Rock Bottom (18 page)

Chapter Thirty-eight

I knew I was alone before I opened my eyes. The warmth I felt—the tingles under my skin—whenever Elijah was near were absent. Reluctant to open my eyes and face what the day might bring, I groped blindly to confirm my suspicions. As expected, the sheets on his side of the bed were empty and cold, but the crinkle of paper under my palm roused my curiosity enough to peek one eye open.

I drew the page torn from the hotel notepad closer, squinting at Elijah’s sloppy scrawl.

I didn’t want to wake you, but there was a work thing I couldn’t get out of. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Please be here.

I love you, Princess.

Everything will be alright now. I promise.

The warmth I’d been missing wrapped around me. Clutching his words to my chest, I threw back the blankets and dragged myself up. Elijah asked me to be here and there was nowhere else I wanted to be. Rafe could go to hell.
I was thinking clearer than I had in a long time and for the first time in just as long, I felt like I had an ounce of control over my life. I felt . . . alive.

The bathroom mirror disagreed. Dark circles rimmed both eyes, cheek bones jutted out sharply enough to cut glass, and my skin had taken on a yellow pallor. Limp hair hung lifelessly over my shoulders. I was still wearing my clothes from the night before. In the light of day, they were humiliating. 

After a shower that lasted long enough to drain the entire establishment of hot water, I rooted through Elijah’s drawers, wrapped in a towel. I didn’t think he’d mind when I pulled out a pair of drawstring sweats and a dark gray hoodie. I had to roll the sleeves and pant legs several times before I could see my hands and feet, but I welcomed the extra coverage
. It felt like a barrier between me and the world. A shield that I could hide behind.

I folded Elijah's note and tucked it in my pocket before settling down on the bed with the remote. I didn’t know how long he’d be gone, but I’d wait until the rains dried up and the whole world turned to ash if that’s what it took. The television was a fifteen inch box with crappy reception—fuzzy pictures and jumbled voices—that did little to distract me from my morbid thoughts.

What if Elijah goes back to his real life and realizes what a lost cause I am? What if he wakes up one day and can no longer stand the sight of me? What if he can’t get past the image of me standing on that damned corner?

Part of me couldn’t help wondering if there would ever come a day when I could go without looking over my shoulder. Without the shadows chasing me in the dark and ghosts haunting my mind. 

What if he doesn’t come back for me at all? What if he
does
come back and Rafe—?

A commotion from outside caught my attention and I eased off the bed to take a peek before deciding it was a bad idea. I had enough trouble to worry about. I didn’t need to go looking for more. Perching on the edge of the mattress, I turned the volume up.

Sounds of a scuffle outside my window were difficult to ignore. The pounding on my door was harder. It reverberated through me, shaking my bones. I sat frozen, staring like a deer in headlights at the drawn curtains that afforded me no view whatsoever.

It can’t be Elijah, he wouldn’t knock. Unless he forgot his key?

Maybe he didn’t pay for another night and it’s check-out time?

I glanced at the clock. Nine a.m., a little early for check-out. Impatience beat through every pulse-pounding knock and I fisted the blanket in my lap.

Or
maybe
Rafe hunted me down, and he’s come to drag me back to hell and sell me to the devil himself.

Whoever it was, they weren’t going away. I crept closer to the door, my bare feet silent on the carpet, and put my eye to the peephole.

What the—?

The door opened only as far as the flimsy chain would allow. “Declan?”

He was standing beside a man in a wide straw hat, with leathery skin and a pale handlebar mustache.

“Can you tell the
gestapo
here that you know me so he’ll let me go?”

The man held Declan’s shoulder in a punishing grip. “Ma’am, this creep’s been sitting in the parking lot for the past hour watching your room. If you want I can call the police and let them—”

“No. That won’t be necessary. I know him.”

Declan’s smile oozed irritation as he ripped his arm free.

“But thank you,” I added, belatedly. It was good to know someone was paying attention.

“Alright.” The man eyed Declan, obviously reluctant to let him go. “Well, if you need anything, dial zero to phone the office. I’d be more than happy to call the cops on his punk.”

I shut the door long enough to disengage the lock and when I opened it again, ‘the gestapo’ was gone. Declan pushed his way inside, mumbling something about stupid favors and kicking Eli’s ass.

