I Know What Love Is (24 page)

“
Touch yourself,” I whisper.  “Jerk off while you lick me.” I heard him hiss in a breath, and I knew he was doing what I asked. “Lightly. Not too hard.”

“
Fuck you, baby,” he scoffed, his voice low and barbed. I could hear the violence lurking just below the surface of his words and I knew he wanted to hurt me, to fuck me hard until I screamed. I wanted that too, but there were thousands of miles between us. That wasn't going to change, no matter how many late night phone calls we shared. Pushing that thought out of my mind, I squeezed my eyes tighter shut.

“
You will,” I said.

“
Damn right I will,” he rasped and I smiled.

“
I can feel you,” I whispered, my words coming fast as my body pulled tight and my nipples hardened painfully.

“
Goddamn, I know you can.” With my fingers deep inside of me and his cocky voice in my ear, I bucked my hips and moaned, coming hard against my own hand. I muffled my cry into the pillow, wondering why a man that was fucking me over the phone could make me come harder than any other man fucking me in person.

I spent a long time trying to find another man that measured up to Elliot, and I hate to say it, but I never did.

I never will.

With a shaky sigh, I let my body relax into the soft mattress and rolled onto my side. I opened my eyes, and the room was still as dark and empty as it had been before. Then he said five words that changed my life forever.

“I'm getting out of here,” he said, so low I did a mental double-take to make sure I'd heard him correctly.

“
Don't say that,” I whispered. “Don't say it out loud.”

“
You scared?” he said.

“
Can anyone hear us?”

“
No,” he said. “We're good.”

“
You can't bust out of a Texas penitentiary,” I said, sitting up. “They'll shoot you down.”

“
I have a plan, baby,” he said with a low chuckle.

“
You have a plan?” It was my turn to scoff. I ran my hand through my hair, yanking hard on the ends to wake myself up. “It's insane. Where are you going to go? What are you going to do?”

“
I'm going to hitch a ride to Seattle, that's what I'm going to fucking do,” he hissed and I gasped. “I'm going to climb in your window and tie you to your big, warm bed.” I was silent for a long time, as I wavered between hanging up on him and laughing.

“
How did you find me?” I finally asked.

“
Post office code on the envelopes,” he said smugly and I knew he was smiling an evil smile.

“
Shit,” I grumbled, because I should have thought of that.

Mistake number three.

I hoped it would be my last.

“
Don't do it,” I said. I wasn't going to plead him to save his own life. That seemed... strange somehow. All I could do was ask him to reconsider. If he had a suicide wish, there was nothing I could do about it.

“
I'm doing it,” he said stubbornly, and I knew his mind was made up. “Now, you going to help me or what,
Daisy
?” Warmth rippled through me at the use of our code word. He knew it would get to me. I dropped the burner phone to my lap and stared down at it. He was totally insane. He would never make it. But a part of me thought he might actually pull it off. With the right plan, maybe he could.

A shiver of adrenaline shot down my spine. I knew he wasn't lying. If he escaped, he would come straight for me. I would have to run, too.

Maybe I had never stopped.

I lifted the phone back to my ear.

“You there?” he said, his voice hard. I knew he was thinking just what I was—whether or not I was going to run.

“
I'm here.”

“
Don't lie to me and tell me you don't want me. I heard the way you just came for me, baby. I heard it.” His voice was low and dangerous again and I knew he was pissed. I knew what I had to do. I knew that there would be no coming back, but I didn't have a choice, not really.

I was done running.

“What's your plan?” I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.

“
You in?” he said.

“
No,” I said. “Just trying to decide if I should be worried or not.” He snorted out a mirthless laugh.

“
You should be,” he replied.

*****

He didn't call me for over a week after that.

A week was long enough for me to really think it through. I thought about every possible outcome. The chance of him actually succeeding was almost non-existent. That's what I told myself as I went about my life. I went to work. I went out for drinks with friends. I did dishes and ran the vacuum cleaner. I was going through the motions like a robot, just like I did in Dallas. My brain was preoccupied with all the possibilities.

When I passed a used car lot on the way home one night, something clicked in my mind. The only way he might have a chance of escaping was if he had someone on the outside, someone to pick him up and get him out of Texas as fast as possible. If he was on foot, he'd be picked up or shot before he got very far. The thought of him dead, shot down in the dirt like a dog, did something to me.

Something visceral.

If he was going to die, I wanted to be the one to do it.

Not that I wanted him dead.

If he was dead, it would be over.

It could have been over long ago. When he almost bled to death, it could have been over. When he went to prison, it could have been over. When I moved to Seattle, it could have been over.

But I couldn't let him go.

I didn't want it to be over.

If—no, when—he called again, I told myself I would try and talk him out of it. I would make him see how stupid the whole thing was. But as I waited, night after night, for his call, a niggling thought took hold. If Elliot was free, we wouldn't have to rely on stolen moments and whispered phone calls. I would be able to touch him. He would be able to touch me, for the first time in years. He would be able to fuck me. Whatever sick fantasy he could come up with, I would be at his mercy.

What a delicious thought.

It was totally insane, but I wanted him. The more I thought about it, the more I wanted all of his sickness and darkness. I wanted all of his perversion. I wanted his violence. I had spent five years running from him. And for what? He would never stop chasing me. Our cat and mouse game would only end if I surrendered.

So I did.

Chapter Nineteen

T
hat was then, this is now. My story is not a happy one, and I don't expect a happy ending. I don't expect that my prince and I will ride off into the sunset. I don't expect a happily ever after. I don't expect anything so clean and easy. My life is about to take a messy turn, and I know the end will be bittersweet, at best.

