It Had to Be You (Chicago Stars #1)(117)

“You may end up with the Stars, but before you start believing you’ve got the last laugh, there’s something you should know.”

The triumph in his expression made dread creep through her like poison. She was a child again, watching him hold a photograph of her mother just out of her reach. They might have been surrounded by eighty thousand people, but she had never felt more alone.

His lip curled. “That night in the pool shed . . .”

“No! I don’t want to hear this!” All the old nightmares came rushing back. She could hear the thunder, feel the hot, sticky heat. Once again, she tried to pull away from him, but he wouldn’t release her.

“Remember the storm? How dark it was?”

“Stop it!” She had begun to sob. He squeezed her breast tighter.

“So dark you couldn’t see your hand in front of your face. . . .”

“Don’t do this!”

“That night when Craig f*cked you . . .”

“Please . . .”

“It wasn’t Craig.”

Her stomach heaved, and a whimper slipped through her lips as his words hit her like a blow. Her lungs felt as if they had collapsed and she was suffocating to death.

“I’m the one who found you in that shed.”

She was going to vomit. Had she always suspected this in the deepest recesses of her subconscious or was it new knowledge? She gagged at the smell of his cologne.

He released her breast only to twist a lock of her hair around his fingers. She bit her lip to keep from crying out as he pulled hard.

“And the best part is, there’s not a damned thing you can do about it, Miss High and Mighty, because it happened too long ago. It’d be your word against mine, and while you’ve been humping everything in pants, I’ve been Mister Clean. So whenever you start gloating about the Stars, know that I’ll be remembering the way you screamed when I popped that sweet little cherry of yours.”

“Are you all right, Miss Somerville?”

Reed jumped back as a security guard approached from the left. She pressed her fingers to her lips.

“Miss Somerville? Is everything okay here?

She struggled to speak. “No, I . . .”

“See you later, Phoebe.” Reed straightened his tie, then crossed the hallway to the skybox. He turned and gave her a smirk. “Thanks for that cherry pie.” Opening the door, he disappeared inside.

She pressed her hand to her stomach. The security guard took her arm.

“Everything’s going to be all right, Miss. Let me help you.”

She moved like a robot at his side as he drew her down the hallway. The memories of that terrible night came crashing back. There had been no windows in the metal shed, and the heat trapped inside had been thick and heavy. When he’d opened the door, she’d seen only a hulking male silhouette against slick black sheets of rain. She’d assumed it was Craig, but she hadn’t seen his face.

He’d been on her before she could move. He’d torn her blouse and bitten one of her breasts like an animal. She remembered the roughness of the uneven concrete floor scraping her bare buttocks as he had pushed up her skirt and ripped off her underpants. Her head had banged into a chemical drum when he’d spread her apart. He had made a guttural sound as he’d pushed into her, but after that, the only sounds she could remember were her own screams.

The floor gave out beneath her and her head shot up. For a moment she was disoriented, and then she realized the security guard had led her into an elevator. “Where are we going?”

“I’m taking you to first aid.”

“I’m all right. I don’t need first aid.”

“You’re white as a sheet. I don’t know what that guy was trying to pull, but maybe you should lie down for a few minutes until you feel better.”

She started to protest but realized she wasn’t in any condition to go back to the skybox right then. A few minutes away from curious eyes would give her a chance to pull herself back together. “All right. Just for a bit.”

As the elevator continued to descend, she smelled cigarette smoke on the guard’s uniform, and another wave of nausea came over her because it reminded her of Reed. She was overcome by a sense of helplessness. He was going to get away with this. He was right. Too much time had passed for her to be able to make accusations.

The security guard began to hack. He was overweight, probably in his early fifties, with grizzled hair and a florid complexion. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead. She read his name printed in block letters on his plastic tag. “You should give up those cigarettes, Mr. Hardesty.”

“Yeah.”

The elevator doors slid open. She saw the pipes overhead and realized they were in some sort of subbasement. “Where are we?”

“There’s a first aid station for the employees down here. It’ll keep you away from the crowds.”

She followed him out of the elevator into a narrow corridor, which was painted a dull, battleship gray. Pipes hissed overhead and she heard a sound that reminded her of distant thunder. She realized that she was hearing the muffled roars of the crowd in the dome above them.

They rounded a sharp bend. “In here.” He caught her elbow and turned the knob on an unmarked door.

Feeling her first quiver of uneasiness, she hesitated. With a hard push, he thrust her inside.