Tainted Love (Book 1) (31 page)

Already I’
m looking forward to later.

I arrive at UPenn in high spirits. One night changed everything between Ben and me. One night solidified something we both needed. I went to bed with a smile on my face and I woke up with an even brighter one. The notion of us gives me a hope that I haven’t experienced in years. Nothing can change this mood I’m in.

Nothing except police cruisers and police officers dotting the campus, that is.

As I draw closer, I see students crying and I wonder what’s going on. In the midst of a few of those students, I see Lizzie and I call her over. Lizzie gets up from the group and races over to me. As she nears, I can see that her eyes are red-rimmed.

She reaches me and grabs me into a hug, falling apart all at once. I want to ask her what’s wrong, but I let her cry. She needs my strength right now.

Finally she stutters out, “O-oh-oh my God, Sullivan!”

“Okay, hon, breathe,” I tell her, rubbing her back. She takes a few breaths and tries to talk, but only comes out blubbering. Whatever it is must be big.

“D-D-D-Dylan,” she stammers through tears. I hear his name and a cold anger comes over me. If I ever see that guy again, I will personally and violently shove Jerry up his ass…without lube. We’ll see how he likes to be violated.

“He’s dead,” she chokes out.
What?

“Someone…someone shot him and s-sodomized h-him!” she screams, falling apart once more. When she has composed herself enough, she tells me the final piece, “
It was with a full bottle of beer, Sullivan! They wrote on the floor with his blood that he will never rape again and that he got a taste of his own medicine. He’s never raped anyone…
anyone!
”

I grow cold and I start trembling.
I should snort at her assumption that Dylan was such a boy scout, but I can’t. My wits are so fucking shaken right now that it’s hard for me to assimilate the information Lizzie is telling me. What in the world did she just say?

“Lizzie, I don’t understand. Why would someone do that?
When
did someone do that to him?” I ask.

“Sullivan, they found him this morning behind his frat house. Why would someone do that just when I was getting to know him?” she cries, turning blood-shot, pleading eyes to me.

“You guys were dating?” I ask, surprised.

“Not really,” she answers shyly. “But it was getting there. He invited me to a party on Friday but I couldn’t go. That would have made us exclusive, you know?”

I realize then, that I had taken Lizzie’s place. She would have been drugged instead of me and eventually raped. I want to be angry about it. I want to say that she deserved to have been almost gang raped instead of me. But I can’t. I wouldn’t have changed anything that happened that night. Better me than her. Beyond the shadow of a doubt, she would not have survived that night – psychologically or physically. This has been my life, something I have been used to. I have developed a tough skin and an even tougher mind; that is how I have survived life for so long. Lizzie is not made like me; she would have crumbled under the enormous weight of her rape. She may not know it, but she is much better off without Dylan in her life.

I look around as Lizzie starts crying in my arms again and find a few students staring and pointing at me. I scowl at a few of the sorority girls and they scowl right back at me. These are some of the same girls who tried to get me to join their little girls’ club and who tried to buy my allegiance to them. When I had refused, they turned cold bitches. I dodged that bullet and consider myself lucky that I keep my circle small as a rule and that I didn’t join a sorority full of vipers and hoity-toity whores. I much prefer regular whores anyway.

“Are you Miss Sullivan Beal?” I hear a male voice behind me call out. Turning around, I see a man in a suit flashing me a badge. He is tall, pudgy with greying hair at his temples and rich black hair. His large frame boasts strong arms that are bursting against the short sleeves of his work shirt.

“Yeah,” I answer, a little confused.

“My name is Detective Connelly and my team and I are investigating the murder of Dylan Harwinton,” he explains. “Did you know the deceased?”

I wonder why they would need to speak with me about Dylan’s murder when I was too out of it to even defend myself against rape; a rape that he would have committed if I hadn’t have been rescued by Ben, my light…my knight. I didn’t know the guy as well as others might have, and all I have to say is good riddance.

“No, detective,” I answer.

“A few of the girls seem to think that you do. Would you mind speaking in private?” he insists.

“This is my friend, detective; we hide nothing from each other.” I’m only blowing smoke up his ass; Lizzie and I aren’t that close. Anything to keep from being alone with him where he could pick up my lies.

“Well then, can you tell me if there is any truth to what these women are saying?” he inquires.

“I’ve only spoken to him twice in passing. That hardly qualifies as knowing someone, does it not?”

“When was this?” he asks further, pulling out a notepad.

“Just a few days ago, it was nothing important,” I answer, trying to make it all sound trivial. I don’t need this kind of attention. This will bring an investigation into a past that I would prefer to remain hidden. The less demons awakened, the better.

“Well, I assure you, even the smallest bit of info can be helpful in a case like this,” he informs me, staring intently at me. He wants to break me down, but I won’t yield. Not just because I’m innocent, but because I can’t afford for my secrets to be revealed. Rick can’t find me and Ben can’t find out the type of person I was.

“He invited me to his frat party and I said no,” I lie with a straight face.

“Is that all, Miss Beal?” he pushes.

“Yes, detective,” I respond, heart thumping against my chest. He has to take my word for it. Any doubt, any investigation into anything I say
will
be catastrophic.

