Cries of Penance: 5 (Chronicles of Surrender)

by Harte, Roxy

  He closes his eyes and crosses his arms, shutting me out, but at least he’s still in the car. I pull back out onto the highway and start driving. Even with the windshield wipers on full power it is hard to see. If anyone was following me, they’ll have a harder time of it now.

  Garrett doesn’t say anything for the ten hours it takes to leave Maryland behind and cross Pennsylvania, Ohio and Indiana. I think he slept through most of the storm. There are few things more powerful than an early-summer storm in the Midwest. High wind, rain, hail—I kept expecting to see a tornado on the horizon—but then the sun broke the horizon to bright-blue skies.

  “Do you want me to drive? You have to be exhausted.”

  I don’t tell him that exhausted was three days ago. I exit as we cross into Illinois. “I’m all right. I’m going to refuel and get some food though. Hungry?”

  He perks up as I pull into a multiuse fuel stop that promises petrol and a home-cooked meal.

  “I could eat.”

  The restaurant is a typical interstate dive—eggs, potatoes and meat all prepared on the same grill on a slick of lard—my arteries’ worst nightmare. As I bite into the crisp bacon, my taste buds do a happy dance. God, when was my last meal?

  Between us we put away six eggs, three orders of bacon, an order of sausage, two orders of home fries, four biscuits, a bowl of gravy and a serving of grits.

  “Fuck me.” Garrett says it, I’m thinking it. There’s no way I’m going to stay awake to drive now. Eating was the worst thing I could have done.

  I pay with cash.

  “I will drive,” he says as we approach the car, and I’m too tired to argue.

  “I’m going to have to take you up on that but if you feel like anyone is following us, wake me up. Don’t speed. We can’t afford to draw any attention to ourselves.”

  We both climb in and buckle, he starts the car. “Where am I going?”

  “Stay on Interstate Eighty West.”

  “For how long?”

  Fifteen, maybe sixteen hours, but he doesn’t need to know that. It’s a little after nine. Four hours sleep and I’ll be good to go. “Wake me up when you stop to refuel.”

  It seems like I just closed my eyes when he wakes me up. “We’re refueled. Stay on Eighty?”

  “Yes,” I answer, or maybe I just dream I answered. I may have dreamed the fuel stop completely because he shakes me awake. “We’re refueled. Stay on Eighty?”

  I rub my eyes and sit up, blinking at the clock. It reads nine thirty and it’s dark outside. “Fuck. Where are we?”

  “Wyoming, maybe? I remember Iowa and Nebraska. I know we entered Wyoming, I don’t think we left it yet.”

  I rub my face, my five-o’clock shadow heavy and rough against my palms. The beginnings of the full beard I plan to have. “I’ll drive. I just have to piss first.”

  I don’t bother getting the key from the attendant, I empty my bladder into the grass behind the building. Walking back to the car, I’m irritated at myself for sleeping so long, so deeply. Anything could have happened. Inside the car, Garrett is surrounded by snack food, a bag of granola, chips, candy bars, cola, bottles of water.

  “Tell me you paid cash?”

  “I did.” He offers me the bag of granola.

  “No thanks,” I say, realizing I’m dying of thirst. “Is there any juice?” He tosses me an icy orange juice. After several gulps I manage to say, “Thanks.”

  “We’re not going to California?”

  “No.”

  “You aren’t going to tell me where we’re going though, are you, even if we played twenty questions? Will you at least tell me Celia is safe? Are we going to see her again? Did those spooks try to make her the same deal they made me?”

  I wish I could reassure him, but all I know for certain is that the Guardians don’t have her. My eyelids are heavy, even after sleeping all day, and I realize it is because my heart is heavy. I can’t bear to think of anything except Celia and my children being hidden safely in the Nevada wilderness. Any doubt that she might not be there would kill me, because if she isn’t I have no idea where to even begin looking. “I’m driving to where I think Celia and the children are hiding. Just hope she’s there when we get there.”

  He looks as exhausted as I feel, haggard.

  He flushes red. “Because you told her where to hide. You planned for her to hide? ”

  “Not her, never her. My two oldest children know the family’s exit strategy.” I lean toward him. “Can I kiss you?”

  “Shouldn’t we be driving as fast as we can? Aren’t all these delays dangerous? What if she was there but leaves because she gets tired of waiting?”

  “If she’s at the safe house, she won’t leave. Hektor won’t let her. He knows the rules.”

  “Rules. Sure. Exit strategy. This is everyday shit for you and yours. ”

  I glance through the windshield to see the gas station attendant is watching us. I start the car and pull away from the pumps, wishing I hadn’t asked him if I could kiss him. It was too soon. He just needs time. “I’ll explain everything while we drive, okay?”

  He nods, his face crumbling. “You realize this is too much, don’t you? How do you do this? How many times have you started over? New name, new identity? How many lovers have you abandoned? And why are you keeping the ménage together this time? You could have walked away. That’s what the whole thing was about back there in DC, wasn’t it? You were supposed to walk away. So why offer me a new identity? Why not just let me go home and if the bad guys got me, killed me, who cares? I’d have just been collateral damage in some greater plan.”

