Chapter 3
Nala’s existence was based in a dark, conspicuous cloud that loomed over her head for the next week. Her life was silence. Wake up. Work. Change hotels. Dinner. Sex. Sleep.
Nothing stood out. Everything refused to leave her alone. The haze Nala found herself in was unlike anything she ever experienced before – worse than the fog of grief she had swam in twice in her short life. Grief made sense. Everyone experienced grief. There were even stages to track one’s progress through grief. Were there stages to figure out when Nala was done being so fucking angry?
She was used to the kind of anger that manifested itself in fits, tears, and finally, stone-cold acceptance as one fell asleep in the hopes of waking up refreshed. This wasn’t normal anger. This was poison brewing in her body. She was in so much shock from the photo – which she kept hidden in a backpack Vincent bought her to keep her clothes in – that her mind both rejected it and chewed it over, tasting every bitter, rotten morsel as if it were the only sustenance she was allowed.
It was a dangerous way to live. One day she woke up and it was Thursday, and she had no idea how she had arrived there from Monday. The only thing that could have spared her from this ill fate was Vincent, but he was in his own toxic world, and they enabled one another until the only words they exchanged had to do with hotel locations and what to order for dinner.
I’m fucked up. He’s fucked up. This manifested every night when Vincent emerged from his shower and took Nala wherever she waited – for by the second night, she recognized the pattern and appropriately prepared herself. Sometimes she sat on the couch, watching nothing on TV, and the next thing she knew she was beneath Vincent’s body, succumbing to the frenzy of intense, sudden sex. Other times she flopped on the bed the moment she heard his shower turn off. Once, she sat at a table – until she was rather plastered against the table.
Like most sensations, these rough rounds of sex were a blur to Nala. Yet they were a single ounce of escape. Whenever Vincent wandered into the bathroom to take his shower, Nala became more alive than she had been in days. Take me away from here. Make me forget. Unfortunately, the only words they said to each other during the act were grunts, moans, and the occasional wail if something was exceptionally memorable.
By the third day Nala’s body warned her that she couldn’t keep doing this. Not the rough stuff. She was sore, but her brain in such a haze that she barely registered the discomfort. It wasn’t until the fifth night, when Vincent finally noted the way she shuffled around the hotel room as if she had been sitting split-legged for a week. I have, dumbass. Sitting on your cock. That night he found other ways to take her and give her the escapist pleasure she deserved.
It was funny. Until that week, Nala was still counting the amount of times they had sex. I only needed two hands to do it. By the end of that week, however, she no longer had any idea how many times Vincent was inside her, let alone until completion. Sometimes she stood at work, trying to count when she should be counting tank tops and torn jeans instead. Has it been ten times now? Or thirteen? Did the head I give him last night count? Of course it counts, duh. Okay, I’m still confused… It was better than constantly wondering if an assassin was going to burst through the door and take her out, leaving her to die in a pile of donated jerseys.
In all her wondering, she didn’t stop to think of something crucial until Friday night, when she and Vincent stayed in a mid-tier hotel on the outskirts of downtown.
He had emerged from his shower naked, as usual, dragging Nala across the bed and using his mouth to leave a mark on her neck. Within minutes he was between her legs, fucking her with the rawest power he could muster while she groaned in the ecstasy she was desperate to embrace.
She didn’t think of this crucial thing until he came within her, as he usually did, with his hands holding her hips down and his animalistic growls echoing in her ears. Nala came down from her own orgasm feeling less like a sex-starved demon and more like a forest animal in heat.
Oh, no.
Vincent rolled off her and stared at the ceiling, chest gradually stilling from heavy breaths. His hand searched for Nala’s until their fingers lightly clasped together. Nala turned her head away and stared at the dark window overlooking the river.
“We forgot my pills.”
Vincent’s eyes bored into the back of her head. “What?”
“My birth control pills. They’re still at your apartment. I haven’t taken one in almost a week now.”
“I’ll send someone to get them tomorrow.” Not the first time Vincent had an assistant go into his loft and pick up a few things.
“Dumbass. All it takes is one missed pill, and we’ve been fucking like dirty rabbits all week.”
“So then what?”
“So I could be pregnant.”
Vincent sat up on his arms. “Could be pregnant?”
“I’m just saying. We’re both young and healthy… and you come in me a lot.”
“You only thought to tell me about this now?”
“Excuse me for being in a shitty fog all week. I didn’t think about it until now. Other things have been on my mind.”
“Fuck.”
