The Game Has Changed (12 page)

She looked at him with amusement as she set his
wallet back onto the table. “Actually, I was being nosy. I wanted
to see how old you were,” she admitted.

“Quite a bit older than you, you noticed, huh?”
He smiled as he slipped his jacket off. “That should definitely
tell you something, my Sweet.”

She pressed herself against the headboard,
smiling with intrigue. “What should it tell me, then?” she asked,
intent on playing along.

Evan was hoping that she would take the hint.
He placed his jacket on the back of a chair and took a second to
make sure she hadn’t touched his gun. He’d stowed it inside the
bedside table drawer earlier. Satisfied, he snapped the drawer
closed.

“It should tell you . . .” he began slowly, not
wanting to say what he had to say in so many words. He didn’t want
to spell things out for her and risk bursting her bubble and thus,
in turn, breaking her sweet heart. Instead, he took a more careful
route and continued to drop hints. “That I’m an old man compared to
you. At twenty-six years of age and with a hundred past lovers, I’m
still not committing to any woman.” He made a deliberate reference
to what they’d spoken about the other day.

She failed to grasp his meaning and he sighed
with exasperation. “Twenty-six is not an old man!” she
defended.

He laughed a little, disappointed by the fact
that she wasn’t disillusioned by what he’d said. He now had two
missions to fulfill with her. One was to make her believe that she
hadn’t been kidnapped and that she had gone with him willingly. The
second was to make her lose interest in him romantically. The
latter one would prove to be much more daunting a task, he
feared.

“Evan?” Jaime asked with curiosity. She wanted
to know more about him and wondered if he would be willing to
confide in her.

“Hmm?” he mumbled as he slipped his tee shirt
over his head, exposing his bare chest to her view once
again.

She found herself delighted at the sight. She
observed his night-time ritual carefully, no longer embarrassed by
the fact that he undressed himself in front of her as she watched
his blue jeans slide down his beautiful legs. She remained quiet as
she waited for him to sit down on his side of the bed. Evan stared
at her upon doing so, taking note of the fact that she was
struggling with the courage to continue with what she wanted to ask
of him.

“Can you tell me now?” she beseeched, her voice
barely a whisper.

A look of wonder crossed his face as their eyes
met. “About why I’m running?” he asked, though he already knew the
answer.

She nodded slowly. “I think you trust me more
now,” she said. “I mean, like with the tape and all. At least, I
hope so.”

He sighed, unsure as to whether he really
wanted to confide in her.

“I feel like . . .” she began again before he
could contest it. “I feel like we’re spiritually a little bit
closer after what happened today.” She laid her heart upon her
sleeve with her admission. She wasn’t afraid to take that chance
anymore. Nor did she want to worry about the chance that he would
eventually do something that would hurt her.

“Yeah, we are,” he agreed. She was thrilled
when he tenderly touched her hand. “We’re almost like soul mates,
in some ways.”

She nodded, her heart pounding. “Soul mates,”
she agreed. “I mean . . . I was ashamed at first . . . about what
happened. About the fact that you saw me . . . in that
way.”

“Naked?” He shrugged. “I didn’t really see
anything to be honest,” he assured her. “I was so blinded by my
anger for that kid that I didn’t see anything.”

Jaime shuddered. Surprisingly, his admission
didn’t make her feel better. She wanted him to recognize her
sexually. To want her and desire her. For some inexplicable reason,
she was heartbroken by his words.

After a long, dissatisfied moment, she sighed.
“Did you kill somebody?” she asked boldly.

She sensed his entire body language change at
that given moment. He tensed at her speculation. Her heartbreak and
her disappointment in him caused her to press on.

“Did you kill one of your lovers? Are you a
serial killer or something horrible like that?”

If he is, why am I taunting him in
such a way?
she wondered.
Why
am I risking angering him?

She regarded him with veiled eyes. The anger
she expected to see brewing within him didn’t materialize. Instead,
she found him staring contemplatively at her.

“That sounds very romantic, but I’m sorry to
let you down,” he said softly. “I’m not a modern day Jack the
Ripper, but then . . . neither are you a prostitute.”

She gave him a confused look, not understanding
what he was talking about. He was well aware of that fact, pleased
to find that he wanted to keep her guessing.

“I’m not a killer,” he replied. “Not to
worry.”

She sighed and looked away.

“That’s a rather bizarre reaction to my telling
you that I’m not a killer,” he mused. “You sound disappointed that
I’m not.”

“Sometimes, I wish you were, to be honest,” she
admitted. “You could put me out of my misery rather quickly if that
were to be the case.”

Evan was a tad stunned by her statement. Was he
reading her wrong all this time? Was she not falling in love with
him? Did she still want out? “Let me try and get this sorted out,”
he said with amazement. “You
want
me to kill you?”

She looked him directly in the eye then. “It
would make everything easier for both of us.”

“How so?”

“You wouldn’t have to look after me anymore and
I wouldn’t . . .” Before she could finish her sentence, she burst
into tears. She pressed her hand against her mouth in hopes of
holding in her sobs.

Filled with pity, Evan took a hold of her hand.
“Tell me,” he pleaded.

She shook her head despondently, unable to
utter a word because of her tears.

“I think I get you, Sweetheart,” he said with
compassion. “You don’t have to be ashamed of the way you’re
feeling. I won’t make fun of it. I understand.”

“Then, you tell me!” she cried.

“I think you’re feeling something for
me.”

“Am I?”

He nodded with tenderness, attempting to cheer
her up. There was nothing he wanted more than to see her smile.
“And I totally understand why. I’m taking care of you. I was your
knight-in-shining armor today. It’s understandable that you’re
going to feel something for me because of that. And I’ll be totally
honest with you. It’s a natural feeling to have, but it will pass,
you’ll see.”

