Wicked Angel Read online

  “That surprises me,” Jerico murmurs. “You two were the talk of the club. Your chemistry was off the charts. I’d even observed you two together a few times. You had something special there.”

  His words hit me hard. I don’t need him to tell me there was something special there. I fucking felt it.

  I refuse to acknowledge it, though. “Not really. She was just a good fuck.”

  Pain pinches at the center of my chest—a sure sign of the guilt I feel for even saying that. She was so much more than a good fuck, which is exactly why I had to cut her loose. She was making me feel way too much, and I am just not ready for that.

  The bartender brings our drinks. As I reach for mine, Jerico firmly states, “That’s your last one of the evening. You know we have a two-drink maximum.”

  “Already drunk,” I mutter, but then I raise my glass and offer, “Thanks, though.”

  “If you don’t mind me saying so,” Jerico starts as he leans an elbow on the bar, “you seem like a man who has a lot weighing on him.”

  I give him a sharp look, hating his perceptiveness, but I quickly look away again lest I acknowledge just how right he is.

  He’s not deterred. “Not trying to pry into your business. I’m just saying… I know the look of someone who comes in here to lose themselves in pussy or cock or whatever floats your boat. Yet, nothing is interesting you tonight. So why even bother?”

  I look around The Silo. It’s the usual kink. A threesome going in one room, a woman getting flogged in another. Two guys sixty-nining in yet another room.

  My attention returns to Jerico, and I can’t even be mad at his nosiness. On the contrary, the alcohol seems to have completely killed my desire for misery and privacy. “Today is Father’s Day, and I’m trying to forget my five-year-old daughter is dead. I’ve tried several places to forget about her, and I figured somewhere like this was my best chance. It seems to be working.”

  Jerico’s expression softens. “I’m deeply sorry, Benjamin. I didn’t know.”

  I shrug. “Few do. It’s not like I talk about it.”

  This morning, I had briefly wondered if I should visit Cassidy’s grave. I had thought I should spend Father’s Day with her, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I didn’t want to set precedence for this holiday. Who knows… maybe this will be my precedence? Losing myself in a sex club and alcohol to avoid the pain.

  “Did it work?” Jerico takes a sip of his drink, his gaze heavy on me. “Does the stuff in here get your daughter off your mind?”

  “A little bit,” I admit. I pick up my drink, then take a healthy slug of the bourbon Jerico bought me. It doesn’t even burn going down anymore.

  “Is that why you started coming here? To shut yourself off from everything that happened?”

  My laugh is mirthless and flat. “Actually, just the opposite. I’ve done such a good job refusing to think about them while shutting myself off from any reminders that I became numb to everything.”

  Jerico jerks in surprise. “Them?”

  “My wife died, too. Drunk driver hit our car.”

  “Jesus Christ,” Jerico mutters, then takes a large gulp of his own drink. I’m aware of how pathetic it sounds.

  But the alcohol and Jerico’s persistent questions have loosened my tongue. “I spent months burying them… the memory of them at least. It was too painful to even think about. But I got so good at it I wasn’t feeling anything. I thought coming here would at least let me feel physical pleasure. At least that was something.”

  An expression takes over Jerico’s face, like a lightbulb going off. “Then you met Elena Costieri, and it was all over. No more burying the pain.”

  I don’t like the importance he is placing on Elena. It only adds to my guilt over what I did. I’m in denial when I say, “It wasn’t like that at first.”

  “But it did turn into something,” Jerico says sagely. His words ring with empathetic truth. I can’t even be annoyed he’s trying to play psychologist with me.

  “She opened me up,” I admit grudgingly. “She left me vulnerable.”

  Jerico nods, as if he’s heard the sad tale before. But in truth, it’s not that hard to connect the dots about my story. “Let me guess… Father’s Day came along, Elena had opened you up, and the pain hit you extra hard?”

