“No big deal? I leaned you up against a wall; I can still taste your skin on my mouth. I can still feel your body against mine.”
For the life of me, I couldn’t think of anything to say. What he just said was so intoxicating that I didn’t want to say anything to make him do it again, or make him not want to.
Gently, he took my wrists in both his hands skimming his thumbs against my scars once more. My heart sped up from his touch. I turned my head away from him; waiting for the insensitive questions people always asked when they noticed my scars. Did you just do it for attention? Did you have a plan? Was there a backup plan? Will you try it again since you failed the first time? Instead, his soft gentle voice asked, “Why were you crying this morning?”
Dragging my hands away from his touch, I let them fall limply to my sides. “I received a letter in the mail today from the hospice where Jacob passed away. Inside was a letter that he had written for me before he died. It was just hard to read it.”
Taking my hands tenderly in his, his breath caught. “Grace...”
The way he said my name made me ache. It shattered my already broken heart to dust. The tears came, streaming like rain down my cheeks. Shane pulled me into his arms and I fell into him. He gently stroked my hair as I let my sadness overtake me.
He held me until my tears stopped. I looked up at him, and smiled weakly, “I’m sorry, Shane.”
I tried to move away from him, but he gently held me tighter. He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against mine. It felt like last night all over. Only this time, he wasn’t drunk.
He raised his head, just enough to look into my eyes, and breathed in softly. His blue eyes were captivating. He held himself there, almost touching my lips; just a soft breath between them. I watched the inner struggle in his eyes as they looked down longingly to my lips. Then, meeting my gaze again, he closed his eyes and trembled. He inhaled deeply and stepped back; my disobedient body followed. I had to ball my fists and force myself to stand my ground. There was no way someone could have this effect over my body; it was insane; it was mortifying.
The shrill ringing of the doorbell made us both jump. I gave him a small tight smile, thinking of the horrible mistake I could have just thrown myself into. I backed away.
“Please don’t be sorry, Grace,” his words were soft and gentle. “I am your friend and I’m here if you need to talk about anything or need a shoulder to cry on.”
The doorbell continued ringing like a screaming child wanting attention in the background.
“Thanks,” I whispered.
I spun around to walk towards the front door.
“Especially if that’s the only way I’ll ever get to hold you,” he whispered. I didn’t think it was meant for me to hear, but I looked back to acknowledge it anyway. He was looking up at the ceiling, running both his hands through his hair. No, it wasn’t meant for me to hear, which made it all the more dangerous.
I opened the door to two men in suits with gold police shields held out in front of them. “Good afternoon. We’re detectives from the 19th precinct. We’re looking for a Grace Taylor.” Shane was behind me immediately.
“I’m Grace Taylor. How may I help you?”
“Miss Taylor, may we come in. We need to speak to you about the incident with Carl Sumpton.”
I waved both the detectives in and showed them to the living room, shoving Shane’s makeshift bed things over so we all had room to sit. “I’m sorry, Detectives, but I’m not sure who Carl Sumpton is, unless you are referring to the man who attacked me in Boozer’s late Wednesday night?”
Neither of them sat down.
Shane quietly exited the room.
The older detective, who was without a doubt the thinnest man I had ever met, introduced himself as Detective Allens and he pulled a file folder out of his soft leather briefcase. Placing it on the coffee table, he opened its contents and Carl Sumpton’s arrest picture stared back on me. Smiling menacingly for the camera was the man who attacked me.
Sitting down on the edge of the couch, I leaned forward and touched the image on the paper. “Carl Sumpton? I hadn’t been told his name.”
The second detective, who I’d estimate to be around thirty, sat down on one of the chairs. He folded his hands on his lap and leaned forward, golden brown eyes serious, yet cautious.
“Miss Taylor, I’m Detective Ramos. Had you ever had contact with Carl Sumpton before?”
“No. That was the first time I’d ever seen him. Although, now that I look at his face without him trying to throw himself on me, he does look kind of familiar.” I sighed.
Shane returned with a few bottles of water and offered them to the detectives. “I can make coffee if you’d like,” he said.
Detective Ramos accepted the water from Shane, “Thank you. I’m sorry. I didn’t catch your name.” He twisted off the top of the bottle and sipped the water, waiting for Shane to reply.
Shane gave him one of his heart stopping smiles and held out his hand to shake the Detective’s hand. “That’s because I never said it. I’m Shane Maxton.” He sat down next to me, placing a water bottle on the table in front of me with one hand. The other he placed on the small of my back, letting me know he was there for me. I wanted to melt into his touch.
Detective Ramos shifted in his seat and continued. “You’re the one who helped to stop the attack.” It wasn’t a question.
Shane smiled at me, gently rubbing my back with his hand. I clamped my mouth shut, afraid that the butterflies that were wreaking havoc in my belly would fly out of my mouth and attack Shane at any moment. “Grace was doing a pretty good job of defending herself. I think she would have taken care of him all by herself if I hadn’t get there in time, but I’m confused. We already spoke with the arresting officers at the hospital that night. Has something changed?”
