Chased by a Stranger (Craved Series #3) Page 7

  The first two messages were booty calls from Emmett. In each one, he sounded drunk and horny, but I was delighted to discover that I was repulsed by the sound of his voice.

  I didn't even listen to them more than once. Instead, I deleted them in quick succession which I took to be indicative of some sort of progress, albeit nothing to celebrate.

  The next message was from my Mom, who encouraged me to call as soon as I got home in her default anxious tone.

  I sort of hoped there might've been a job offer in the mix, too, or a message from my old company begging me to come back, but it was not to be. Of course, since I hadn't sent my resume to anyone before I left, I could hardly wallow in disappointment over that.

  I was dying to put my feet up and veg out for the rest of the day, but I figured I’d be able to relax better if I knew my Mom wasn’t worried so I picked up my phone, hit 2, and waited.

  "Hi Mom. It's me."

  “Hi honey.” She sounded more drained than usual, but maybe that was only cause I hadn't spoken to her in over a week.

  “I'm just calling to let you know I got home safely.”

  “How was the trip? Did you have a good time?”

  “I did,” I said, sorting through my junk mail. “It’s a beautiful country.”

  “I’ve heard good things.”

  “We ate some incredible seafood and had sunshine every single day.”

  “I’m glad you had a chance to relax,” she said. “I know how welcome it must have been.”

  I could hear the words she didn't say, that she desperately needed a holiday, too, but my Mom knew better than to lust after things she couldn't have.

  If only she'd passed that trait on to me.

  I glanced down at my bandaged foot and pursed my lips, deciding I would spare her the details. Besides, if I even mentioned my snorkeling accident, she would probably freak out and demand a play by play- or worse- insist on discussing all of the terrible things that could've happened but didn't for the next forty five minutes.

  Plus, I wasn't sure I'd be able to tell her about my injury without mentioning Jack, and he was something I was even less willing to discuss than tropical diseases.

  In fact, I'd spent most of the plane ride home- along with our three hour layover in Houston- wishing I'd just opened the fucking door to see what he had to say. And it took all the energy I had not to admit my regret to Megan. So the last thing I needed was to let something slip when I was talking to my Mom.

  What I needed was to change the subject.

  "You would've enjoyed it," I said.

  She laughed. "Maybe. I did enjoy the last time I relaxed."

  "When was that?"

  "The fifth of July in 1992."

  I didn't even want to know. "So how have you and Dad been?" I asked. "Any exciting news?"

  "We went to counseling a few times together."

  "And? How did it go?"

  "Well, I can only speak for myself."

  Oh here we go.

  "But I was finding it really helpful."

  "Uh-huh."

  "And I thought your Dad was actually making some good progress."

  "Good."

  "Until he decided to have a few beers at the Carpenter's barbeque-"

  I swallowed.

  "And a few more.”

  “Right.”

  “And I reminded him that he wasn't supposed to drink with all the medication he's been on, but you know what a good listener he is- especially when he's drinking-"

  I closed my eyes for a second.

  "And then eventually, after who knows how much alcohol, he threw up all over himself in his wheelchair in front of all the neighbors.”

  “Mom!” I put a hand on my head and clenched my hair in my fist. “Why did you even let him drink?! Didn't the doctor say he could die?!”

  “Audrey, I didn’t let him do anything.”

  I shook my head.

  “I can’t babysit him every second if I want us to have a chance. He already treats me like I’m some kind of wicked witch.”

  “I know. I know. I’m so sorry, Mom.”

  “I’m not. He obviously doesn’t care whether or not I respect him anymore, but maybe embarrassing himself in front of his friends will have some sort of effect on him.”

  “And has it?”

  “I don’t know, honey." She sighed into the receiver. "But if he’s determined to kill himself there’s nothing I can do about it.”

  “But-”

  “What would you suggest I do?”

  “I don’t know.” I paced the narrow hallway. “Can we send him somewhere to get professional help? Send him to rehab? It’s obviously too much for you and Uncle Louis.”

  “Your uncle left,” she said. “He wanted to spend time with the family he has that appreciates his help and I don’t blame him.”

  “We’ll figure something out,” I said. “Just keep taking him to counseling in the meantime-”

  “I intend to," she said. "And I'm staying open to any suggestions people have for me. I'm just not getting my hopes up that things are going to get better. To be honest, I'd settle for them not getting any worse at this point."

  I nodded. "I understand."

