by Hayley Smyth
“Ella...”
“No. I'm done with this conversation,” I replied, storming back inside, heading straight from my room.
The bathwater lapped at the sides of the tub as my body sunk into it, the change from fresh pool water to steaming bathwater made my skin tingle. I never got mad at Marnie, the whole episode had put me on edge, and I was starting to regret snapping at her. The last thing I needed was to alienate the one friend that stood beside me in Purgatory. With Jax nowhere to be found, there was a sense of extreme loneliness dangling over me.
Closing my eyes, I lay back, red hair swirling around my shoulders, when there was a knock at the door.
“Ella?”
Startled, I sat up, eyes wide, heart pounding. “Jax? What are you doing?” I stammered.
“Bird, I need to talk to you.” His voice was pleading, desperate.
“Er- give me a second!” I called back, leaping from the bath with legs made of jelly, I yanked my robe from the hook on the door and wrapped it around me, securing the tie with a questionable knot.
My hand shook as I opened the door, and then my heart slammed to a painful stop as my eyes locked on to his.
Jax was sat on the edge of my bed, dark stubble covering his razor-sharp jawline, his beautiful hands clinging to one another. He looked distraught. He looked how I felt.
“Jax, what's going on? What are you doing here?”
He was lightning in that moment, rushing me, pushing my towel-clad body against the closed bathroom door, his hands found either side of my head, his lips covered mine.
Surprised, I gasped, tears falling once again as our tongues danced around each other. His swooped inside, tasting and loving, I returned the kiss, my arms wrapped around his muscular back.
His warm body encompassed mine, trapping me, and for the first time in four days, I felt as though I were home again. He kissed me hard, hands entwining in my hair, down my bare arms, pulling me closer to him. It was as though he was trying to climb into my soul, as he kissed me once more, soft and slow, I knew our souls were already connected.
“God, bird, you have no idea how much I missed you,” he breathed against my cheek.
I smiled. “I think I have an idea now.”
He chuckled, low and deep, the noise vibrating against my skin.
“Is that what you wanted to tell me?” I asked, pulling back to admire his perfect face.
“No, sorry, bird. I hadn't planned on kissing you." He grinned, a tiny dimple I'd not noticed before formed in the center of his chin. “Here, come sit down,” he ushered me into the chair at my dressing table, crouched in front of my and held my hands.
“You're scaring me now,” I said, butterflies attacked my insides.
“It's good news, bird. Really good fucking news.”
“What?”
“We've found the mines, Ella. The cell. Well, I'm waiting to hear whether they've started excavating, but, yeah.”
My hand flew over my mouth in shock, a sharp ringing pierced my eardrums, and after a second or two, I threw my arms around Jax's neck and held him tight. “Oh, my God, Jax,” I whispered into his ear. “How?”
“Long story, sweetheart. I'll explain all when we've got more time, okay?” He moved back and looked at the bruise on my face. “That cunts' days are numbered, bird. You'll be mine before he hits the ground.”
Marnie's bombshell came back to me, smacking me square in the face. “I have something to tell you, too. But you have to pretend you don't know when Vlad tells you.”
Jax's thumb rubbed across mine, the smallest of comforts, yet a touch I'd never forget.
“He wants Benny and me to go with you to the funeral.”
He frowned, soft lines appeared in his forehead. “Why?”
I shrugged. “I don't know.”
He shook his head before resting it on mine. “Well, we've just got to survive a little longer, bird. Can you do that for me?”
I nodded, silently crying with joy, hope, sadness, every emotion possible. “Yes, of course.”
He kissed the tip of my nose and moaned before standing, his long legs strode across my bedroom floor, and I stood, wanting to confess my sins.
“Jax, wait,” I cried.
He turned, face full of concern.
Could I tell this beautiful man that I disfigured his friend? That I was the one who made the wounds on her face worse? Who'd had to wash the blood between her legs away?
“Bird? What's wrong?”
I couldn't. I was a chicken. “I'm- I'm sorry about Amy's dress. I'll find something prettier for her.”
