SEIZED Part 3: Steamy Romantic Suspense (Seize Me Romance Fiction Series)

He’s cruel when he’s angry. He’s cold, and I feel it. Watching him leave like that, it felt like a stab in the gut. I’m part angry, part hurt. I guess I don’t want to admit I’m falling for him, but my reaction could only come from love. It’s past time to get real. There’s only one problem with saying it out loud—the pain; the hurt that I risk by being vulnerable.

It would be easier to objectify him like I usually do to men. Or to make excuses for his behavior and try not to believe what I know in my gut knows to be true. I can deny it for as long as I want, but I’m not the only woman that Blake Anderson is seeing, and the thought of it makes me want to cry.

I know he cares about me, but he’s lying about Neon. All I can assume is the worst. He’s told me everything else about the case. There’s no reason for him to lie unless he’s in love with her. I never want to think this stuff about the men I choose, but what else could it be? Tears come to my eyes, and I want to just let them all loose. I’m trapped here, and honestly I feel like a victim, but buying into that role right now is the last thing I can afford to do.

I need to help April, not worry about whether or not the Detective I shouldn’t even be dating is in love with someone else. Christ, it’s not like we’re married. We haven’t even officially called this a relationship, and I am already suspicious about this other woman. I’m only the witness he shouldn’t be sleeping with, the stupid one who thought she was strong enough not to fall in love ever again.

It’s an uncomfortable admission. I know in my heart it’s the truth. Now what? Do I phone him? It’s not like I would have done anything differently if I’d had another chance to replay last night. Even if I do phone him, there’s nothing to apologize for. I still want to save April, and for that reason I need to know the truth.

Whichever way I look at the situation, it’s the same. He’s lying to me. There’s nothing I can do to make him stop. On top of that, the last thing my head needs is another run-through of the events. Reality doesn’t lie. Rehashing it in my head over and over is just a tool for self-punishment.

Instead, I turn the TV on. The hotel cable has so many channels, I settle on a rerun of some sexy TV series. My namesake on the show is going through another torturous event with her man. I briefly wonder if this thing with Blake will last anywhere as long as their romance.

I’ve seen something like this before. I’ve actually seen them all—even the episode where he leaves her at the church, and drives away instead of getting married. It makes me sad just thinking about it. It feels like my life. Except for the amazing way her girlfriends rallied around her and make her feel better.

That’s what April would have done for me. But she can’t, and I can’t even talk to her about this thing with Blake. That’s what happens when you have one main girlfriend. Or is it just when that one person gets snatched off the street, and beaten in front of you? I’m trying to be sardonic, but this whole thing seems more horrific and unbelievable every day that passes. It’s like having a terrible nightmare, but I’m not asleep.

It’s getting late. I change into my pajamas and slide between the sheets. I’m not usually so early to bed, but what else is there to do? I wonder what Blake is doing right now. I wonder if he was serious about locking me in here. I try the door just to check, and it opens. There’s no lock keeping me in my tower like a Princess! I can leave.

I snort at his empty threat, but my reaction is premature. Popping my head out into the hallway, I see he wasn’t kidding about the armed guards. The one at my door looks pretty stern.
Shit.
If these guys are here all night, how the hell am I going to make it to New Jersey?

“Hi there,” I say to him. “I just wanted to let you know I’m heading to bed now. Will you be here until morning?”

He smiles and says, “No ma’am. The shift change is at five a.m. I’ll be here until then, if you need something.”

I smile back sweetly, “Ok, nice. Thanks.”

At the end of my reply, I hear my voice get a little shrill. Obviously I’ll be timing my departure for just as they’re changing shifts. I need to make sure he doesn’t suspect a thing before then. I should be more of a sneak after years of hiding the abuse from my family. I often bemoan my inability to lie fluently like others do. Luckily, his face doesn’t register anything strange, so my discomfort must be another of those inside things.

If he’s going be here all night, there’s nothing I can do to get out until morning. I just have to deal with being here, doing nothing about April and thinking of Blake. I’m so confused right now. I don’t need is to spend another moment of energy on someone who won’t treat me well, but I can’t help myself.