“What are you doing here?”

“Eli called.” Declan surveyed the room and paused to take in my outfit. “Said he had a gig he couldn’t flake on and asked if I’d come and . . . keep an eye on things.”

“Keep an eye on
me
, you mean.” I snatched the remote from a tangle of sheets and hit mute. “Make sure I don’t go running off again?”

Declan’s shrug was entirely unapologetic. “It
is
a bad habit of yours.”

Couldn’t really argue with him there.

“So . . .” He looked so uncomfortable standing in the middle of the room that I might have laughed if I was capable of feeling humor anymore. “Eli told me what you guys are planning. You really gonna turn Rafe into the police?”

“Do you think I shouldn’t?” He’d known Rafe long before I ever came into the picture. “Do you think it’s a bad idea?”

“No.” Declan shook his head and looked me in the eye for the first time since I answered the door. “I think it’s the right idea.”

I nodded absently, allowing my thoughts to run away with me. There were so many of them it was easy to get lost. “That’s what Elijah thinks, too.”

“But you don’t?”

Is that what I made it sound like? Is that the truth? Do I think this is a bad decision? Do I even trust myself to make good decisions anymore?

“I don’t know.” There was only one thing I knew with absolute certainty. “I . . . I’m scared.”

Declan straightened and looked at me like I’d just told him I was capable of levitation. “Eli’s not going to let anything happen to you.”

“I know he says that, but—”

“He just got you back, Ry. There’s no way he’s losing you again.”

I wanted to believe him. With all of my heart and soul, I wanted that, but I’d always been a realist. And
realistically
, Rafe was a criminal with some pretty serious connections, and Elijah and Declan . . . well, they were just a couple of teenage guys. Of course they thought they could take on the world.

"You don't have a clue, do you? You have no idea what he's been through. What he’s done to find you."

A wave of irritation hit. I wasn't naive, not anymore. I knew I screwed up. I knew my decisions affected more than just me. I
knew
that. "I know he's been looking for me for months. I know he—"

"Dropped out of school? Did you know that?"

A punch to the gut would have been less effective at winding me "What?
Why?
Why would he do that?"

"Why do you think? He spent every free moment walking the streets of this city with a picture of you. Just hoping someone would recognize your face. He was obsessed. Kept trying to tell me it was his fault. That he
had
to find you. I told him he was out of his damn mind, but when it got too expensive to keep coming and going, he dropped out of school and started taking some photography gigs to support his search.  The minute he turned eighteen he got the hell out of that crapheap he was living in and moved here. To be closer to you."

Minutes stretched like strings of molasses. I stared at Declan. He sounded angry, but he looked . . . he simply looked resigned.

"I can't believe he did all of that. I . . ."

But couldn’t I? This was Elijah Prince we were talking about. Mr. All-in, Jump-first-and-ask-questions-later.
When I really thought about it, nothing Declan told me came as a surprise. Except that he’d do all of that for
me
.

“I don’t understand.”

“I’m not gonna lie, I don’t really understand it, either. But I’ve never felt about anyone the way he feels about you. Maybe someday it’ll make sense. Maybe he’s just fucking crazy. I really don’t know. What I
do
know is that he will give up everything, his entire damn life, for you.”

The wall paper quickly became fascinating and I studied the blue swirls like they held all the answers to my insanely confusing life. All I found were more questions. “What about you? What are
you
doing here, Declan?”

“I told you. Eli called and asked me to—”

“I mean in the city. What were you doing at Damien’s party that day?”

"That was a fluke. I work for the catering company he hired."

"You live here, too?"

"You really think Eli could afford a place here by himself? He takes some good pictures, but not
that
good."

“You moved here with him so he could look for me?” I don’t think I blinked for a solid minute.

“Why not?” Declan shrugged as though it were no big deal. “I was here all the damn time anyway. Couldn’t let him look for you alone.”

I kept staring. The room could have caught fire and I don’t think I’d have noticed.

“Look, I fucked up giving you that joint at school, okay?” I wouldn’t want to be the rug on the receiving end of that scowl. “I don’t know what the hell happened between then and now, but I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t at least try to find you. Eli’s my best friend. He was in hell not knowing what happened to you.”

I scrubbed at my face.

