Luys finally found his voice. “What are you doing here?”
The woman smiled, a wicked gleam in her silver-blue eyes. “You are here for Avery, yes?”
His hands tightened into fists. At the site of Mayor standing inside Avery’s home as if she belonged there, Luys fought back his rage
“What have you done to her?”
“Calm down,” Mayor murmured in a throaty whisper. “We don’t want her getting alarmed for any reason.” Her voice rose as she glanced over her shoulder. “Are you well enough for company?”
God’s teeth. What was going on?
Mayor opened the door wider to reveal Avery sitting on the sofa in the living room.
He brushed by Mayor and strode into the condo. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, much better. Thank you.” With her legs curled up beneath her, she stared back at him with curious blue eyes and with a glass of iced water in one hand. He knew he was acting intense, probably looking paranoid. He hoped he wasn’t visibly shaking, but he was having difficulty recovering from not only coming face to face with Mayor but having his sister in the same room with Avery.
Avery could not know the danger Mayor embodied.
He sat down in a chair adjacent to Avery and searched her face. Color had returned to her cheeks, along with a sheen to her long auburn hair.
“You do look better,” he whispered, conscious of Mayor standing behind Avery and the sofa, though he didn’t look up to acknowledge her. “I’m glad.”
“Yes, well, thank you again for everything you did the other day and, of course, continuing to check on me.”
In the beginning, he hadn’t wanted to help, had hated the idea of getting to know her for fear of precisely this. Somehow Mayor knew what he thought of Avery. How he didn’t have a clue. It was almost like she could dig into his brain from some remote location and read his deepest fears and aspirations. “I’m glad I was there to help.”
Feeling impotent, Luys sat stiffly with both hands gripping the arms of his chair as Mayor drew closer to Avery and placed a hand against the top of her chair and inches from her head. He recognized her subtle move. If he lashed out at Mayor now, reacted in the wrong way, Mayor would retaliate, and Avery...he hated to think what could happen.
Mayor could be savage and unforgiving. In her sick mind, she could always justify her horrendous acts.
~~*~~
Avery glanced at the iced water in her hand, growing decidedly uncomfortable with the intensity of Luys’ gaze. Before their lives intersected the day he found her trying to get to the hospital, she was guilty of judging him incapable of deep emotion. Cold would be what she would have described him. The blank looks turned her way as they crossed on the sidewalk, the lack of a cordial greeting in the parking lot or by the condo’s mailboxes. They were neighbors, for goodness’ sake. A ‘hi’ would have been nice, polite, the thing to do.
She suspected he worked a steady job; he left and returned from his condo about the same time she did. But that was all she really knew about him.
Avery forced herself to meet the potency of his gaze. She pulled the glass closer to her chest, disconcerted at the strength of the attraction that roiled through her. She shouldn’t care what he thought of her or if he found her attractive, and it was probably best not to dwell on such crazy speculations.
Right now, she looked a mess. Black workout leggings and a turquoise t-shirt, her hair scraped back into a ponytail, and no makeup. She felt vulnerable because of it, never having expected company today. First Mayor and now Luys.
Earlier in the morning, she’d tried a shower but had settled on a sponge bath. She’d been too tired to do anything else. The doctor had been right. She hadn’t had the energy or ability to get herself to work the next day. She’d called in for the week. Surely that would be enough time to return to what she now considered normal.
She hadn’t bothered seeing her primary care physician on Tuesday for a follow-up appointment, as Dr. Clark suggested. She’d wait another week when her stitches were probably ready to be removed. That way, she’d only have to pay the one office visit.
While in the bathroom today, she’d avoided the mirror again, but she hadn’t been able to stop herself from looking down at her wound. The skin around the stitches didn’t look near as angry, and she found them not as bad as she’d first envisioned. Still, she cringed. It was the idea of someone touching and violating her she found unsettling more than the incision itself.
Luys leaned forward in his chair, dropping an elbow on one knee. “Is there anything I can do to help? I can—”
“She is fine,” Mayor murmured.
He glanced over at the woman, his face expressionless, but an emotion Avery couldn’t decipher radiated from him.
Avery frowned as she took a sip of iced water and let an ice cube dissolve in her mouth. The moment Luys had stepped into the room, tension had thickened the air, but she had no clue why. “Do you know each other?”
“No.”
“No.”
She then realized they were lying. Hostility. Yes, that was the only word she could describe the feeling between them. How did they know each other? Lovers? A bad break-up months before? She inwardly sighed. It wasn’t her business, now was it?
