Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Nolia

I'm not sure how I ended up here. I mean, I know what happened but not how it all ended for me. As soon as I found out my sister was in trouble, I hit the road. I borrowed my mom's car, packed a bag with a couple of tank tops and a few shorts and skirts, and took off. There was no way I was going to let my sister go through something this scary alone. There was no way I wasn't going to be here for her.

I went to the place I knew she was at last, sweet-talked the sweet older man at the door to let me in, and started looking for my sister. By then I was dragging, the weight of worry for my sister was immense. When I didn't find her but found her stuff, I just assumed she had told me the truth when she said she was with the police. Little did I know, it was with one particular police officer, and she was better off than I was.

When I woke up to the big shadow hovering over me, I freaked! I thought, surely this huge guy was the one stalking my sister. And to be honest - with myself and no one else, mind you - I was a little jealous. I know my sister is the sweet one but…what made a man like the one giving me the hot glare want someone so badly he would resort to stalking? What caused him to like her?

Not that I don't understand why guys like my sister. She's sweet, kind, smart, funny, and has a heart bigger than the sky. I always joked with Mom that she chose Summer's name because as soon as she saw her she knew she was a breath of summer sunshine.

Meanwhile, I am the exact opposite of my sister. Not sweet, not willing to put up with anybody's bullshit, and I have no problem stopping a person in their tracks with the harsh side of my tongue. Summer says we are like the Shakespeare play, Taming of the Shrew; and I'm the shrew.

It's something I take pride in honestly, but…sometimes, I wish I wasn't so…forceful. I wish -just sometimes- that guys felt like they could approach me. I never dated in high school because none of the guys wanted to approach me. I was always too much for them. Too loud, too stubborn, too bitchy. I got ‘bitchy' a lot. From so many guys.

Eventually, instead of letting them have the word, I took it as my own. Hell yes, I am a bitch, but I am also the Queen Bitch who won't settle, put up with, or allow any shit from assholes toward me or the people I love.

But man, is it a lonely road to walk when you're known as the girl who doesn't need a man to save her, doesn't care for losers who only see women as girlfriends or hoes, and doesn't want to settle for just any kind of relationship. It might make me a little…sad. Hurt my feelings a little bit when no one ever freakin' tries to save me because I can do it myself. I might say I don't believe in stupid shit like fairy tales, but, deep down, I really hope they are true. I really hope that good can overpower evil, that we are all made for someone to love, and that someone will one day look at me like the boys look at all the pretty, soft-tempered girls.

So how did I wind up in a hotel suite with a stranger -the same stranger that tied me to a chair, even – after I shot someone?

"Hey, you okay?"

I look at Roman who is standing by the minibar. He must have been talking to me for a while now because he looks worried, like he might have just let a lunatic into his safe place.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine."

A slow smile starts to spread across his face, "You do realize I have a sister, right?"

I furrow my brows at him. Of course I know. Pearl. My sister's friend.

"I know what ‘fine' means when a woman says it." He comes out from behind the bar holding a drink. "It means you are anything but fine."

He hands me the glass, surprising me and throwing me off balance. "I…I can't have it. I'm…,"

"Only eighteen. Yeah, I know. I talked to my sister while you were settling into your room. But given the circumstances of the night, I would say… you deserve it."

He takes my hand and holds it to the glass, so when he pulls away, I have no choice but to take it or let it drop and break. He goes back over to the bar and picks up another half-full glass - his, I presume.

He comes back over and clinks his glass against mine and tilts his up, drinking the amber liquid in one gulp. I bring my glass to my lips, take a sip… and immediately feel it burn down my throat and into my chest. No wonder he gulped it down. If you don't, it will ignite. I try to fight the cough that comes after the trail of fire as tears form in my eyes. I hand the glass back to him, shaking my head no. I don't want anymore. I don't think I will ever want it again.

He gives me that wide smile again as his eyes dance with merriment. He thinks this is funny. The ass.

"Yeah," he takes the glass from me, "Pearl doesn't care for Scotch either."

Scotch! That was the stuff he tried to kill me with. "That's because she probably likes her esophagus as much as I do."

This gets me a loud laugh as he grabs my hand and pulls me to the huge ass couch in the middle of the big living room. "How long are you going to stay in town, do you think?"

"Um, I guess I'll hang around for a few days just in case my sister needs me."

He asks me questions and we talk until he notices my eyes struggling to stay open. "I should…spend some time thinking about where I am going to go…you know, tonight."

"You need rest. You look like you're about to drop and it isn't going to change the outcome if you stay here another night. Take a nap. When you wake up, we'll go to the hospital to visit with your sister and then grab something to eat before we both come back and get a good night's sleep."

It all sounds like a good plan. And frankly, I'm just too damned tired to try to figure out why this man, this stranger, is being so nice to me. Maybe…for once in my life, I can let someone else tell me what to do and worry about all the stuff I typically worry about. For once. Maybe. But just this once.