Exposed (Dare to Dream Book 3) Page 3

  “That’s not how I remember it,” she purrs. “In fact, you made a career change without even discussing it with me. What good husband does that to his wife?”

  She moves her fingers higher up my arm, and takes a step closer, “Don’t you miss me, Mason? We had some pretty good times together.”

  Her charms may work on other men, but they fall flat on me.

  “Actually, no. I don’t miss you. It was nice seeing you, Sheila. Say hello to the Mr. for me. I’m sure he’ll love to hear how we ran into each other.” Her mouth gapes as she takes a step back from me. I remain aloof before I turn and walk out the front door.

  Melinda

  I know I’m an idiot. What sane woman would walk through Central park all alone at ten p.m.? No one in their right mind would, but I’m not in my right mind right now. I have to deliver this backpack of money, so I can remove the threat of exposure. If those pictures get out, I will be ruined. Everything I worked for will be in the toilet and I can’t risk it.

  My anxiety is at full throttle and my pulse beats loudly in my ears. Ten minutes after opening that damn thumb drive full of provocative pictures, a message popped up with a ransom notice. One hundred and fifty thousand dollars cash, by tonight, to be delivered at the Glen Span Arch in Central Park. If I don’t show, or if I show with anyone, the pictures go viral.

  A shudder of humiliation rises within me. I try to shake it off, but it sticks. I’m not willing to risk it. I can’t. I called the bank and asked them to have the money ready for me at five o’clock. I’ve always kept five hundred thousand in a savings account as a back-up emergency account, just in case the stock market crashed again. I wanted to be able to have money on hand whenever I needed it without having to call my financial advisor. God, if I had called him with this, he would have had a stroke.

  I dressed for a workout. I figured if anyone recognized me, they would think I was out for a run. Many celebrities are spotted in the Park so if I do get noticed, I want to look somewhat normal and not out of character. My hair is tied back in a high pony tail and it swishes back and forth as I walk to my destination. I have a blue backpack full of cash that I hope isn’t too noticeable. I hate this particular damn arch. It’s one of the spookier ones, especially at night. I see it up ahead in the distance and I feel like I’m walking to my impending doom. Goosebumps rise on my skin.

  “Stop it, Mel,” I admonish myself. “Leave the bag and go. Then this will all be behind you.”

  A rustling in the bushes next to me makes me jump.

  “For fuck’s sake!” I scream and throw my hand over my mouth to silence myself as a skunk scurries out of the bushes. I’m paralyzed with fear, because one, that scared the crap out of me and two, I don’t want him to spray me. I give a silent prayer of thanks when he scoots back into the undergrowth. I look around nervously and hope no one noticed me.

  When I feel I can breathe again, I continue the walk to the arch. It’s eerily quiet in the park at this time of night and I’ve only seen a few other people, mostly joggers. I pause at the entrance and peer inside, but I don’t see anyone.

  “Hello?” I say quietly but the structure makes my voice echo. I take a step inside and hesitate as more goosebumps rise. Taking a deep breath in to steady myself, I walk to the middle of the arch like I was told to. I jump when a man walks toward me from the other side. He’s dressed all in black with a black ski mask over his head, so I can’t make out anything except the color of his eyes, which are green. I don’t recognize them but make a mental note of the color just in case.

  “Drop the bag,” he demands.

  I do as he asks and take a step back toward where I came from.

  “We’re done here. I did what you asked. All the money is there.” I sound more confident than I feel. Lifting my chin, I meet his icy gaze. He nods and for a moment, I think his nod is to tell me it’s fine to leave until I feel myself yanked back by my pony tail. I try to scream, but it’s muffled when a gloved hand is placed over my mouth. I struggle with all of my might, but it’s no use. Whoever is behind me is much bigger and stronger than I am.

  The man in front of me with the icy green eyes moves toward me. It’s as if he’s feeding on my fear. My eyes must look wild, because I feel like they might pop out of my head. I continue to struggle to try to free myself, but again, it’s no use. By now, icy-green-eyes is directly in front of me. He grabs my face with his hand and squeezes hard.

