Savior (An Impossible Novel) (18 page)

Clayton jerked himself out of Smith’s grip and was at my side in an instant.  He covered my body with the bedspread, and I drew in a shaky, relieved breath.  His hand was cupping my face, and all I could see was the intense blue of his gorgeous eyes.

“You’re okay now,” he reassured me gently.

Safe.
 
Clayton would take care of me.  With that knowledge, I let go of my mental struggle, surrendering to the soporific haze that had been pressing at the edges of my mind.  I allowed my eyes to close, shutting out the spinning world.

“Rose?  Rose!”  There was a thread of fear in Clayton’s voice, and he shook me hard.  “Look at me,” he demanded.  But I couldn’t open my eyes now even if I wanted to.  “What did you do to her?”  I heard him growl.

“She…”  Gemma’s voice was high and fearful.  “She wanted to take the coke.  And she had been drinking.  We didn’t know that she didn’t want to have a scene with us.  We thought she liked it.”

“Bullshit!”  Clayton snarled.  “Cocaine doesn’t do this.  Tell me what you gave her.”

Gemma was silent for a long moment.  “Tell him now, or I’ll make you talk.”  The threat in Smith’s voice made me want to shudder.

“Rohypnol,” Gemma squeaked.  “I laced the coke with rohypnol.”

“Fuck!”  Clayton barked out.  “Call an ambulance.”

“Already on it,” Derek said.

“And somebody get me the keys to these goddamn handcuffs.”  Clayton’s fingers were running through my hair.  “You’re going to be okay, Rose.  You hear me?  You’re going to be okay.”

It sounded more like an order than a reassurance.

Something was very wrong.  My head was pounding, and my whole body felt strangely heavy.  I was terrified, but I couldn’t remember why.  I sucked in a deep breath to try to calm myself, but I inhaled the sharp scent of antiseptic, and my panic spiked higher.  Where was I?  And how had I gotten here?

I cast my mind back, searching for my most recent memories, anything that would give me a clue as to what was going on.  Everything was hazy, b
ut I could remember the way I had felt: sick, dirty, and violated.  Those feelings still echoed within me, making me shudder.

Don’t.  Please, don’t…

The hand that squeezed mine was warm and familiar.  “It’s okay, Rose,” Clayton assured me gently.  “You’re in the hospital.  You’re alright.”

My eyes fluttered open to find him sitting beside my bed, holding my hand tightly in his.

“Why am I here?”  I asked, my voice tremulous.  “I don’t remember…”

“The cocaine you took was laced with rohypnol,” he informed me calmly, as though he didn’t want to spook me.  But his eyes tightened at the mention of the cocaine.  I couldn’t focus on that now.  All I could think about was the feeling of a stranger’s hands upon me, eliciting the most disturbing reactions from my body.

“Did he…?”  I trailed off, unable to say the words aloud. 
Did he rape me?

“No, Rose.  I got there in time.”  Clayton’s tone was still gentle, but his muscles tensed in a visible effort of contain his anger.  “If you want to press charges, I’ll help you.  But I won’t lie to you: the fact that you chose to abuse an illegal substance won’t cast you in the best light.  And there is the possibility that your whereabouts and your choices will affect your professional life if what happened becomes public knowledge.  That’s why I decided not to contact the police until I could ask you what you wanted to do.”

My gut twisted as I realized the truth of his words.  My position at Ivory was already precarious enough; I couldn’t risk losing my job.  And if Cheryl ever found out about this it would be all the excuse she needed to fire and blacklist me.  Plus, how would my indiscretion affect Clayton if the FBI found out?  He was on the anti-narcotics task force, for God’s sake. 

“No,” I said quietly.  “I don’t want to press charges.”

Clayton nodded in understanding.  “I thought you probably wouldn’t.  That’s why I looked the other way when Smith beat the shit out of that guy.  And Derek promised to make sure no club will ever allow the two of them through their doors ever again.”

It wasn’t enough to erase the feeling of violation, but it was something.

“I’m so sorry, Clayton,” I whispered.  “For everything.  What I did, the things I said to you…  You were right.  I
am
a fucking idiot.”