All the years of pain and depression and being crazy and obsessing has led to this point.

This moment.

I'm on a lonely road two miles from Huntsville, Texas. In the distance I can see the bright lights of the prison, a glaring reminder of what I'm doing.

Like Lou Reed, I'm just waiting for my man.

I sit in my new used car, sweat dripping down my nose. I gnaw at my lip as I keep my eyes on the edge of the road. It's pitch black outside, and I can barely see my hand in front of my face. I don't know how I'll see a man running from the tree-line across the street. I don't even know if he's coming, truth be told. I know the plan, but I have no idea if it worked or if he got caught or anything.

The not knowing is driving me up the wall.

The fact that I'm about to break the law is also not something I'm taking softly. I'm currently a law-abiding citizen. Any moment now, I'll step over the line and become an outlaw. I know there's nothing I can do about it now. Well, I could drive away, put the pedal to the metal and forget all about Elliot. I know the best thing for me is to leave him and never look back. I've always known that, ever since the cop told me to keep living my life in the hospital, all those years ago.

I can't do that to him, though.

After everything, I just can't. We're in it together now.

When I can't take it anymore, I open the car door and step outside. The night air is cooler than the stuffy air in the car, and I feel like I can finally breathe. I glance from side to side, my hearing amplified by my lack of eyesight. I can hear a coyote howl in the distance. When a twig cracks somewhere in the woods, I jump. It sounds so close that my heart starts beating like mad.

“
Elliot?” I whisper. I listen hard, waiting to see if he answers, waiting for some sign that I'm not making a huge mistake by waiting for him in the middle of Texas at two in the morning. Another stick cracks off in the distance, followed by the brushing of leaves. I turn in a slow circle, squinting my eyes, trying to see anything in the crushing darkness.

Footsteps. I hear footsteps pounding toward me, and heavy breathing, like someone is running. I'm frozen for a long time, I don't know how long, but finally a spark in my brain makes me move. I hop back into the car, remembering just in time to close the door lightly. I poise my hand over the keys in the ignition, knowing that it was time. Time to go, or time to stay. I let out a slow breath, and then time is up.

A hand slaps against the passenger's side window and I jump nearly out of my skin. I hit the unlock button and the door opens. The car jerks with his weight as he slides in and I smell
him
. Warmth floods through me, and I turn in my seat to face him.

“
Baby,” I hear him whisper and that's all I need. I practically lunge across the seat at him, finding his face with my hands. It feels like him and I have to resist turning on the pilot light to look at him. He's sweaty and breathing heavy and I almost can't believe he made it.

“
You're here,” I hear myself murmur.

“
Fuck yeah, I'm here,” he says with a snort of laughter. Then the back passenger door opens and I jerk my head to look in the backseat, although I still can't see anything.

“
Who's that?” I say as the door slams shut.

“
Drive bitch!” I hear a gruff voice hiss. I can feel Elliot's eyes on me in the dark and glare right back. Another person wasn't in the plan. We'd gone over and over the plan, in code of course, and he'd never mentioned another person. I drop my hands to the keys and start the car as angrily as possible, then press my foot on the gas. We take off down the dark country road, my headlights shining the way.

I keep my face forward, not looking at him, even as he drops his hand to my thigh. My anger is heightened by the danger of the situation, and I'm veering closely to hysteria. I think about the gun pressing into my calf, bound by an ankle holster. It's a .32 that I picked up a year or so ago. I'm a pretty good shot by now, and I had no intention of coming out empty-handed to the middle of nowhere, with no protection. I may be a lot of things, but I'm not fucking stupid.

If Mr. Backseat wants to get frisky, I have every intention of shooting him right between the eyes. The only thing that would give me pause is destroying the mint condition fabric in my new Ford Focus with his brain matter. I don't want to fuck with the resale value.

Eventually we reach the highway, and I can finally check both of them out under the streetlights. I flick my gaze up to the rearview, and Mr. Backseat looks haggard and dirty, with dark circles under his eyes. He looks like a Methhead, skinny and craggy with a long face. Beside me, Elliot has that manic glint in his eyes, and he keeps them on me, dragging them up and down my body. I know he wants me. I can feel his arousal with every fiber of my being. His fingers flex on my thigh and I run my tongue over my lips.

I want him, too. I wouldn't be in this ridiculous situation right now if I didn't.

We drive on for an hour in complete silence, the rumbling of the road lulling my nerves. Elliot keeps his hand on my thigh the whole time, and I can feel his warmth through my jeans.  However, I refuse to talk to him with a stranger in our midst. A motherfucking stranger, who's probably a murderer.

“Daisy,” Elliot whispers, dropping his head back against the headrest. I ignore him for awhile, then I place my hand on top of his on my thigh. His hand is calloused as always, rough in all the right spots and I crave the way it will feel on my body later, when we ditch our third wheel.

We pass the border into Kansas, and I pull over at the first rest stop we see, as planned. I park in the darkest part of the stop, although the sky is starting to lighten to a dark lavender.

“Clothes are in the trunk,” I say, opening the door and practically bolting out. I don't realize how thick the tension inside is until I step outside. I force myself to take a deep breath as I unlocked the trunk and pop it open. I feel Elliot walk around to me and then the other man is beside me as well. We're all lit up in red from the tail lights, and I'm not going to lie, both men look similarly sinister, their features heavily in shadow.