He smiled and gave me a little nod, his pretty lips mouthed the words 'thank you,' and then he was gone. Again. And I sunk on my bed, bereft.
Chapter Twenty Two
Archibald Murdoch was hot. Too damn hot. The excavating team was setting up outside The Warehouse, and he and Carter felt like a couple of spare parts under the New Mexican sun.
Carter looked grim. Archie had never seen the man looking so unhinged before; the last two weeks had been a whirlwind of outbursts, tears, and questions.
The photographs Archie had received burned a hole in the cabinet in his study; could he ever tell Carter the truth of Amy's infidelity? He'd been finding it hard to come to terms with himself; Amy had been another daughter to him. She'd spent many a summer when the boys' were younger at his and Nancy's house. Archie had always wondered about her own family; she'd never spoken of them much, always avoiding the subject.
Amy had lived and died as an enigma.
Archie felt sorry for him, who was now kicking the dusty sand and looking like he'd rather be back at home.
“I'm glad you're here, son. I know you don't want to be, but this could be huge. I need you here by my side.” Archie said, patting Carter in the back.
“Do you think there's answers down there?”
Archie nodded as a machine roared to life. The workers' voices were drowned out, and a colossal drill raised into the air. It was risky work; all Vladimir had to do was send someone this way, and they'd be caught. Hiding this kind of work was impossible, but they had to take a risk. Roswell has come up trumps, a retired librarian who'd once served Vladimir. What a fucking stroke of luck that had been and Archie was fully aware that luck always ran out.
“I sure do hope so, my boy.”
Archie waved his arms above his head and stood at the site of where digging would begin. The noise ceased as did the chatter, and he waited just a moment to get everyone's attention. Graham, who stood loyally by his side, handed him a megaphone.
Archie switched it on and spoke. “Okay, fellas. I just want to thank you all for dropping your lives to get here ASAP, as you know: time is not on our side. This will not go unnoticed, I promise you.”
Graham nodded, showing his support, and Archie spotted Carter pulling his phone to his ear, covering the other with his hand.
“You've all got the plans, and you are all aware of what may come of this, given we find what we think we will.
Now, I'd help with the physical work, boys, but I'm afraid my age is against me, so I'll be behind the scenes. Anything changes, or anything, anything happens that isn't planned - you come straight to me.” Archie switched the megaphone off and waved his arm in a circle, signaling for the men to get started. All the noises made his blood hum.
He refused to rest until he got some answers.
For Carter.
For Jax.
Even for Ella Chrobak, if that's what his son wanted.
Christ, a Murdoch falling for a Chrobak. Archie chuckled and shook his head as he approached Carter, who was just hanging up the phone.
“You okay, son?”
Carter's eyes were watery. “It's the funeral. It's this Saturday, Arch. That's not enough fucking time to plan everything.” His voice erupted, loud enough to be heard over the noise of the workers, and Archie felt another stab in his heart.
“Carter, son, listen to me.” Archie grabbed Carter's face an
d held him tight but not enough to hurt, seeking his eyes. “I promise you - it will be everything you want for her. You've got me and Nancy, Kendra, too. We'll move fucking mountains to give Amy the send-off she deserves. Just name it, my boy, and it's done.”
Carter burst into tears, so Archie pulled him close and held him. “Shhh, son. I know, my boy. I know. I'm so sorry.”
Carter gulped in huge breaths, choking on his grief. “How the f-fuck am I supposed to do this? How the fuck am I supposed to bury my kid and woman, Arch?”
Archibald checked his watch. It was just after nine in the morning. “Come on, son, let's go home for a while, have a drink and a chat, okay? Come on.” With Carter at his side, Archie told Graham to hold the fort for a while, and he drove both he and Carter home.
The house was quiet, what with Nancy out shopping - what she did any time she was sad - and God only knew where Kendra was, and the two men went to Archie's study where they sat together, a glass of scotch in hand.
The drive home had been quiet, only Carter's quiet cries and Archie had wracked his brains, two days was a short amount of time to arrange a funeral, he'd already asked so much of the contacts he had, he was beginning to hope for a miracle.