“I’m sorry.” God, I was such an idiot. I wanted to go back in time and slap myself. I’d been so convinced I had no one, and yet how many lives had I affected? None for the better. “I screwed up
everything
. For
everyone.
I know it doesn’t change anything or make it better, but I
am
sorry, Declan.”

Through bleary vision, I saw Declan's face soften. A look I rarely saw from him—compassion—warmed his eyes. 

“I know.” He sighed, looking as worn out as I felt. “I know you are. I talked to Eli. He didn’t tell me everything, but I heard enough. Hell, I
saw
enough at that party. I know this isn’t what you wanted. I know you didn’t
mean
for all of this to happen. Yeah, you screwed up—
big time—
but we all screw up now and then. The way I see it . . . you’ve more than paid for your mistakes. You don’t have to apologize to me.”

Gratitude swamped me, turning my defenses to dust. I blinked hard, holding the tears at bay, but the fire in my throat rendered me speechless.

“Besides, I figure now that we found you, you’ve got the rest of our lives to make it up to me. Weekly dinners, cleaning my apartment, ya know . . .”

My lame excuse for a sniffling laugh was drowned out by the blaring of a car horn. Elijah stood inside the open motel room door, watching us.

“Didn’t I tell you to wait in the car?”
His voice was equal parts annoyed and amused.

“Yeah.” Declan glared at him. “But you failed to mention that the desk clerk moonlights as head of the friggin’ neighborhood watch.”

Elijah’s lips pressed together and he looked my way. I had to choke back another laugh.

“Yeah, yeah, fuckin’ hilarious,” Declan griped. “You’re back. Your girl’s still here. I did my job, so I’m out, but you owe me.”

Elijah agreed and Declan headed for the door.

He was halfway out before he spared me another glance. “Hey, Ry. Good luck today.”

“Thanks.”

A pair of arms snaked around me from behind. “She’s not going to need it. Everything’s going to be fine.”

Declan nodded and pulled the door shut behind him.

Soft lips found my cheek and the scrape of stubble against my ear gave me the inexplicable urge to purr. “Are you ready to go?”

Chapter Thirty-nine

The police station was bustling with activity. Apparently the crime rate was high in the city. Being in Elijah’s arms had banished the demons that plagued me, and a solid night’s sleep—combined with another peanut butter sandwich—had done my body wonders. My legs felt more solid and my head didn’t spin as we stood there watching men and women—some in uniform, some in cuffs—wander all around us, waiting for the man at the front desk to acknowledge our presence in the madhouse. It took Elijah not so subtly clearing his throat before we garnered his attention.

“What can I do for you?”

“We’re here to report a crime.” Elijah leaned into the desk so we wouldn’t be overheard and offered up only the briefest of explanations.

The young officer stared at me and I felt myself flush at what I knew he must be thinking. “You said Damien?”

That definitely wasn’t where I would have guessed his were. “Yes.”

“Do you know his last name?”

I tried to recall if I’d ever heard it, but I couldn’t. “No. I’m sorry. But I know he lives in a very nice apartment just outside of the park.”

“You’ve been to his home?” The officer sounded stunned and I had absolutely no idea why. “Hold on just one minute. I think there’s someone here who will be very interested in talking to you.”

The ‘someone’ turned out to be two ‘someone’s. The first was a man with salt and pepper hair, standing a good few inches taller than Elijah, who was no slouch. He was older, but had the physique of someone who kept in shape. The second was a woman. Late thirties, maybe. Shorter than the man, but still taller than me. Her long black hair was braided down her back and her eyes darted all over, taking in everything around her. She struck me as the type of person that never missed details. She also struck me as the type of person you wouldn’t want to play poker with. Or lie to. Neither wore uniforms, but they produced badges from their back pockets which they flashed our way before introducing themselves.

“I’m Detective Tanner.” The man offered his hand. It was cool and clammy, and I’m fairly certain I sweated all over him. “And this is Detective Fawn.” He indicated the woman who offered only a brief nod. “We hear you may have some information on Damien Cross?”

“Um . . . maybe. I told the man at the desk I don’t know his last name. I don’t know much about him at all.”

“We’re here to report Rafe Bellor,” Elijah explained, and I was stunned to realize I’d never even known Rafe’s last name until right that moment. “He’s—”

“A known associate of Damien Cross. Come. Why don’t we talk in my office?”