“Don’t worry about it. I only wanted you to know. I need my pills. Or something.”
“Or something?”
“Look, man, you’re shooting a loaded weapon at me and I no longer have my bullet-proof vest on.”
“Mother fucker.”
“I’m sort of trying not to be a mother right now. Let alone a fuckin’ one.”
Vincent slapped one hand on his face and groaned. First time in a while Nala didn’t hear a pleasurable one. “I will get you your pills, and I’ll get some damned condoms.”
“Honestly, after tonight, I want a break. I love fucking you and all, but after this past week I feel like a very used fleshlight down there. Your pounding game has been too strong and I’m starting to feel it.”
She expected Vincent to be testy with her, but instead she heard the first lighthearted joke from him in a very, very long time. “I always knew I had it in me.”
“You’re a dick. I hope you know that.”
His arm wrapped her, followed by his strong, not-so-clean-anymore body folding around hers in the most protective embrace he had shown her all week. “We’ve got enough to worry about right now, darling.” Shivers went through Nala like water through a river. “Let’s focus on what we can control right now. We need to figure out what to do next.”
Yes, next. Nala looked in the direction of her backpack, wondering if she would ever have the courage to face – let alone talk about – that photo Maggie happened to hand to her.
***
When Vincent finally had some time off that weekend, they formed a plan. This came shortly after hearing word that Robin was not only up and walking, but slated to go home in another week. The police came to Vincent’s office no fewer than three times, asking questions, subtly threatening to take him in, and finally leaving him alone as – even though Robin was left to die in his home – every path toward Vincent being the primary suspect turned into a dead end.
They could not implicate Xavier Crow or even Hawk, whose real identity was as vague as Robin’s had been before she was admitted to a hospital. Not only would he create his own dead ends, but it would put a bigger mark on Vincent and Nala’s backs. There were no more threats or attacks as of yet, but Vincent didn’t know that Robin was merely a warning. As long as they kept their heads down and stayed in line, Xavier would not try to touch them. Yet.
Their plan was terrible, but it was all they could come up with: Vincent was going to hire the best lawyer he could find, even better than the one he usually had on retainer. This lawyer would hear their side of the story, dole out his professional advice, and well… they would go from there.
Nala laughed to hear it.
“That lawyer is going to tell you what you already know,” she said, draped across his body on a couch. His hand stiffened around her leg. “The only way to take Crow down is to either wipe him out with our bare hands or have so much irrefutable evidence that doesn’t even make it into the hands of police. No way. We need to get evidence, make copies, and send it to the press… that preferably aren’t owned by him. Does he own any media?”
“I think he has some stakes in a few newspapers. Not sure.” Vincent rubbed his chin. “What kind of evidence would we even get? Come on, Nala. We’ve already tried robbing his office, and nobody will tell us a damn thing. All we’ve got is that letter about a previous couple. That’s not enough. It’s conjecture.”
“I know. That’s why we’re going to get a confession out of him.”
“Excuse me?”
“The only evidence that would ever be strong enough is if he’s caught on camera committing a crime – which he would never be – or if we get him on tape confessing. I’ll do it, Vincent. I’ll get to him about Tasha.”
“You’re talking crazy. Don’t.”
“It’s the only chance we have.”
“If we do go that route out of total desperation…”
“We will.”
“…Then it will have to be the most carefully planned thing in the universe.”
“I’m not saying let’s go bust down his door this weekend, but you know I’m right, Vincent.”
He pulled her into his arms, lips nibbling her cheek and the bottom of her ear. “You’re dangerous when you’re right.” When his hand went to his breast, she shrugged him off. “Sorry.”
“I’m not ready for that again yet.” Nala disengaged from him and sat up on her side of the couch.
“Have I hurt you?”
“No.” The soreness was gone. I needed a break. Not a trip to the ER while some camera crew bursts in and asks how sex sent me there. “It’s not only that. There are other things.”
“Like what?”
Like sure I like it rough, sir, but not every damn time. “Maybe a girl wants some tenderness once in a while.”
“To be fair, this past week has been a doozy for the both of us.”
He didn’t say.
They curled up in bed later that night, Vincent stroking her temple until she finally fell asleep against his chest. Okay, good. Now give me some tenderness in the other kind of bed. Nala remembered the way he made love to her the night she cried in his car.
The fog slowly lifted. The haze dispersed. Soon, all Nala was left with was a healthy dosing of fear, regret, and a huge pile of secrets she was keeping from Vincent. They would have to be released soon.