  "I'm sorry, honey. I promised myself I wouldn't offload on you like this as soon as you got home."

  "It's okay."

  "No, it's not."

  "Don't worry about it, Mom. I'm the one that asked."

  "Still. You probably just walked in the door."

  "It's fine," I said. "Call me if you need anything."

  "I will, hun, but don't worry about us," she said. "Worry about getting a job."

  I let my head fall back for a second. She sure knew how to lift my spirits. “Does Dad want to talk to me before I hang up or-”

  “I'm sure he would, but he’s in the garage putzing around with tools or something and I wouldn’t disturb him for all the money in the world.”

  “Alright. Well, please let him know I’m home and that he can call me if he wants to.”

  “Will do.”

  I felt two inches shorter when I hung up the phone. On the plus side, I'd learned a valuable lesson over the last two weeks which was that my family was in no way hindered by my absence. If anything, I could probably get away with taking more breaks for myself.

  I carried my small suitcase to my room and headed to the bathroom to change the dressing on my coral wound. I was only half way through my course of cheap antibiotics but the jagged edges around the gash were already turning a light pink.

  The middle, on the other hand, was still an angry red and had started to ooze puss like crazy, but at least it was an improvement over the last few days. Plus, the change in environment would likely accelerate the healing process.

  As I cut some fresh pieces of gauze, I couldn't help but wish that Jack was there to bandage it professionally for me. As much as I felt qualified to talk trash about his poor treatment of women, I couldn't fault his bedside manner or his ability to make me feel better.

  And there it was again, the ache in my chest I'd had since I refused to let him explain, the nagging feeling that I should’ve given him a chance.

  I mean, maybe there was a good reason for his absence. It didn't make sense that he would blow me off the way he had, especially after all the romantic things he'd said and done.

  I didn’t want to believe that he’d only treated me well so that he could butter me up and strip me down. Surely there was more to it than that.

  There had to be.

  Because no matter how many times I told myself it was his loss, I still couldn’t shake the feeling that it was mine, too.

  Chapter 15: Jack

  It was like she never existed.

  Or at least, I couldn't find her online with the little information I had: her first name, her profession, the city she lived in.

  And that really pissed me off because that should have been enough in this day and age. What’s more, it wasn’t fair. It didn’t a
ccurately reflect how well I knew her.

  I knew her happy place was Provence and how her cheeks blushed when she came. I knew that her feet were ticklish and that she had a small constellation of freckles on her inner thigh that looked like the little dipper.

  But the internet wasn't giving up the information I needed. It was happy to give me the phone numbers for over eight hundred Audrey's in the Seattle area, but that wasn't much good to me considering I was looking for one in particular.

  I thought about hiring a private detective. I figured if I waited until business hours on the West Coast, I could have one on the case before nightfall. But I was in a hurry.

  The more time that passed before I had a chance to explain everything, the greater the chances were that she’d fill her head with reasons we weren't right for each other. And even if that was the case, I wanted us to find that out organically, not because her creative mind had no choice but to jump to conclusions.

  And finally it hit me. Matteo.

  I didn't know his last name either, but at least he was closer to home. At first I thought it was a long shot. The only thing I knew about him was that he'd spent more than one night with Megan and that he was Italian.

  Fortunately, he was easy enough to track down.

  Or rather, he was easy for Jin to track down once I asked for his help.

  I was in my fifth hotel on the main strip asking around for a guy I didn't know when he called me back.

  "Mazzochetti," he said.

  "What?"

  "That's his last name. He frequents the clubs on the south side of town, especially my friend Li's place, the Lucky Star."

  "Good work, Jin. I was starting to lose hope."

  "He has lunch at the Italian place across the street from there a lot, too, I guess. I can't remember the name, but it's the only one in the area."

  "That's fantastic." I turned on my heels and walked out of the hotel.

  “It’s also the only one in this province that gets its basil directly from Italy according to Li.”

  I slipped my aviators on when I reached the sunny sidewalk. "Are you sure you haven't done this kind of detective work before?"

  "Never," he said. "This is my first time."

  "Well, I'm really impressed. I'd have shit to go on if it weren't for you."

  "Jack."

  "Yeah?"

  "You must be careful when you go meet this guy. Maybe it’s better if I come with you."

  "That's okay," I said. "You've done more than enough to help. I can take it from here."

  "I’m serious."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "It sounds like he’s a wild card. Two of the club owners I called said some weird things to me. I think he might be a drug user or something."

