Wild Nights(44)

“Never mind that,” she said. “Start from the beginning. Tell me everything.”

She wanted to psychoanalyze the situation of course. I was used to it. It was her nature as a psychologist. I couldn’t blame her for it.

“Last weekend, in Tulsa,” I began. “I met this gorgeous guy. I just wanted to have a little fun. Things started out fine, then he sort of became obsessed with me.”

My mom clutched her hand over her chest and squeezed her eyes.

“I’ve warned you about those guys, Molly,” she said as she shook her head. “Continue.”

“I didn’t even tell him my last name, but he somehow tracked me down here,” I said. “He took me out for dinner and was super sweet. Said all the right things. The next thing I know, he kidnaps me and I’m riding in the back of his truck, heading back to Tulsa.”

My mom covered her mouth with her hand and stood up. She began to pace the room, which wasn’t a good sign. My mom rarely lost her cool. She was trained to stay calm. This was bad.

“We have to alert the authorities,” she said as she pulled her cell phone from her pocket.

“No!” I yelled out. “We can’t.”

“And why not?” she asked with angry eyes. “Kidnapping is a felony! He could’ve hurt you or killed you or sold you. You don’t know what people like that are capable of, Molly.”

“Mom,” I said. “Sit down. Calm down.”

She took a seat next to me on the sofa once again and stared into my eyes with pursed lips.

“I know it seems insane,” I said. “But trust me. He’s never going to mess with me again.”

“How do you know that though?” she asked. I could tell she didn’t believe me. “People like that will go to great lengths to get what they want.”

I explained to her about R.J. and the motorcycle gang and all of that, but I could tell she still wasn’t buying it.

“What do you want me to do?” I said. “I can’t turn him in. He’ll rat out R.J. and then I’ll really have no protection. Without his hope of getting into the gang, he’s got nothing preventing him from messing with me.”

“Ugh,” my mom grunted. “I guess you have a point.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I can stay with you for a while,” I said.

Her face lit up like a Christmas tree. My stepdad had died a few years ago, and although my mom was proud of me for being so young and on my own and independent, I knew she was also very lonely. I was her only child, and I was her pride and joy.

“Would you?” she asked. “It would make me feel better knowing you were here with me.”

With my mom being a clinical psychologist, her home was rigged with the best security system money could buy. Not to mention nosy neighbors. She’d had a couple incidents in the past with clients tracking her down and talking her, so she took every precaution known to man to prevent it from happening again. I knew she’d feel better knowing I was home with her.

“I’ve thought about it,” I said. “And I’m going to sell my townhouse. I just don’t feel safe there anymore.”

“I think that’s a brilliant idea,” she said with a nod. “I’ll call Aunt Gwen and have her bring over a listing contract as soon as possible.”

My aunt was one of the best real estate agents in all of greater St. Louis. I knew she’d sell my house and sell it fast.

“Can you take me over to my place now?” I asked. “You have my spare keys. I have nothing.”

“Of course,” my mom said as she sprouted to a standing position. She walked into the kitchen to grab her things, and we headed outside to her car.

I didn’t want to walk into my townhouse alone, and ultimately I was glad to have her there with me. I didn’t feel safe there. My once sacred space was now tainted with bad memories and the ghost of my week with Blaze. I knew I couldn’t sleep there even if I tried, and I refused to lay in the bed where Blaze fucked, drugged, and then kidnapped me.

“You doing okay, honey?” my mom asked as she rubbed my back.

“Yeah,” I said, though it probably wasn’t too convincing.

“Oh, God,” I heard my mom shriek as she walked to the other room.

“What?! What is it?!” I called out as I chased after her.

“Whose boots are these?” she asked. The look on her face was sheer horror as we both stared at a pair of men’s motorcycle boots that were resting by the back door.

“Blaze’s,” I said. My heart pounded as I immediately wondered if he was hiding somewhere in my townhouse.