  The man behind me yanks my head back by my pony tail and a jolt of pain rushes through my cheek. He punches me hard, and I taste blood in my mouth. Another blow comes, this time to the other side of my face, and I feel my legs give way. The man behind me holds me up so his partner can continue to beat me. The last thing I remember is my scream when his foot kicks me in the chest.

  I hear beeping. Loud, constant beeping and it drives me nuts. It’s dark and the beeping won’t stop. I’m in complete darkness as I try to open my eyes, but they won’t move. It’s as if someone has glued them shut. I feel like I’m a little kid again, one who has pink eye and the crust has formed a natural adhesive. I let out a low moan.

  “Mel?”

  I recognize the voice, or at least I think I do. It sounds familiar.

  “Mel, can you hear me? If you can hear me, wiggle your fingers.”

  Why is this person telling me to wiggle my fingers?

  “Melinda, it’s me, Ryan. Can you hear me?”

  Ryan! Wait, Ryan? Why is my brother here? I must be in some weird dream.

  “Mel, I heard you groan. Please, Mel. Move something. Show me you’re here.” His voice sounds tired and scared. Why? I’ll move my fingers so he doesn’t have to worry. It takes me a moment to process what I’m trying to do. Why does it take so much effort from me to simply wiggle my fingers?

  “Nurse! Nurse! She can hear me. She wiggled her fingers when I asked her to.”

  He sounds so happy. I felt a brief moment of satisfaction that I could make him stop worrying by moving my fingers.

  “Ms. Morgan? Can you hear me?” It’s a woman’s voice. One I don’t recognize. God, my head is pounding. Why can’t they stop that damn beeping sound?

  “Ms. Morgan. Can you wiggle your fingers again? If you can hear me, wiggle them. Let us know you’re in there.”

  I focus again and use all my willpower to move my fingers.

  “Did you see that? She did it. She can hear us! Holy shit, Mel, I’m so glad you’re here.”

  My brother sounds so relieved and although I don’t know why, I like hearing him sound that way. I’m not sure why he’s here and decide I must be dreaming. For some reason, I have trouble focusing, so I let myself fall back into the murky dark waters of my mind.

  Mason

  I tap lightly on the hospital room door. When no one answers, I open it as quietly as I can. The steady beep of the heart rate monitor indicates she’s still alive. I see whom I assume is Ryan Pierce curled up in the recliner beside the bed. He and I have texted since I landed. My focus shifts to the dark-haired woman in the bed. Jesus Christ, they beat the shit out of her. Her eyes look like softballs, Both are dark purple and swollen shut. Her left arm is in a sling and her head is bandaged. Whoever did this to her wasn’t playing around. I may be pissed off that I’m here but seeing this woman like this pisses me off even more. Anger ripples up my spine as I step further into the room.

  “Hey,” a groggy voice from the chair says to me.

  “Don’t get up,” I say as he rises to greet me.

  “Ryan Pierce.” He holds his hand out for me to shake.

  “Mason Tanner,” I reply as I extend my hand. “How’s she doing?”

  “She’s stable. She let out a low moan earlier and wiggled her fingers when I asked her to. Other than that, there hasn’t been much progress. I would have thought she would have woken up by now.”

  “The body has a funny way of shutting down to protect itself.” I should know, I watched my mom’s body do it countless times. I shake my head to st
op the thoughts. “They messed her up pretty good. Are there any leads?”

  “None. The guy who found her was jogging. He said he never goes through that tunnel and for some reason, he felt drawn to it. When he found her, she was unconscious, and no one knows how long she was there.” He rubs the stubble on his chin as he looks at his sister.

  “I’m sorry, man. Is there anything I can do?”

  “Find the assholes who did this to her.”

  “That’s why I’m here.”

  “Sam said you’re one of the best. I hope it’s true.”

  “He may have over inflated the definition of the best.”

  Ryan turns back toward me. “I trust Sam so that means I trust you. Find them and make sure they are put away for a long time.”

