the story again, but this is what I signed up for, so I take the card, nod and thank him.

  Detective Acosta turns to leave and I say the first sincere thing to him since he has walked into the room.

  “Detective?”

  “Yes.”

  “Please get him.”

  He reveals a faint, sympathetic grin with the faintest of sighs. “I’ll do my best, Miss Ball.”

  When I step out, I see Taylor sitting in the waiting area, his head in his hands. I hadn’t noticed before that he was still in his pajamas: sandy sweatpants and gray hoodie he seems to have thrown over his bare upper body. It’s so unlike him to not be dressed to the nines out in public. Hunched over like that, he looks so shrunken, nothing like the tall statuesque man I am so used to admiring. He senses me watching and looks up with a smile, but his eyes look so heavy.

  “How’d it go?”

  “It was okay. They were all very nice. I am so tired though. I just want to go home.”

  “Me too. I hate hospitals, so many damn people and bad memories.” Now I realize the heaviness in his eyes is not from lying to the police or the looming threat of his brother. I often forget about his anxiety, but it is the one thing that truly weighs on him.

  “Bad memories?”

  “I just hated it as a kid.” He’s holding something back as usual, but all my mental energy has been used with Detective Acosta.

  In a rare glimmer of fortune, it’s Saturday and neither one of us have work obligations. When we get back to the house we lie in bed for awhile due to a brief second wind that keeps us from sleeping.

  So what did you think about Detective Acosta?” I ask Taylor.

  “I think he’s shrewd. Sorry, I wasn’t on my A-game…fucking hospitals. God, I wish I didn’t hate that so much. I just hope he didn’t misinterpret my anxiety as something related to the case.”

  “Hey, as a concerned boyfriend, you have every right to be shook up. I think they would understand that.”

  “I know, I just got a vibe from him…He gave me his card, he said he might have more questions. I’ll invite him to my home office if he wants to talk more. My territory.”

  “I hope we did the right thing.” I don’t want to make him think I am not all in, but ever since I spoke to Acosta, I have had a knot in my stomach. Taylor’s right, I’m not like him. Despite feeling that my actions are justified, it still feels so wrong to frame Eric like this.

  “We are giving the law a way to right these wrongs for you. He thinks he has the upper hand, but not any longer. Remember, you wanted to do this.”

  “I know,” I remind him. “You’re right. I’ll be strong. I promise. But, what if this becomes messy? He knows things about us.”

  “I’m not concerned about that. His credibility is nil. I have ways of keeping my past in the past. If anyone spoke a word, they would be so tied up in litigation and legal fees they would never see the light of day again. And I always have far more on them than they do on me. Plus, I am a major contributor to Mayor Roth. This will ensure the detectives go easy on us. Eric had this coming. In the meantime, I want you to stay here until they catch him and I don’t want to hear a single complaint from you about that.”

  “You won’t. I want to stay here with you.”

  He looks at me in silence for a few seconds and then glides his finger over my forearm. “Don’t do this anymore. We can do whatever you want, but please, don’t do this to yourself.”

  “I wish I hadn’t. I feel so st
upid, so juvenile. There’s just been so much to deal with. More than I ever imagined I could handle”

  “I’m not trying to belittle you, you’re strong. What you have dealt with these past couple of days would have broken anyone. I just don’t want you to feel so lost that you need to resort to this. When you need to feel something physical to work through things, that’s my specialty. You keep telling me I need to open up to you. It goes both ways.” Taylor pulls out his medication from the nightstand and takes a few pills.

  “You’re going to sleep until Monday.”

  “I know, but I can’t risk it. You don’t need any more bullshit piled on top of you today.”

  “It seems as though it’s working.”

  “I think so, but I think what’s working most is having you in my life. Today was a high stress day though, and it brings out the worst in me.”

  “I understand. Hey, Eric said something weird. He asked me about Emily Brown.”

  “Really? What about her?”

