NEXT TO ME (A Love Happens Novel Book 1) (19 page)

“Sam...” She followed a few steps behind him, his shoulders stiff as he opened the sliding glass door. “Sam, wait!”

The crack of splintering wood around the door casement was the only evidence of his anger as he slammed the door open with more force than it could handle, rattling the glass in its frame. Giving Pete a silent command to follow him, he stepped off her porch without looking back. He didn’t utter a single word in response to Ali, never breaking stride as she ran to keep up with him, pleading for him to stop and listen.

“Sam, please. It’s not like he says it is.” The sand was hot on her bare feet as she reached for him, catching a fistful of his black t-shirt. “Let me explain.”

He stopped suddenly and turned toward her, roughly shrugging off her grip. The expression on his handsome face was indifferent, as if what had just been revealed didn’t matter to him. As if
she
didn’t matter to him.

Ali swallowed her pride, the words rushing out. “I wanted to tell you. I really did. But there were reasons why I couldn’t. I had to protect myself—.”

“You lied,” he said sharply, cutting her off. “That’s all I need to know.” He turned to walk away and she reached for him again, her hand gripping his muscled forearm. Sparing her another withering look, the condemnation in his eyes was clear. “And I don’t fuck other men’s wives.”

Ali let him go then.

There was no other choice, the venom in his statement slicing her to the core. She could only watch him as he disappeared into his dark house, scolding Pete when the puppy stopped twice to look back at her with sad eyes, confused by the loud voices and angry tension in his normally happy world. The door slammed shut and Ali’s chin dropped to her chest as she sunk dejectedly down to the sand.

The sun was shining brightly, the trade winds comfortably warm, and squawking seagulls sailed through the clean air with ease. To anyone looking, it was the idyllic setting for a carefree, perfect life. Only it was the end of hers.

“I am not his wife,” she said firmly, a raging anger slowly overtaking her numbness.

She was mad at Sam for not listening. She was mad at Danny for not letting go. And she was mad at herself for not telling the truth—her ugly, blemished truth—from the beginning. Staring at the shade covered windows of Sam’s silent house, she thought of the many opportunities she’d had to come clean and prayed that he would one day open his door to her again, despair slowly seeping into the cracks of her breaking heart.

“I am not... his... wife!” she screamed, wanting the world to hear her words, but they were lost somewhere in the salty ocean breeze.

***

By the time Ali got herself up from the beach and brushed off the sand sticking painfully to her bare legs, a handful of people enjoying a mid day stroll had walked past, looking at her curiously. As if she might be in urgent need of psychiatric care. It seemed a woman sitting on her knees in the middle of a beach—facing away from the water—tended to garner some concerned attention. Add in the quiet weeping and she was damn lucky nobody called the cops. Of course, being hauled off in a straightjacket and locked in a padded room was preferable to what she had to face inside her house.

A place that was her sanctuary only an hour ago.

She didn’t have to see him to know he was still here. Danny wouldn’t go away just because he was unwelcome. That wasn’t his style. Instead, he was probably checking his hair in her powder room mirror right now. Carefully straightening his ninety dollar tie and the buttoned cuffs on his starched, white dress shirt. Using the pretty, linen appliqued hand towels she recently purchased from an upscale boutique downtown to wipe the nervous sweat beading along his brow. It wouldn’t do for him to look ruffled. Even though Sam had rattled him with his sheer size and dominant, alpha male attitude, Danny did not back down to anyone. It was no coincidence that he had shown up on her doorstep just days after her visit to Oklahoma. He’d probably hired some greasy haired mobster wannabe named Cockeyed Joe or Machine Gun Mikey to stake out her mother’s house from a nondescript, dark blue sedan. Ali wouldn’t put anything past him.

God in heaven, she hated that man. He had taken so damn much from her. Her freedom. Her safety. Her worth. Time with her daddy, during the last years of his life. And now he had taken something that had become more precious to her than she could’ve ever imagined.

Sam was lost to her.

And while there was plenty of fault that fell squarely on Ali regarding that matter, the resentment that had been building inside her since the first time Danny put his hands on her in violence gave her the courage to stand up to him now.

