Identity Crisis(109)

For a second, the world shattered around her into a million shards of disbelief and horror. For a second, her mind rebelled, denied that this could be happening, denied that he could actually be sitting here in her home, in her space, that he could actually be – real. For a second, her body threatened to rebel as well, to allow itself to be overwhelmed by fear, to pass out on the floor, there at his mercy, to vomit the fear that raged through every cell of her body, to completely shut down. For a split second, she tried to wake up, certain it was a dream. But it wasn’t. It was the nightmare she would have to deal with. And that all of this could happen in her head in less than the time it took to draw a startled breath would have astounded her in different circumstances.

She had but a second before she lost control. She knew he’d take from her as much as he could. She knew what she did in that second she had left could keep her alive.

He’s here.

With the last shred of calm she could manage, she sent the text, took a deep breath, then turned and grabbed for the door. But she had locked it behind her, a habit her mother had hammered into her head from the time she was little, and he was on her before she could get it open. His breath too hot, exactly as she remembered, his scent both acrid and sweet, cloyingly sweet, exactly like before, his grip harsh, deliberately cruel, the horrid tattoo on his biceps swelling as he pulled her to him. As he tackled her from behind and pinned her arms to her side, she fought back the urge to gag at the scent of him. It hadn’t been a bad scent when she first met him, it had meant nothing, but it soon came to mean fear and threat and despair. And worse than anything, it came to symbolize loss of control. Think, Kendra, think! she yelled inside herself. She had to stay focused. That was all she had; the only control left to her was not to panic, not to let him choose what went on inside her head. She relaxed in his arms and, with a hot palm, he smoothed her wet hair away from her ear and stroked her neck. She could feel the heat of him, too humid, too close.

‘Not Bird Woman any more, I see.’ He curled his fingers in her hair so tightly that it almost hurt. ‘And now, you’re not Tess Delaney any more either, are you? I heard the news. Tess is rid of that horrible email stalker. I was so relieved when I heard. I knew with him out of the way, I’d have my Kendra Davis back and all to myself very shortly.’

‘I’m not your Kendra Davis,’ she half whispered, managing to sound much calmer than she really felt.

‘Oh, I think you are. There’s no one here but you and me, darling, and I’m much stronger than you.’ As if to demonstrate, he bent her arm up behind her back until the joint of her shoulder popped and she sucked a sharp breath of pain, but held very still. ‘And if you don’t do exactly what I say, I also have a very sharp knife, and it doesn’t matter to me, Kendra, it doesn’t matter to me how I have to carve you up to make you behave yourself, to make you sorry for leaving me like you did, you’ll still be beautiful to me, and I’ll still want you, no matter if a few … parts are missing and I’ve left my mark so neither you or anyone else will ever again doubt that you belong to me.’

He leveled a wet, breathy kiss at her ear and she dug her nails into her hands and forced herself to breathe deeply. None of that had happened yet, none of those things he threatened. Garrett knew she was here. Garrett knew where she was, and she was as sure as she was of her own breath that he’d find her.

‘I like your place,’ he said, tightening his grip around her waist. ‘Though I find it a bit claustrophobic. But then I suppose you don’t spend much time here, do you? Out at all the clubs, are you? Being someone different every night? Hmmm?’ The hand twisted her hair tightened but she refused to flinch.

‘I’m more of a homebody these days,’ she managed, uttering a gasp as his grip tightened and her scalp prickled with pain.

‘I don’t believe that for a minute, Kendra Davis. You could never be satisfied in one space in one body or fucking just one person for very long, not someone like you.’ He nodded to the door. ‘I saw the Mustang. Not a car a homebody would drive, would you say?’

‘It was a gift,’ she replied. ‘That’s all, it was a gift.’

He chuckled and his breath felt like it would scorch the skin off the side of her face. ‘But a gift from someone who knew your tastes, Kendra. Don’t deny it.’ He pushed in closer to her, so close that she could barely breathe in his smothering embrace, so close that she could feel his hard-on raking against the wet back of her denim skirt. She could feel the tight shifting and rocking of his hips rucking it up a little at a time. ‘Take me for a ride in it, Kendra. Come on, give me a peek at that wild woman who drove me insane with lust back in Santa Monica. I can force the issue, you know?’ He released her hair and reached into his pocket. She heard a crisp mechanical click, then felt the cold, sharp edge of a blade against her throat. ‘Don’t make me start with the knife just yet, sweetheart.’ He kissed her ear and nibbled at the lobe. ‘I believe in foreplay. Lots and lots of foreplay, and I think our courtship should begin with a ride in a very sexy car. Isn’t that what’s supposed to happen? Isn’t that romantic, Kendra? You and me in the Mustang out on the open road, anticipating all the fun we’ll have when the drive ends.’ He pressed the knife just hard enough for the blade to sting. ‘Now, where are the fucking keys?’