There was a pattern here somewhere. People didn't seem to appreciate my generosity these days.
Well, I suppose there was never a better time like the present to start cleaning up shop. Looking at the wall clock, I had one hour to spend with Matt before my services were needed elsewhere.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The world is a sick, filthy place.
Trying to find more information on Red Rooms sent me on a wild goose chase through IP addresses. My mind being half-gone was the only thing that stopped me from having a total meltdown.
According to the search engine after search engine, Red Rooms weren't real. They were myths; no one had a record of them ever existing. But then, there were the chat forums and blogs.
There were millions of people on earth. Rape, murder, sex trafficking, drug overdoses, and abuse happened every single day, multiple times a day.
So why couldn't this?
And realistically, why would you record such a heinous crime and broadcast it, live stream it for the world to see? The answer was simple. You wouldn't. That would be idiotic and reckless.
Going off what my friend Tony told me, there was only one way to find out legit information, and it was something I couldn't bring myself to ask for.
A way into the deep dark web.
Sighing, I leaned back in my chair, scrubbing my hands over my face. The librarian not so subtly stared at me for what had to be the hundredth time.
From the moment I walked through the door, the older woman with a wrinkled face had been acting strangely. She gave me a timid, yet warm, smile and slowly approached.
I discreetly switched tabs on my browser, pulling up a list of nearby towns instead of information on how red rooms.
"I'm sorry if this is a little forward, but you wouldn't happen to know Miss Tidwell, would you?" Her gravelly voice gave away nothing.
Wanting her to go away, already interacting far longer than I liked, I shook my head no.
"Well, sorry to bother you." She gave another warm smile and shuffled back towards her desk.
Pondering the odd behavior of the town's residents had me deciding it was best to leave sooner rather than later.
I continued to scour and dig for a few more minutes. What I found soured my stomach. Kids using a hammer to kill an old man and filming it for fun. Another cutting off a man's penis and feeding it to him before adding the rest to his spaghetti sauce.
All of these were seemingly ordinary people. Smart, average looking people.
"Red Rooms, huh?" I jumped, hastily hitting the red X on the browser before turning around.
The cop from earlier stood a few feet behind me. His arms were crossed, and a peculiar expression was on his face. He raised a brow as if he expected me to give an explanation. Looking past him, I saw the sky was blanketed in black. I had been inside much longer than I thought.
"Excuse me." Mumbling just loud enough for him to hear, I stood from the chair and attempted to move around him. His hand shot out, wrapping around my arm.
Something invisible inside me snapped. Jerking away from him as if he'd burned me, I tripped over my own two feet, landing on my ass.
"You're a mess," he smirked, holding a hand out to help me up.
"I'm not any concern of yours, and you seem to have a problem keeping your hands off me." Ignoring his offered limb, I got off the floor and brushed imaginary dust from my pants.
"Are you okay? You seem...jumpy. Is someone bothering you, Morgana?"
Yes, you. The amount of genuine concern in his voice made me distrust him more than I already did.
"I have to go." Casting my gaze to the floor, this time when I moved past him, he didn't try to stop me. If it hadn't made me look like an even bigger freak than I already did, I would have run out of the library.
"Morgana," Moore called after me, his heavy footsteps signaling his approach. Huffing in exasperation, I turned to face him.
"Yes?"
"What have you eaten today?" Thrown by his question, and even more by the evident irritation in his tone, I shrugged.
"I'm taking you to Malty's; you need to eat." He reached out to touch me and then thought better of it, letting his hand drop back down to his side.
"I don't need you to do that. I'm all right." I lied. Truthfully, my stomach was touching my back, and hunger pains had me wanting to curl into a ball.
"Where in there did I ask you if you wanted to?"
"Um, usually when someone says they're not interested in something, that's the end of it. Why do you keep bothering me?" All decent sense of decorum fell away. I didn't want to talk to this guy. What was his deal?
