Chapter Twenty

Sophie-Anne's POV

My heels clack pleasantly on the tile floor as I cross the motel lobby, suitcase wheels clicking along behind me. I'd packed in a hurry right after he called, and can't help but hope that none of the roaches made their way into my bag. I square my shoulders as if looking tough will scare away the creepy crawlies and step up to the front desk.

"Excuse me," I say, tapping impatiently on the countertop with my key card, trying to catch the attention of the young, acne-ridden desk clerk. I have been waiting days for this call and am not about to be late to my appointment.

"What can I do for you?" he asks, smoothing his greasy hair back with one hand and leering at me across the counter. I raise my eyebrows in his direction. I wonder if he's greasy by nature or if he slopped some goo in his hair in an effort at style. I push the thought from my mind and paste a sweet smile onto my face.

"I'd like to check-out, please," I say, tapping my keycard once more on the counter before pushing it in his direction. He picks it up and gives me another leer before turning to his computer. He punches a few buttons.

"Sophie-Anne LeClerq from New Orleans," he says, tapping rhythmically on his keyboard. "Says you've been staying here for a week. I haven't seen you around." I mumble noncommittally and dig my sunglasses from my purse. Truthfully I haven't been around. I've found better things to do in than hang out a dirty motel. I pull my glasses from the depths of my bag and perch them on my head, digging my car keys out soon after. If things go well today I'll never have to come back here. I don't intend to waste another minute in this place.

"It's a shame that we haven't seen each other around," he continues, fingers slowing on the keys, eyes roaming my body in a way that is more of a violation than a look. "The Rod is something to be experienced." Huh? I look at him blankly for a moment before following his tapping finger down to the laminated name tag pinned to his shirt pocket. Rod. I should've known.

"I think I'll pass," I say, irritation vaguely veiled, slamming my keys on the counter and tapping my fingernails impatiently. If Greasy Rod can't stopped ogling me and get me checked out a little faster, we're going to have a problem.

"Come on, baby," he croons, leaning across the counter toward me, my check-out the last thing on his mind. "Rod can show you a good time."

"Rod had better be getting back to my check-out," I grind out between clenched teeth. Rod is on thin ice.

"Why don't I check us both out and we can go back to my place?" He gives me a smarmy smile and reaches out his hand to mine, just barely grazing my finger with his in caress. Before I can stop myself, I fist my car key and jam into the back of his hand. I smile at his yelp.

"Why don't you finish checking me out, Rod, so I can go be with a real man," I suggest with a wide-eyed innocent look that goes well with my smile. He eyes me for a moment as he rubs his hand, evidently torn between slapping me and keeping his job. I fold my hands neatly on the counter in front of me and watch him with a smile. I can already see a bruise rising up on his pasty flesh.

"Thank you for staying at the Merryton Inn," he says woodenly, handing me a billing summary that evidently printed under the counter.

"Thank you, Rod," I say with another smile. "It was so great to meet you." I can feel his eyes on me the entire way out the door.

The day is sunny and hot, typical for Louisiana, and I nudge my sunglasses off my head and onto my face as I step off the curb and into the parking lot, suitcase bouncing to the pavement behind me. I toss the heavy case into my trunk and slide into the driver's seat, flipping down my visor and smiling at myself in the mirror.

Damn, I'm hot. No wonder Eric and I look so good together.

I dig a tube of lipstick from my purse and paint my mouth red, the deep, sultry red I've been wearing for years. It was the color I was wearing the night Eric told me my lips looked kissable, and I've not worn another colour since.

Eric and I were kids when we met, barely out of college. We were young, beautiful, vivacious, smart, and everything was ours for the taking that summer, the best summer of my life. I was Eric's light then, the one who made him smile, his candle in the darkness. Those were the days before all the games, before all the tests, before things started changing. Those were the days before I had to prove myself. Those were the days before She ruined my life.

