Until I Break (12 page)

It’s not that I’m ashamed of my work. It’s
more that I don’t want people to know about the scars I carry. I
don’t want them to ask questions and make the inevitable
connections and deductions. Most of them would be wrong anyway, but
there would probably be one or two that would get it right. And I
don’t want people that close to me, that close to the real me.
Everyone has the right to hide if they want to.

And I do.

A few minutes later, after her short speech,
Mom introduces me and I make my way to her. She hands me the
microphone. I look out into the crowd and smile.

“I, too, would like to thank you all for
coming out tonight in support of the foster initiative. I am living
proof of how the program and the wonderful people who participate
in it can change the fate of a child. Without the love and
direction of my parents, I don’t know where I’d be today. I tell
everyone that Andre and Deandra Johnson saved my life. And it’s
true. They did. As you look around the crowd tonight, know that the
children you see here will one day grow up to say the same things
about you. So on behalf of them, and from the bottom of my heart,
thank you.”

I smile again and hand the mic back to my
mother.

Short and sweet. And over!

When I turn to move off the stage, I nearly
trip when I see Alec standing at the periphery of the crowd. He’s
watching me, his eyes hooded and mysterious, penetrating as
always.

Hesitantly, I make my way to him. I stop just
short of where he is. He says nothing, but continues to watch me.
His forehead furrows into a frown just as Chris begins to speak.
Out of respect for her and a desire to avoid Alec’s probing gaze, I
turn to listen.

I feel Alec move in behind me. He’s close
enough that I can feel his warmth against my back, but he doesn’t
touch me.

I make an effort to focus on Chris’s tearful,
heartfelt testimony. It always makes my insides hurt to hear her
talk of her life before Mom and Dad took her in.

Chris’s biological mother died when she was
just a baby, leaving her in the care of her father. Over the years,
his anger and resentment over being left with a child and no wife
turned into violence. Luckily, his abuse was discovered quickly,
after only one incident.

The first night Chris spent with the
Johnsons, her arm was still in a cast. She hasn’t had a broken bone
since.

As Chris talks about her life now, she
mentions how she wouldn’t be where she is—the owner of a thriving
business—without the support of her foster parents. As she always
does, she mentions me in passing. She thanks me for working
alongside her every day, as her coworker, her support system, and
her best friend as well as her sister.

I smile, never taking my eyes off her as
others look my way. They see us both as the success stories we’re
representing—me as an accountant, her as an entrepreneur. It’s only
half true, of course. I’m no accountant. But since Chris has her
own business, fabricating a story about working for her just made
the most sense.

“You work with your sister?”

I turn to look at Alec. I swallow and do my
best not to stumble over the lie. It’s the only one I can tell
halfway convincingly.

“Yes, I do her books.”

“I’m sure
most
people find that both
believable and appropriate.”

My heart stutters. There’s no way he could
possibly know. Could he?

Most people don’t bat an eye when they hear
that I’m an accountant. Evidently it suits my personality to
perfection—bland and predictable. Alec Brand isn’t most people,
though. I fear he’s the one person on the planet who can see into
my soul.

“But you don’t?”

Alec doesn’t answer; he just stares at me
with those sharp jade eyes. I turn away from the perceptiveness in
them, hoping I didn’t wait too long, praying he didn’t see right
through me.

When Mom regains the microphone, she says a
few more words then introduces a woman from Social Services,
explaining that she’ll be available for questions at the end of the
night. Not long after, the crowd begins to disburse, people
gradually making their way back to the games and the lighthearted
fun of the night.

Reluctantly, I swivel back toward Alec. My
eyes meet his easily, as though I never turned away, never turned
my attention back to the stage. I can’t help but wonder if he
would’ve looked away at all had I not. I don’t know what he thinks
he sees or what he’s hoping to see when he looks at me so intently,
but I find it both unnerving and exciting.

Without a word, Alec reaches for my hand.
After a few seconds, he turns and leads me away. I don’t ask where
he’s taking me, I just follow.