  I nod my head to let him know that’s exactly what I intend to do. I look toward the bed again and focus on Melinda’s face. I don’t even know this woman, but I suddenly feel ferociously protective of her. Seeing her bruised and broken triggers me. Thoughts of my mom come flooding in. All the beatings she took from my dad, the times I tried to stop him and instead, he turned his wrath on me and beat the shit out of me. As long as he left my mom alone, I took every punch and every kick to save her.

  I shake my head again to clear the memories. There’s no time for that shit right now. I have a job to do. Sam hired me to figure this out for Ms. Morgan—not that he really gave me much of a choice, since I owed him. Gabe apparently volunteered me, most likely to help me get my shit together with the ulterior motive of getting me out of his house.

  Ryan’s speaking to me again, but I’m not fully focused on what he’s saying. All I can do is stare at the black-haired, black-eyed beauty in the hospital bed and wonder what the fuck she was doing in Central Park all alone at ten p.m. Ryan said it was highly out of character for her, so I have a feeling she was meeting someone. But who was that someone?

  “Mason?”

  I turn toward Ryan’s voice and see a dark-haired younger woman at his side. She’s probably around twenty-one or so and holds his hand.

  “This is my daughter Emily. She lives with Melinda while she’s attending college.”

  I reach my hand out to shake hers.

  “Pleased to meet you, Ms. Emily.” I smile. She seems like a sweet kid.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Mr….” she pauses and looks at her dad for some direction.

  “Mason is fine,” I say as I release her hand.

  She smiles slightly and turns toward her aunt.

  “Any changes?” she asks, and I notice she squeezes her dad’s hand.

  Seeing that warm gesture reminds me of all the things I missed out on in my own family. There were no hugs, no kind words, and no hand squeezing, only fear. Fear of waking the beast and what would come next if you woke him. My mom lived in a constant state of anxiety so was never really present. Jesus, I need to stop this. I shake my head again slightly to get rid of the unwanted memories.

  “I’ll step outside and call the detectives.”

  Ryan nods his head.

  Outside in the hallway, I take a deep breath. It doesn’t matter how long I’ve done this, it always affects me. Seeing women beat up is not something for the faint of heart. Along with the physical effects, there are so many other psychological wounds that need tending too. Most of clients I have dealt with over the years have been in domestic violence relationships, so this one is a little different. It doesn’t much matter. The bruises and the battering are much the same. She’ll need support to get through this.

  I punch in the detectives’ phone number and pace the hallway outside Ms. Morgan’s door.

  “Detective Hudson here.”

  “Detective Hudson, good afternoon, it’s Mason Tanner. I’m working with Ms. Morgan.”

  “Yeah.”

  He doesn’t sound thrilled.

  “Let’s get straight to it, then, shall we? What do you have so far?”

  He clears his throat, obviously annoyed by my questioning.

  “Who did you say you were again?”

  “Mason Tanner. Ms. Morgan’s family hired me to help with the case.”

  “And what is it you do, Mr. Tanner?” His voice is condescending.

  This is the part I love.

  “I’m an attorney, Mr. Hudson, as well as a private investigator. I’ll represent Ms. Morgan and get to the bottom of who beat the shit out of her. My information should be in your inbox as we speak. Now, can we stop wasting time and get down to business? What do you have on this case?”

  His voice is now full of frustration. “Not much. No one saw her. At least, no one’s saying they saw her. We’re hoping someone steps forward now that we’ve just released information on the local news. Other than that, we have zilch.”

  My jaw tenses. Zilch. Not a good starting point, but I’ve started here before.

  “I see. What about Mr. Hammond, the man who found her? Do you believe he is involved in any way?”

  “Nah. He checks out. He’s a local who runs nightly the park—marathon runner, married, two kids. People frequently see him in the park. We’ll keep an eye on him in case, but we’re confident he’s merely a good Samaritan who happened to be in the right place at the right time.”

  I grunt my response.

  “Other than that, we’re waiting for Ms. Morgan to wake up so we can question her. Any updates on how she’s doing?”

