The Devil's Gate Read online

  I parted my lips, wanting to say the right words, but before I could, he started to walk toward the door. He paused and barely looked back at me. “You’re welcome to stay tonight, or, I can have the driver take you home. Your choice. I’m tired; I’m going to bed.”

  “Okay—Did I do something wro-” and he walked out on me. I lifted my finger and stared at it, the stitches straight and done with extreme care. He was right, he was good at it, he was good at that and much more.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  UNDERSTANDING THE HUNT

  It has been three weeks, two days, five hours and 53 minutes since I last spoke to Jack. Oh, make that 54 minutes.

  I stared at my laptop screen and just wanted to erase it. Hopefully it would also erase him—but I knew that was about as far from the truth as I could get now. I had a Jack file. A place where I shared my deepest and darkest feelings about what happened that one day. It was crazy that a simple twenty-four hours had affected me like this. It had to be from the fact that he saved my life and then—well, then he kissed me and we can’t forget about the cut to my finger. I lifted it and stared at the small scar. It had him written all over it, no words needed, just the memory remained.

  Curiosity had morphed into hurt, then fear, and now a bit of defeat. I was shocked that anger hasn’t played a bigger role in this journey—yet, but I would assume that his lingering scent and the small, white scar on my fingertip had something to do with it. He haunts me like a ghost.

  Every time I saw a long, black limo, my heart fluttered only to be let down. If I see a man in a suit, I stare until I feel awkward and look away. I even held a glass in my hand and thought about the cut into my flesh, tempted to drop it—but no. It wasn’t the same without him. I couldn’t summon him, but I almost wished that I could.

  I tapped my nails on the desk and thought about the morning after—when I woke in his home. My fingers moved, the Jack file in my laptop receiving more of my memory of him.

  I lay in the large bed for a few hours, tempted to search every corner of that mansion until I found him and then what? Talk? I doubt that. He had flustered me beyond repair, damaged an already cracked interior wall and then abandoned me to my thoughts and worse yet—fantasies of what we could be together. I can’t imagine that it would have been healthy, but it didn’t even matter. He gave me no chance to even discuss it.

  I woke, after bits of sleep. Finger sore, body aching, from the tumble on the street. The dress that Avery had so graciously given to me to wear was wrinkled. It was in desperate need of dry cleaning. I placed one foot on the chilled floor and hissed. It was so cold that it burned. I adjusted my foot and slid my other one down to join it. I spotted my borrowed heels and slid them on, hopping on one foot, then the other. I’m not exactly an expert with the heels. I tend to wear my tennis shoes or favorite slippers. That’s me.

  I walked toward the large mirror and stared at myself. Luckily, my hair didn’t look too bad. The braided bun had stayed in place only because Avery rocked it with the bobby pins. I leaned in and wiped the smudge of black under one of my eyes and then I saw the trace of blood on my lip. I wiped it, and it flaked off, falling to the floor and becoming part of his home. Ironic and yet I accepted it just as I accepted the bizarre occurrences of the night before.

  I lifted my finger and inspected it. It looked as if I had been attended to by the most skilled of surgeons. Jack had taken such care to place each stitch parallel to one another. They were also small, and that kind of surprised me. They felt so large the night before as he… I swallowed hard, touching my chest as I remembered how he felt in my hand. He was the first man that I touched in that way. I still couldn’t believe that I did. All I could hope for is that I did it well. I mean—his pleasure mattered to me as much as he seemed to care about my own.

  I was still confused as to why he suddenly backed away from me. He could have easily—and that was my problem now. He could have seduced me, and he chose to wait, but for what? I had been drinking; he had me in a state of euphoria as I stroked him. I knew that if he had offered himself to me then I probably would have taken the plunge after waiting so long to find the right man to gift it to.

  I looked back up and stared at myself. “Who are you?” I whispered.