I scowl at my reflection in the mirror for a moment before slamming the visor shut and starting the car. I back from my space with barely a glance behind me and shoot into traffic carelessly amid the squeal of tires and horn honks. My foot presses the gas pedal almost to the floor and I've driven nearly four blocks before I realize what I'm doing. What She's making me do. I ease my foot off the gas and continue forward at a more normal speed. But I can't stop Her from invading my thoughts.

We'd been together for three months and four days when he ended our relationship. I hadn't done anything wrong, he said, it was just time for us to go our separate ways. But I knew better. We are suited for each other, we complete each other, our relationship was perfect, there was no reason to end things. It was a week later that She showed up.

He acted like he didn't know I was watching, flaunting Her in front of me like he did. I thought he was trying to hurt me just as I'd somehow hurt him. I followed him everywhere, my heart aching as I watched them laugh, talk, kiss. Only when he took her to bed for the first time did I realize his intention. Only as I slipped through his unlocked door and watched him moving on top of Her did I understand what he needed me to do. I had to prove I was worthy.

I only realize my speed has increased when my car bottoms out on the speed bump at Glasir. Slamming on the brakes, I park behind the club and flip my visor down for another look in my mirror. My lipstick still looks perfect. I practice a smile then a pout before blowing myself a kiss and sliding from the car. It's time to see my Eric.

I wasn't surprised when Eric called. He always calls for me sooner or later, though I was thinking it might have been later this time around. Maybe it was the phone call I'd made to Her that pushed him over the edge? Her name is Sookie this time, and it didn't take much effort to get Her information from my contact at LSU, which was surprising. Usually finding Her is more of a challenge.

I tap on the back door of Glasir and adjust my neckline while I wait. I'm wearing the dress I wore for my third date with Eric, a dinner at a local bistro and sex under the stars, but it doesn't fit as well as it did when I first wore it for him. Still, it is one of Eric's favourites. He told me I was breathtaking when I first wore it.

The door to the club opens and he's close enough to touch. My Eric. I breathe deeply to take in his scent – the smell of soap, a hint of cologne, and him. His own personal musk. I salivate despite myself, and give him my sexy smile.

"Hi, Eric," I say huskily, tilting my chin down just a bit and looking up at him through my lashes. I resist the urge to reach out and touch him. I've learned from experience that restraint is part of the test. I'm not going to fail him this time.

"Sophie-Anne," he says, stepping back from the door and waving me in. "We need to talk." He ushers me down the hall and to his office, opening the door for me like a gentleman.

"I know what this is about," I say, settling onto his leather couch without being invited and crossing my legs, letting the skirt ride high up on my thighs. I can feel his eyes on my hemline but he doesn't comment. Instead, he looks at me skeptically.

"You do? So you're going to admit it?" Admit it? I swallow hard past the knot that's suddenly formed in my throat. That's not a question I was prepared to answer. What is it he wants me to say?

"Admit that I'll love you till the day I die?" I ask sweetly, solemnly, hoping against hope that's the answer he's looking for. His fist clench and my hopes nosedive. I've failed again.

"No," he growls. "Admit that you're threatening Sookie."

"Oh I see. This is about Sookie." I spit her name like I'm spitting nails and rise from the couch to stand face to face with him, close enough to feel the heat coming off of him. I should have known, it's always about Her. I smile viciously, meanly, to cover my hurt. "What about Sookie? Has someone hurt your little whore?"

His hands grip my upper arms like bands and he gives me a shake hard enough to leave me dizzy.

"Don't try me, Sophie-Anne. You stay away from her. You're not just hurting her this time around. This time you're hurting me too." What? Hurting him?

My vision narrows and a ringing starts somewhere nearby, drowning out whatever Eric's trying to say. I can feel my face heat up with rage and grip his arms as my knees go weak. Hurting him? I've done nothing to hurt him. The only way my actions could hurt him is if he's in love with Her. That's it, right? He loves Her?

I scream in fury and dig my nails into his flesh until he releases me. I lurch for his desk and throw first object I lay hands on at him with all my might. I'm disappointed to see the stapler miss him by inches to gouge the wall.

