Chapter Thirteen
Amber has a friend. Jack tries to not let this bother him. He’s warned her about getting too close to anyone, and Amber assures him she won’t say anything incriminating to this woman, Eva, is her name. Jack knows Amber would never do anything to compromise their situation, and he trusts her more than he trusts himself.
She’s having coffee with that friend this morning, the third time this week. Though he trusts her, there’s a twinge of jealousy at the corner of his mind. What does she need from Eva that Jack can’t give her? He shoves away these petty emotions. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t bat an eye at Amber having a friend, even two or three. He can’t expect her to stay locked up this apartment with him all the time.
It’s been weeks since he’s left this building, since he returned to Larsen International and bumped into Detective Simon. Jack’s memorized every detail about this apartment, every nick in the hardwood floor, every rust stain on the wall, every blemish on the stainless steel appliances. Since he left Manhattan the first time, he’s been jumping from one prison to another. It’s beginning to weigh heavily on him, and affect his psyche. He’s increasingly having trouble keeping his anger under control. The bare television stand, and the hole in the bedroom wall are both testaments to that.
Like he does almost everyday, Jack lifts the mattress and studies the gram of cocaine Henry had given him. And like everyday, he considers snorting some, just a little, to help him forget some of the pain. Until now, he’s been able to resist temptation. But today his skin crawls with need. He’s dying to feel that delicious burn up his nasal cavity all the way to the back of his throat, and the exhilarating euphoria that comes after. He picks the packet up, weighing it in his hand. The clump of white powder neatly contained in plastic wrap brings him back to the old days, when he was Jack Larsen, billionaire playboy with the world at his feet, who’s only goal in life was to chase pleasure.
Jack hears the front door open, and his fingers instinctively curl around the drugs. His first thought is that it’s Amber returning home, but she only left fifteen minutes ago. Panic cools his blood, making his senses sharp and acute. Who would be walking into his front door if not Amber? Is it someone who wants to kill him?
Without making much sound, Jack stows the cocaine under the mattress and scrambles to his feet. He finds his pocket knife in the dresser, and holds it by his side, ready. He hears footsteps walk from the front door into the main living area, then stop.
Jack grips the handle of the knife, imagining the blade sinking into soft flesh. He’s almost looking forward to it. He needs the release. The adrenaline pumping through his veins and amping him up makes him think he needs to see the light go out of someone’s eyes, someone who would do him harm, someone who betrayed him. He bites down, a metallic taste on his tongue, his eyes trained on the door.
“Jack, you in, buddy?”
All at once, the pressure in Jack’s body releases. Adrenaline stops flowing, receding through his veins until it puddles into his stomach, leaving his muscles shaky and aching. Jack is aware he shouldn’t trust Henry, but perhaps he shouldn’t kill him either. He hides the knife in his pocket, and walks out of the bedroom.
“How did you get in?” Jack asks.
Henry dangles the keys he’s holding. “I own the building, remember?” Henry’s dressed in one of his tailored suits. His black leather loafers seem garishly expensive next to the scuffed hardwood floor. Henry cocks his head, studying Jack. “You been working out or something? Your face is all red. You’re sweating.”
Jack wipes his forehead, and realizes that he is sweating profusely. “Pushups,” he grunts.
Henry slips his hands in his pockets, nodding. “Must be a lot of work keeping up that muscle mass.” Henry chuckles to himself. Jack stays quiet, sitting in an armchair.
“What do you want?”
The blunt question temporarily wipes the smile off of Henry’s face, but he quickly regains himself. He rakes his hand through his hair, and takes a seat across from Jack.
“I’m checking up on you, man. I haven’t heard from you in a while.” Henry’s face is the picture of concern.
“I can’t exactly go out partying,” Jack says. “I’m in hiding, remember?”
Henry nods, his eyes narrowing. “Is the waitress still here?”
“Amber,” Jack corrects him harshly.
“Amber.” Henry says her name slowly. “What’s the deal with her? Aren’t you tired of her yet?”
Jack gives him a dark, warning look. “It’s not like that.”
“Then what’s it like?”
Jack shifts in his chair. He becomes aware of the knife in his pocket when it digs into his thigh. The anger is starting to creep in again, tiny tentacles hooking into his veins. Be careful, Henry.
