All is Lost (All Series, Book 2) (10 page)

Turning around, the nurse rolls her eyes at
Elise, looks her up and down then props one hand on her hip and
says, “Yes?” She throws in a neck roll, finishing off her display
of being disgusted by Elise’s interruption. Anna, Waverly and I
choke on our laughter when Elise briefly cuts her eyes at us, but
continues demanding the nurse’s attention.

“
The Walker family, I am here with
the Walker family. Please let them know,” Raising an eyebrow to the
ceiling, she adds, “Elise Carrington is here.” Just as I remember,
her attitude exudes bitch.

“
Tell them yourself.” The nurse
points to the open waiting room, indicating toward Gran and Haleigh
Walker, Marcus' mother.

Elise spins on her heels and stomps toward the
Walker women. Rising quickly out of her seat when she notices
Elise, Haleigh seems excited to see her. I can't imagine one thing
about Elise that would make a mother happy to see such a nasty
woman.

“
Darling Elise, you didn't have to
come all the way down here. You look exquisite. This shade of blue
is the perfect color for your glowing skin tone.” Haleigh is
kissing her ass as if she is royalty and my skin begins to crawl,
watching this shameless display.

“
I most certainly did have to come
down here.” Her thick French inflection grates on my nerves. “I had
a lunch date with my future fiancé and he failed to show. I thought
he might be here with you, but I do not see him.” Elise cranes her
neck, glancing around the waiting room.

“
Oh dear,” Haleigh blushes, “I'm
not sure where he is actually. He hasn't made it to the hospital
either. Oh, but you know how my son can be. He will turn up with
the perfect excuse.”

Haleigh's words cause my heart rate to
increase rapidly. I swallow hard then turn to Anna to get
clarification, praying that she isn’t talking about
Marcus.

“
You heard that right?” I ask.
“Elise said she was here looking for her future fiancé, followed by
Haleigh saying her son hasn't shown up. Does she mean Morgan
or…Marcus?”
Let there be a third Walker that Haleigh is
referring to, please,
I beg God. The feeling in my stomach is
revolting nausea while my mind screams wildly that Elise is a lying
bitch, but I wait for Anna’s answer before I lose it
completely.

“
I heard, but I don't know what the
heck Elise is talking about.”

“
What are you going on about,
Haleigh?” Gran asks, approaching the two women.

“
Aileen, I apologize for being
rude. This is Elise Carrington, Ned’s daughter and my future
daughter in law.” Haleigh answers Gran’s question proudly. Beaming
a dazzling, white smile at Elise she says, “Elise, this is my
mother-in-law, Aileen Walker.”

Morgan couldn't possibly be engaged to her. He
kissed me last night, and what about Waverly? I turn my head and
see the growing concern in Waverly’s face, too. I won't lie; I
really need to know which Walker Casanova is leading on at least
one woman in this room. I rub my hand down the front of my thighs
to remove some of the sweat collecting rapidly following the
bitch’s arrival. Gran moves around Haleigh to stand at the side of
both women, all while staring holes into Elise. Elise’s expression
is complete indifference.

Gran grunts softly, followed by a tone more
snarky than I’ve ever heard from this sweet woman, “We've met.” She
gives Elise a displeased look then turns her attention toward
Haleigh and makes another very unladylike grunt. “Future daughter
in law, you say. What boy asked her to be his wife?” Gran asks
defiantly.

Anna grips my clammy hand in hers in
anticipation of the name that I do not want to hear at this precise
moment.

Haleigh's haughty attitude, like she is better
than anyone and no one should question her actions, infused with
her bitter laugh saturates her response, as she says, “Morgan will
of course.”