I truly was not that goddamn fascinating. Maybe my social awkwardness intrigued him, or perhaps he was like Julian and thought of me as some stupid little doll he could make do his bidding. My mind layered on assumptions so thick, a dull throb began in the back of my head.
"Whoa, I just want to help. Everyone can see you need it." He held a hand up to silence me when I attempted to interject. "Look, let me buy you some food, and I'll leave you alone. I promise." He looked at me with puppy dog eyes, trying to coerce me with a charming smile.
"Okay, fine. You can buy me food." Without waiting to see his response, I turned on my heel, walking away from him. He sighed, muttering something beneath his breath as he trailed after me. I knew I was being rude, a flat-out bitch.
He could have been the nicest person in the world, but so was my father. I knew better now. An appearance meant nothing; anyone could put on an act. It was easy to pretend to be someone else. I did it every day. With every breath I took, I hid my ugly behind a pretty smile. No one would ever know how fucked up I was. No one other than Julian.
Chapter Thirty
Popping the trunk, I cocked my head to the side and stared down at Matt.
Dammit. This was wrong.
Telling myself not to get upset, I reached down and lifted him out of the boot, dropping him to the ground so I could examine the stain. I'd put a burlap sack beneath him to prevent this, and he fucked it up anyway. It was a major pain in the ass to clean blood out of felt material.
Nudging him with my shoe, I ignored his pained groan, reaching down and grabbing his legs.
The garage attached to his shop had had a fascinating arsenal of tools. Matt's nose was crooked, thanks to me. His eyes were swollen shut, making him resemble a raccoon with the mask I'd spray painted on him. And he was missing two fingers on his right hand, thanks to Luca.
I still had no idea what the tool was he’d used to cut through the bone, but it had done the job with a minimal amount of pressure. That was damn impressive, if you asked me. I needed to purchase a few for Dahlia.
Overall, Matt was in good shape. I’d cauterized his wounds with his blowtorch—it was maybe a tad painful, but he was alive, wasn't he? It could be worse.
I dragged him over the dark flagstone to the same shed I’d locked Morgana in, tossed him inside, and shut the door. He wasn't ready to join the others quite yet.
I had Luca doing what needed to be done to ensure Matt's disappearance was well understood by his family.
Thus far I was accumulating a nice fleet of emotional scapegoats for my wife. This time, real ones. Had all gone according to plan A, none of this would be necessary. But even going to plan B, I didn’t feel bad about what had transpired.
Penny deserved what she got. If Morgana knew the truth about her sister, I wondered if she'd be a little more accepting of her new life with me. Only time would tell.
My phone vibrated in my pocket. Dropping Matt's legs, I retrieved it. Phillip's name sat next to an unread text message. He'd been harassing me about his daughter for three days.
Now that his precious baby girl knew what kind of man he was, I doubted she would want to do lunch anytime soon. I ignored the notification. I had no desire to deal with him, his time would come soon enough.
Chapter Thirty-One
Don't be weird; just act natural.
&nbs
p; I think I told myself that a dozen times in the last twenty minutes.
Malty's was all but vacant. K. Moore stood at the horseshoe service bar, speaking quietly with a server I didn't know.
My hunger cramps had escalated, making me want to lie down on the booth’s bench. Food didn't sound appealing when your stomach was twisted up like a pretzel.
Attempting to focus on anything but my hunger, I studied the black and white checkered floor, pink faded walls with neon ninety-nine cent signs, and metallic posters of malts. Burger grease fries and the odd smell from hot dogs lingered in the air.
A tray slid across the tiled table, garnering my full attention. Round red baskets, each containing a different food, sat in front of me.
"I didn't know what you liked, and I wasn't going to let you get a salad." Moore slid in, sitting across from me.
"I wouldn't have gotten a salad. Thank you, though."
Grabbing food by the handfuls to shove in my mouth wasn't the best idea. I needed to eat slow, or I would spend my night bowing to the porcelain gods. Chicken strips seemed the safest option, and they looked the least greasy.