  “You don’t know the half of it,” I mutter, swallowing down the rest of my drink and pushing the empty glass toward the edge of the bar. The bartender doesn’t even spare me a glance; he knows I’m cut off. “I was sitting at the hospital on Thursday, and I just happened to overhear a conversation about Father’s Day. I didn’t even know it was coming up. I normally ignore that shit. And yeah… it dredges up all the stuff I had worked so hard to bury.”

  “And?” Jerico just stares.

  “And what?”

  “How does Elena play into all of this?” he asks simply.

  I frown. “Well, it’s her fault, isn’t it? She’s someone I can’t stay closed off from. I should have known better than to ever get involved with someone like her. But that’s done now.”

  “Just dumped her, huh?” The condemnation in Jerico’s tone is clear, meaning he has some affection for her.

  “Something like that,” I mutter guiltily.

  Jerico straightens, slaps a hand on the bar, and pins me with a hard look. “That was a dick move, Benjamin. I don’t care what your emotional trauma was.”

  “Yeah, I know. But it’s for the best. It was never going to go the distance anyway.”

  “Guess you’ll never know,” Jerico drawls, and there is something ominous about the way that sounds. As if my last little bit of hope has just slithered away. Even if I hadn’t realized I’d had a kernel of hope left until that very moment.

  “I guess not,” I murmur pensively.

  “Can I ask you a question?” Jerico inquires politely.

  “Shoot,” I reply slowly, my tongue so thick it’s almost hard to get the word out.

  “The pain you felt on Thursday… in the hospital when you overheard the conversation about Father’s Day? I assume it hit you pretty hard to have just broken things off with Elena.”

  “It’s the worst I’ve felt in a long time.”

  “Tell me honestly… do you feel that bad right this moment? I mean, despite the fact you’re drunk as a skunk and alcohol is a downer, but comparing the pain… how does it feel?”

  “It’s not as intense,” I admit. “I’ve had a few days to process. What’s your point?”

  Jerico leans into me, locking his eyes on mine. “My point is that between Thursday and now, you seem to be handling it. You’re coping. Drinking, but coping. Grief is necessary, but the pain always gets better. You’ve made it through the worst, Benjamin. And that has nothing to do with you cutting Elena out of your life.”

  I just blink at him, trying to process what he’s saying through my inebriation.

  It’s as if he can see I’m not following, so he simplifies it for my drunk, simpleton mind. “Don’t let something good slip away just because there’s risk.”

  I stare, knowing in a world of common sense and rational thinking that he’s right. Any sane and sober person would think so.

  Jerico doesn’t expect an answer from me. He pats me on the shoulder, gives me a nod, and walks away.

  I let my eyes drift over to the glassed-in room where the threesome is still fucking. I take in the beauty and sensuality of the act. Man on his back, woman riding him, and another man behind her plowing her ass.

  Mercifully, I’m not thinking about Cassidy, April, or Elena anymore… and that’s something at least.

  CHAPTER 16

  Elena

  I really do have better things to do with myself on a Monday. The salon is closed, and it’s usually my day to catch up on bookwork, inventory, and any personal errands. That I am instead at Benjamin’s medical practice is most likely a total waste of my day.

  I simply can’t help it, though. I’m really concerned about him—als
o very pissed—but I’m more worried than anything. Now that I know about his horrible history… his wife and daughter dead… I can’t help but be fretful for his welfare.

  After talking to Walsh and Jorie, there was no stopping my need for more details. I had to Google the news story of Benjamin’s accident. It seems as if they were driving one evening when a drunk driver who had two prior DWIs crossed the centerline and hit them head-on. His wife, April, had been killed upon impact. Their five-year-old daughter Cassidy had a major brain injury—the irony of which cannot be lost on anyone given what Benjamin does for a living—and was taken off life support a mere twenty-four hours later.

  The news articles did not give much detail about how serious Benjamin’s injuries were, but I suspect it was much worse than what happened to his leg.