Will
? My mind finally processes her
statement. Morgan hasn't asked yet, but obviously Haleigh and Elise
anticipate it, and soon apparently. From the corner of my eye, I
notice Anna reaching a hand out for Waverly, but Haleigh's answer
to Gran’s question comes so fast and tasteless that we are all in
shock. Anna sluggishly comes out of her haze too slow to get to her
before Waverly is walking away quickly, rushing toward the
elevators. Anna races after her. Watching the scene unfold in front
of me like a bad horror movie, I shake my head at how ridiculous
Haleigh and Elise sound. Marcus’ mother is nothing like him.
Haleigh Walker is pretentious, fake and I bet there is an ulterior
motive, other than wanting her son to marry someone just like her,
for this potential engagement to Elise.

What is wrong with these women? Are their
superior attitudes accepted so easily? As their conversation
continues, Haleigh and Elise look at Gran with sheer hatefulness. I
squeeze my fist tight and suddenly find that I want to deck both of
them.
Leaving now before I do something illegal would be a good
idea
, I think.

Before walking away, I watch them another
moment and two things happen. I thank god above that my Marcus is
not marrying that terrible woman and then I send up a silent prayer
for Morgan, if he does end up with Elise. Down the long corridor, I
spot Anna jogging to catch Waverly. I walk slower giving Anna time
to catch up and console her. This is really more her thing than
mine. I don't deal well with heavy emotions. After what I just went
through with Tristan and Anna, I probably will break down. I think
I will just let Anna handle this one alone since they are pretty
close friends.

Knowing their relationship history now, it is
obvious by Waverly's reaction that she really does have deep
feelings for Morgan. Although I have recently noticed that the drug
attack has slightly impaired my ability to detect honesty, I sensed
that Morgan may feel the same way about her. Yesterday, when we
were on the beach he told me that they are over, but I felt then
that he was only saying what he thought I needed to
hear.

Walking like a mummy as I sort through all of
this new bullshit, I take the elevator down to the main level and
cross through the covered crosswalk. I am so deep in thought, the
steady pouring rain and cooler temps barely phase me. I spot the
stairwell and decide against risking another incident of scaring
the shit out of myself, like what happened the night Marcus was
assaulted, and take the elevator up. That reminds me of Tristan and
my heart clenches with pain while my mind swirls with dozens of
thoughts and questions.

I need for Tristan to get better. I have a lot
of making up to do with Anna and him.
What if I don't get the
chance
? Someone shot him. If Tristan’s shooting has anything to
do with the crazy ass text message I got almost immediately
afterward, it very well could have been intentional.
Marcus
needs to know
. I want to tell Marcus about it and the other
text messages, but I'm afraid he may think I'm being ridiculous.
What is the correlation of some random text messages sent to me and
a shooting at the Walker Mansion? There isn’t any. It just doesn't
make sense. Maybe if I tell Marcus he will have an idea about how
to link them together. Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I begin
to tremble slightly, feeling the threat of darkness taunting me
back. I click on the text message app and open the unknown caller’s
text. The tremors begin building deep within my body again as I
reread it.

UNKNOWN CALLER: HE'S NOT DEAD -
YET!!!!

Mygod, last night when I read that message I
thought I was going to die. Initially thinking that it meant
Tristan wasn't dead, I had never felt so much physical pain in my
life. It was as if someone reached through my chest and pulled my
heart out. Sure Tristan has been a pain in my ass on more than one
occasion, like a pesky little brother, but I really do love him.
Because of all the good that is inside him, I have overlooked all
the other bullshit. I have a million questions and as fast as they
come I can't sort through them all to reach a conclusion. Nothing
about this stupid text adds up.
I hope I can get my
answers
.

Chapter Seven

Morgan

Dirty Deeds blares from an iPod lying on the
mini-bar in the dull candlelit room, cigarette smoke and sex fills
my nose and mouth, and every muscle in my body cries out in protest
of the late night activities in her bed. As long as it is just my
body and not my heart feeling the pain, I can bear it. This pain
helps numb the acute ache she leaves in my soul.
Mygod Waverly,
I told you to hate and I really need you to despise me, but why
can't I fucking forget you
?