Elijah and I exchanged a glance. I was wildly uncomfortable with the fact that the police already seemed to know more about the situation than we did. It seemed so was he. The detectives led us through a set of swinging doors, across an open floor space littered with desks and into a glass enclosed room in the back of the building. A metal desk with a tattered rolling chair behind it and two folding chairs in front, a bookcase, and a filing cabinet were the only furnishings.

“Excuse the appearance. It’s under renovation.” Detective Tanner sat in the rolling chair and Detective Fawn took up a position against the wall behind him. He indicated the two chairs opposite him, and Elijah and I sat side-by-side. “Now, how do you know Damien Cross?”

“Not well,” I admitted. “I’ve only met him once. At a party.”

Detective Tanner rooted through a desk drawer, returning with a five-by-seven photo that appeared to have been taken at a long distance and an angle too awkward to be anything other than hidden surveillance. “Is this the man you met?”

“Yes.” I nodded, almost afraid of what the admission would mean. “That’s him.”

“And how do you know Rafe Bellor?”

“That’s a long story.” One I’d already shared too many times, but I shared it once more. Elijah sat beside me, silently fuming as I recalled as much detail of my time spent with him as I could.

Elijah answered any questions posed to him, filling in information I hadn’t been aware of. Like the fact that my parents had been helping to support him while he searched for me, assisting financially when and where he needed it.

When we both finished explaining things forward, backward, and inside out, Detective Tanner stood. “Make yourselves comfortable just a little while longer. We need to go check a few things out.”

Elijah shifted uncomfortably in his seat, watching the detectives leave us alone in the room. “That was . . . odd.”

I had to agree. After getting my statement, almost all of their questions had centered around my relationship with Rafe and how well I knew him. They took a particular interest in his plans to rent me out to Damien. Neither of them seemed to give a rat’s ass about the actual
crimes
I was reporting.

“Don’t worry.” Elijah’s hand slipped over mine and squeezed. “Everything will be alright.”

His smile was plastic, but I had to give him points for effort. With the army of butterflies wreaking havoc on my stomach, I couldn’t even manage to return that much.

In one fluid movement, Elijah slipped from his chair to kneel by my feet, taking both of my fidgeting hands and folding them in his. “It’ll be okay. I won’t let anything happen to you, Rylie. We’re here. We can do this. Together. I’ll never let anyone hurt you again. I promise you. Whatever it takes, I will find a way to protect you. I lo—”

Elijah’s gallant declaration was cut short by the door swinging open and the two detectives traipsing into the room. He shifted back into his seat without releasing my hand as the detectives reclaimed their earlier positions.

Detective Tanner leaned back in his chair and watched me like he was studying some kind of specimen. Fawn looked on, trying to mask her eagerness with idle curiosity.

“Miss Stark, you present us with a unique opportunity.”

“What opportunity?” The opportunity to arrest Rafe? Because that’s the only opportunity I’d meant to present them with.

“Damien Cross is the head of an extremely large network of criminals. He made the money he bought that fancy apartment you were in and to throw that fancy party you attended from drugs, weapons, girls, you name it. We’ve been after him for . . . forever. But we’ve never been able to get close enough. He’s smart, and extremely private.”

“Ooookay.” I drew the word out at a complete loss as to where this was all going. “What does that have to do with me?”

“If what you’re telling us about Rafe’s plans to lend you to Damien is accurate . . . then
you
could get close enough.”

“Close enough to wh—?”

“Absolutely not!” Elijah shoved from his chair with enough force to topple it over backwards. He planted both hands on Tanner’s desk and glared right into the eyes of the formidable man. “Not a chance in hell.”

“Miss Stark has openly admitted to drug use and prostitution.” They were the first words Detective Fawn had spoken, and they sent ice down my spine. “That’s two strikes.”

“What?”
What have I done coming here?
I hadn’t even considered how my story would affect me legally.

“That’s bullshit and you know it! She’s the
victim
here.” Elijah was livid. “She’s a minor, for chrissakes.”

“Actually, she turned eighteen last month. Isn’t that right, Miss Stark?”
Did I?
I hadn’t even noticed. Fawn watched me with cool indifference. “That means, legally, we can try her as an adult.”