  I don’t know the exact why of it, but it’s obvious the accident and their deaths have everything to do with why he cut me off without a word. And because I know deep down in my gut—really, my heart—that we had a solid connection, I just can’t let this go. I must find out why he did this when he had, and I have to make sure he’s going to be okay. In the brief time we’ve known each other, I have come to care about him. It doesn’t matter that our relationship revolves only around sexual gratification, the level of intimacy we have shared and knowing what I now know about his history has unfortunately caused my heart to become involved.

  There is no doubt what I’m doing would be considered stalkerish. I showed up at his place of work this morning, then walked confidently up to the reception desk. His offices are on the fourth floor of a large glass medical building right beside the hospital. The interior is posh with expensive furniture and high-end art. It’s no secret neurosurgeons are at the top of the pay scale when it comes to the medical profession. And yet, nothing about the fact he is wealthy appeals to me.

  Unfortunately for my quest, the receptionist shut me down cold.

  “Yes, I would like to see Dr. Hewitt,” I told her with confidence.

  “Do you have an appointment?” she asked with a friendly smile.

  I shook my head. “No. But I’m a friend of his.”

  The friendly smile slid off her face. There is no doubt their protocol required people to have an appointment to get precious minutes with the neurosurgeons here. “I’m sorry, but if you don’t have an appointment, you cannot see him.”

  I’d expected as much. While she did promise to leave him a message, I seriously doubted it would make it into his hands. I also suspected he would ignore it, but it’s important I catch him face to face to get a serious answer to my questions.

  I didn’t give up, though. I merely walked through the lobby and out the door, where I have been loitering in the hallway for going on almost two hours now. It is my hope I will catch Benjamin coming out on a break.

  Leaning against the wall with one foot propped against it, I surf my phone and bide my time. Periodically, I push away from the wall and pace up and down the hallway. At one point, I risk a bathroom break, rushing back to my post so I don’t miss Benjamin.

  My phone dings, and I look down to see a text from Jorie. What are you doing today?

  For a moment, I consider being evasive with her. But since she and Walsh are extremely concerned about me and my relationship with Benjamin, I opt for the full truth. Stalking Benjamin at his office.

  She texts back an emoji with wide, disbelieving eyes.

  I type back to explain further. I just want to make sure he’s okay since he’s not returning my calls or texts.

  With Jorie, I know I can always count on her for the hard truth. For honest advice. She’s the one to tell me when I’m being stupid or ridiculous. I sort of expect that from her, so I’m surprised when she merely replies, Good luck. Call me after you talk to him.

  That makes me feel immensely better about my decision to come here. I have been second-guessing myself somewhat that maybe some people are just better off left alone. Unfortunately, I am a naturally empathetic person and my sleepless nights will continue until I can assure myself Benjamin will be okay.

  “Elena?” It’s a man’s voice—clearly not Benjamin’s—and I snap my head to the left to see his partner, Brandon Aimes, walking toward me. He’s wearing a set of blue scrubs, carrying a few Manila medical files under his arm. I’m surprised he remembers my name. “What are you doing here?”

  His tone is friendly enough, but his expression is wary. I wonder if Benjamin has said anything about standing me up last week.

  Lifting my chin, I tell it straight. “Benjamin and I had a date on Friday, and he stood me up. He’s not been returning my calls or texts, and I am very worried about him. I just want to make sure he’s okay.”

  “He’s actually not here,” Brandon replies as he comes to a stop before me.

  I cock an eyebrow. “The receptionist made it seem like he was. She asked me if I had an appointment.”

  “That’s what they’re trained to say. They’re also trained to never divulge where the doctors are. She would’ve tried to get you in to see another one of our doctors.”

  I suppose that makes sense.

  Brandon looks up and down the hall before turning back to me. He seems troubled about whether to say anything, but he eventually sighs and admits, “Look… he left work on Friday around lunchtime, skipping out on a surgery he had scheduled. I was able to cover it for him, but it was completely unlike him to do something like that. Today, he called out again, but he assured me he would be back tomorrow.”

  I don’t know what to make of that. It hits me with a harsh clarity I simply don’t know Benjamin well enough to know whether his behavior is unusual or worrisome.