“It's my fault, Arch, you know that?”
“How so?” Archibald couldn't even begin to guess why Carter could blame himself for Amy's death. The longer he'd thought about, the more Vladimir being the guilty one seemed likely. His and Amy's affair. Perhaps she pissed him off, refused to leave Carter? Who knew? But the Chro's were more involved than the guys had first thought.
“If I'd just have gone home with her, man. Why the fuck did I let my pregnant woman out my sight?”
“Son, you're torturing yourself. You both had lives, and she knew that, you knew that. But what you didn't know, couldn't have known, was what was going to happen that night.”
Carter knocked back his drink and wiggled his glass out for another, which Archie poured for him.
“It's survivors' guilt, my boy.”
“It's killing me, Archie. And with Jax gone, all in the space of a fucking week. I've lost everything. She was the only person who saw the good in me, you know? Aside from you guys, of course, but it's different with a woman. Every sour, rotten part of me she knew, and she loved me regardless.”
With each word from Carter, the more obvious the photos became to Archie. He felt as though he'd left them out for all to see, and it was just a matter of time before Carter saw them, and his heart broke beyond repair.
“Do you remember that summer? Fuck, Jax, and I must have been about nineteen, and you drove us up to your lake house for the weekend?”
Archie smiled at the fond memory. The three of them had piled bag upon bag into the back of his truck, stuck a CD on, and cranked the music, hollering and yelling the entire drive there.
“That was when I knew, man. When I didn't doubt anything she said to me, when I finally believed I was worthy of her fucking love.”
“And you'll always have her love, my boy. She loved you; we all saw it." Archie replied, and despite all he had found out, he couldn't find it in him to wonder whether Amy had loved this man before him now. No one could fake the way she looked at him, the way she spoke about him.
“I don't deserve it, Archie. Not after what I've done.” Carter's whole demeanor changed, he looked nervous, guilt-ridden, awkward as hell. His knee jigged up and down, and he asked Archie for another drink.
“What do you mean? You know you can talk to me about anything. With Jax not here, you must know that you can tell me anything.”
Carter shook his head. “Fuck, I can't say it, man.”
Archie didn't push, he knew Carter was a man on the edge, and as much as he wanted to know what the hell he'd done, he couldn't risk spooking him.
“I fucked Marnie, man.” He blurted.
Archie frowned. “Marnie?”
“Jozef's woman, Arch.”
Oh shit. Oh, fucking shit. Archie couldn't lose face, and he couldn't question the man and fly off the handle, tell him what a goddamn idiot he had been, he was sure Carter already knew this. He took a deep breath, straightened his tie, and sipped his drink, choosing his words very carefully. “Right, okay. Did Jozef find out, son?”
“Christ knows. I ended it the day we went for our first scan. I'd made it clear to her I wasn't interested in anything other than a fuck, she seemed to be fine with that.”
Archie was annoyed. “How did you meet her?” Years in his job taught him to use his brain first. Always his brain.
“On a run a few months back. Remember when that one run went to shit? The guys were late? Jozef always brought her along, fucking left her with me at the storage place, and you know? One thing led to another. Then the next few runs were just as shitty, and it happened again, and again.” Carter's voice broke as he finished his sentence, Archie struggled to wrap his head around all of this. Amy and Vlad, Carter and Marnie. Was anyone fucking loyal these days? Still, he kept these thoughts to himself. He'd been Carter's age once, he supposed.
But what the hell did this mean? Was this the missing link to the death of Amy? Or was it just another twist in a very complex puzzle?
Chapter Twenty Three
Ella.
“Do you understand?” Vladimir asked again.
I didn't, but I nodded anyway. “Yes.”
He smiled, gripping my thigh as I sat on his lap. “Good girl. I don't trust those fuckers, and I certainly don't trust him.”
“Who?”
He scoffed, pushing me from his legs. “Sometimes, I wonder if your junkie whore mother smacked you on your head too many times.” He seethed. “Jaxon.” Checking his watch, Vladimir sighed and headed for my bedroom door. “You make sure he's back, sweet wife, if not - well, you know what happens.” And with that, he left me alone, and I could breathe once more.