  I hesitate momentarily before speaking.

  “No change,” I lie.

  “Well, let me know if there is, Mr. Tanner.”

  I hang up, frustrated with the little information I received from the call. I lied because I want to be the first one to question Ms. Morgan when she wakes up. I don’t want the detectives in there, jumbling things up before I have a chance to speak to her.

  Melinda

  That beeping is incessant. Why won’t it stop? It pulls me out of the darkness with its constant nagging…beep…beep…beep…beep. I don’t hear anything else around me but that infernal sound. I feel as though I’m in some sort of bad dream where I’m tortured with it. My body feels so heavy, like a cement block is sitting on my chest and I can’t move it. I have a hard time opening my eyes, like they are glued shut or something. Panic rises within me and I let out a garbled groan.

  “Mel?”

  I swear I hear my brother’s voice, so I know I must be dreaming. Ryan’s in South Carolina with his beautiful wife Kate.

  “Mel? Can you hear me?”

  God, my mind is playing tricks on me. It sounds like he’s right here beside me.

  “Mel? It’s me, Mel. It’s Ryan. Please, Mel. Give me some sort of signal that you hear me.”

  He sounds so sad and it makes my heart hurt. Why is he so sad?

  “Move your fingers if you can hear me, Mel. Please.” He’s pleading now. I hate the sound of panic in his voice. My brother has always been my rock and right now, he’s breaking my heart with his obvious panic. It takes everything I have to move my fingers, but I want to move them so he knows I’m here. So he knows I can hear him. I want to take away the pain in his voice.

  “Oh, thank God. Mel. It’s me. It’s Ryan.”

  A tear slips out my eye and I feel it roll down the side of my face. Fingers that I sense belong to my brother brush it away.

  “You’re okay, Mel. You’re safe.”

  Another tear rolls down my cheek. I’m not sure why I’m crying, but I am. I want to open my eyes, but it feels almost impossible to do so. I’m in total blackness and I don’t like being here. I want to see light. I want to see my brother. Why can’t I open my eyes?

  I try again, this time focusing on the task with everything I have. A small crack reveals fluorescent lights above me. God, that’s bright and fucking hurts. But I don’t want to go back into the darkness. I want to see light and I want to see my brother. Where the hell am I? I continue to focus all my energy on opening my eyes.

  “Mel?”

  I try to turn my head toward his voice, but
it’s difficult to move. It feels so heavy. I have a hard time adjusting to the light. I blink repeatedly to allow them to focus. Ryan’s face appears above me. Tears stream down my face as I see the look of relief wash over him. Tears brim his eyes too as he makes contact with mine. He holds my hand. I can feel that, but I’m not sure why I’m crying or why he is.

  “Mel, can you remember anything? Do you know where you are?” he asks. My eyes focus upon his as I try to decipher what he is saying. I have no idea where I am or why he’s here.

  “You’re in the hospital, Mel. You’ve been here for three days. You were mugged in Central Park. Do you remember?”

  A wave of recollection washes over me. Holy fuck. I remember meeting my assailants in the park and giving them the ransom money. I remember the first blow and how the pain seared through me as I was punched in the face. After that, everything went blank. I don’t remember a thing. I squeeze his hand to let him know I remember.

  “What in the world were you doing in the park at that hour? That’s not like you,” he says softly.

  I close my eyes and immediately open them again. I don’t want to go back into the dark. I want to stay in the light with my brother.

  “Mr. Pierce? I need to get some vitals.”

  He releases my hand and the loss of his touch is painful.

  “Hello, Ms. Morgan. I’m Lila, your nurse. It’s nice to see you awake. I need to get some vitals on you and the doctor has been notified that you’re awake. He’s on his way now.”

  I stare at Lila, my nurse, who reminds me of my mom, and the tears fall.

  “You’re safe, Ms. Morgan. It’s okay. I know it probably seems scary right now, but you are safe. Your brother’s here and hasn’t left your side once, even though we’ve tried to get him to leave and get some rest. He refused. You’re lucky to have such a loving brother.”