“I’m canceling the auction.”
“What? No! I’ve worked on that for months!”
“Wright and Ava are still on the loose. They found Wright, and they’re watching him. But Ava is missing. I’m not making the same mistake I made with Paris. No auction. No exposure. No one else gets hurt. The end.”
She tries to argue. She doesn’t win.
Twenty-five
Mark . . .
Early Wednesday evening, we’re told Crystal will stay one more day at the hospital, and I have no option but to go to Riptide to take care of business. Kara joins Crystal to keep her company, and as extra security. As they chat about makeup options to cover Crystal’s bruises, I reluctantly stand to leave. “I have to go, but I won’t be long. I’ll bring my work here.”
“You’ll bring me my files for the auction?” Crystal asks anxiously.
“Yes. And I’ll call and personally apologize to everyone, and reschedule it.”
“I can help. I want to help.”
I lean down and kiss her. “You can rest. How about I bring us some dinner from the Italian place you love?”
“Yes, please.” Her hand covers mine. “I’d like that.”
“Good,” I say. “I can’t believe I almost lost you.” I brush my lips over hers and reluctantly release her, then lift my black quilted Ralph Lauren coat from the back of my chair. Shoving my arms inside it, I add, “I shouldn’t be more than an hour or so.”
“Be careful,” she calls as I exit into the hall and pull the door shut.
Jacob stands and faces me. “Ready to go?”
“I am, but you aren’t. You’re staying here to protect her.”
“Kara’s here.”
“And she’s covering my spot inside the room. You keep your spot outside the room. Ava and Wright are targeting her. I want her safe.”
“Then let me call another driver.”
“No. I don’t want anyone protected less for me. I’m getting in the truck and getting out at Riptide. It’s safe. And frankly, if Wright or Ava wants to come at me, bring it on.” I hold out my hand. “I need the keys to the Escalade.”
He doesn’t look pleased. “Have one of the guards downstairs walk you to the vehicle, and call me when you arrive at Riptide. I’ll have someone meet you to walk you in.”
“Fair enough.”
Still, he doesn’t hand me the keys. “Do you know how to shoot a gun?”
“Yes. I know how.” The reason I learned is ten years old.
“Then take the Ford Focus I just bought, not the Escalade. There’s a Glock in the glove box registered in my name.” He hands me the keys. “I’ll have the guard downstairs take you there.”
My lips twist. “I can only hope that I need it.”
* * *
I arrive at Riptide without incident, dodging the press at the door. Once I’m at my desk, I coordinate rescheduling the auction for a month away with critical staff, deciding to offer our clients a higher percentage of the sales for leaving their items with us. And while several employees have issues to deal with, everything is remarkably fine.
Fifteen minutes before I’m ready to leave, I order dinner for Crystal and me, having it delivered to security at Riptide. Part of me wants to tempt fate, though, and invite trouble by going to the restaurant myself. I want to be the bait that draws out Wright and Ava. No one else.
But I reel myself back in, aware that anything happening to me would hurt Crystal.
I’m pulling into the hospital parking lot when my phone rings with an unknown number. I’d normally let it go to voice mail, but it might be about Crystal, so I hit the Answer button.
“Mark.” Ava’s voice crackles through the line, and I stiffen. “I didn’t kill Rebecca. It’s all a setup. They’re trying to kill me. I need help. I can prove everything.”
“Where are you?”
“I’ll meet you. But—”
“Where the fuck are you, Ava?”
“I need assurance that you’ll protect me. He’s trying to kill me. I’ll get you proof.”
“Get me proof and I’ll protect you,” I say, knowing there is no proof, wanting to strangle the bitch.
“Promise me you’ll give me a chance to show you the proof before you turn me in.”
Or kill you, I add silently. “I promise.” She’s silent. “Ava—”
“I’ll call back.” She hangs up.
“Fuck.” I hit the steering wheel. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”
I begin to dial Jacob, but hesitate, my chance at vengeance burning in my heart like a new love I can’t resist. She killed Rebecca. She almost killed Crystal. I pull into the parking garage, sitting there and contemplating my next move.
Suddenly something bangs against a window and I jump, finding Ava pounding on the passenger door. It’s all I can do not to open that glove box, and I force myself to get out of the car so I won’t, slamming my door and rounding the trunk to confront her.
She whirls on me, a disheveled mess in jeans and a T-shirt, her hair wild, face filled with bruises that are at least two days old. “They’re going to kill me!” she says.
“Who?”
“Ricco. Wright. You have to get me out of here.”
The sight of her, the sound of her voice, is acid in my soul, and I’ve never hated the way I hate her in that moment. I walk up to her and grab her hair, shoving her against the window. “I’ll kill you.”
“You said you’d help.”