“No,” he said quickly.  “I’m sorry, Rose.  I never should have left you.  As soon as I cam
e to my senses and realized it was the drugs talking, not you, I came back so I could drag your ass home.” He ran a hand through his hair in frustration.  “God, how many times can I fuck up in the same way?”  He muttered to himself, his gaze turning inward.  When his eyes re-focused on me, they were filled with anguish.  “I need to tell you something, Rose.  I told you about my girlfriend in college, the one who I experimented with sexually?  Her name was Jen, and she was my first love.  I thought she was the girl I was going to marry.  But I fucked everything up.  I was on a football scholarship, so I couldn’t really drink a lot or do any hard partying; I had to stay fit.  But Jen was a social butterfly, and she loved to have a good time.  When she first started smoking pot, I didn’t approve, but I didn’t say anything.  After all, it wasn’t a big deal.  Half of the people on campus smoked casually every now and then.  Only, it wasn’t every now and then for Jen, and when she started to do harder drugs, our relationship started falling apart.  I broke up with her, hoping it would be the wake-up call she needed to set her life straight again.”  Clayton’s expression was twisted with remembered pain.  “That backfired.  She took too much acid to try to numb the pain.  She lost her mind, Rose.  I had thought pushing her away would bring back the girl I loved, but instead I lost her forever.”  His eyes blazed with a ferocious, determined light.  “And I’m not going to lose you, Rose.”

My mind spun as I tried to absorb the enormity of what Clayton had
just admitted.  Everything Smith had said about him suddenly made perfect, awful sense.  Clayton really believed it was his fault that he had lost her.  That was what he was trying to atone for.

“You’re not responsible for what happened to her, Clayton,” I said softly.  “She made her own choices.”

He fixed me with a hard stare.  “Like you make your own choices, Rose?”  He challenged.  “Do you really expect me to stand idly by and watch someone I care about destroy herself?  I won’t do that again.”

Someone he cares about. 
A horrible realization made my gut twist and my heart ache.  I thought about how Clayton looked at me as though he saw someone standing before him who I didn’t recognize as myself.  He hadn’t been seeing the good in me; he had been seeing
her.

“I’m not Jen, Clayton,” I said quietly.  “And saving me won’t bring her back.”

His brows drew together, and his grip on my hand tightened.  “I know that, Rose.”

“Do you?
”  I whispered.  “You said you have a thing for ‘damsels in distress’.  I don’t want to be just another woman who you’ve fixated on because you want to save her.  Helping me won’t change what happened to Jen.”

“No,” he agreed.  “But I can change what might happen to you if you stay on this path.  And you’re not just some woman I’ve become fixated on.  I haven’t felt this way about anyone in a long time.  Not since…”  He trailed off, catching his mistake.

“Not since Jen,” I finished for him hollowly.

Clayton made a low, frustrated sound.  “You’re looking at this all wrong, Rose.  Why won’t you just listen to what I’m saying?  I want to help
you
because I care about you.  You’re more than just an assignment to me.  I would think that would be obvious by now.”

“You’re not helping me!”  I burst out.  “You’re
hurting
me.  Maybe my life wasn’t perfect before you came along, and maybe I made shitty choices, but I managed just fine.  Now I’m an emotional wreck and every day is an uphill battle.  When you look at me…  All of my shortcomings, my fuck-ups, become painfully clear to me.  Being around you makes me feel like crap about myself all the time.  I just can’t take that anymore.”

And it was true.  I had reached my breaking point.  My life had been a struggle before, but Clayton had come along and made it impossibly more difficult.  I was constantly conflicted about my decision to be with him, fearing the loss of my independence and feeling guilty about my abandonment of my kid brother.  The high that I got from being with Clayton sexually just wasn’t worth it.  Especia
lly not now that I realized I was some sort of project to him, a hurdle he had to overcome to get one step further on his road to personal redemption.  He said he cared about me, but I knew that was just an illusion.  He saw
her
reflected in me, and she was the one he truly cared about.

“I want you to leave me alone, Clayton,” I said in a broken whisper.