  “Well, just before he left, he implied that there is something I should know about her. Is there something I don’t know about?”

  “I’ve told you everything about her, I swear. I haven’t seen her since she left.”

  “I just felt like he was trying to drop a bombshell or something.”

  “I think he’s just messing with your head. If you want me to find out how she is doing, I can do that. I won’t get in touch with her personally, but I can have my attorney find out about her. I have nothing to hide about her and if it puts you at ease…”

  “That would make me feel better. It’s not that I don’t trust you…I just…maybe there’s something we both don’t know.” I decide to let Taylor take the reins on this and leave MacAllister to his work on C.O.S. I doubt Taylor would risk lying to me about her, it would be too easy for me to find out.

  “You’re right…” Taylor’s voice trails off, followed by a heavy silence. There is still so much to talk about, so much left unspoken: the threatening texts I have yet to mention to Taylor, the news about his mother. I continue to pile up a list of secrets from Taylor despite my intentions to be open. But when is it the right time to tell your protective boyfriend, whose brother has violated you, that you had warning signs, but you chose to keep them to yourself? How do you tell him that you trust him, while at the same time hire a private investigator to research his family history? How do you break the news to him that his mother, whom he has long accepted as dead, may still be alive?

  And then there’s last night. I’ve never been the spiritual type, but we were two bare souls: open, raw, and exposed. I haven’t even had the time I needed to process what happened, but here I am, back in his bed. Despite it all, it feels like home. And for some inexplicable reason, I want to connect with him like that again.

  Taylor breaks the silence. “About last night…”

  "Yes?”

  “Do you want to talk about it? The events that happened afterward brought you here, but I need to know if you would be here if Eric had never showed up.”

  I take a moment to think, even though I already know the true answer. “I would be. I knew I would be when I walked out the door. I just thought we needed some time to let the air out, to settle. I’ve never experienced anything like that in my life.” I look away because I am almost ashamed to admit it. “It was so painful, but so…intense. I just wanted to help you take the pain away.”

  “I thought if you saw that side of me, you’d be terrified.”

  “I don’t blame you, but the thing is you showed me that no matter how angry you are, no matter how hurt, you would never do anything I didn’t want to do. I understand the need to manifest the emotional world into the physical. I get it.”

  He glances at my arm. “ I guess you do.”

  “I want to see the real you. All sides of you. We all have our ugly sides.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I have never been more sure. I want you to do with me whatever you want. I want to make you feel complete.”

  “You want everything?” He asks.

  “I do. I want to learn everything. I want to be your everything.”

  He leans in and guides my face so that I look into his eyes. “You need to know this: I will protect you. I will provide for you. I will give you all the physical pleasure you could ever imagine in ways you didn’t even know were possible. You’re mine, and when someone tries to hurt or take what is mine, I get vicious. It’s like taking a bone from a dog. I will fucking bite, I will rip flesh off of bone.” Chills run along my arms and back. He is reciting a vow to me. He is making a promise, one I am terrified he will keep. I nod, but have no words; he is not asking for my opinion, he is telling me the way things are now.

  We lay in silence, my head on his chest; I listen to his heart, counting each beat. Finally, my eyelids begin to feel heavy. I try to fight the sleep, to stay in the stillness here with Taylor before we have to face all the chaos of the world again.

  “Taylor,” I murmur in a sleepy voice with my eyes half closed, “Who did that to Eric? Who beat him up so bad? Was it you? Harrison?”

  There is no answer. I open my eyes to find Taylor asleep, his peaceful exterior hiding the storm brewing inside.