  “Well,” I drawl hesitantly. “I really just wanted to make sure he was okay. Since you’ve heard from him, I guess I’ve been assured of that. Thanks.”

  I am feeling extremely dissatisfied with what I’ve learned, but I don’t feel like I have any choice but to walk away. My goal was to make sure Benjamin was physically okay. Brandon has heard from him, and it appears Benjamin is. I give him a smile and pivot on my foot, heading toward the bank of elevators.

  I don’t make it three steps before he calls after me, “Elena… wait a minute.”

  I spin to face him.

  “I’m not sure he’s okay,” Brandon admits, and I take a few steps toward him. “He’s probably going to kill me for this, and I have no clue of knowing if you’re legit or a crazy stalker woman, but I’ll take my chances.”

  Brandon pulls a prescription pad out of his front pocket along with a pen. He’s scribbles something down, tears it off, and hands it to me.

  After I take it, I look down. Benjamin’s address.

  I blink in surprise, feeling immediate relief I can go see him.

  “I am not a crazy stalker,” I assure him. “I promise. I just… I think we had a connection and he got scared or something. I just need to make sure he’s okay. See if there’s anything there.”

  Brandon appraises me a moment before nodding. “I saw it.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The connection. Brief as it was, he let me see it the night he introduced you to us at the gala, I could tell there was something there. It made me happy.”

  I drop my gaze to the floor, and shuffle from foot to foot before looking back up to Benjamin’s medical partner. “I just found out what happened. The accident. And how his wife and daughter died. I didn’t know it at the gala. Well… I can’t help but think it has everything to do with why he stood me up on Friday. I just can’t figure out why now.”

  “He’s prickly about it,” Brandon says neutrally.

  “Prickly?”

  Brandon gives a short chuckle. “Okay, he’s an asshole actually. After the accident, he became a different man. He cut everyone out of his life who ever meant something to him. Me, his parents, his brother. He rarely talks to us. All he does is work and sleep. That’s about all there is to his life. That’s why I was glad to see him bring you to the g
ala. It gave me hope.”

  I’m shaken to the core by this information. It means Benjamin is pretty far gone from being a normal human being. It makes me doubt the connection I thought I felt. “We just fuck.”

  Brandon’s face turns red at my coarse words, his eyebrows shooting up. “Pardon?”

  “I met him at The Wicked Horse. It’s just sex. There’s nothing more than that to what we have.”

  Brandon frowns. “The Wicked Horse? What’s that?”

  I tell him exactly what it is. A sex club where people can indulge in their darkest desires. Brandon’s face turns even redder. Now, doubt is written all over his face about me. I can see he’s regretting handing Benjamin’s address over.

  I feel the need to explain. “I think he went there to feel something. And the connection you saw between us… I feel like I need to be truthful about it just being sexual in nature. But… it was a connection. I’ve never felt it before. You said you saw it, and I know it was real. We had something, but I don’t know what it was.”

  The internal conflict within Brandon is apparent on his expression. It’s clear he must’ve believed we had some sort of emotional bond, and I’ve just disabused him by clarifying it was sexual only. I think it might put me back in the category of a potential crazy stalker.

  Which is why his next words surprise me greatly. “He wasn’t always a dick. Before the accident, he was a good man. Happy, funny, caring, inclusive. He loved his patients. Had an incredibly close relationship with his parents and his brother. He was my best friend. There isn’t anything he wouldn’t tell me. I would love to see him get back there. And whether all you had between you was sex, maybe you are the person to get him there.”

  Shaking my head, I take a step backward. “Oh, I don’t think so. It’s not about that. I just wanted to make sure he’s okay.”

  “Go see him,” he instructs. “Make sure he’s okay. And if something comes of it… great. If not, well, at least you’ll know.”

  It hurts my heart to hear her how morose Brandon’s tone is, which tells me he really doesn’t garner much hope that I’m truly the one to bring Benjamin back. He’s grasping at straws.