Deception, page 15
He sighed, set the glass of water on the nightstand and left the room.
Grace tried calling him back, but it only caused a new fit of coughs. She looked over at the glass of water longingly. Would her throat ever recover?
She closed her eyes and rested her head back on the pillows.
He was moving around in her apartment again. Was he looking for something? What? Most of the place was packed up. He was complaining to himself and it sounded like…tossing things around.
“Damn it, Grace!”
What now?
Charles was standing at the bedroom door, her cellphone in one hand, and a hammer in the other. “We need to do something about this,” he said, holding them both up.
“What?” she gasped. Her heart thumped harder.
“He keeps calling, Grace. I can’t have him calling my girl.”
Her heart stuttered in its frantic pattering. Hope dashed her fear.
Blaze was still trying to get a hold of her.
Charles bounded to her nightstand and set the phone down. He held the hammer high.
“Charles, no! If you break my phone, he’ll still call. But it’ll go straight to voicemail. Don’t you think he’d find another way to get a hold of me? Do you want him to come here?” Her voice cracked as she tried to get his attention.
As soon as she said it, she wished she hadn’t.
That was exactly what Grace wanted to happen, for Blaze to come to rescue her.
“You’re right,” he said, and picked up the phone.
“What’s your passcode?”
“Charles, please,” she begged.
“What’s the fucking passcode?” his voice full of venom.
“I don’t have one,” she whispered in defeat.
Her costar touched the screen to light it up before sticking the device right in front of her face.
The phone clicked as it unlocked.
Grace watched as he flipped through her phone, finding the messages icon.
Moments later he spoke slowly as he typed out the words. “Leave...me...alone...I...don’t...want...you...anymore.”
He set the phone on the nightstand, raised the hammer, and brought it back down with tremendous force, shattering not only the phone, but her hopes of any chance of escape.
Chapter 22
Blaze looked at his phone on the table in front of him and sighed. He picked it up and lit up the screen, looking for the hundredth time to see if he’d missed a call or a text. He cursed under his breath and tossed it back on the table, the sound of it reverberating through the otherwise silent room.
He’d been trying to get a hold of Grace for over three hours.
There’d been no replies from her.
He got up and paced the length of his living room, the sun setting in the huge bay windows beside him.
Blaze stopped and studied the breathtaking colors painting the sky. He couldn’t enjoy the beauty, like he normally when it was on display.
Like an idiot, in front of hundreds of people on set, and possibly millions of fans watching TV and on the Internet, he’d confessed his love.
What the fuck was I thinking?
A thousand different scenarios went through his head as he waited for her to call back. Blaze reminded himself Grace had a lot to overcome with her fear of loving someone and he dropped the biggest bomb on her. He loved her.
I wasn’t thinking. She said she wouldn’t miss it for the world. I was too excited. I had to share.
He’d left multiple voice messages, and a dozen texts.
Blaze could call her again, but she might let it go to voicemail.
Again.
“Damn it! I’m a fucking bad boy, not some pansy ass bitch! I shouldn’t be getting so paranoid over this!” His voice bounced off the walls in his living room, coming back at him. He took a breath and plopped down on his soft leather couch.
What did I do?
If she wouldn’t answer him, maybe she’d talked to Hope? Girls always looped their best friends into what was going on in their heads. Right?
He snatched his phone up and sent a text message to Nick.
I gotta question for you, call me.
He waited twenty minutes with no reply. His buddy was usually prompt at replying. Blaze tried again.
Bro, can you ask Hope if she’s heard from Grace?
After an hour he felt like it was ridiculous texting again like a worried parent again, but something didn’t feel right.
I can’t get a hold of her and I’m freaking out. I shouldn’t have confessed on TV.
Finally, after over two hours of pacing, sitting, pacing, his phone dinged a reply. He almost knocked his phone to the floor in the rush to grab it off the table.
It was from Nick, not Grace.
Hope says get your panties out of a wad. Grace is probably asleep. Try again in the morning. Shutting my phone off now.
Not the answer he was seeking, but maybe they were right.
Grace was an hour ahead, and she could be recovering from the night they’d had before she left. She hadn’t slept at all that night.
Hell, he hadn’t.
Holding her in his arms after her big reveal had been an eye opener for him.
Blaze tried not to think about all the hearts he’d broken; more than he could count, because he, too, had been broken once.
Not by a lover, but by a parent who’d abandoned him at a young age. He, too, swore to never love.
Sex had been all he’d needed in his life. He’d watched some of his bandmates fall in love, get married, and have kids, convinced—at the time—that he’d never want that.
Until he met Grace.
I can see myself with her. It’s more than just sex. There’s a connection.
He chuckled and headed to the kitchen. “That sounds like the lyric to a song. Maybe I should write them, and sing them.”
Blaze grabbed a beer and headed back into the living room. He ripped on the TV to scroll channels; he tried not to look at the cellphone sitting face up on the table.
He failed.
Blaze stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist. He was so glad to be back in his own home, but his place seemed…off.