Henry scoffs when Jack doesn’t answer. “Have you completely lost it? What do you know about this girl? What does she want?”
Shades of red flit in front of Jack’s eyes, covering Henry in a gruesome glow. “You don’t need to worry about that.”
Henry throws his hands up in frustration. “I’m worried about you. You’ve replaced your cocaine addiction with a pussy addiction.”
“I said, it’s not like that,” Jack says through his teeth.
“You’re blinded,” Henry points at him. “You can’t see her agenda.”
Jack feels the snap when it happens. It’s small, deep inside of his head, but it has shattering repercussions. During these outbursts, Jack feels like he’s left his body, and his movements are not his own. Henry’s eyes widen in terror. Jack realizes that he’s propelling towards his cousin, and the growl he hears is his own. There’s something in his hand, hard and compact. It’s the knife. The blade gleams as he presses it against Henry’s throat. He has his knee jacked against Henry’s chest, pining him to the couch. Jack holds him there for what feels like eternity, but in reality, is only a handful of seconds, before he realizes what’s happening and backs off.
Henry sits up, gasping. He brings his hand to his neck, and a droplet of blood appears on his fingertips. Henry looks at Jack, deeply offended.
“What the fuck, man?” Henry blurts out. His pupils harden into small black points, and he puffs his breath. “I help you out, give you a place to stay, and you try to fucking kill me?”
Jack paces back and forth, his shoulders hunched. The beast inside of him is still struggling for release. “Leave, Henry. Leave now.”
Henry stands, straightening his tie. A trickle of blood runs down his neck to his shirt collar. His gaze settles on Jack, and he smiles, sickeningly.
“You did it, didn’t you?” Henry says. He sucks in a breath, like he’s thoroughly enjoying this. “You killed your own father. You savage fuck.”
Jack gazes down at his feet, resisting the urge to strangle his cousin. “Leave.” He looks at Henry, his eyes dark with rage. “Now.”
Henry’s face goes white, and he gulps, before scrambling out of the door. Jack retreats to the bathroom. He turns on the faucet in the sink, and splashes water on his face. When he looks in the mirror, he sees a madman staring back at him, someone who would kill just to release the rage that twists tightly through his body. He grips the sides of the porcelain sink while the beast bucks and froths to get out. In the next instant, his reflection is distorted and shattered, his fist bloody and dotted with shards of glass.
*
Amber enjoys her coffee dates with Eva. Their conversations are light and shallow, and provide a reprieve from the powerful intensity that is Jack Larsen. But today, Amber is distracted. She gazes wistfully out of the window while Eva goes on about some reality star’s wedding. Amber’s mind is on Jack. She’s always known him to be a troubled soul, but his moods have gotten darker lately. Amber is sure that the stress of finding out his friends could have possibly betrayed him must be terrible, so she tries to be understanding.
“I will kill Joel. I will kill Henry. I can’t let them live if they betrayed me.”
Amber shudders every time she thinks of Jack saying that. Was he being serious? Could he really be capable of that?
He’s just angry, Amber tells herself. And understandably so.
But the look in Jack’s eyes says he’s nothing if not serious about his threats. And she’s seen what happens when he loses his temper, when the demons inside gain complete control. It makes Amber’s blood run cold to think she shares a bed with a man like that.
It also conjures up delicious excitement at the base of her spine. The man who brings her so much pleasure is capable of causing so much pain. She conjures the image of Jack’s intense stare, the way the veins bulge in his neck, his powerful chest puffing out, and her thighs clench together.
What the fuck is wrong with me? she thinks.
“Hello,” Eva says, waving her hand in the air. “Did you hear what I said?”
Amber makes an attempt at a smile. “Sorry, no.”
“The veil alone cost twenty grand. It had hundreds of real Swarovski crystals sewn into the lace.”
“Oh,” Amber says, pretending to be interested. Snap out of it, she tells herself. “I thought you said you didn’t follow current events.”
Eva looks away, blinking rapidly. “I’d hardly call trashy tabloids current events.”