  I bit the inside of my lip. "I don't think that's going to be an issue here, Jin. I certainly have no intention of mentioning anything like that to him, but thanks for the warning."

  "Try to catch him at lunch just to be safe."

  I appreciated Jin worrying about me, but he had an inflated fear of drugs. Sure, the penalties in Thailand were extremely strict for such offenses, but most of the people he knew that did drugs were either dangerous or had let their substance abuse take over their lives.

  The concept of recreational drug use was a foreign one to him. And while I couldn't be sure, my guess was that Matteo merely dabbled like lots of people I knew back home.

  After all, what kind of junky eats Italian food in heat like this?

  "Thanks for your concern" I said. "I'll try and catch him at lunch. And thanks again for all your help. I think you have a real shot at your own Hollywood detective show."

  "Maybe," he said. "But only if I can be the star. I don't want to be another minority side kick."

  "I don't think you can be that picky, Jin. You don't even have an agent yet."

  "Who needs an agent when you've got my looks?"

  I laughed. "You're right. I don't know what I was thinking."

  "Let me know how it goes with the Italian."

  I shook my head and smiled at his choice of words. It was like he was already getting into character.

  I hung up the phone with a new sense of optimism. Surely I could find a guy named Matteo in the only Italian restaurant in town.

  And when I pulled up on my rented moped outside the restaurant, I almost pinched myself. The building was designed to look like it dropped straight out of Tuscany, and there was a handsome Italian around my age eating spaghetti and meatballs inside beside a laptop.

  Unfortunately, finding him was the easy part.

  "I don't understand," he said. "Megan gave her email to me so I could get in touch, not so I could give it to you."

  "I only need it so I can apologize to Audrey for missing dinner on their last night-"

  "Ahhhh," he said twirling spaghetti against his spoon. "You're that Jack."

  "Yeah."

  He shook his head. "You stood up a beautiful woman. Your behavior should not be rewarded."

  I locked my eyes on his. "Matteo, please. I'm only trying to do the right thing. I need her to know it was an emergency and that our time together meant something to me."

  He squinted at me.

  "What are you going to say to Megan?"

  I wanted to punch him in his big stupid nose, but he had something I desperately needed, and I was confident that wouldn't help negotiations.

  "I'm going to say hello and ask for Audrey's email address or something. I don't know." I hadn't really thought that far ahead.

  "Then Megan will think I'm a jerk for not getting in touch."

  "Your relationship with Megan is none of my business. I'm not going to get involved."

  "How can I trust anything you say? You're the kind of guy that doesn't come to dinner when he's invited and then interrupts people's lunches uninvited and starts making demands."

  "Don't you think Megan would want me to get in touch so I could apologize to her friend?" I asked. "She would probably think it was cool of you to help me out."

  "Her friend was very sad," he said. "I can't remember the last time I saw a woman looking so sad."

  I felt a twist in my guts.

  "In fact, just thinking about it now is kind of spoiling my appetite."

  I pursed my lips. I was desperate now. The longer it took me to convince him, the less confidence I had that he was going to hand over the number.

  "I'm really sorry, Matteo," I said. "I know I have no right to bother you with something that isn't your problem, but please don't stand between me and this woman. You don't want to be that guy."

  He swallowed his bite and licked his lips.

  "Please.”

  He wiped his mouth on his napkin and kept his eyes on me.

  "Do the right thing and help me out."

  "What's in it for me?" he asked.

  I shrugged. "Good karma." I didn't think he was going to go all Mafia on me, but if it was money he wanted, my pockets were as deep as my feelings for Audrey. Not that I was that keen to be seen giving a large sum of cash to someone with rumored drug connections.

  "Tell me, Jack, are you a real doctor?" he asked, looking over his shoulder towards the kitchen.

  "Yes," I said, relieved that he had some idea who I was and that I hadn't been reduced to some nameless nobody in Megan and Audrey's eyes, at least as far as he was concerned. "I'm a real doctor."

  "Could you have a look at something for me?"

  "Yes, of course. I’ll do anything I can to help," I said, hoping he would follow suit.

  Which he did, handing over Megan's email address quite happily and without a fuss.

  Just as soon as I diagnosed his infected ingrown toenail.

  Chapter 16: Audrey

  I emptied the last of the groceries into my fridge and folded up my reusable bags so they would fit in my slim hall closet.

  After a week and a half in Seattle, things were officially back to normal- or rather- back to their usual state of ab
normality…