“You killed Rebecca. You almost killed Crystal.”
“No, it was Wright. He did it all.”
“No. You did this.” I’m shaking, and my hand is on her throat, and I’m not sure how it got there. In a moment of sanity, maybe the last one I have, I click open the trunk and drag her over by the neck. I shove her inside and shut the door.
For several seconds, I lean on the top and try to calm my breathing. A small slice of reality hits me, and I realize I have no idea if anyone has just seen what I’ve done. I have no idea why I’ve even done it.
I turn, scan, and, finding no prying eyes, I start walking.
Crystal . . .
I’m sitting in a giant hospital lounge chair, starting to worry about Mark, when he walks into the room. “Leave, Kara,” he orders gruffly. “Shut the door behind you.”
I’m not sure who is more stunned, me or Kara, but she stands. “Is everything—”
“Go,” he growls.
Kara leaves and the door shuts behind her.
I straighten in the seat, my head throbbing with the movement. “What’s happening? Is someone hurt?”
“Not yet,” he says, walking to the window and leaning on the ledge, darkness beginning to fall just beyond the glass.
“Ten years ago,” he says. “I need to tell you about ten years ago.”
“Okay,” I whisper, not knowing what’s triggered this, and holding my breath for more.
He turns toward me, his hand covering his face for a few moments before he drops it. “I was in love with my college sweetheart. Her name was Tabitha. She was like you. Blond, gorgeous, and full of life.” He laughs without humor. “Rebellious. Always rebellious. I couldn’t control her, and I didn’t want to. I liked her wild spirit. We were going to have it all, we thought. I was going pro. She was going to be a cheerleader.”
He looks at the ceiling, the seconds ticking by. “One night before graduation, both of our dorm rooms were occupied by our roommates.” His eyes level on mine. “We decided to go to the baseball field to be alone. It was dark—too dark. We shouldn’t have been there. She took off into the darkness, and I ran after her.”
He looks away. “I went under the bleachers to find her. A group of men had a hold of her.”
I gasp. “Oh God. No.”
“I launched myself at them, and the next thing I knew I was being crushed by baseball bats. They beat me badly, and then they tied me up and made me watch when they raped her—and then beat her, too.”
My heart breaking for him, I start to get
up. But he holds up a hand. “Wait. There’s more—and I’ve never made it through this story.” I nod and sink back onto the chair.
He continues: “I woke up to find that she was in a coma, and my arm would never be the same. I didn’t care about my arm. Tabitha was alive, but her face needed reconstructive surgery. She needed me. I didn’t need baseball.
“When it was over, I still thought she was beautiful, but she didn’t. She hated me, and she blamed me. She said it was all about my baseball. I tried to work through it with her. I went to work at Riptide to be close to her, but she didn’t care. She hated me, and I was such an ass that everyone at Riptide hated me as well.”
It all finally comes together. That’s why he’d left New York. “Did they catch the people who did it?”
“Years later—and it turned out Tabitha was right. The attack was masterminded by a competing pitcher who hated me.” His jaw clenches. “It was all about jealousy.”
“Where is she now?”
“She became an alcoholic, and several years ago she drove her car into a telephone pole in New Jersey and died. That was three months before I met Rebecca. At that point, I couldn’t fall in love with her. I never told her why. I’m not sure I even admitted it to myself.”
I wipe away tears as he continues.
“And then Rebecca died, and it was once again rooted in jealousy. And then you almost died, due to Ava’s jealousy all over again. I can’t let you die, too. So I have to do everything I can to stop it from happening.”
He wants me to go to Paris. That has to be what this is. “None of this is your fault, Mark. And I’ll go to Paris if you really need me to.”
“That’s not what this is about. Ava,” he says tightly, “I saw her tonight.”
“Where? When? What happened?”
“She’s in the trunk of the car.”
My hand goes to my mouth. What has he done? I stand up. “Is she dead?”
“No—but I want her to be. I want her to be dead so badly, I can taste it.”
Tears pour down my cheeks. “I know. I know, Mark—but you can’t kill her.”
I close the space between us and he drags me to him, burying his face in my hair. “I can’t lose you, too.”
“Then don’t go to jail. She wins that way. She separates us.” I pull back, needing to see his eyes. “Let’s tell Jacob. Let’s put her behind bars, and let them arrest Wright. Please.”
He hands me the keys. “Tell them to go get her, before I do.”
I rush out the door to find Kara and Jacob standing there, looking shocked at my arrival. I hold out the keys, my hand trembling. Jacob reaches for them and I grab his hand, stepping closer to him and lowering my voice. “The trunk,” I whisper. “Ava is alive and in the trunk.”
“Oh my God,” Kara gasps, grabbing her phone and dialing.