Rolling over I sigh seeing the sexy little
babe I met in the bar last night lying naked curled up next to me.
Through my alcohol induced haze, I try to remember back to the
events of last night. Vaguely I recall her lips on my body and my
hands exploring hers, but did we have sex? Seeing fresh lip marks
along her neck and back, I accept that we did accomplish my desire
to have sex with her fill the void in my head where the alcohol
couldn't reach. She lies on her stomach facing me and I allow my
gaze to drift over her, seeing that she is exceedingly beautiful.
Frowning, I wonder if I enjoyed having sex with her. With Waverly
it was always absolutely mind blowing.

Groaning at my fucking wayward thoughts
continuing to return to Waverly, I forcefully rake my hand up my
face and through my hair. There was a reason why I chose her last
night and it was in hopes that she would distract me from the all
consuming guilt I feel for how badly I treated Waverly the last
time we were together.
I am such a dick.
How could I say
those things to her and cruelly stand there as she...
shit, just
forget her and think about last night
.

Dammit if I can remember much about it though.
Sighing again, I realize I didn't even ask this sexy woman her
name, or maybe I did, but I can't fucking remember much after
leaving the bar. However, there is something strangely familiar
about her. Have we met before last night? Sorting through dozens of
faces that I have met recently, an odd sensation runs through my
mind. Uncertain if it is her looks that remind me of someone or if
we have actually met, I get the feeling hooking up with her last
night may have been a really bad idea.

Checking my watch and seeing it is after two
o’clock in the afternoon, I scoot off the edge of the bed, quickly
locating my clothes. A small packet falls out of a pocket and I
stare at it completely shocked.
Oh fuck, I didn’t use a
condom!
Suddenly on a mission to leave I rush through dressing.
Reaching for the motel room door I hear a raspy whisper.

“
Morgan?” Turning my head, I see
her propped on her arms, smirking at me. “Are you running away
already?”

Annoyance at her knowing my name suddenly
pisses me the hell off. I release the death grip on the door handle
and turn around. I stab her with an icy glare when I answer,
returning her sarcastic attitude.

“
Yeah, thanks for last night.”
Pausing, I smirk and add, “I don't think I caught your
name.”

Grinning, she shakes her head and rolls onto
her side, reaching for a cigarette lying on the night stand. She
lights it then blows out a long smoke stream before glancing back
at me.

“
Listen Morgan, I get it. You don't
need to play games with me. I didn't ask your name, you gave it to
me. You didn't ask mine and I didn't give it. So there's nothing
tying you to me and I prefer it that way.”

“
Damn. You're right on all
accounts,” I nod, narrowing my eyes on her. “Except that, I don't
remember giving you my name. Have we met before last
night?”

Watching her smirk deepen as she shakes her
head slowly, I am beginning to dislike her smile.

“
Before last night, you never knew
I existed.”

“
Evasive and still not answering my
questions,” I grunt. “Didn't you just say some bullshit about me
playing games?”

“
Touché,” she sighs. “You were
running out of here two minutes ago not needing any answers. Once
you're on the other side of that door it won't matter who I am or
why I'm here. So just stick to your plans, and just go. It's best
for the both of us.”

Breathing in another long draw of smoke, she
turns away flicking ash off and I see her face shift to what
resembles sadness.

Dammit
.

Getting caught running away makes me feel like
an ass now.
What we did last night in her motel room doesn't
mean shit
. She is not the first one-night stand I've had and
she most certainly will not be the last. But still. Looking at her
being so fucking casual about it irritates the hell out of
me.

“
I'm sure this won't come as a
surprise to you, but I don't stick around the morning after. I'm
not looking for anything more than what we did last night. If that
is where you thought this was going I should have made myself
clearer. When I said I wouldn't quit kissing you till the morning
that is exactly what I meant. Sunrise is where this
ends.”

Narrowing her eyes at me she clutches her hand
around her stomach and explodes with a booming laughter, irritating
me even more. Slipping out of the bed she pads over to the bar,
pours a shot of Bacardi and downs it. Turning around, she looks at
me while trying to stifle another chuckle.