Again, I wonder about obsession, and why the tentacles reach into every aspect of my life. First it was Judo, then it was school, then it was work, and now I spend every moment of the day thinking about the case, and whether Blake Anderson is the one or not. If he could hear these thoughts, I’m sure he’d think I’m a mental case. I shut the door to the room and climb back into the bed, determined to let it go.

At midnight, I wake up. It’s only been two hours, but my eyes flash open as if the alarm has gone off. For the next hour, my mind is caught up in analyzing every moment of the time we’ve spent together so far. It starts back years before with the first time he hugged me at the track meet. The energy between us was powerful enough to ignite a lust that has lasted for years. I’ve always had thoughts of him. Every time I met a new guy, I compared him to Blake. Every time that guy ended up being an asshole, I wished he was there for me. Every time I see someone wearing a black tee shirt, his neckline comes to mind.

The obsession lasted right up to the instant I recognized him at the police station. I remember the exact look on his face. There was pure pleasure on his face when he saw me, not just because he knew he’d get laid, but also because of the friendship.

I wonder if he was with Neon back then. Has there been something else happening this whole time? I take a guess it probably has. There’s nothing to say it shouldn’t be happening either. What right do I have? Who am I to control him? But I want to control him. I want to have a say in what he does. I want to be part of his life. I want him to want only me.

Time is passing by slowly. My mind wanders to what happened when he took me for the second interview in that café. We had fought, and yet, I was so drawn to him. The magnetism between us made me powerless. There was nothing I could do to resist him.

I knew it was bad for April’s case. But even that wasn’t enough to shut down the pounding I feel in my heart when he’s around. God, he’s sexy. Every part of him, every element, every molecule of his skin was built to have me lick the droplets of sweat off it. I just want to rub myself against him, thinking about it. I can’t, because he’s probably with someone else right now—in her bed.

The possibility makes me furious. I want to confront him right now. I wish I could have had the courage to say something more when he was here last night, but I didn’t. I never do when it comes to the people I actually like. This thing between us has been going on too long for him to do this to me.

In the last week, I’ve been thinking about my future with Blake. That day we were walking through the park together, and he held my hand so gently; that was what set me off. I was thinking about the type of children he would raise. He’s been angry with me a few times, but he also made a huge deal about being honest. I thought he’d be a good father. Now I don’t know anything.

I’m trying to summon up anger as I’m here in bed, but all I feel is disappointment for what could have been. Jeez, sadness hurts. It’s late, I can’t sleep and I’m going crazy, running this bullshit over and over. I’m not resolving anything.

What I need to do is make a plan. Whatever motives Blake is running under, I need to disregard them and work on what’s important to me. More than anything, the priority is to make sure April doesn’t get lost in the hunt for Jessup, or forgotten about completely.

It’s been too long now. I sense from Blake’s reports that the urgency in the investigation is weaning off. The Police Force faces a constant stream of new victims to hunt for. If I don’t do something now, when I have the chance to do it, April could be lost forever.

I need to go to New Jersey in the morning, there’s no doubt about it. I know when I can slip out, and when I have to be back so Blake’s goons don’t know any different. It may not be the smartest idea, but it can work. The other option is staying here, stuck in my thoughts, and thinking about him. It’s is not getting me any sleep. It’s not helping me find April.

With the decision made, I am finally soothed enough to rest. I change sides of the bed and enjoy the coolness of unwrinkled sheets. It’s beautiful in the air conditioning. The quiet hum soothes me, and with a final sigh, I roll over and close my eyes.

Chapter Two

Carrie

It’s four forty-five in the morning when I open my eyes, I don’t bother to have a shower. Instead, I just slip back into the gym clothes I was wearing yesterday when Neon called. I can’t see the guard through the peephole of the door. He’s probably itching to go home after a night spent in an empty hotel hallway. I’m able to ease the door open slightly to have a look.