Amber laughs. “I guess I wouldn’t either. You should pick up the New York Times one day.” Amber immediately regrets saying that. If Eva has no clue about Jack’s story, she should try to keep it that way, not suggest Eva read a newspaper.
Eva’s face tightens with concern, which makes Amber squirm uncomfortably. “You seem out of it today. Is everything all right?”
Amber quickly shakes her head, dismissing this. “Sorry, I’m just thinking about my book. I can’t seem to get the plot right.”
“Oh, okay.” Eva sips her drink, her eyes darting to the side. “Listen, I know we just met, but I want you to know that you can talk to me about anything.” She reaches for Amber’s hand and squeezes it. “Really.”
Amber forces herself to keep her hand in place, and not yank it away. She can’t let Eva get too close, or she’ll have to ditch their friendship.
“Thank you. That’s good to know. But I’m fine, really.”
Eva’s eyes don’t soften, and Amber knows she’s not going to drop this just yet. “How’s everything with Pete?” There’s an edge of suspicion to her voice.
“Good,” Amber says, then fills her mouth with latte.
“You don’t talk about him much.”
Amber fiddles with the cardboard holder around her cup. “There’s nothing much to say. He works a lot, and his schedule is crazy. I wish we could spend more time together.”
Eva looks down at her hands, which are folded in front of her on the table. “I saw the marks around your waist, the bruises. I wasn’t trying to look, but your shirt rode up a little when you were reaching for the energy bars-“
“That?” Amber says, swatting her hand. “That’s nothing.”
“What is it?”
Amber clears her throat. She feels her face turning bright red. She says the first thing that comes to her mind. “Pete and I are kind of into rough sex.” She clasps her hand to her face. “This is so embarrassing. So, the bruises, yeah, it’s consensual and everything.”
Eva covers her mouth with her hand. “Oh my God. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”
Amber laughs easily. Eva seems to have bought her story, which is actually quite close to the truth. “It’s okay. You didn’t know.”
“No, I’m so dumb.” Eva laughs with self-deprecation. “My intentions were good. Honest.”
“I don’t doubt that.”
Eva mumbles a few more apologies, and Amber waves them off, ready to move on to something else. But Eva’s expression grows serious, and tears rim her eyes.
“I’m sensitive to that kind of stuff,” Eva says. “I know what it’s like to be in an abusive relationship, so I’m always on the look out.” She dabs a napkin to her eyes.
Compassion swells in Amber’s chest. This innocent girl in front of her was once abused? Amber takes Eva’s hand.
“You were?” Amber asks.
Eva nods. “Yes. It went on longer than it should have. That part is my fault.”
“Hey.” Amber looks Eva directly in the eyes. “Nothing is your fault. You hold no blame.”
“I know. But it’s hard to believe that.”
Eva is usually pleasant and smiling, so to see her like this is devastating. It’s a sharp reminder that Amber’s not the only one with problems in this world. Amber leans in and speaks gently.
“Who was he?”
Eva purses her lips, and her eyes go to a far off place. Amber assumes Eva doesn’t want to talk about it until she begins to speak.
“It was one of my first jobs. I’d been having trouble getting modeling gigs, so I started browsing seedy websites for listings just to pay my bills. There was an ad looking for models to attend a party. Sometimes jobs are like that. People want to hire pretty women to stand around so guests can gawk at them. I never liked taking those gigs, but they were offering a lot of money, so I sent my pictures in.”
“When was this?”
“A few years ago.”
Amber crinkles her nose in confusion. “This was in Ohio?”
“No,” Eva says, her mouth absurdly round. “It was in Manhattan. Sometimes I’d fly out here for work before I lived here.”
Amber’s confusion is cleared up. She nods, signaling for Eva to go on.
“I got the job,” Eva says, sighing with regret. “So I showed up that night, wearing a short red dress just like they asked. It was at a hotel downtown. I was expecting it to be crowded with people, guests, caterers, and other models. But the place was empty. The hotel was kind of decrepit, and didn’t even seem to be in service. But I was sure I had the right address, so I went inside to see what I could find out. The front doors were completely unlocked.”
Eva takes a sharp breath. Amber touches her shoulder protectively. Eva sniffles as she continues.
