Damaged, The Romance of Nick and Layla (Part 4) Read Online Free PDF Page A

again. It’s too easy. She’s making it too easy.
    She stands and I watch her move through the room and out the door, retreating downstairs to where my father waits with my ex-husband. Just the thought of him in this house makes my blood boil, but at least this time I am prepared.
    As quietly as I can I pick up the purse and quickly scan the contents. Phone, keys, wallet, portable charger and a dozen miscellaneous items. I set it down and move hastily to the dresser, grabbing what toiletries I can from the top and a few fresh pairs of underwear and socks from the top two drawers. Someone’s removed my shoes, I notice, and I find them by the now broken door to my bedroom. I slip them on as quickly as I can, grab for my purse and take a deep breath before leaning out the door to look down the hallway. It’s clear.
    Heart racing in my chest, I quietly prod down the carpeted stairs and slip though the hallway adjacent to the kitchen that leads to the garage. I open it just enough to slip through and then close it behind me, barely daring to breathe as I shut it soundlessly. I fish the keys for my Range Rover from my purse and open the driver’s side door.
    Once safely inside I give myself a moment to breathe. If I’m going to accomplish this I need it to work only once. There’s only one shot. My heart is beating so fast I can hear it in my ears.
    Quickly I form a plan. Buckle seatbelt and slide key into ignition. Depress the garage door button while simultaneously starting the engine and coast forward as it opens until I can make it through. It should only take seconds.
    I take a deep breath.
    As soon as I’ve cleared the garage door I slam my foot on the gas and make a speedy exit. Just as I hit the end of our driveway and make the turn out onto the road I see the interior door open and three figures appear.
    Oh no . I floor it.

Chapter Three
     
    I never see anyone follow me but I can’t be sure. I drive randomly across the streets of Santa Barbara to be sure, knowing that anyone unfamiliar with the city will get lost and confused with the one-way streets and secluded neighborhoods. It takes a full ten minutes for my heart to stop frantically beating, and I drive around with aimless purpose for another twenty minutes before finally deciding on a destination.
    The Canary Hotel sits a bit off of lower State Street a stone’s throw from the beach and Stearns Wharf. A valet accepts my car just outside the entrance and I grab my purse and hand him the keys. Even as I walk through the beautifully appointed lobby I feel myself listening for the sound of Nick’s voice, looking for him amongst the faces of strangers. I realize I’m paranoid but with good reason.
    There is a chilling thread of excitement that prickles at my spine as I ask for a room. The front desk clerk is exceedingly polite and professional, but I still feel her eyeing me in my simple jeans and blouse, carrying nothing but a purse. She clicks and types through her computer, considering it thoughtfully.
    “Our guest rooms are all booked. We do however have a suite available. One bedroom with a king bed.”
    “That’s fine. How long is it available for?”
    “I beg your pardon, ma’am?” she looks at me quizzically.
    “I’m not sure how long I’ll be staying,” I clarify. “Is the suite available for the next few days?”
    She checks her screen again and nods politely. “Yes, it is. The rate is $545 per night,” she adds, as though it would be a detriment. I recall with some degree of humor my conversation yesterday with the teller at the bank and shake my head.
    “I’ll take it.” I retrieve a credit card from my wallet and slide it across the sleek counter. Her eyes widen in stunned appreciation at the black AmEx.
    “Right away, Miss Garrett.”
    I haven’t used the account in a long time but I know it’s still open, and a small tingle of smug pride in my spine makes me stand up taller. If being rich has taught me anything it’s that it