Digging her fingernails into her palms to control the slight shudders racking her body, brought on by both anger and fear, she walked into her once serene living room and couldn’t believe her eyes. There he was, sitting comfortably on her stylish white sofa with his leg crossed and his arm stretched along the back, staring casually at the waves rolling softly onto shore. It seemed not even a few weeks spent locked up in a jail cell could shake his egocentric world, where he was a king surrounded by paupers.

“This is a hell of a view you’ve got here. I dare say a million dollar one.” He whistled and glanced her way, his words curious. “But, you know what I just can’t figure out, dollface? How in the world are you paying for all of this?”

“Leave, Danny. Now.” Proud that her voice didn’t shake, Ali walked toward him and grabbed her cell phone off the coffee table, exactly where she’d left it last night when Sam showed up. A sharp pain pierced her chest at the memory and she barely suppressed a wince.

It was a feeling she had better get used to.

“Is it a long lost friend’s house? Or does it belong to a wealthy lover you’ve recently taken? I would think that the beefcake living right next door would be more than enough to keep a woman fully satisfied,” his face lit with interest and he winked, “or a man, if one was so lucky. But, based on recent events, it seems that I have severely underestimated you. Therefore, the possibility of a second lover is one I must consider.”

Clutching the phone like it was her lifeline, she stared at him as she slowly moved toward the back door, refusing to show weakness but needing an escape route just in case. Hopefully a stranger on the beach would come to her aid if necessary.

“Get out of my house. And don’t come back or I’m calling the police.”

“And what exactly will you tell them, Alexandra? That you willingly opened your door to me?” He stood, putting his hands on his hips and quirking his mouth in that patronizing way all lawyers had down pat. “That you invited me in to discuss the finer details of our touching reconciliation? How about when we were rudely interrupted by your former lover,” he nodded toward the house next door, “who is so crazed by jealousy that he assaulted me, causing me to file a criminal complaint against him? I plan to press charges and I won’t rest until he’s punished to the fullest extent of the law. I love you that much, Alexandra. And I know how to make the justice system work in my favor.”

Ali blinked, her mind reeling at his outrageous bravado. “What are you talking about? We’re not reconciling, Danny.”

“Oh, but we are. And the sooner, the better. My caseload is full right now and we need to get back to the east coast as soon as possible. All these hippie, weed smoking liberals make my skin itch, anyway. You know I’ve never been able to stomach California.”

“We’re divorced, Danny! I’m not going anywhere with you! And you’re blatantly violating the restraining order. I’m sure that’s one legal document your bosses at the firm would find quite interesting. Now leave,” she pointed toward the front door, “and don’t ever come back. Or I’ll have you arrested. Again.”

His lips thinned. “You are coming with me, my dear. Because if you don’t, I’m afraid I’ll have to visit the emergency room with some terrible injuries that I sustained when your scorned boyfriend beat me up. I know somebody in the county prosecutor’s office, so I might be able to get an attempted murder charge thrown in.”

“He didn’t assault you!” Not that a minor detail like that would stop Danny. His next words confirmed it.

“The medical report will tell the tale, then.” He stepped closer, looking down on her like she was a child. “I know a lot of very shady people, Alexandra. They’ll do whatever I ask for the right amount of green. Not that I want to be on the receiving end of a junkie’s fists, but I love you that much, dollface.”

“The police won’t believe you. You have a criminal record, remember?”

He reached out, lightly running his index finger along the pulse pounding rapidly in her neck, and shrugged. “A misdemeanor stemming from a silly spat with my wife. Nothing more than a simple misunderstanding. Anyway, it will be my word against his. After all, he is a somewhat recently returned soldier who saw serious combat action. That pesky PTSD can come on at any time, you know. I’ve heard it can make a sane man crazy in the blink of an eye. And it manifests itself in numerous ways, especially when a lover, one who’s as beautiful and quick to spread her legs as you are, dumps him in favor of returning to her cherished husband.”

“You’re the crazy one, Danny. Really fucking
crazy if you think I’m going to lie for you and hurt Sam in the process.”