Detective Connelly stares at me with questioning eyes; eyes that know bullshit. Pity he’s never met my bullshit. I’ve been lying to authorities since I was eight years old. I’ve been
fooling men into believing my love for them runs deeper than the ocean. And I’ve been lying to myself that I could never love another man.

The detective does the eye shift that lets me know I’ve won – a quick look to the left, down then back to me. His shoulders relax and he changes his stance, tucking one of his hands in his pockets.

“Well, Miss Beal, if that is all you have to share then I won’t be keeping anymore of your time. If you remember anything,
anything
that can help in our investigation, please feel free to share,” Detective Connelly implores.

“Will do, Detective,” I say, not meaning a word.

He turns and then leaves Lizzie and I. Lizzie thanks me for being there for her and for assisting in the small way I did for the investigation. She leaves and I am left to ponder the strange morning.

Murder?
The thought is baffling. Who would do this? And sodomy? The whole thing seems like something from out of
Law and Order: SVU.
Much as I hate him for what he almost put me through, I do pray for justice for his death. It is a gruesome thing to happen to someone.

I find myself walking aimlessly, as I think over everything that Lizzie had told me. Reality then hits me: someone did this for me. But who?

I look up to pinpoint my location, feeling the need to go back home to Ben where I’m safe and sound, when I spot a black SUV across the street with its front passenger seat window slightly open. Stopping, I start to stare at the vehicle. It sends an ominous chill down my spine and I decide to spin around, heading back in the direction of my classes. It’s just a vehicle, and it shouldn’t scare me, but it could be Dylan’s frat brothers come to take revenge for their brother’s death. I can only fit in one brush with death per year, so I think I’ve filled my quota.

As I begin walking, I hear tires screech and the SUV speeding off ahead of me.
Strange…

“Sorry,” I apologize, feeling the hard wall of someone’s chest as I bump into them.

“You should watch where you’re going, Sullivan,” the person says silkily. I have nothing to fear, but somehow his voice puts me on high alert. It’s Ryan.

“Oh, hey, Ryan,” I greet. “What are you doing around these parts?”

He stares at me with a cold look which sends my defenses rising. I have been making an effort to like the fucker, but if he has issues with me, he’d better tell them to me now when I don’t hate him. He had better watch the attitude too, because my word against his is all I’ll need to end whatever it is he and Rachel has.

“I don’t know what he sees in you,” he starts, leaning into me. His breath tickles my ear and I flinch away from him. I haven’t had to defend myself in a while; he would be well worth giving an ass-whopping to.

“But I can’t wait to find out,” he finishes before walking away and bumping into my shoulder for added effect. There goes any liking I ever had for this guy. Oh well…I tried.

My cell phone rings and I whip it out and immediately a wide smile colors my face at the sight of Ben’s name.

“Hi,” I answer, shyly.

He sighs into the phone and I immediately start to worry.

“I needed to hear your voice,” he says.

“Why, what’s wrong?” I ask, wondering if somehow the police could have gotten to him.

“Just a rough day at work preparing for investor weekends and new acquisitions,” he tells me. “I miss you. I should’ve brought you to work with me. You kneeling before me as I go about my day would have done wonders for my mood.”

I almost choke on desire as an image of me stark naked and kneeling in his office flits through my mind. The vision is potent enough to intensify my breathing and, of course, Ben picks this up.

“You like that, don’t you, my sweet girl?” he breathes, and I know it is having the same effect on him.

“Only if it involves you spanking me, Ben,” I respond, very aware that I am in the middle of my college campus dirty talking with my man.

“Have you been naughty, Sullivan?” he asks gruffly.

“If you consider soaked panties naughty, then yeah,” I answer with a mischievous smile. He goes silent and I know I have him by the balls literally.

“Fuck!” he roars and I laugh at his outburst. “You don’t know how much I wanna get lost in you, Sullivan. I’d get so deep that you wouldn’t know where I end and you begin.”

“God, Ben, you can’t do that,” I whimper, biting my lip at the temptation.

“Okay, I’ll stop, because I swear to God that there’s not much keeping me from making good on that; not even your first day back to school,” he declares.

“That would do wonders for improving my day,” I tell him on a sigh.

“Talk to me,” he commands me in a soft voice.

I tell him about my morning and he stays eerily silent through it all, which prompts me to ask, “Did you…did you have anything to do with his death, Ben?” I’m nervous. While I know that he would do anything to protect me, killing and sodomizing someone to do it would be a bit much.

He is silent for a few minutes more before he answers questioningly, “Do you think that I had anything to do with it?”

I roll my eyes at his dodging of my question, but I answer anyway, “I don’t know, Ben. You did say you would protect me, does this count as protection?”

Once again, he is quiet before clearing his throat and replying, “It would count.”

Cold chills of fear sweep my body and I fight down utter despair threatening to choke the life out of me. I am in love with a sadistic killer.

“But I prefer to keep my hands clean,” he further says.

The breath I release at his confession is enough to blow a brick house down.
Thank God.

“I am disappointed that you would think me as heinous as to commit an act like that, Sullivan. I may be a sadist, but I am, by no means, a murderer.” I would be disappointed too. It was very unfair of me to think the worst. I should have had his back; given him the benefit of the doubt. However…