He was silent for so long that I thought he might not say anything at all.  When he did finally speak, his voice was hoarse with emotion, his iron control gone.  “I’m sorry, Rose.  I didn’t know.  If that’s what I’m putting you through…”  He stood abruptly, and the loss of the warmth of his hand on mine made me want to cry out.  “I’ll transfer someone else to your case.  I’ll leave you alone.”  He bent to kiss my forehead sweetly, the touch of his lips feather-light and all too fleeting.  “Goodbye, Rose.”

Watching him walk away almost broke me.  I wanted to call him back, to throw myself at his feet and beg for forgiveness, to promise him that I would be anyone he wanted me to be if only he would stay.

I had given him my body, and I had failed miserably at keeping my heart.

Chapter 12

“I’m not trying to be a bitch, but you look like crap, girl.  What the hell did Clayton do to you?”

I tossed back my tequila shot, and I wasn’t sure if my grimace was from the burn of the alcohol or from her pointed question.  Just the sound of his name made my heart twist painfully in my chest.  “I really don’t want to talk about it, Penny.  And thanks for the confidence booster.  It’s always nice to hear that you look like crap.”

Penny gave me a no-nonsense look, refusing to allow my acerbic tone to affect her.  “Hey, I’m just tryi
ng to help.  And I’ve found a blunt approach is the best way to get through to you.”

“I don’t want anyone’s help, Penn,” I informed her irritably.  “I just want to be me.  I just want to have fun.”

She studied me for a long moment, clearly debating whether or not she should push the issue.  Finally, she sighed, deciding to be supportive rather than starting an inquisition.  And I loved her for that.  “Okay, then.  We’ll have fun.  But feel free to let me know where he lives and I’ll go give him a good kick in the balls for you.”

“Thanks,” I said tersely, my tone letting her know that any further mentions of Clayton would be unwelcome.

“This round’s on me,” she said brightly.  “And I’m getting us the good shit.”  Penny didn’t let me down.  The pomegranate martinis were heavenly.  They were also fifteen dollars a pop.  I would have to owe her one.

“I owe you one.”

“I’ll be sure to hold you to that.”

I shied away from the memory of my encounter with Gemma, of my stupid decision to take drugs from someone I barely knew.  What they would have done to me if Clayton hadn’t gotten there in time made me want to be sick.  It wouldn’t be the first time this week that I had gone running to the bathroom to heave up the contents of my stomach.  I forced down the bile that was rising in the back of my throat by taking several large gulps of my martini.

“Hey, slow down there,” Penny advised.  “I’m not buying you another one of those, so you had better take your time and enjoy it.”

I made a show of taking the tiniest of sips.  “Happy?”  I asked.

Penny put a hand on her hip and cocked that eyebrow at me.  “If you’re going to be snippy all night, then we aren’t going to have much fun,” she informed me.

She was right.  I needed to pull my shit together.  The week that had passed since Clayton had left me in that hospital room had been agonizingly long as the stress of constant fear ate away at me.  I hadn’t seen a single FB
I agent, but I knew someone was watching me from a distance.  Still, without Clayton constantly by my side to protect me, I had taken precautions.  I now kept a loaded gun stashed under my bed, just in case.

My traumatic experience at Decadence had made me reluctant to go out and seek my usual hedonistic releases.  But being cooped up in my tiny apartment with Greg was wearing on me, and tonight I just had to get out.  I wasn’t about to screw up the opportunity to lose myself in the buzz of alcohol and sex by acting pissy.

“Right,” I muttered to Penny.  “Sorry.”  I plastered on a glowing smile and clinked my glass against hers.  “To the hunt,” I toasted.  “I feel like being a lioness this evening.”

“I t
hought you preferred the term ‘Siren’,” Penny pointed out.

“Nope.
  ‘Lioness’ is definitely growing on me.  Let’s go find some unsuspecting prey.”

“S.L.A.P.,” Penny agreed. 
Sounds Like A Plan. 
“Pick a target.  First one to get a drink bought for her wins.”

“Since when is this a competition?”
  I asked.  “And what will I get for my prize?”