"Sooo," he leaned forward, digging into a platter of onion rings, "what's the deal with you?"
"What do you mean?"
"You show up in Redwood, go straight to a motel, and lock yourself away. You're pretty, and you look my age. So, what's the deal? Why do you hate people?"
"I hate everyone in general. I love people individually." Swirling a piece of strip in barbecue sauce, I popped it in my mouth and eyed my fries.
"In that case, my name's Kieran." He sat up, straightening his shoulders, and held a hand out. A laugh bubbled up, slipping out before I could stop it. Shaking my head, I let him take my hand.
"Now you know me individually," he announced, giving me a toothy smile. We ate in silence for a few minutes before he spoke again. "Did you find out what you wanted to know about Red Rooms?"
Did he just ask me that?
"Why?"
"I want to help you," he replied smoothly.
I raised my brows at him. That wasn't a normal thing to want to do. “Why would you do that? You're a cop."
"Since when did wearing a badge make someone a saint?" He looked amused. I guess he did have a valid point. Cops weren't anything other than human, and I was all too aware of how vile those could be.
"I have a...friend who told me about them. I'm curious." Keeping my face impassive, I waited for his reaction.
"Well," he rubbed a hand over his jawline, "I can tell you they're extremely private. I've never seen one live. I'm not even sure how someone pays another person to see them. And...they're all sorts of fucked up. Depending on the wager, anything goes."
He didn't tell me anything I hadn't already known, that I hadn't already witnessed with my own eyes. Aside from all that, there was only one Red Room I was interested in.
"Have you ever heard of something called Chateau Dahlia?" When he didn't say anything but kept staring, I had the urge to slide beneath the table.
"The woman who was murdered years ago?" His brows narrowed in confusion.
Of course, he wouldn't know what it was. If he did, that would mean he'd been there. It would mean he was aware of what happened inside. I should have kept my mouth shut.
"Thank you for the food, but I need to go." Sliding from the booth, feeling the effects of a full stomach, I hurried towards the exit. Kieran cursed loudly, scrambling to come after me. The man was like a stray dog I couldn't shoo away.
"I'm walking you back to your room," he huffed, catching up to me on the sidewalk. Telling him to go away was pointless, so I kept quiet, continuing my way.
Redwood was eerily silent. Empty. No cars were on the streets, the shops were all closed, and not a single soul was in sight. I wondered what time it was.
It took us less than five minutes to reach Ruby's Motel. The long-rehabbed brick building sat between a convenience store and a laundromat. Kieran walked me all the way to my room, remaining silent for once. The vibe between us couldn't have been any more awkward.
"Thanks for the food." Pulling my room key from my back pocket, I waited for him to walk away or say something.
"I'll see ya round, Morgana." He gave me a crooked smirk, and then turned away. I frowned at his retreating form, hoping he didn't mean to make good on that.
Steam from the rusty shower head built up condensation on the mirror. My clothes sat folded on the ugly green toilet; underwear hand-washed in the sink.
Drawing in a shaky breath, I dragged the new razor across my upper thigh, shutting my eyes as the blade tugged apart my skin.
Tiny lines of blood welled up, traveling downward and dripping onto the cracked, dull white bathtub. The euphoric feeling this once gave me paled in comparison to the way Julian made me feel. I added another slit, followed by another. I switched legs, going a bit deeper, but it wasn't working. The bliss was too fleeting.
Beyond frustrated, I launched the tiny blade across the room. Ignoring my bloody thighs, I stepped beneath the scalding water. The burning temperature made me a bit more content. Still not enough, but I would be able to sleep.
Instead of using the last bit of my body wash, I opened the simple bar soap the motel provided. This less than ideal situation had taught me a few things about life. Mainly that Everything could change in a matter of minutes; never take the little things for granted.
I’d had a family, a bank account, and freedom. My mind may have been a bit disarrayed, but I could function well enough.
None of that was relevant now.