“It was no party. It was just three men. They were all wearing suits, like, really nice suits. It was obvious they were very wealthy. They-“
Amber looks around, grateful for the nearly empty coffee shop. There’s one man in the corner with headphones on working on his computer. Amber’s not sure if she wants to hear the rest of the story, but if Eva had to experience it, it’s the least she can do.
“They raped me, all three of them.” Eva’s voice is unexpectedly clear. Her tears are dried up. “They put a mask on my face, tied me up, threatened me with a knife.”
“Fucking bastards,” Amber says, anger creeping into her brain. “How could anyone do that to another human being?”
“I just remember the one guy, he kept staring at me with these cold eyes. It was like he had no soul. I kept begging him for help, but he just stood there.”
“That’s horrible, Eva,” Amber says. Her chest hurts. She can’t imagine ever having to go through something like that. “But you said you had an abusive relationship?”
“Yes, I did. It didn’t end there.” She wipes her nose on the back of her hand. “The next day, one of the men tracked me down at the hotel I was staying at. He cornered me in the lobby and started apologizing profusely. He seemed so sincere. He said there was a misunderstanding, that I should’ve been sent a contract agreeing to being treated that way, that it was supposed to be all role-play. When he realized the contract hadn’t been sent, he felt horrible.”
Amber’s mouth falls in disgust. “Do you think he was telling the truth?”
Eva shrugs. “To this day, I still don’t know for sure. Anyway, he really seemed sorry. He looked like a normal guy, so at the time, I believed him. He offered to take me out to dinner to make up for it. Then he started buying me gifts, he even payed my rent for awhile, and it went from there. As crazy as it sounds, I thought I was falling in love. But he thought he owned me. He used me to do horrible things, and if I refused, he’d threaten to cut me off financially. I was already reliant on him by then.”
Amber is curious about these horrible things Eva speaks of, but decides it wouldn’t be tactful to press her so hard.
“You got out of it,” Amber says, encouragingly. “That’s a testament to how strong you are.”
Eva gives her a weary smile. “That’s nice of you to say. But sometimes I feel like he still controls me, even though I don’t see him anymore.”
Amber shakes her head. “No, you’re in control. Don’t forget that.”
*
It storms that night with a heavy, tumultuous rain that beats against the windows of the apartment in Queens, and an occasional crashing of thunder and piercing white light of lightning. Amber rests against Jack’s naked body on the bed. They’ve just had sex, another wild, aggressive affair. Jack’s cock is still semi-hard, and slicked wet with her juices. Amber looks down at the length of his legs, the thick muscles that wrap around his thighs. His torso is as sturdy and thick as a tree truck. This massive man could overtake Amber with barely any effort. She should be afraid that he’ll attack her during an outburst, but strangely, she’s not.
The parallels between Eva’s story and Amber’s current situation are not lost on Amber. Eva was raped, then fell in love with her perpetrator. Amber was kidnapped, then… yeah.
She feels Jack’s broad hand stroke her hair away from her face, and snaps out of her thoughts. Jack stares down at her tenderly.
“You’re quiet. Is everything okay?”
Amber nods, relaxing against his chest. “My friend Eva told me something really terrible today. I can’t get it out of my head.”
Jack sits up, propping himself on his elbow. “What is it?”
Amber sighs, rolling over on her back. “She was raped. But that’s not the most fucked up part. She had a relationship with her rapist after.”
Jack’s face twists in confusion. “Why would she do that?”
“He convinced her he didn’t mean to rape her. He charmed her with gifts, started paying for things. Maybe she has really low self-esteem. That can make someone vulnerable to abuse. I guess I can see how it’s possible, but I still don’t understand. How can anyone be with someone like that?”
“Attraction isn’t rational,” Jack says, mindlessly raking his fingernails down Amber’s back. “Sometimes it feels good, even when it’s bad for you.”
Amber shudders under his touch. “Yeah, I see what you mean.”
Jack closes his eyes, still lightly scratching her back. “I’m sorry that happened to your friend.” His lips are going slack. Sleep is taking over. Amber examines his devastatingly handsome face, the thick arms that make her feel so safe. He can’t be a murderer. He can’t be a monster. She can’t be like Eva. Amber’s suddenly seized with an urge to prove it.