She knew little about Mayor. They both frequented the coffee shop down the road and, over time, had started talking while waiting in line. After a couple of months, Mayor had invited her to a gathering at her home. She refused Avery’s polite demurs until Avery finally gave in. She’d actually enjoyed the evening, meeting an eclectic group—a couple of artists, CEOs, a retail clerk, and an engineer thrown into the mix. So far, the other woman hadn’t talked much about herself, but Avery considered Mayor, a distinct accent to her voice, sophisticated and well-traveled.
Mayor squeezed her shoulder and moved toward the front door. “I will go. I’ll check on you another time, though, yes?”
“That’s nice of you.” She glanced up met the other woman’s gaze. “But I’m sure you’re busy.”
“No. Not at all.” A smile broke across Mayor’s face. “No doubt, you will feel far better and be full of vigor by tomorrow. Mark my words.” She clapped her hands and laughed before she pivoted and stepped from the room, the door clicking softly closed behind her seconds later.
A silence—definitely an awkward one—filled the distance between her and Luys. Avery thought about asking how he knew the other woman but decided now wasn’t the time. Plus, again, she had to tell herself their relationship or lack of wasn’t her concern. She didn’t know him well enough to start an interrogation. And she had an idea he would probably lie about how he knew Mayor. He’d already lied about it minutes before.
Luys rose, pushing abruptly off his chair’s armrests with both hands. “I forgot my phone. I’ll be right back. I’m expecting an important call.”
Before Avery could respond, he disappeared out of the door too. She cocked her head to one side. She didn’t hear his door opening and closing. How strange.
Frowning, she closed her eyes and listened. Voices. A man’s and a woman’s. Yes. Mayor and Luys talking. No arguing. Frowning harder, she concentrated on their words. Then, suddenly, other noises interfered. The refrigerator’s motor growled from the kitchen. The air conditioner clicked on, the hum drumming loudly into her head. The leaves from the trees outside rustled as a monsoon approached from the west. Her eyes snapped open. Before she had time to wonder why she could hear everything so clearly, a knock vibrated on the door, and Luys stepped back inside, waving his phone in one hand before slipping it into his back pocket.
“Have you eaten today?” he asked.
These last couple of days, he’d dropped by without asking questions. Instead, he’d supplied her with food, drinks, and magazines, staying long enough to ensure she wouldn’t land on her face from the kitchen to the sofa or bed. She’d started to hope for his company, which she wasn’t about to admit to him. Not yet anyway.
“Ahh, a little.”
He arched a brow.
She wrinkled her nose and uncurled her legs from beneath her. “Some crackers earlier today, but I haven’t had much energy to go out or cook something for myself. I know I should have something a bit more substantial...”
“You should have told me earlier today when I called to check on you. I would have gotten some takeout. Do you have a lot of groceries?” He stepped into the kitchen, where Avery could easily see him across the counter because of the open floor plan. He opened her refrigerator. “Oh.”
She made a face. “I’m not much of a cook.”
“Yes, I can see that. I’m glad I didn’t listen to you and brought over some to-go meals from a nearby restaurant the last couple of days.” Humor lightened his voice. “Orange juice and eggs. Not sure I can whip anything up with that. I guess I could fix you an omelet with egg as your only ingredient.”
He stepped back into the living room and sank into the cushion beside her. His brown gaze filled with obvious concern as he searched her face. “How about I run to the store and get something to make you a meal? You must be getting tired of the restaurant food I have been bringing you.”
“Oh, no. There’s no need for that. I’m really not that hungry.” Her stomach protested with a loud grumble. Great. Her body was exposing her for the liar that she was. She wasn’t used to people taking care of her. Usually, it was the other way around. And she really shouldn’t let him get too close. It wouldn’t be smart. Or the right thing to do.
“See? You’re hungry.” He leaned closer and lifted a hand as if he was about to touch her hair or face, but he dropped it back down and abruptly straightened. “No arguments. I want to help by making dinner. You can thank me later.”
“I... okay.” She was getting decidedly uncomfortable at his nearness.
His too-close body made her realize how long she’d been alone with a man, never mind having one in her bed.
“I make a great pasta dish. Does shrimp work for you?”
“That would be lovely.” Her chest expanded from the warmth in his eyes and voice. She liked the feeling of being cared for, but it terrified her at the same time. But wouldn’t it be amazing if she found love or even a fleeting infatuation? The familiarity of a lover, of bodies bound in the heat of passion, the deep resonance of someone else being a witness to your life...