He’d taken his phone to bed with him, setting it on the pillow beside him. He’d hoped Grace would send him a message, and he didn’t care what time it arrived. There’d been nothing. Again.
Why isn't she answering my calls? Is she really that afraid to love or be loved?
He’d stopped calling. Kept texting to ask her if everything was okay.
Blaze went to the sink and wiped a hand across the mirror, exposing his reflection through the collected mist. He ran his hands over his face, feeling the beginnings of hair, as he hadn’t trimmed in two days. He sighed. Needed to get moving with the morning routine.
He’d lost hope regarding hearing from Grace, so he almost dropped his coffee cup when he saw a message notification. His heart tripped and he accessed it.
He read the message twice before he sat on the edge of his bed. He stared at his phone, the text still on his screen.
Leave me alone. I don’t want you anymore.
His brain—and his heart—struggled to process it. He hated confrontation, but this time he was all for it. No matter how stupid it might’ve been to declare his love on national TV, he wasn’t about to accept her text. She’d have to reject him to his face.
Blaze dialed Grace’s number again, receiving only her voicemail. “I got your text. What the hell was that about? I get it, you’re scared to love. And that’s okay. You don’t have to love me back if you’re not ready. I’m all right with that. I’m sorry about the show, but… I couldn’t hold it in. Damn it, Grace. You at least owe me an explanation! Sending a weak ass text like that is a copout, don’t you think? Kinda shitty considering… Just… call me, please.”
He paced the whole house as he waited for her to call. She owed him that, dammit.
After getting some things done around the house to distract himself—starting a load of laundry and putting the clean dishes away—he called Grace again.
“What the fuck… Why am I putting myself out there like this… shit…” Blaze disconnected the call, wishing he could go back and delete it.
After two hours, he couldn’t take it anymore.
“Hey, Nick, I know you’re about to take Hope to the airport, but I need some help.” He might not share blood with Nick, but the guy was his brother, and had never let him down. He was also much better with women than Blaze.
“What’s up, bro?”
“I’ve been patient waiting for Grace to call me back. I quit calling her but I sent her another text. I got a reply while I was in the shower. ‘Leave me alone. I don’t want you anymore’.”
“Seriously?”
“I don’t get it, I thought she’d be happy I told everyone—the whole freaking world—I was in love with her. Don’t chicks normally dig that?”
Nick laughed. “Yeah, sure, but Grace is different from anyone you’ve ever dated. If you’re really concerned, I’ll see what Hope thinks. Call you back in a few.”
It seems like the longest fifteen minutes of his life. Finally, his phone rang.
He almost dropped it in his rush to answer the call.
“Hope was already boarded when you called. But I could talk to her. She said it doesn’t sound like Grace. She said if Grace has a problem with you, she’d tell you to your face, or at least over the phone. Hope’s certain she wouldn’t send a text like that.”
Blaze sighed. “Not that I’d ever call Hope a liar, but this came from Grace’s number. So unless someone’s there with her, she sent it.” He was trying to hold back his hurt and confusion. Or was it anger?
Had she fooled him? Grace had seemed so genuine when they were together. She’d gotten under his skin almost immediately, and sex had never been so good for him. But it was more than the physical. He fucking loved her.
“Hope said she would try and call Grace. See if she can find out what’s going on. She’ll call me back as soon as she lands.”
“I tried calling after I got the message. It went straight to voicemail. Did Hope say she had a landline?” His frustration was building but it tried to keep it from his voice.
“She didn’t. But if you can’t wait the three hours for her to land in Pasco, there is someone who’d know how to get a hold of her."
“Yeah, her boss. I don’t know why I didn’t think of him first," Blaze said.
“Good idea, but not who I was thinking.” Nick’s voice sounded off, like something might be wrong. Had he hesitated?
“Who?” He tried not to make it sound like a demand.
“My brother. They spent five months together. Not together-together, but you know what I mean.”
Now he heard frustration. What the hell could that mean?
They both knew of Charles’s devotion to Grace and Blaze didn’t want to bring it up—or the odd feeling mentioning his buddy’s little brother caused in his gut.
Charles wouldn’t? Would he?
“I think you’re right, Blaze. I’ll pick you up and go to the theater with you. They can at least tell us if they’ve heard from her.”
The smell of fresh paint assaulted Blaze when he and Nick entered the theater being renovated. Unlike the previous time they’d there, this time people met them.
He assumed they were part of the restoration crew; not a single one looked like they were in a position to give the answers they needed.
“We’re here to see,” Nick shot him a glance. “What’s his name?”
“I think one was John or Jason. Yeah, Jason. I think the other guy was... Richard?” Blaze asked, looking at one of the crew.
“Richard’s the guy that owns this place,” the shortest one spoke up. “But he ain’t here. Ain’t nobody named Jason here, neither.”
Blaze stood a little bit taller. He didn’t like the way this guy was talking to them. He ignored the little man looked at the tallest guy. “Do you know when Richard will be back? Or how I can get in contact with him? It’s urgent.”