  I walked to the door and opened it as quietly as I could. I peered out of my room, down a long hallway and saw no one. Heard no one. The house was dead silent. I crept down the corridor, clutching my finger to my chest. I stopped as I heard voices and hoped that it was Jack, enjoying breakfast and waiting for me to join him. I ran down the stairs, careful to not fall and break something as I was prone to doing. I followed the voices and rounded the corner only to see another man sitting at the table, with two friends. A woman was pouring coffee, the same red head that had handed me my clothing the day before—Miss Cox. The woman that Jack didn’t sleep with.

  I scanned the room, no Jack. He must still be sleeping. The attractive man at the end of the table looked me over and stood up, walking along the length of it. He stopped in front of me. He looked so familiar and when he extended his hand to my own, he spoke in a clear and precise tone. He sounded as confident as Jack.

  “Jerod Landon and you must be—“

  He paused as the redhead cleared her throat and went back to filling cups on the table for his two friends.

  “Abigail—Abi, Watson,” I said, feeling formal, but knowing that the last name must follow with them. I had already learned my lesson with Jack.

  “Well, Abi. This looks daunting.” He lifted my finger to inspect it. “Did Jack do his handy work on you last night?” The smile that followed seemed to imply more, so I blushed and he found it amusing, tilting his head not unlike his brother. His friends laughed quietly behind him; it didn’t help how awkward I felt.

  “You must be thirsty; I’m sure you drank enough to kill a horse before he stitched you up. He may have the skill, but his bedside manner leaves a lot to be desired.”

  He winked at his friends, and I glanced at them. They stopped as my expression never changed. “Is Jack here?” I asked quietly as Jerod looked me over. I cleared my throat, and his eyes met mine with the same mischievous stare.

  “No—he left for Paris two hours ago. Business meeting.”

  I sighed as I looked down, but Jerod tried to reassure me.

  “He will be back in a few days, would you like something to eat? I’m sure that Miss Cox can…”

  I interrupted him, feeling completely out of place and a bit foolish. “No, thank you—I should be getting home. I have exams.”

  Jerod smiled. “Student?”

  “Last year, graduate—soon, I hope.”

  “Mmmm, I’m sure you’re a very smart girl, Abi.” His eyes lowered to my lips. I just wanted to go home, back where I belonged, shed the dress, the earrings—all of it.

  I rubbed my neck until it became a little rosy in color. “I think I should go now.”

  “I can have the driver take you home then, but I’m glad to have met you.”

  I nodded to him, and a grin followed. “You too—have a good morning,” I said, regretting the awkwardness of it as soon as I said it. I quickly walked away, toward the foyer and hopefully an awaiting driver to help me escape this bizarre experience once and for all.

  I shut the laptop and sighed. The memory of it all helped nothing. I almost wished that I had not typed it out in such detail. Maybe if I hadn’t, then it would just fade as some things do. Like pain, pain fades. The body remembers that it was painful, but we can’t recall exactly how it felt. I believe that it’s a defense mechanism, something built in to help shield us. I need that now. A shield to block out the memory of Jack and what he left lurking inside of me.

  I grabbed my coat and walked toward the door. I needed to get outside, get some fresh air, clear my head and pretend to be normal again. The library seemed like the logical choice for me. I loved books; I had read so many that one could easily blend into the next one. Mainly paranormal romance. That
was kind of Avery’s fault. She was obsessed with them. Me? Well, I enjoyed them for other reasons, the happy ending, the first kiss, the flutter of a heartbeat. The ideal romance. It beckoned me as it may for many. It was appealing and why not? Who couldn’t hope for a passion that swept them off of their feet? The breathless moment. I craved it.

  I hailed a cab as I realized I was now on the sidewalk in front of our apartment building. I needed to get this internal thought process under control. I can’t just live there and let my body go through the motions. I have to let him go, or better yet, he has to release me.