"How can you love her, I've done everything for you!" I shriek, clearing half his desk with a sweep of my arm and throwing a desk lamp his way. The shatter is satisfying, but not as satisfying as blood on his face would be. I round his desk and yank a drawer from it's place, emptying it on the floor and hurling it at him with all my might. It lands harmlessly on his sofa. "I've fought for you all these years, faced test after test, done everything I could to prove myself to you and what do you do? You fall in love with a pawn."

I wrench another drawer from it's spot in his desk and empty it to the floor, smashing it into the wall in my fury. It splinters but doesn't break, and I look at it for just a moment before using both hands and my entire body to throw across the desk at Eric. The wood crashes against his forehead with a sickening thud and his eye roll up in his head before he slumps to the ground. Breathing heavily, I gaze at his prone form over the desk and force myself to drop down into his chair. It takes me a moment to calm down.

Hurting Eric isn't the answer. If She has fooled him into believing he loves Her, that's not his fault. He's my Eric, he's absolutely perfect, and it's clear he's not the problem. She is.

My path suddenly clear ahead of me, I hum quietly to myself as I rifle through the undisturbed drawers of Eric's desk. It's only a moment before I locate what I'm looking for, and I slide the pistol into the pocket of my skirt.

"I'm sorry, baby," I croon, dropping onto the floor next to Eric and brushing his hair back from the cut on his forehead. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I was just so mad, you know? I've followed your rules and played your games for years and it's our time to be together." I press my lips to his, briefly, and can't resist tasting him. It's with some effort that I break out kiss. "I know you're confused right now, but I'll take care of everything, don't worry. I'll take care of Sookie and we can be together forever."

xxx

Sookie's POV

"Isn't it about time you took a break?" Sam asks from behind me, startling me just a bit. I turn my attention back to the pitcher I'm filling with beer and glance at him over my shoulder.

"Probably," I admit, setting the pitcher on the counter and wiping it down. "Let me drop this off at table four and I'll go."

"Why don't you let me do that?" Sam asks, taking the pitcher from my hands. "There's someone at seventeen who wants to see you." I turn in place and smile as my eyes meet Tara's across the room. Halfway through my second shift I'm not feeling too chatty, but visiting with Tara might go a long way to lifting my spirits.

"Thanks," I say, giving Sam my first genuine smile in hours. "Let me check my tables then I'll go over for a little chat." After a quick round of the dining room, I plop down in front of Tara, pulling her into a hug.

"It's so good to see you," I say, as I squeeze her as tight as I dare. The sun is setting outside the window at Merlotte's and the dinner crowd is starting to flow in, but I ignore them. I'm well overdue for a break. "You're looking so big, those babies sure are growing!"

"Yes they are," she says, rubbing her hand over her bulge of a stomach with a smile on her face. "It seems like I get a little fatter every day."

"Oh please!" I say, laughing in delight. "A soon to be mommy of twins has the right to be fat. This is your chance to be fat. Take full advantage of the eating for three thing."

"I was thinking about it," she admits with a smile, picking up the laminated menu in front of her and examining the single page with more concentration than necessary. "How are the onion rings today?"

"Sookie," Sam says calls from the bar. I spin in my seat, startled at the tone in his voice. The expression on his face is dark. "Telephone."

A blink at him blankly for a moment. Never in my life has that one word brought on so much dread.

"Excuse me for just a minute," I say to Tara, managing a passable smile. My feet carry me around the bar in no time flat and my hand is shaking as I reach for the receiver.

"This is Sookie," I say softly, clearing my throat in an effort to sound normal.

"Sookie, this is Kevin at the Bon Temps Police Department."

"Hi Kevin," I force through stiff lips.

"Hi. Uh, I want to tell you that there was an arrest made a couple of hours ago regarding your case. Someone from Shreveport will be calling you soon, but you know how the gossip can be around here. I just wanted to make sure you didn't about this from someone else." I can feel my knees weaken and lean against the counter for support. They found out who's been terrorizing me? Who's been leaving me roses and watching me? Who made that phone call? I breathe deeply and force myself to ask the question I'm almost scared to hear the answer to.

"Who is it Kevin? Who was arrested?"

"Bill Compton. They took him in about an hour ago."