Until my monthly call to the detective on the case up in Michigan told me they might have found one of the attackers, and that he’d had Vivian’s credit card in his possession.
“They know who she is?” I asked, appalled.
“Seems like they do,” he said.
“But how? I was on her purse. They didn’t take her cash or license…”
“My guess is the credit card fell out and was easy for him to get. I’m surprised he still had it, because Vivian told me she’d closed the account. Though I’m sure you knew that already.”
I hated that I didn’t, but I couldn’t contact Vivian, not if these assholes were keeping tabs on her—holding on to her credit cards.
Fuck.
Just…fuck my life.
I’d really thought I’d be able to talk to her, woo her, love her as she deserved by now. My free fist clenched and my throat tightened.
This was just how I’d felt when that asshole had threatened her as I lay bleeding on the ground.
But even so, Naese’s well-being and happiness were important… I knew I shouldn’t call Vivi, shouldn’t deepen the longing I had for her, but this was important. Or at least those were my excuses the next day for doing what I wanted to do pretty much all the time: call Vivi. Talk to Vivi. Connect with Vivi.
I had it bad. And I knew my feelings for her weren’t going to fade, despite the reality of our situation. So this opportunity felt like a gift. Anticipation raced up my spine as I dialed Vivian’s number, which I knew by heart. Not that I’d called her—ever—but that didn’t mean I didn’t want to.
It had been too long since I’d heard her voice, and I’d missed that sweet, sultry sound to the point of withdrawal. Our lack of connection might be my choice—and it was the right one—but I still very much hated having to cut Vivian out of my life.
Her future came first, though, even if she didn’t know it. And she didn’t, because I hadn’t told her. Didn’t plan to tell her… I was too much of a wuss to explain why I hadn’t followed up on the plans we’d made at dinner that last night we’d spent together. I, Lennon Cruz, the six-time NHL All-Star, was more afraid of…actually for a tall, slender nurse than any opponent on the ice.
Instead of the voicemail I’d expected, her soft voice came through the phone’s speaker and into my ear, head, and, of course, my heart.
“Hello, Lennon. I’m kind of shocked you’re calling me.”
“Vivi.” Her name came out as a breathless sigh that caused me to gnash my teeth. The thought bubbled up, soft and light and utterly sweet in my chest: I missed you, Vivi. God, how I missed you.
“I’m assuming you have a reason for calling,” Vivian said in the lengthening silence.
I had no one to blame but myself for the distance she’d put between us. Well, me and those guys who’d threatened terrible, horrible things…
I blinked away that memory, preferring our last interaction, where she’d hugged me and kissed my cheek before departing to catch her flight. I’d touched my fingertips to that strip of skin just above my beard for days afterward, floating in a miasma of drunken pleasure, even as the rest of me ached from the pain of letting her go. All that euphoria from the briefest of brushes of her lips.
Based on that reaction, I’d have a heart attack of pleasure if Vivian and I ever did more than touch casually. Might be worth it. After years of living like a monk, I was clearly starved for feminine attention.
“Lennon? Are you there?” Vivian asked. “Is everything okay? I should have asked—What’s wrong?”
The worry in her voice brought me back to the present. I cleared the emotion from my throat and refocused on the current situation. “Sorry. It’s great to hear your voice. It’s been too long.”
She let the silence spiral out, and somehow, I felt the accusation through the phone.
But seeing her in person, putting her in danger, simply wasn’t an option. Again, the memory of the assailant, his putrid breath on my cheek as his ugly words accosted my ear, wracked through me.
I’d been doing so well. I thought I was past the nightmares. I rose from my couch and spun in a circle, seeking something to tell me how to move forward with this conversation without spilling my guts or blubbering like an infant.
“So, ah…I found out you live in the same building as Hana Sato,” I blurted.
Better get straight to the point so I could get off the phone. But that thought, of making Vivi a chore, caused my chest to ache. Vivian was the farthest thing from a chore.
I want to hold you close so I can feel your heartbeat against my chest. I want to fall asleep with you in my bed. I want to wake up to your beautiful face. I want to love you fully and completely, as I’m meant to do.
As desperate as I was to say those things to Vivi, I couldn’t. The attacker’s words slithered through my mind like a moray eel—and felt just as sinister as those patient predators. The knife he pressed to my throat still pinned me in place.