  I stared at the book in front of me as my thoughts kept getting interrupted by the memory of him. His lips, his eyes. The way he felt hard in my hand as the pain blended with the pleasure. The stitching, done with care and yet powerful enough to penetrate every fiber of my being. He had given me something, a gift. It awakened a part of me that I didn’t know existed. Something animalistic and stripped bare of ego or fear. I needed more. It was like a drug to me. My foot twitched under the table as my scarred finger tapped the back of the book. I looked up and saw the boy across from me staring at my finger; the tapping must be bothering him, so I stopped.

  “Sorry,” I whispered as he raised one eyebrow and let his eyes return to the book that hews trying to focus on.

  I felt like a fool, a child. A hopeless romantic with a twisted crush on a man who had decided that the one day was enough for him. I bit my lip and then felt a hand on my shoulder. I closed my eyes, dreaming of turning and seeing his eyes, piercing blue and only focused on me as the rest of the world just melted away. I sucked in my breath, my lips glossed as they were that night. I turned to see Avery standing behind me. She smiled at me, but it faded as my expression didn’t match hers. She knew; she had tried to ask me about it, but I shirked it off and evaded the conversation. I assumed that she knew by now that he had been the one to run away, not me.

  “I passed.” She said quietly and my eyes lit up. I stood and grabbed my book, shoving it into my bag as I hugged her. I was so happy for her. I leaned back and she looked me over.

  “You look like you should eat.”

  I pushed my hair behind my ear and let my eyes roam around the room. I had stopped eating as much. I simply had no appetite. It wasn’t a need to lose weight, it just seemed to be something I had no interest in. I knew I was pale, I was living on coffee and studying my ass off to finish up my exams. I sighed. “I could eat, do you want to have lunch?”

  “Yes! I’m starving.”

  The boy at the table shushed us as Avery’s voice carried. She winked at him. “Oh,shush yourself; I just nailed my final exam.” She clapped her hands together and it echoed in the room.

  “Great, mind if the rest of us do, too?” He said with a tinge of sarcasm in his voice.

  She laughed as she wove her arm into mine. “I think this calls for a celebration, let’s go eat and maybe a movie?” I decided to agree to it. I needed a break from studying, my finals were in the morning and, to be honest, I was ready. As ready as I would ever be.

  “How about a play?” I asked as she grinned.

  “Oh! Yes, let’s do that. There is a great one right off campus, I heard awesome things about it, something artsy.” I nodded as we headed out of the library and down the street.

  We sat in the coffee shop and I kept letting my eyes float to the window. Avery was chatting away and her voice went in and out as I would see someone walk by and it would cause me to perk up a bit. I knew it wouldn’t be Jack, so I needed to get my head wrapped around the fact that our brief encounter was over. It was just something that I would carry with me forever and I had to let it go—let him go. It must be some psychological syndrome that I would have to look up after my exams. He saved me, so I am sure my psyche is drawn to him for that very reason. Not to mention the strange sexual encounter and the ease in which he oddly seduced me.

  I reached for my coffee and spilled it across the table and Avery stopped talking. I grabbed a few napkins and tried to clean it up as she placed a hand on top of mine.

  “Talk to me,” She said quietly.

  My eyes lifted to hers and I am sure that they spoke volumes. They became a bit watery as I leaned back and fidgeted with the damp napkins in my hands.

  “I can’t get him out of my head. It’s like he took up residence there and I can’t—everywhere I look, I see him, I smell him. I see a man in a suit and I stop. My heart beats harder in my chest. I get sweaty; my palms get wet.”

  She squeezed my hand. “Do you love him?”

  I laughed as I looked past her to the window. “Love? How could I? It was one day, Avery. People don’t just fall in love in twenty-four hours.”

  She shook her head as she leaned toward me. “Actually, they do.”

  I shook my head as I bit my lip out of sheer habit. I leaned back and rolled my eyes. “It’s ridiculous; it makes me feel like some obsessed freak.”

  “Did you—and he, you know.”