Impossible. Stupid. Crazy. She’d watched and read too many romances over the years and ruined her teens and early twenties by believing in some grand love, of a passion that eclipsed everything else. They’d been fantasies she’d lost herself in to keep her going, to keep her from failing, from giving up on herself.
She was a fool to think beyond the fantasy. Even if romantic love was real, she didn’t dare let a man’s kindness over cooking dinner for her overshadow the reality of her life.
Some sick psycho out there had carved her up for some crazy reason. Next time they might decide to kill her.
He rose. “I’ll be back. Don’t open the door to—” He shook his head.
“Yes?”
“Nothing. Just be careful. I’m sure you are.”
She frowned at the closed door once he had left. Was this the same man who pointedly ignored her at every opportunity after she’d moved in? Some things didn’t make sense. Unless… he was being nice now so she wouldn’t suspect he was the one that cut her open.
At the idea, she cringed. That would make him a psychopath. But another part of her quickly discounted the thought. She knew he’d lived in the complex as long as she had, which was over a year. Why wait all this time and then decide to target her? It didn’t make sense.
Not about to have him see her again with a bed head and ratty clothing, Avery pushed off her chair, locked the door behind him, and decided she needed a shower. Not that anything between them would happen. Not now, not with the ruin of her chest. She hadn’t wanted to take a really good look at her naked body in the mirror since the hospital; she hadn’t wanted to cry again.
Mindful that she needed to hurry before Luys returned, she grabbed some fresh clothing from the bedroom, stripped, and clicked on the shower. She winced as the shower door creaked open. The noise of water hitting the stall’s floor sounded exceedingly loud. Maybe the hit on her head was making her sensitive to sounds.
Lathering her hair, she closed her eyes and let the water wash over her. Once she had the shampoo rinsed from her eyes, she grabbed a bottle of shower gel. Soaping up, she looked down and paused, her hand squeezing around a bright pink sponge she grabbed from the shower’s shelf. Her chest… The red welts between the stitches had disappeared. She quickly rinsed off and grabbed a towel.
Turning off the shower with a snap, she then stepped toward the full-length mirror and turned on the other light above the counter. Leaning closer, she stared at the flesh between her breasts.
“Impossible,” she breathed, turning from side to side.
She patted the area, shivering as the air from the conditioner brushed across her naked skin. With a trembling hand, she rummaged in a drawer to pull out a pair of manicure scissors.
After clipping the first stitch, she pulled it free. The scar looked like the injury had occurred months, even years earlier. Carefully, afraid she might be hallucinating but unable to stop herself, she snipped at the rest of the black, ugly stitches and eased them from her flesh, cringing as several black rope-like spider webs clung to her skin.
Once done, she ran a hand across the skin below her collarbone and between her breasts. She’d had an appointment next week to remove her stitches but going back to a doctor’s office seemed pointless.
This was crazy.
It looked like she’d had an operation years before, not days ago.
She grabbed the counter and closed her eyes. Sounds swirled and rolled around her. A car door slamming. Yelling from somewhere in another condo, the words clearly distinguishable filtered through the walls. “I’m tired of this bullshit!”
She pressed her hands against her ears.
The noises wouldn’t go away.
She took in the sound of a fly or bee buzzing, the wings batting rapidly in the air. Then a cough. The hum of the highway. All merging and building inside her head.
She squeezed her palms harder against her ears.
She was going crazy. The noise. She was drowning in it!
“Stop!”
She mentally forced the sounds away.
Sudden silence hit her from all sides, almost as deafening as the noise had been.
She gasped in surprise.
Someone knocked on her door. Luys’ muffled voice came through from the outside. “Are you okay?”
Shit.
She grabbed a towel and dried herself. “I’ll be right there!”
She pulled on another pair of workout leggings and a shirt, brushed her hair, and added a bit of foundation and mascara. She didn’t pull her hair back into a ponytail but let it fall past her shoulder to air dry.
With a hand on the bathroom doorknob, she took one more look in the mirror. She didn’t look any different. From all appearances, she looked normal. The same blue, too large eyes, auburn hair, high cheekbones, and pointed chin. But no normal person healed this fast. No normal person could hear things like she’d been able to since that night.
Something beyond strange happened to her the night of her attack.
Something inexplicable.
The idea terrified her.