It’s a total fluke that just as I lean my head out, I see him pull out his phone, take a call and head to the elevator. It sounds like he’s talking to the guy who’s going to take over for him, so I grab the key card and money, and I hurry out of the room in the opposite direction, towards the staircase.

Easing the stairwell door closed behind me, I descend the stairs quietly. I can’t help feeling like an undercover agent. No one would ever recognize me in this outfit. I manage to time my exit perfectly. I make a point of hanging back from last night’s police officer guard as he leaves in the direction of the subway.

I still have cash from my front desk loan, so I take a jog until the hotel is out of view, then I take a leisurely walk on the back streets until I get to another main street. I’m glad I’m doing this and not lying around, pining for Blake Anderson. If something needs doing in life, more often than not, I need to do it myself.

I whistle for a cab and the first one stops. I slide in. This is quite fun. The cabbie knows the area I’m heading to. He says it’s not far. It’s a quicker ride than I thought it would be, and after he drops me about ten blocks away, I take another short walk then begin my jog.

The air is a little frosty, and the only people around seem to be trade workers and mechanics heading to their shops, and a few people clutching coffees on their way to work. The traffic is slow. Dog walkers are heading out with their packs. Joggers are out for their morning runs. I look totally normal.

As I make my way around the block, I start to forget what I’m here to do. I’m enjoying the rhythm of my feet on the pavement. I decide I’ll widen my loop. It turns out to be a good decision, because the outer route around the block shows me the back of Blue Star before the front. It’s obviously the delivery area.

There are tall gates around the building. Absentmindedly, I realize the barbed wire on top of the fence is coiled in the shape of heart. Hearts that will cut you. I imagine trying to get myself over the top. Is there actually a way into this place? Who knows. Nothing looks suspicious from this angle so I keep jogging, only stopping to tie a shoelace that isn’t actually undone. I buy myself at least a minute at this convenient and unsuspecting vantage point.

Squatted down on this level, I notice the security signs. There are three of them hanging off the gates. Each one has a colorful warning—
No Entry; Dogs on Premises; Private Property
. There are no dogs wandering around, so that’s in my favor. I hate dogs. Well, not hate, but I’m definitely a cat person.

April’s dog used to annoy me. Benny was such a people pleaser. A big, furry, drool-creating, friendly monster. He was always licking and begging for attention. April would tell me this is what Golden Retrievers are like; they’re family dogs. Helping her with him has been exhausting, like caring for a small child. I suspect I won’t make a good mother, making this analogy. I lacked patience for that dog, and it didn’t even talk.
Hmmm
. Maybe my family fantasies about Blake and I aren’t something I want anyway.

I make my way past the gate and jog ahead. I pass a couple of women who are also jogging. They don’t wave. New York is nothing like Cedar Rapids. If someone was chasing me now, would these women help me? The thought makes me shiver. I keep moving, trying to remember I’m on a mission here. The last side of the block passes quickly as I begin to gain speed.

The endorphins from the exercise feel amazing. I’ve needed this. The feeling of moving my body in a run is not the same as when I dance or practice Judo. I feel high, my outlook is optimistic, and my spirits lift. I need to make this a priority, including when there are no warehouses to case.
Jesus, if Blake could see me now he’d be furious
. I’ve already checked out one side of the place. If the front of the building is the same, then I really do suffer from an overactive imagination.

It’s not long before I turn the final corner of the block that fronts the office block. It’s designed to be part warehouse and part shipping or delivery service, with a few small offices to one side. There’s a driveway where couriers can come in, and some glass-paned show rooms with shelves of stationery. For all intents and purposes, this is an official stationery supply shop, and a warehouse of all things paper. The idea that screams could be coming from here seems a little ludicrous.

I need to talk to the gas station attendant who reported it. There’s a chance he’s been sipping too many caffeinated drinks. I need to hear it from him directly, and form my own opinion. I can’t look crazy if I have to explain this to the police officer guarding my door later, so I have to get it right.