  CHAPTER THREE

  I wake up in a cold sweat, my heart pounding so hard I can barely catch my breath. I sit up and look at the clock: it’s three thirteen in the morning. Normally, Taylor would wake up at the slightest flinch, but his medication has put him in a deep sleep. After staring into the darkness for 15 minutes, I rise to get a glass of water, maybe find something to read in Taylor’s library. I now know the restlessness that wakes Taylor late into the night; I guess this is the price I must pay to be with him. I throw on my chunky cardigan and slip out of the bedroom quietly. The house is so still and its vastness in the dark is like a terrifying black hole. The light switches are impossible to find amidst all this wall space, but finally, I find one for the kitchen. As I drink an ice cold glass of lemon water, I spot the faintest spot of marinara sauce on the wall, evidence of the rage Taylor experienced. I must find the cleaning supplies. I must erase this.

  I wander to the sliding glass doors that lead to the back of his property, hoping to find what I seek. The cool breeze lifts my hair off of my shoulders and I inhale its purity deep into my lungs. In the garden, the various colors of foliage are barely visible in the light of the full moon. There is a bed made from rose petals, hundreds, maybe thousands of them that I had never seen before. Then two large, warm hands, such a contrast to the chilly late night air, rest on my shoulders. I jump and almost vocalize, but the person behind me simply leans towards my ear and whispers “shhhh.”

  The hands slowly slide down my front side onto my breasts, gently caressing the nipples through my satin camisole. He knows just how to do it, and I cock my lower back to signal he is on the right path. One hand covers my breast, while the other slowly glides down past the edge of the slick camisole into my panties. He massages my lips with his fingers in a circular motion, stimulating the clitoris beneath. I lean back to accept and feel his hard cock against the small of my back. It throbs, with each pulse, begging me to pleasure it. I pull down my panties and beg “please, fuck me.” He slides a single finger inside and I am so wet, so ready for him. “Please,” I beg. He places the finger to my lips, I purse my lips around it, sucking on it just as I would him. Once he is satisfied, he turns me around and raises my camisole overhead, lightly kissing my breasts, then my stomach, and grabs me by my waist, lowering me onto the cool, velvety bed of petals. He buries his face in my neck suckling so softly, making goosebumps rise all over my body.

  “Do you want me to fuck you?” The familiar voice asks.

  “Yes.”

  “Hold it.”

  I put my hand around his girth, it’s so hard, so ready. The outline of this beautiful, thick, phallus makes my clit throb.

  “Do you want this to fuck you?”

  “Yes,” I beg.
>
  “Rub it on that beautiful pussy of yours.”

  I obey.

  “Please don’t tease me,” I beg of the shadowy man.

  He slides it in slowly, each inch a new threshold of pleasure. I let out a moan. He slowly winds his hips in and out. My clit engorges, and his slow pace only draws out the pleasure. My nails dig into his muscular back as I hold on for dear life. Then my moans become louder, my breath shallower. I feel hot, and tense all over, I can’t hold on any longer.

  “Say my name,” he says. “Say my name or I’ll stop.” He holds me hostage with his dick. The moonlight finally catches his face, the light hair and pale eyes, and despite my horror, it’s too late.

  “Eric! Fuck! Eric!” I cry out into the dark night as he comes inside of me.

  ***

  The immense guilt I feel as I lay awake after the dream is only compounded by the physical aftereffects of the delicious sex romp I just experienced. It’s only a dream, I remind myself. But goddam that felt real, too real. I should hate this man, and I truly want him to go away, but he has somehow found a way to get under my skin. He has not only violated my body, but he has violated my psyche. Taylor is right, this man is dangerous.

  It’s around 10:30 in the morning. Taylor is still sound asleep and likely will be for a while since he took his medication so late into the night. I slide out of bed, grab my phone, and take it outside to call Mr. MacAllister.

  “MacAllister speaking.”

  “Hi, it’s Shyla.”

  “Hi Shyla! I was beginning to worry. I have been trying to reach you for some time now.”

  “I know, I am so sorry. Someone broke into my house last night and attacked me. I suspect it was the person who has been leaving me the messages.”

  “Are you alright?” He asks.

  “Yes, just shook up. Listen, the police are investigating him now. I am not sure I need you to dig into the calls now that they are looking for him. That should resolve the issue.”