His words weren’t what she wanted to hear. Yet
she knew that what she wanted to hear would never come from his
lips. She was quite certain of that. With the pain of rejection
wracking through her entire body, she jumped up from the bed. She
pulled her hand free of his and quickly disappeared into the
bathroom. She finally ‘got it,’ but why did it have to hurt her
so?

Evan remained where he was sitting and sighed.
He decided he needed another cigarette. Hell, he needed a drink.
Could he trust her alone if he went to the bar? Did it really
matter?

Impulsively, he redressed, shouldered his gun
and holster underneath his jacket, tucked his wallet and the room
key away into one of his pockets and left the room, heading toward
the restaurant nearby. Knocking back a couple drinks at the bar
would help him ease his worries.

Jaime heard him leave the room. She stood in
front of the mirror rubbing her wet eyes. Never in her entire life
had she felt so full of turmoil and downright hopeless. She was in
love with someone who would never reciprocate her feelings. At the
same time, she felt intense hatred for him, something she had never
expected to feel.

CHAPTER 13

“What’ll you have?” the bar maid asked Evan,
giving him a sexy smile when she saw him sitting on a stool before
her. “A beer?”

“Make it a bourbon, Luv,” he said and winked at
her as he smiled. “Neat.”

“You got it.” She smiled dreamily as she turned
and effortlessly pulled the bourbon bottle and a glass from behind
her in one fluid motion.

He watched her pour him a glass and winked
again as she slid it into his hand. He was aware of that fact that
she would soon be starry-eyed over him as most women were. He took
note of the fact that she was also an American bartender and
remembered that most enjoyed getting involved in their client’s
tribulations. He knew she wouldn’t be able to resist initiating
conversation with him for long.

Right on cue, the red-headed woman promptly
asked, “What happened to your pretty face? Everything alright with
you, Brit boy?”

Intrigued, he raised an eyebrow. “Brit boy?” he
repeated. “Haven’t heard that one in a long while.”

“Pretty obvious, though. You’re from England,
right?”

“Naw, California . . . Duuude,” he said
playfully. “But I’m originally from London, yeah. Does it make a
difference, then, Luv?”

She bestowed him with a flirtatious smile. “It
does. Makes you very desirable to the women out here.”

He motioned to the bar filled with men. “The
only woman I see ‘out here’ is you, Sweetheart.”

“Exactly! And with all these country bumpkins,
you’re looking mighty fine,” she said. Her words were an obvious
pick-up line.

“Okay, but be honest with me,” he murmured and
played along. “If I was standing next to George Clooney, would I
still be looking that fine?”

“Yes, Honey, you certainly would!”

“Even with my messed up face?”

She nodded again, suggestively.

“Ta.” He winked at her again, enjoying ‘the
game’.

“You have a room over at the Waters?” she asked
boldly, referring to the motel next door. “My name’s Emily, by the
way.”

“Evan, and yes, I do,” he replied, knowing that
she was hinting at having a one night stand with him.

“Well, I get off at eleven. What
number?”

“You know,” he sighed, “I would love to, but I
got me li’l sis in the room with me. Unless you can offer me a
babysitter, I wouldn’t know what to do with her.”

“That’s the worst excuse I ever heard!” she
laughed. “You’re not serious, are you?”

He shrugged. “I am totally, Luv.”

“Well, how old is she?”

“Um . . .” he hesitated.

He realized, then, that he didn’t know how old
Jaime truly was. He would need to take a wild guess in order to do
her justice, but at the last minute, he decided to make her older
than he’d first intended. He needed a good shag and didn’t want to
pass up the opportunity.

“She’s seventeen,” he fibbed. He rationalized
that it wasn’t an actual fib since he really didn’t know her real
age.

“Then hell, she doesn’t need a sitter!” Emily
laughed. “My room’s just upstairs here. Come back at eleven and
I’ll give you the ride of your life!”

Evan stared at the clock behind her.

She grinned and looked at it, too. “Oh my
goodness! That’s only an hour away, anyhow. Just stay here, then,
and get good and plastered so that I can have my way with
you.”

“All right, then,” Evan agreed and pushed his
empty glass toward her. She promptly filled it again.

***

Jaime lay upon the bed with the television
blaring in the background, wondering when Evan would return. Her
tears continued to fall. Over an hour had passed since he had
disappeared. Perhaps he had deserted her. She couldn’t blame him if
he did.

She realized that she had acted like a spoiled
child, but his words had stung her deeply. She couldn’t help how
much it had hurt. She was frightened without him there and wanted
nothing more than to have him back.

She decided that she wouldn’t do anything else
to make him tired, annoyed, or resentful of her. She could only
wonder as to what it was that he was feeling for her now. Truth be
told, she wasn’t quite sure what that was. Never-the-less, she
promised herself that she would be an obedient and submissive young
lady from now on.

***

Evan allowed Emily to lead him up to the small
apartment she inhabited above the restaurant. He knew he was quite
drunk, thus he wasn’t sure how much of this encounter he would
remember in the morning. But it felt good while he was doing it,
that much he knew.

Emily seemed to be enjoying things as well in
her own unique way. She was a screamer, which surprised him as Evan
hadn’t encountered that many screamers within his long tally of
lovers.

Evan stumbled back into the motel room several
minutes past two in the morning. Although he was quite drunk, he
took note of the fact that the lights were still on in their room.
Jaime, on the other hand, was not in the bed.

His initial thought was that she had bolted. He
released a melancholy sigh, feeling a tad conflicted over her. He
also felt relief over the fact that she would no longer be
infatuated with him and guilty because of the entire situation at
hand. He would never be able to take back the kidnapping or the
attempted rape she’d suffered.