“He won’t be back in until tomorrow. He gets here around ten, and is out before one. Check back tomorrow.”
“Can’t you call him, or get a number for me,” Blaze asked, trying to keep his anger in check.
“Unless it’s for official business, it ain’t your business. And you don’t look official.”
His face flushed with heat, his hands tightening into fists.
“Thanks you for your help.” Nick grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the door. “Come on, let’s get out here. I’ll call my brother in the car.”
Blaze fought a weakness in his knees and tried to ignore how his gut churned.
Could something really be wrong?
Maybe Grace wasn’t mad at him? Could Hope be right, and the message from her phone wasn’t from her?
What the hell is happening?
“Dude, would you stop that?” Nick barked.
They were back in Nick’s Beemer, and Blaze thrummed his fingers across his knees. “Sorry, I’m just…I dunno, nervous I guess.” He couldn’t voice his fear that something had happened to Grace.
“I’ve never seen you get so worked up over a girl.”
“She’s just not any girl. She’s great. She’s the girl, and I’m not gonna let her go without a fight.”
Nick held up a finger up to silence him. He had his cell to his ear, but Blaze could still hear the voicemail kick in.
This is Chuck. Leave a message at the beep.
His buddy hung up and dialed again.
Three times it rang, and went to voicemail.
“Hold on, let me try someone else.” Nick scrolled through his contact list
Again, Blaze was close enough to hear. Angel answered the phone after just two rings.
“Hey, sis, sorry to bug you, but I’m trying to get a hold of Charles.”
“Did you try his cell?” she asked.
“Yes. No answer. That’s why I’m calling you.”
“Well, I don’t know what to tell you, I haven’t seen Charles since Tuesday night.”
“Charles, what have you done?” Blaze heard his friend whisper.
Chapter 23
To say Grace was humiliated didn’t even come close to the horrifying way she felt.
Charles had been kind enough to keep the blanket tucked up against her because he refused to untie her so she could get dressed, and she refused to let him dress her.
He sat on the edge of the bed facing her; spoon feeding her chicken noodle soup. He hadn’t chosen it because she was feeling sick, although she was, but not the way that would require chicken noodle soup.
There was little choice of food in her kitchen. She hadn’t been home in months so there was no need to have a stocked fridge and pantry. She’d had take-out since coming back.
Grace had fought him when he’d first tried to feed her, she didn’t want to rely on him for anything. She only capitulated because she needed her strength if she had any hope of fighting him off if the time came.
He was being sweet, so there were remnants of her old friend. He was in control of the situation, and still kept her bound.
They weren’t friends anymore.
He was…crazy.
Throughout the day she’d begged him to release her, to no avail. Most of the time he acted as if he hadn’t restrained her.
Charles babbled away as if this was all a picnic, although she wasn’t listening to a word.
She was obsessing on about the text he’d sent Blaze.
Grace imagined all the scenarios that result from message, of course focusing on the worst ones. She hadn’t wanted a relationship before she’d met Blaze, but she had fallen in love with him.
Oh my God… I swore I wouldn’t, but damn it. I can’t deny it either!
Instead of being sad, it made her angry. Rage boiled her blood. She couldn’t let it go. Blaze and Charles both swirled on a loop of chaos in her head. She stayed centered on the injustice of her situation.
Why didn’t Blaze know something was wrong?
She was angry with him not coming for her. Rationality tried to get her to refocus on Charles’s entrapment. The hours went on and she was still trapped in a place she used to consider home, Grace just felt more desperate, more hopeless.
Grace would have to save herself.
Charles scooped up another spoonful and brought it to her face, but she closed her mouth and looked away from him.
She could feel the tears of frustration burning and she didn’t want him to see her cry.
“Come on, Gracie, you need another bite.” He tapped the spoon against her lips.
She snapped around, spilling the soup and glaring. “What you want Charles? Why the hell are you tormenting me?” Tears spilled and she cursed. She hadn’t wanted to cry in front of him.
She wanted to be strong and brave.
Sobs racked her frame, and Grace rolled away best she could, trying to bury her face into her pillow.
Charles set the bowl on the nightstand and moved toward her. He gently grabbed her shoulders and pulled her against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her.
“Get off me,” she growled. “If you’ve ever cared about me you’d get out of here, and leave me alone.”
He pulled away as if she’d slapped him, dropping her back to the pillow.
Grace kept her face averted. She couldn’t look at him and the crazy sadness in his brown eyes.
Charles sighed, and cupped her cheek, tugging so she’d look at him. “That’s why I’m here Gracie, because I love you. I’m here to take care of you, forever.”
Grace couldn’t stop crying, and that pissed her off.
He did not understand what love was, or what it meant to care about someone.
This was not love.
It was a weird, twisted fascination with the idea of love.
She closed her eyes and sucked in air. Tried to stop the tears, but more slid down her cheeks.
The mattress shifted. The heat of his body coming closer told Grace Charles had leaned forward.