He pulls me across the crowded pavement to
The Tunnel of Love. The line is short and moving quickly. In no
time, we are loaded into a small car, the last one in a string of
many, which carries us into a dimly lit passageway.

Our bodies are pressed together from shoulder
to knee within the confines of the open-air compartment. I’m
beginning to become uncomfortable with the protracted silence when
he finally leans in close to my ear and speaks.

“You’re hiding something,” he says. “And it
intrigues me.”

My heart is fluttering wildly. I want to
start making excuses, rationalizations and denials, but I don’t. I
hold my tongue.

“I think I’ve underestimated you,” he admits.
“I think you might be more ready than I first thought.”

Before I can stop myself, the question is
out. “Ready for what?”

“Ready for me.”

I feel like every nerve beneath every inch of
my skin is waiting at attention—waiting for him to move, waiting
for him to touch me.

“Would it make you feel better if I confessed
something to you?”

I glance over at him. Despite the low red
glow of the tunnel lights, his face is still the most handsome I’ve
ever seen. And his eyes… Dear God, his eyes!

I nod my answer.

“I think about doing things to you. Some of
them might scare you. But others…might not.” His lips are so close
to my ear, his breath moves my hair. He angles his body toward mine
and drops his hand onto my leg. “I don’t think it would scare you
if I told you that I’d like to kiss you again.” As he speaks, his
fingers are making circles on my bare thigh. “I doubt it would
scare you if I told you that I’d like to take you into the grass
right behind this ride, where you could still smell the popcorn and
hear the Merry-Go-Round, and peel these shorts off you.” His
fingertips are working their way up my leg, the circles getting
larger and larger. “I’d say it wouldn’t even scare you if I told
you I’d like to slide your panties down your beautiful legs then
stuff them into your mouth so no one could hear your moans.”

I’m breathless. The only two things I can
hear are his voice and the sound of my own blood rushing through my
veins. My whole world is focused on his words. And his hand, as it
rises ever higher on my thigh.

I feel the backs of his fingers graze the
edge of my shorts. “You’re not afraid, are you?”

I can’t answer. My mouth is too dry and some
unidentified emotion is lodged in my throat. But I can shake my
head. And I do. I shake my head in denial of my fear, even though
it’s a lie. He does scare me. More than he could ever imagine.

“Then it probably won’t scare you when I tell
you I want to kiss you right here.” His fingers fall to the inside
of my thigh, where my legs are pressed together. Reflexively, I
clamp them together harder. “But it might scare you when I tell you
that your resistance makes me want to…press the issue.” His fingers
slip beneath the hem of my shorts. I feel them trace the edge of my
panties, moving inexorably closer to my core. “It makes me want to
push your legs open until I hear you gasp. It makes me want to hold
your struggling body still while I put my tongue inside you.
Because I know what I’ll taste. I’ll taste desire. I’ll taste that
you
wanted
me to force you. Just a little. I’ll taste your
sweet body as it betrays you. I’ll taste it when it pours out onto
my lips. Mmmm,” he purrs into my ear. “Samantha?”

When he doesn’t continue, I whisper my
response. “Yes?”

“Your panties are wet.”

Slowly, he pulls his hand from beneath my
shorts and straightens in his seat. Within a few seconds of his
retreat, the ride slows and another Carnie appears in a pool of
light at the end of the tunnel. I look over at Alec. His face is a
stony mask.

When the ride stops, Alec helps me out of the
car and places his hand at the small of my back to guide me toward
the exit.

“Did you enjoy your ride folks?” the Carnie
asks when we reach him.

“Very much,” Alec answers.

I look at his face again. And again, I see
nothing.

CHAPTER TWENTY- Alec

The tangle of damp sheets twisted around my
legs wakes me. It takes me a few seconds to clear my head of the
remnants of the dream. It was so real, I find myself repeating over
and over and over
it was just a dream. It was just a dream. It
was just a dream.

But it felt so real. Too real. I felt myself
turning the corner from erotic pleasure to terror. And it felt just
like it did then.