Detective Ramos and Allens shared a glance. Then the older man nodded his head and Detective Ramos looked to Shane and me with a somber expression. “After Mr. Sumpton was arraigned, he was remanded and housed in Riker’s. We don’t know how it happened, but he was put in his cell at 1400 hours and at the evening head count after the meal he wasn’t accounted for.” He hesitated for a moment, letting the news sink in. “The cell was still locked when they went to feed him. No one understands how he escaped, since the cell hadn’t been opened since his arrival. Furthermore, when questioned, none of the other prisoners even remembered seeing him inside his cell.”
The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and the pressure in Shane’s hands became tighter on my back, holding me steady. “Like he just vanished?”
Detective Ramos gave me a tight smile. “No. Most likely, he found some way out with help from someone on the outside of the cell. He probably terrified the other prisoners so badly that they pretended to see nothing. He was a monster when they brought him in. They needed a few corrections officers to settle him down when he was left in his cell, but there’s an even more disturbing part,” he explained.
I nodded for the detective to continue. What could be more disturbing than telling me the guy who attacked me could be roaming around the streets of New York City ready to attack another girl?
“When we ran his name through our system, nothing came up. Investigating further, we found him to be an outstanding citizen until the last five months or so.”
Shane looked curiously at the Detective; asking the question that was formulating in my head. “What happened five months ago?”
Taking a deep breath, Detective Allens stepped forward to answer, “He was admitted to the Sans de Barron Hospice; he was terminal. His doctors had given him only a few weeks to live. He’d been comatose and unresponsive for weeks, then sometime last Sunday, he just walked out of the hospice. Am I right in saying that you had been living at the hospice with your brother Jacob for approximately six months?”
I swallowed hard and nodded a yes
. “There must be a mistake though. The man that attacked me, there was no way that he could have been that strong and dying of some disease at the same time. Maybe the guy stole the real Carl Sumpton’s identity or something.”
The detectives both shook their heads in agreement, but their expressions never reached their eyes. They had their own theories and they weren’t going to share it with us.
Detective Ramos cleared his throat and continued, “When a perpetrator of a crime of this magnitude is arraigned, the District Attorney on the case usually requests a temporary order of protection to be issued to the victim. This is your copy of the order.” He placed another paper on the table from his briefcase. “I wanted to say that I’m sure this matter will be resolved soon.”
Shane’s hand was still on me. It was quickly kindling a fire under his fingertips. His features were angry. “And you think a piece of paper will stop this lunatic from trying to hurt Grace again? What should she do if he comes up to her when she’s walking down the street? Should she say, hold on let me look in my purse, here this piece of paper will stop you?”
I placed my hand on Shane’s knee and his eyes snapped to mine at the touch. “Stop it, Shane. I’m sure they will do everything they can to contain him again.” I looked at both the detectives. “Thank you both for coming here and telling me instead of calling me on the phone. I appreciate the paperwork and everything. Is there anything that you think I could do in the meantime, while you…um…work on this matter?”
“We understand your anxiety, Mr. Maxton. For the next twenty-four hours, there will be a uniformed officer sitting outside this apartment in a patrol car. Just be aware and keep your eyes open, Miss Taylor.”
After a few more words, I walked the detectives to the front door and locked the deadbolt.
Shane came up behind me and gently placed his hands on my shoulders. They felt strong and safe; I stepped away quickly. The last thing I needed was my head muddled from his touch. “I’m fine, Shane,” I snapped.
He stormed off down the hallway. “Yeah, well you definitely will be, because Conner and I are staying here with you and Lea until that asshole is behind bars again.”
Somehow, I thought that would prove to be more dangerous than Carl Sumpton trying to kill me.
Chapter 10
Shane thundered into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him, “I’m taking a shower! Do not leave this building without me!”
“Make sure you scrub yourself real well, Shane! That perfume you were wearing when you came here last night stinks!” I screamed, as I slammed my bedroom door. Now he was going to be Mr. Chivalry and pretend to care about me? Was he trying to prove something? Who did he think he was? And who in the world was going to protect me from him? AND, what gives him the right to shower in my apartment? Oh, this is the perfect time to start doing my laundry with really hot water!
Grabbing my laundry basket, I raced to the basement and started our archaic washing machine. When I did, I could hear Shane screaming from the shower above me. If he was really going to stay here for a while, he better get used to taking ice cold showers!
Overhead, I could hear him stomping through the apartment looking for me. Hearing the stairs creak under his weight, I turned to the door as he smashed it open. He strode across the tiny washroom, stopping a little more than an inch from me. His hair and skin were soaking wet; drops of water streamed down his skin.
“You really need to do your laundry right now? What? Are you mad at me for wanting to stay here? Ticked off because I might actually care if you are okay? What? Will it ruin your high expectations of me?” He cupped my face in both his hands, his breath quickening as he searched my face. “Or, maybe Grace, you want me here every freaking bit as much I want to be here and that scares the shit out of you?”
My eyes looked down. His towel was loosely wrapped around his waist. God, please don’t let that thing fall off! My eyes rose slowly over the beautiful muscles of his stomach and chest; over the vibrant colors of his tattoos right to his blue eyes.
