My pulse quickens, and I pull the covers up as a wall between us.
“I’ve been watching you for months. I know all about you.”
I’m saying a silent prayer, begging Jackson to come look for me. Where is he?
“What did I ever do to you?”
“You had a perfectly reasonable man, and then you had to go after what was rightfully mine.”
“What do you mean? I didn’t go after anyone.”
She begins to pace. “I called, and you didn’t ever give my fiancé my messages. You didn’t think I was good enough for him.”
Fiancé? “That’s not true. I always give Mr. Graham all of his messages. I can prove it to you. I keep a phone log, and he makes the decision whether to call people back.”
“You’re lying!” she yells. “Then your little boyfriend breaks up with you. You can’t even keep that man, so instead, you decide to go after what’s mine.”
She continues to pace, and I’m struggling to follow.
“I wanted to stake my territory with him, so you knew what I meant to him. We went to the bar where you like to hang out with your little friend. He sees you all upset, and he goes to you.” She’s stopped pacing and points her finger at me. “You knew he’d come running, and that’s exactly what he did. You cast a spell with your vagina, and he dropped me right then.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Mr. Graham bought Gabby and me a drink. I work for him.” I’m trying to remember our conversation that night, or even determine which night she means, but I can’t.
She goes back to pacing and is pulling on the sleeve of her coverup. “Right. I saw how you smiled at my man when he came running up to you. I’d had it. I wasn’t going to let you steal him away. I was going to make him realize what a whore you are, so he’d come back to me.”
“You sent the box with Bobby Sanders’ jersey?”
“You bet your ass. I didn’t want you shitting all over my relationship—you could shit all over your own.”
I need to think rationally, because she’s not being reasonable.
She pulls a gun from her waistband and points it at me. Immediately I think of all the things I didn’t tell Jackson—like how much I love him. I should have worked harder to help him understand why I’m scared to go all-in with him. I close my eyes and wait for her to fire.
“You two were all over the newspapers. I should have gone with my love to Cecelia Lancaster’s funeral—not you!”
She’s crazy. I have to defuse her anger. “He doesn’t love me,” I sob.
“No! Because he loves me.”
I say another silent prayer for a rescuer.
“Come on, we’re leaving.” She waves the gun at me and pulls the covers back. “Get out of the bed. You. Are. Coming. With. Me.”
I know that if I go with her, I’m in trouble. But if I don’t, I’m also in trouble. Because I’m slow to figure out my plan, she slaps me with the gun. After that I can’t tell if I’m standing or sitting, and it takes me a minute to figure out what’s going on over the ringing in my ears.
I begin to stand, but I trip. Valerie’s holding my arm so tightly I’m sure she’s going to break it, and I can’t see out of my left eye because of the blood from where she hit me.
She guides me through the empty house, and I’m shocked and worried about how well she knows her way. She walks me through the garage and out the side door. I know the cameras don’t typically pick her up because she’s walking out the door and not in. I stumble and fall to the ground outside the door, and I look up at the camera, so I know it sees me.
She almost rips my arm out of the socket as she pulls me into the bushes. I feel the mud between my toes. “Where are you taking me?”
“Not to worry. Once my love realizes I’m ready to carry his children and take care of him, maybe I’ll release you into the ocean, and you can swim back to the mainland.”
The hair on the back of my neck is standing on end. I need to send a signal of some sort. I know Jackson and Brian will come looking for me. We’ve cleared the oleander between the two estates, and we’re in front of the next-door neighbors’ garage. I fall again on the driveway, and with a bloody finger, I paint an arrow toward the neighbors’ front door. Between my muddy footprints and the arrow, I hope they’ll know where to look for me.
Valerie grabs me by the hair and pulls me back to my feet. “Don’t you fucking dare even think about it. If you want your precious Jackson to live, you will do what I say without this nonsense.”
She pulls me by the hair into the house next door and down a set of stairs. Valerie continues to rant, and when she hits me again, everything goes black.
Chapter 38
Jackson
I reach for the bottle of bourbon and pour myself four fingers—a quadruple. I’d prefer ice, but that would require walking to the kitchen, and right now, I just want to feel numb. How does that woman make me so angry and so happy at the same time? I just wish she could see that my love is real, and I don’t have eyes for anyone else. I’ll do whatever it takes to make this work, if only I can get her to see it my way.
I take a deep pull on the glass just as the library door opens with