It’s been a long time since I’ve dreamed like
this. And it’s not a welcome return. I’m not sure what it means,
but I’d be willing to bet it has everything to do with Samantha and
how I’m luring her in.

Or is it how she’s luring me in?

Either way, I’m going down a road I know to
avoid. I’ve come a long way and going back now is lunacy. And yet
here I am, passing all the familiar scenery, traveling the same
path again.

I thought I was past this. I thought I was
better than this. That I was
better
period.

But I guess some wounds never heal. Not
completely. Just like some ghosts never stop haunting.

It’s a good thing I’ll soon be leaving. This
place is bad for me right now.

And so is Samantha Jansen.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE- Samantha

“Til
when?”
Chris screeches.

“Next Saturday. Sunday at the latest.”

“Sweet mother of hell, that’s an effin’
week!”

“I know, I know. And, trust me, if I could
get out of it, I would. But this is part of the business, Chris.
You know that. And you know how much I hate it.”

She growls into the phone, but I know she’ll
come around. Although we’re not blood related, we’re sisters in all
the ways that count, including having each other’s back.

“Fine. But you’re gonna owe me so huge. Like
first-born huge.”

“Done!” I shout quickly.

“Yeah, like that’ll ever happen.”

I know Chris is just teasing, but it makes me
feel like she secretly feels as hopeless about my chances of a
normal life as I sometimes do.

“That’s encouraging.”

There is absolute silence for about ten
seconds. I picture Chris’s eyes wide and her mouth hanging open and
the words
Oh shit!
running through her head on a loop.

“That’s not…I didn’t mean…I wasn’t…”

“It’s all right. I’m just pickin’ on you,” I
say lightly, trying to hide just how much her words hurt.

“Sam, I—”

“Hey, before I forget, I’m gonna need some
awesome shoes that Laura Drake might wear to an evening function in
Portland. Any suggestions?”

Talking shop, which is Chris’s second
favorite thing in the world (sex being the first), is always a safe
and effective way to change the subject.

“I
do
actually have the perfect shoe
for you, but they go with the perfect dress. Package deal. Take ‘em
or leave ‘em.”

I hesitate. “Nothing too…colorful, I
hope.”

“Nothing Laura Drake can’t wear, if that’s
what you’re worried about.”

“Yeah, I guess it is.”

“Then don’t. You’ll look beautiful.”

“Oh, I don’t think I need to worry about that
either.”

“Would you stop doing that?” Chris snaps.

“Stop doing what?”

“Putting yourself down like that.”

“I wasn’t. I was just making a truthful
comment. Nothing more.”

“It’s not truthful at all. You
are
beautiful, whether you see it or not. Everyone else does. How else
would you have caught the eye of a hottie like Alec Brand?”

“I still wonder that very same thing.”

“Listen to what he’s
not
saying.
You’ll be able to hear what he thinks of you loud and clear. I did
and I’ve only seen you two together for a total of, what, ten
minutes?”

“And just what, pray tell, do you think you
‘heard’?”

“All the standard things, of course. You’re
hot, I wanna do you, yada yada yada. But I think the most
interesting and important thing I picked up was that he thinks
you’re different. I think he’s as surprised by you as you are by
him.”

Her words make me happy. Too happy. They feel
like validation because I, too, sometimes get that feeling. There’s
something about the way Alec watches me. It’s like he’s puzzling
over me, like he can’t quite figure me out. And I think, for a man
like Alec, that’s a good thing. Being too standard and too easy to
read would probably bore him. At least I hope so.

“I hope you’re right,” I say simply.

“Of course I’m right. When have you known me
to be wrong?” she retorts, throwing my words back at me.

“Oh God!” I say, rolling my eyes even though
she can’t see it. She giggles, which tells me she knows exactly
what I just did.

********

Arriving as Laura Drake is always easier than
departing as Laura Drake. Granted, I might take a little more care
with my identity than what is necessary, but keeping Samantha
Jansen and all her secrets out of the public eye is of utmost
importance to me. It’s with this in mind that I battle Sunday
airport traffic so I can fly in a day early. I hit the First Class
lounge as soon as I arrive in Portland.