I tore my face away from his hands. “Nothing about you scares me, Shane. I just don’t want you getting the wrong idea about us.”
“I know, I know. There is no us. I’m not talking about staying here to...” Realization crossed his face. “Grace, you really think so little of me to think that I want to stay here so I could try to...” He stepped back shaking his head. Turning around, he walked up the stairs and continued with his icy shower.
I opened a folding chair and sat watching the machine vibrating, knowing he was right. I did want him here. Guilt overwhelmed my senses. How many years had I made it through whole lifetimes of other people, never feeling anything for another man the way I did for him. Now, I’m here with the Shane, the most commitment phobic person I had ever met and he’s the one that peaks my interest? There was no way that I could break the vows I made to myself to find him, on someone as flimsy and shallow as Shane Maxton. I don’t care how absolutely delicious he looked right out of an ice cold shower!
At three o’clock, Shane came down to the laundry room with a plate of food a hot cup of coffee for me. “I thought you’d be starving by now.”
I smiled. “More bored out of my skull than hungry, but thank you.” Grilled cheese sandwich with tomato and a banana. I dug in hungrily.
He chuckled to himself shaking his head, “You know, Grace, you don’t have to stay down here. I promise you I will not bite,” he smirked. “Well, unless you ask me to.”
“Shut up,” I smirked back at him. “I’m sorry about before,” I said in-between chews. I knew it was impolite, but I was really hungry and I just wanted to apologize fast so we could forget about everything. “I guess I’m just a little freaked out by the whole Carl Sumpton thing.”
Shrugging as if it was no big deal, he asked seriously, “Do you remember him at the hospice?”
“Not at all,” I said, swallowing my last bite. “He did look familiar, but not from anywhere I could pinpoint.” Shaking my head, I threw my hands up. “There were so many people there. I used to play my guitar for Jake every night, well, up until the last few days. There was always a different crowd of people surrounding the door listening. But if he was comatose, he shouldn’t have known anything about me. I barely left Jake’s room, let alone walk into other patient’s rooms.”
“Maybe he thought your playing stinks,” he said taking my empty plate.
“Probably. I mean, I am almost as horrible as you!”
My statement was punctuated by the sound of the dryer’s buzzer. Cracking up, I walked over to pull out and fold my last load of laundry.
When I lifted the last handful of clothes onto the small wooden table, I blanched, noticing Shane was holding up my bra and panties. I lunged for them, trying to snatch them out of his hands. He just held them up higher, making me stand on my tiptoes, jumping for them.
“Hey, Grace. Maybe getting an eyeful of your lingerie woke up our friend Carl from his coma. These are pretty intense undergarments, I know I’ll be thinking about them later tonight!” he teased.
I shoved him in the gut, not hard, but hard enough to make him bend over and hand back my belongings.
“You are a jerk, Shane Maxton.”
“Thanks, that’s like the nicest thing you’ve called me so far.”
After I was finished, Shane helped me carry my clothes upstairs. We both passed the front window and peeked out to see if a police car was parked anywhere on the street. It was. Smack dab in front of my door step. Yeah, that’s not going to scare the neighbors.
Stretching himself across my bed, he watched me put my clothes away. Legs crossed at the ankles and hands under his head. I crossed my arms laughing at him.
He tilted his head toward my guitar, “Will you play something for me?”
I paused in thought, looking at him. I didn’t want him to look at me with those intense e
yes again. I ended the thought as soon as I had it. I would have to play in front of him later, next to him on stage, so I should get used to it now.
I unbuckled my case, pulled out my guitar and nudged him to move over on my bed. Well, it was my bed. He rolled over on his side and propped his head up with his hand to listen to me. I twisted my body around to face him, fingering some strings.
“What are you in the mood for?”
“Surprise me.”
I didn’t close my eyes this time, just watched as the fingers I’d come to know as my own, played. I started with the theme song to Sesame Street, which landed me a pillow to the side of the head. Giggling, I drifted into a rendition of You’re so Vain by Carly Simon to Lost Cause from Beck, stopping after (I Hate) Everything About You by Ugly Kid Joe.
“Nice, Grace. What was that a montage of how I feel about Shane songs?”
I smiled wide. “Gee, am I that easy to read?” I teased.
“Play something that means something to you,” he whispered.
So I did. I let my fingers go. I let my voice soar; rough and edgy. Piece of my Heart by Janis Joplin. Wouldn’t Shane get a blast out of knowing I used to practice with her before she became big?
I matched her voice, her tone, her essence and through the whole song, I never looked away from his eyes. It was intense and electrifying. I felt more sensual and erotic than I had ever felt in this skin.
“You are simply the most amazingly talented person I’ve ever met,” he whispered.
“Eh. I bet you haven’t met too many people then.”
* * * * *
Lea and Conner arrived back at the apartment within five minutes of each other. Both of them came barreling into the apartment, demanding to know why there was a police car parked in front of it.
After Shane told them about our visit with the detectives, Lea became very upset, crying and hugging me. Then she spent a good twenty minutes locking all the windows, pulling up the ladders to the fire escapes and looking under all the furniture.