  I paused, how could I possibly explain what we did? There was no sex or was there? I couldn’t even tell. “No, I mean—we, he kissed me.”

  She smiled. “A kiss can be a powerful thing.”

  I looked down. If she only knew, she would die. I wanted to tell her the entire story, but something stopped me as I thought about how strange it was. I mean, who gets off on being stitched up? Who blends pain and pleasure like that and actually enjoys it? Perhaps what Jack and I shared that night was more intimate than any romp in a bed could have possibly been. I mean, he showed me an entirely new way to orgasm. Which I almost did without him even touching me there. It was an amazing thing to experience, but it left such a lasting impact on me that I feared what my sex life would be from this moment on. In fact, I had not even masturbated since I was with him. The thought of it even coming close to satisfying me scared me. Could I enjoy anything sexual in the ordinary realm of things again or had he changed me for good?

  “Abi?”

  I looked up and half-smiled as she jerked me from my inner monolog.

  “Yeah—no you’re right. I mean, he kisses really good, the best, actually.”

  “I bet.” She let her head lower as she tried to force me to look at her. “Are you sure you didn’t do it?”

  I shook my head no. “No, we didn’t. That’s why I’m so confused.”

  “Well hell girl, I need a kiss like the one you got, seriously.”

  I sighed as I thought about his lips against mine, so sweet and poisonous at the same time.

  We stood in line at the theater as people passed us by dressed in vinyl and leather. It looked like some type of fetish gear. I fidgeted with my hair as Avery scanned the crowd.

  “What kind of show is this?” I asked as she squeezed my arm.

  “Naughty.”

  “Avery,” I whispered as the line started to move.

  “What? Time to spice it up, baby girl.”

  I laughed. If she only knew.

  We stopped moving and the girl in front of me turned to the man that she was with. She leaned up and kissed him. His affection was immediately returned to her. Avery stared on and then whispered “Meow.” The girl stopped and barely looked at me. Her cheeks flush, eyes glossy. I knew her feeling all too well. He did for her what Jack had done for me. The only difference being that they were here in public together and Jack was nowhere to be found. Jerod said that he would be back in a few days, a few days had come and gone and yet nothing. I refused to go to his house. How pathetic would that look if I showed up like some stray kitten wanting to be fed? No—not happening.

  I turned to Avery. I took one deep breath and then said the words that I should have said days and days prior. “He can kiss my ass.”

  Avery laughed as she hugged me. I don’t curse very often unless it is warranted. I know that I could have said so much more, but it seemed to make me feel better as I let the thought of him and I go, just like the steam rising from the manhole on the street out in front of us.
/>   We took our seats; the house was packed. The music was low and droning. It reminded me of Twin Peaks, which is one of my favorite shows of all time. I loved David Lynch. His messed up perception of things always intrigued me. His broken and damaged characters capture my imagination. I adjusted in my seat. I may be something he could have written about, me and Jack. The twisted imaginary love story of the year. The lights lowered and the red curtain rose. Avery smiled as the light hit her face as well as everyone else in the theater. A woman walked out onto the stage; she wore nothing but black boy shorts and an X on each nipple. She had on a mask with rabbit ears, vinyl—black, reflecting the light. I swallowed hard as she stopped and dropped to her knees. She wore a collar on her neck, black, leather, with a large silver hoop on the front of it.

  A man appeared from the shadows, black mask on and dressed in a very nice suit. He carried a leash. He handed the chain to her and she attached it to the collar that rested around her neck. Accepting his control over her as easily as she accepted her submission to him.

  Power isn’t something that you take very easily. I knew this already. It had to be earned with careful seduction just as Jack had done with me.

  He stood there, staring down at her, and she dropped to all fours. Another woman appeared, this one dressed in a tight black vinyl pencil skirt, high waist, white blouse, bright red hair. She held a riding crop firmly in her hand. She stood behind the woman who was now on her hands and knees.