It was the morning of the funeral. The morning that, for the first time in years, I was to see the world beyond these walls. To say nerves were prominent that morning would be an understatement. It had surprised me, yet I'd almost would have rather stayed where I was. Purgatory was my hell, but I knew it. I understood how it worked. The world out there was a mystery, a wonderland, an alien planet to me, and I'd half hoped Marnie had heard wrong when she had told me about Vlad's plan.
No. He'd confirmed it alright. He'd asked me to keep a watchful eye on the Murdoch's today and keep an ear out, too.
I felt sick.
And the heat wasn't helping. The outside grounds were scorching, the few flowers Vlad did have in the gardens had begun to wither and flop, slowly changing from luscious pinks and purples to depressing shades of brown. Sweat had my hair sticking to my back, my cheeks were flushed, and there wasn't enough water in the land to quench my thirst.
“Ella, babe?” Came a voice alongside a knock on the door. It creaked open, and Marnie hurried inside, arms carrying a black dress, bags of makeup, and an array of hair products. “You okay, hon?”
I hadn't seen much of my friend since my outburst, and I was hoping she wouldn't bring it up. Not today. So, I put on my bravest face and nodded, although the hand pressed against my stomach gave away just how nervous I was.
“I can't believe I'm going out there; it's terrifying.” I sighed as Marnie took my hand and sat me at my dressing table.
She stood behind me, hands on my shoulders, and gave me a reassuring smile in the mirror. “You're as tough as old boots, babe. You've got this.”
I cleared my throat and ran my fingers through my wild mane of red curls. “I look as rough as old boots, you mean. Look at me.” I moved my head side to side, the early morning sunshine catching the bruising still marring my face.
“Ah, ah, ah!” Marnie admonished, swiping my hands away. “Let the Queen do what she's good at, huh?”
And so I did. Marnie spent the best part of an hour using this product and that product on my face, she'd used flat irons on my hair, and then shoved a black dress and heels in my arm
s and shooed me into the bathroom to get dressed. When all was said and done, she'd been the distraction I'd needed to keep my nerves at bay, if only for a little while.
When I re-emerged from the bathroom, Marnie took one look at me, and her mouth hung open.
“Oh, is it that bad?” I grumbled, yanking the tight skirt of the dress down my thighs.
Marnie pulled me towards the long mirror and shook her head. “I know I shouldn't be saying this, given the circumstances, but you look incredible, Ella.”
She lifted my head so I could see my reflection, and I didn't recognize the woman looking back at me. My, now poker-straight, hair skimmed the top of my butt, short legs looked long thanks to the black peep-toe heels. And despite the amount of product she had used on my face, it looked very natural. A slight blush to my cheeks, softly lined eyes, a few licks of mascara, and the most subtle smoky eye shadow. It was all soft, and yet the transformation, the fact my bruises were hidden, was amazing.
“A woman can conquer the world if she feels like a Queen,” Marnie mused, smiling.
I rolled my eyes. “I thought you were the Queen.”
She ran her fingers through my hair and shook her head. “Today, I am merely a servant to her.”
Marnie left shortly after, giving me just a moment to compose myself. The three of us, me, Benny, and Jax would be traveling to his home in Jax's truck, and I said a silent prayer, begging whoever was listening to let me get through the day unscathed. Both by Jax and my vengeful husband.
Securing the blue rose clip into the side of my hair, I took one last stowing breath and said goodbye to my bedroom, the only world I'd known for over a decade. The Mansion was quiet again as I walked down the hallway, passing Marnie's room, Vladimir's. Edith's door was open, and I peeked inside, the elderly lady was stripping the bed, and when she noticed me, she gave me a warm smile, the wrinkles either side of her mouth deepening. A pang of jealously shot me through me; I wished I could have been changing beds today.
“Benny, come on, man.” Jax's voice rang out from downstairs, startling me. His voice was something else.