Jacob takes the key from me and starts running down the hall.
I walk back into the room. “It’s done,” I say, and we fold each other into our arms. And I pray that his healing begins now—as it did for me the day I met him.
Epilogue
Christmas Eve . . .
Mark . . .
Crystal and I have an hour before we’re due to meet my family at her parents’ house for a Christmas Eve dinner, and a celebration of many things. Dana has completed her radiation treatments. Wright and Ava copped plea deals and gave up Ricco, who’d admitted he’d been using Ava to steer attention away from himself. Our rescheduled auction was a massive success. Even Daniel is coming around, and has started to speak to me in full sentences that don’t sound like attacks. But before we attend the party to celebrate all these successes, I’ve teased Crystal with a surprise.
The driver I’ve hired for the night pulls up to a high-rise building Crystal has admired on several occasions. As we exit into the chilly night Crystal pulls her coat snugly around her slim-fitted emerald-green dress, while I opt for just my suit jacket.
After clearing my ID with security at the door, we go inside, bringing the giant Christmas tree decorated in all red into view, the top climbing into the ceiling between two wood-railed stairwells.
“It’s beautiful,” Crystal says, lacing her arm with mine. “My mother would love to see this.”
“We can bring her tomorrow.” I lead her to the elevator and we step inside, where I punch in a code to allow us to travel to the sixty-eighth floor.
“How do you know the code?”
“I made special arrangements.”
Her brow furrows. “Now I’m really curious.”
“You’re supposed to be.”
She leans in to me and smiles. “Does it involve floggers?” she asks, having gained a liking for that form of pleasure quite recently.
I stroke her cheek, where the last remnant of a deep bruise remains, my gut still wrenching at the hell she’d endured. “You’ll have to wait and see.”
The doors open and we exit into a massive living room with four huge white pillars, a white-faced fireplace, and huge windows overlooking the city.
She glances at me, obviously curious about the lack of furniture. I motion her forward. “Go inside.”
Biting her lip, she enters the room and stops, and I know that she’s seen the small box in the center of the room. “That doesn’t look like a flogger.”
I move ahead and pick up the velvet box, waiting for her to join me. She takes tentative steps forward and I can almost feel her nervous energy mirroring mine. She stops in front of me and I see tears pooling in her eyes. But she has a right to cry. We’ve been through hell and back together, and we’re stronger for it, seeing a counselor, working through the hell of our pasts.
“I put my house in San Francisco on the market, and this apartment can be ours if you like it, but it doesn’t have to be. We can shop and find whatever you want. What’s important to me is we find the perfect place for us.”
I open the box, revealing the Tiffany diamond inside. “I never thought I was the marrying kind of man, but you’ve changed me. You have made life so much better.” I go down on my knee and take her hand. “Please spend the rest of your life with me. Will you marry me, Crystal?”
Tears stream down her cheeks. “Yes. Yes, I’ll marry you.”
A deep warmth spreads through me. Setting the box down, I slip the ring on her finger.
She stares down at it. “It’s gorgeous. So very gorgeous.”
I push to my feet and enclose her in my arms. “Like you.”
“Like you. I’m a lucky girl.” Then mischief fills hers eyes. “Can you imagine everyone’s face if we end the ceremony with ‘You may now spank the bride’?”
I laugh, something I do a lot since meeting Crystal.
Life is so much better—and so are the spankings.
AUTHOR PHOTOGRAPH BY DIEGO HARRISON
LISA RENEE JONES is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of more than forty books that have been translated around the world. Her highly acclaimed Inside Out series is now in development for a cable television show produced by Suzanne Todd (Alice in Wonderland). She loves to hear from readers.
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The Inside Out Series by Lisa Renee Jones
If I Were You
Being Me
Revealing Us
No In Between
Rebecca’s Lost Journals Vol.1: The Seduction
Rebecca’s Lost Journals Vol. 2: The Contract
Rebecca’s Lost Journals Vol. 3: His Submissive
Rebecca’s Lost Journals Vol. 4: My Master
The Master Undone: An Inside Out Novella
Rebecca’s Lost Journals (print edition)
His Sec
rets
My Hunger
My Control
We hope you enjoyed reading this Gallery Books eBook.
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This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2014 by Julie Patra Publishing, Inc.
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First Gallery Books trade paperback edition November 2014
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Designed by Ruth Lee-Mui
Cover photograph by Maarten Wouters/Getty Images
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Jones, Lisa Renee
I belong to you / Lisa Renee Jones — First Gallery Books trade paperback edition.
pages cm — (inside out series)
1. Man-woman relationships — Fiction. I. Title.
PS3610.O62712 2014
813’.6 — dc23
20140190006
ISBN 978-1-4767-7247-9