“Jack,” she whispers lightly. “Are you sleeping?”
He raises his eyebrows, but his eyes remain closed. He’s straddling the edge of consciousness and sleep. Amber sits up, recognizing an opportunity. With his mental guards down, maybe he’ll be able to remember more about the night his father was killed.
Amber cradles his hand in her lap, his palm facing towards the ceiling. She lightly massages his fingers and knuckles, relaxing him, but also keeping him awake.
“Jack,” she says, keeping her voice low. “Jack, can you hear me?”
“Mmm…” His voice slips through the dark room, over the downbeat of rain. “Chinese takeout sounds good. Order us some.”
Amber suppresses a giggle and continues. “Club 64, Jack. Do you remember the last time you were there?”
Jack begins to snore softly. Amber presses her thumb into his palm. His eyes open briefly, but quickly close.
“Do you remember, Chloe, Jack? When you went to the bathroom with her?”
Jack’s lips spread into a smile. Amber ignores the tinge of jealousy in her belly.
“I remember the fish,” Jack says, his words slurred with sleep.
“Not a fish, Chloe, the waitress. You picked her up that night.”
“A little yellow goldfish swimming up her leg.”
“There’s no fish,” Amber says, agitation edging into her voice. She rubs down his wrist, massaging his forearm. “What happened when you left the club?”
“I had somewhere to go. Something to get.”
“What?”
“The keys to the family yacht. Father kept them in his office. I wanted to take Chloe on a boat ride the next day. She was going to let me fuck her in the ass, but only if I took her on the yacht.”
“That’s good, Jack.” Amber taps her fingertips lightly up his bicep, keeping him with her. “When you arrive at your father’s office, what do you see?”
Jack doesn’t answer. Amber doesn’t hear his breath anymore. She returns her fingers to his hand, probing his palm with her thumb. “What do you see, Jack?”
Jack’s expression is tense and strained. Suddenly, his fingers cover her hand, his steel grip holding her in a vice.
“Darkness,” Jack growls through his teeth. “Blood. It smells like death.”
Amber stays calm, despite the circulation being cut off at her wrist. “What do you see? Who’s there?”
Jack’s grip tightens even more. He bares his teeth with a snarl. His eyes are still closed. He’s not quite conscious, and there’s no telling what he can do. Fear pricks at Amber’s spine.
“Wake up, Jack. Wake up.”
Jack starts to sit up. His expression distorts in reaction to whatever he’s seeing behind his eyelids. Amber tries to pry his fingers off of her hand, but her efforts are futile. Jack slams her arm against the mattress and holds it there. He hoists himself up and lies on top of her.
“Jack,” Amber says, louder. She’d try to shake him, but he’s now holding both of her arms down. The look on his face is of blank rage. She calls his name a few more times, but nothing registers. Since she can’t wake him, she can try to gather more information. “Did you do it, Jack? Did you pull the trigger?”
Jack smiles sickeningly. He leans down until his mouth is inches from her ear.
“I listened to him gargle his own blood while I drank his most expensive scotch.”
Amber sucks in a breath. A sudden nausea roils in her stomach. She’s afraid she’s going to vomit.
“Wake up!” she screams, loud enough for the neighbors to hear. “Wake up, wake up, wake up!”
Amber feels the second he snaps out of it. He collapses on top of her, his heavy body finally relaxed. He lifts his head up.
“Amber?” He sounds like himself again. He rises to his knees, gazing down at her. “What’s going on?”
Amber swallows the lump in her throat. “I think you had a nightmare.” She’s already decided that the information Jack revealed isn’t credible. She can’t believe it, she won’t, but she also can’t forget the image of Jack patiently sipping scotch while the life drained from his father’s body.
Jack rubs the sleep from his eyes, then lies beside her, curling against her back in a spooning position. “Sorry, I woke you up.”
Amber is still in Jack arms. His thick forearm is hooked tightly around her ribcage, and his leg swung over her hips. He nuzzles the back of her neck, giving her goosebumps. She waits for her heart rate to slow down, for her brain to catch on to the fact that she’s not in danger, not anymore. The heat coming off of Jack’s body is fierce. Amber’s skin absorbs it, and she lets it carry her away to sleep.