The gas station is across the road. I wait for the traffic lights to change and jog across, ahead of waiting traffic. It’s getting busier as the early morning passes by. It’s nearly seven fifteen now. I only have another fifteen minutes before I have to get back and deliver my ‘I was just jogging in the park’ cover story to that man who thinks I’m safe and protected me in my room right now.

The gas lines are busy with motorists fueling up for work. I wait in the payment line and ask if the night shift attendant is still on site. The guy behind the counter tells me they’re in the staff room. I tell him I’m from the Tribune looking to follow up on the story about the warehouse across the road. He’s hastened by my authoritative tone and I laugh a little on the inside—the press wields some serious power among the people.

When the guy actually comes out and confirms he’s the one who reported the screams, his demeanor is a little sketchy. He doesn’t make a credible witness in any shape or form. I’m disappointed. We sit on the brown sofa in their staff room. How depressing his life must be.

“Did you consider going and checking it out?” I ask him, trying not to be judgmental, or bring my own thoughts and feelings into it.

“Well, uh, no.. I didn’t. I couldn’t leave the station.”

He keeps scratching his face like he’s wondering why I’m bothering to ask these questions again. I get the sense he wants to pick his nose for some reason. I come at him in four different ways, and he tells me the same story each time. It becomes clear that it no more affected him than a cheap TV drama would have. He simply doesn’t care enough about whoever was in trouble.

“Ok thanks for your time. If we have any follow up questions we’ll get in touch. Can I have your contact details?”

He looks a little bashful. “Do you want to take my photograph?”

I hold back a laugh. “No, there’ll be no need for that at this point, but if you think of anything you’ve missed, can you call me on this number?”

He nods and falls silent.

“Okay. Thanks for your time.”

I can’t help feeling gutted; I came all the way out here to walk around the edge of a building and talk to a guy who couldn’t care less.

I head back out the front, cross the road and resume my jog down past the front of the Blue Star Office Products building. There are no lights on. I can’t tell if they are still in business after the sale. There are also no cars parked in the small lot.

When I bend over to tie another imaginary shoe lace and look through the fence at the door of the office, I see nothing but a discarded length of a garden hose and an ashtray by the door. It’s one of those long metal ones with a lid that flaps closed over the cigarette butts.

I’m about to get up, but I look again. There’s something about the ashtray that makes me squint to look more closely. It’s a thin trail of smoke, weaving its way through the morning air, twisting gently out of the can. Someone has been standing there moments before. My eyes dart upwards to the room above the showroom. I see the swish of a curtain closing. In that moment, I am certain I’ve been seen, and my heart jumps into my chest.

It’s more than time to go. I jog on as if it’s totally normal for me to be in the area at this time, and I’m not a complete stalker who’s just been caught red handed. I get about a hundred or so feet down the road and wave for a cab back to the hotel. My heart is still in my throat. I feel my fists clench open and closed as I wonder who it was that caught me watching the building.

Traffic is worse now. I hardly notice what’s going on outside the car window. The officer outside my room will be wondering why I haven’t left to go down for breakfast yet. I should be planning what to tell him, but my mind is fixated on the flap of that curtain and the trail of smoke that came out from the ashtray. It could easily just be a staff member. But if that reporter was right, and if the gas station guy hasn’t been off getting hammered in some friend’s basement, then someone could actually be hiding out in there.

I ask the taxi driver to drop me off a few blocks away from the hotel. I need to build up some sweat by running back there, for my morning run story to come off as authentic. I push my body and make sure the hotel doorman and the reception desk clerk see me before I head up in the elevator.

The young officer outside my door looks a little shocked to see me. I wave cheerily as if nothing is wrong.

“Good morning Carrie, I didn’t see you leave this morning? Is everything ok?”

I wave him off. “Oh I’m fine. I just didn’t see you when I came out this morning, so I went for a run alone. No problem at all.”

He looks confused for a second, but the sweat on my face and my half-breathless demeanor seem to ease his worries.

“Have a good day then, Carrie.”

I nod and make my way back into the room. Thank God I pulled that off. I jump in the shower and wonder what the next logical step is. I’m just starting to enjoy the heat of the water when I hear loud pounding at the door…

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