As my thoughts rambled on, I stood beneath the water for such an elongated amount of time, sheets of ice began raining down on my skin.
Shivering uncontrollably, I finished washing and got out. Grabbing a cheap pair of cotton underwear from the last pack of four, I pulled them on before dressing in an overly large t-shirt.
I dumped peroxide on my cuts, doing a botch job of cleaning them up. With a quick brush of my teeth, using a cheap travel-sized toothbrush that couldn't possibly be doing what an average sized brush would, I was ready for bed.
After double-checking the large brass locks on the door and making sure the pinstriped curtains were closed, I turned the light out and climbed in bed. Twenty minutes passed with me doing nothing but staring at the popcorn ceiling.
I had no idea where my life was going, but I couldn't live like this every day. I had someone else to worry about now. Something had to give.
In nothing but my sleep shirt, it was meant to be a stealthy mission from our room to the kitchen.
Leaning against the cool refrigerator, I sipped the honey liquid, savoring the taste, stalling going back upstairs. The front door was a sprint away but running wasn't an option. Not with Penny locked in that room.
Putting my feelings in one category was hard.
Did I love Julian?
Yes.
I loved him so much it hurt to breathe. And he didn't deserve that from me, but it didn't change anything.
Regardless, I would never accept what happened here as my way of life.
This place gave Hell a run for its money. My husband made Satan look like a pussycat. In a battle of depravity, I had faith that Julian would win, but his callous disregard for the life of others was not something I could judge him for when my feelings were almost the same. We were two horribly broken people, drawn to each other by a darkness that would ultimately destroy us. I could not fix him, and he could not fix me.
As I rinsed my cup in the sink, I felt his presence seconds before he appeared in the doorway.
"Why didn't you wake me?"
"I was just getting tea." I shut the water off, facing him as he approached. He wrapped his arms around me in a crushing embrace, hauling me into his solid chest. He had a huge issue with me leaving him in every sense of the word.
His attentiveness was nothing less than suffocating.
"Julian."
Pushing against him, a small yelp
of surprise left my mouth when he lifted me up, placing me on the counter. I moved my hands to his shoulders to steady myself.
"There's a show tomorrow. “He trailed kisses down my neck, sliding his large hands beneath my sleep shirt. I didn't understand how any of the Red Room dynamics worked yet. There had been a total of three in my short time here, all spaced out.
"Why are you telling me this?" I brought my hands to his face, trying to make him focus on me and not what was between my legs.
"Because tomorrow, I have to leave. The only people who will be here are you..." he paused, spreading my legs and pulling me forward, “and Bailey." He didn't elaborate any further. There was no need to.
This would be him trusting me on my own for once. Every other time he’d left, one of his brothers babysat me. Without Julian, I was always alone. Bailey and I had no type of friendship.
Julian bit down on my shoulder, making me wince and give him my full attention. He always knew when my mind was wandering.
With one hand gripping the back of my neck, he pulled my mouth to his. Soft lips pressed against mine. He squeezed my neck, causing them to part. His tongue slipped through, sliding across the roof of my mouth.
Placing my hands on his chest, I moved downward, feeling every hardened ab he had. Reaching the waistband of his sweatpants, I slid one hand inside until I felt his throbbing
Before I could fully wrap my hand around him, he pulled away from me. I looked at him, perturbed.
"Do you remember what happens if you run?" He let go of my neck to grip my jaw. “Tell me."
"You'll make my life hell." My answer came out slightly muffled. Attempting to pull away from him, he squeezed harder. His mouth hit mine, hard. Unable to get away from him, I was forced to remain in an uncomfortable position, giving him access to appease him. I gripped his wrists in a last-ditch effort to get his hand off me.
"Wrap your legs around me," he demanded, letting go of my jaw to grab my thighs.
I obeyed him without hesitation, dazedly wondering how a trip to get tea had turned into a fuck session in the kitchen.
Malice (Dahlia Saga Book 1) Page 11