“Don’t swear, Alexandra. It’s not becoming of a lady,” he tisked, “and use that brilliant mind of yours because you’re half right. You won’t hurt him. If you simply come home with me.”

“And I told you, that isn’t going to happen. You don’t scare me anymore, Danny. And you definitely don’t scare Sam. You need to move on with your life, without me in it.”

“You
will
do this, Alexandra. And do you want to know why?” His smile was frightening as he hitched a thumb next door. “Because as foolish as it may be, I think you love him. You love him like I love you. There really is no difference between the two, even though my devotion to you might not be entirely altruistic. After all, having you as my dutiful wife serves many purposes.” Leaning down, his stale breath fanned her cheek and she turned her head, trying to pull away. “I will do anything to keep you close to me because that is what I want. You will do anything to keep him safe because that is what you want.”

Ali’s only response was a frigid glare, her body stiffening as his fingers roughly gripped her upper arm.

“Start packing,” he sneered, lifting his other wrist to look at the platinum watch she had given him on their first wedding anniversary. “I’ve already got us booked on the red eye back to LaGuardia, so you have until tonight to get your things in order. I would sure hate to miss it because I was forced to visit the emergency room before filing a police report.”

Ali yanked her arm loose from his grip and rushed to the front door, opening it and gesturing for him to make his leave. Her heart was pounding so loud, she swore he could hear it as he calmly walked passed her and stepped outside. Just before the heavy, carved wood door latched shut, he stopped it with the flat of his hand.

“It’s going to be so good to have you home, dollface. My bid to make senior partner should be accepted within the year and we can finally start on that family you’ve always wanted.”

She swallowed back the bile that rose in her throat and slammed the front door firmly in his face, locking it and setting the alarm with shaking fingers. Running to the back door, she secured it next, praying that the splintered casing would hold.

And for the first time in several days, maybe even a week or more, Ali rushed through the house, methodically checking the locks on all the windows and doors, breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth in a feeble attempt to stem her anxiety. Once she had gone through each and every possible entry into the house, she walked back to the front door and started again.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The multiple page report laid it all out in black and white. It was basic information. As a matter of fact, Sam barely tapped more than a dozen keys before the printer spit out the high points of Ali’s life. Sadly, there was only one goddamn thing listed that he already knew about her. Her fucking name. At least she’d been honest about that, but then again, only partially so.

Alexandra Ann Ross Davis. But the Davis part was recently—legally—dropped. Born in Blue Springs, Oklahoma on March Nineteenth, twenty some odd years ago. According to the local newspaper that had published her birth announcement all those years ago, it had been a frigid day still in the throws of a long winter, regardless of the daffodils poking their yellow heads through a thin layer of fresh snow. She was an only child of the small, rural town’s mayor slash mechanic and his God fearing wife, who fancied herself a part time farmer. As a girl, Ali Ann—as her grade school class picture had labeled her—was a studious child, winning the elementary school spelling bee four years running. She was voted class president by her peers each year of high school and was a member of the National Honor Society. She never joined Girl Scouts. She never participated in athletics. She never attended her high school prom, although the candid photos of her in the yearbook clearly showed she was quite the looker, even back then. In fact, she was named
Most Likely to Become a Supermodel
her senior year and caused quite a ruckus when she refused to join the cheer squad, citing both her class load and the ugly uniforms as her reason because, and this was a direct quote from Ali herself, in what world did blue and orange go together?

That little tidbit made Sam smile despite his overwhelming urge to break something.

Ali Ann did however, receive a prestigious scholarship to New York University, an upper echelon school that was far too expensive for her hard working, lower middle class parents to afford. She graduated with a degree in journalism and not a single penny in student loan debt, and married Daniel Davis shortly thereafter. That was nearly seven years ago. And as of four weeks ago yesterday, she was legally divorced from him. Oh, and thanks to a recent inheritance, she was loaded. Several other incidental details popped up on the report, as well. She had a dentist’s appointment next Tuesday, preferred name brand laundry detergent over generic, spent an asinine amount of money on scented candles, and used the same password for all her online accounts—a big no-no in Sam’s world.