  I drive onto the access road and then onto the interstate. How do I explain to him that Glorianna knew the current threat to her organization would be nothing compared to my wrath if anything happened to Garrett, Celia or my children? She has to be worried what the repercussions of Lattie’s death will be. She also knows that my mind is distracted from revenge as long as I’m trying to get my other loved ones safely hidden away. It takes time and energy to hide, to regain some level of safety and security. As it stands, she probably thinks she won’t have to worry about any threat from me for years. If ever. She also has my brother now. She knows I won’t risk his life doing anything stupid and she plans to recruit my children. She doesn’t need to know that will only happen over my dead body.

  “Is any of this ever going to make sense to me?” he asks.

  I look at him, shaking my head. “I hope not. I don’t want you to be in so deep that you ever understand.”

  He slides his hand up my thigh, squeezing. It isn’t a kiss, but his touch is a comfort. I cover his hand with mine and can feel him trembling.

  “Can you possibly understand how pissed off I am?”

  I shake my head, keeping my eyes on the road.

  “You expect me to give it all up—everything that I am. My life. My business. My dreams.” He snaps his fingers. “Just like that?”

  I don’t know what to say.

  “Stop the car!”

  I look at him, not understanding. I know he’s mad, but surely to God he doesn’t want out now.

  “Please?” he asks more rationally.

  I take an exit instead of pulling onto the shoulder and follow the signs less than a mile to a state park entrance. The sign reads Green River, but it’s dark so I have no idea if there is a river in the distance. We’re surrounded by trees, and against the dark sky it is possible to make out some towering rock formations. I’m positive by the light of day it would be a beautiful place to come. I unbuckle, turning in my seat to look at him. “I understand if you never want to see me again, but please don’t leave without saying goodbye to Celia.”

  “I don’t want to say goodbye to you or Celia. I need you to remind me why I’m staying. What is it about you that makes my blood sing in my veins? When I was sitting in that damn hotel room, waiting for you to show up or not, I thought I would rather die than never see you again. That isn’t a sane thought.
”

  I start to interrupt but I don’t, I let him talk.

  “I love being Kitten’s Master, it fulfills a need, and I do love her, deeply, but I know myself well enough to know that if it was just me and her, we wouldn’t work long-term. I’m not Master enough for her and she’s not male enough for me. It was hard enough to stay monogamous with Tony and I loved him, with my heart, my soul, my entire being. At night I would lay awake, remembering you.”

  I want to hold him, but he has to make the first move.

  “I hate you.” He glares at me. “You’ve taken away everything and still, I want you. Being in this car with you, not touching you, is killing me, but I don’t want you to touch me because I’m addicted to you.”

  Tears glisten in his eyes. As a tear escapes, sliding down his cheek, I catch it with my thumb and he pushes his face into my palm.

  He sobs against my hand. “Tell me you’re worth it.”

  I lift his face, touching my lips to his. “I love you. I don’t want you to go away. Destroying your old life only has meaning if the three of us are able to build something new and better from the wreckage.”

  “Kiss me like you mean it. Kiss me like you’re promising me that you will never leave us alone again.”

  I kiss him, hard, raping his mouth with my tongue and my teeth. If he’s addicted to me, I’m just as addicted to him. The times when we are alone together, creating scenes together, are awesome times. As Lord Ice, he brings out in me emotion I have never allowed myself to experience with another person. I’m surprised when he pulls away and steps out of the car.

  I don’t follow him, not right away. I trail him with my gaze, watching him cross the parking lot and enter a grove of trees. Cursing, I climb out of the car and follow. I find him sitting on top of a weathered wood picnic table. As I approach, he strips out of his t-shirt. He kicks off his shoes, and it is fairly obvious where this is going to lead.

  When I step into the space between his knees, he wraps his hand around the nape of my neck and pulls me forward forcibly. Our gazes collide as our lips meet in a deep kiss. There isn’t anything slow or soft about it as he takes what he wants from my mouth, teeth biting, colliding, our tongues having intercourse in the depths of each other’s mouths. He leaves me breathless and needy. As much as I’d like to push his shoulders down against the tabletop and climb over him, straddling his face, I don’t.

  I pull down the elastic waistband of his sweatpants, exposing his cock and balls. He’s hard as a rock, pointed skyward. I lower my mouth and suck him in deep. I slide my mouth up and down, sucking hard, biting softly.

  He lies back, but manages to keep watching me suck his dick.

  I use him with my mouth roughly, bringing his need to a sharp point fast, too fast. I don’t give him time to hold back and leave him hanging on to me. Coming, he sits up, curling over my head, holding on to my shoulders.

  I keep sucking, even when I know the sensation is too much, pushing him hard over the edge to a painful place.

  “Ahh, ahh.” He screams and pants.

  Standing, I pull him off the table and force him to bend over its top. Jerking his sweats down to his knees, I push my face into his crack, rimming his anus with my tongue while I jerk on his half-hard cock, encouraging it to stiffen.

  He pants and begs, “Do it, do it.”

  I unbuckle my belt, open my pants and thrust blindly at his hole. I hit my target, filling him in one hard, fast thrust. He curses and moans. I jerk hard against him, taking what I want. His ass is tight around my big cock. Every thrust stretches him.

  “Is this what you had in mind?”

  “Yes, God, yes.”

  “Is this what you crave?”

  “More, I need more. I need you to lay my soul bare, take me to the edge, leave me shaking and screaming and puking.”

  I push into him—harder, deeper. Jerking his cock up and his balls down, I make him shriek. “Like the first time? At the cove?”

  “Yes, yes!”

  I spasm against him, filling him with my jism. I smack his ass as I pull out. “Stick around and I’ll show you what I’ve really got. The cove was just a warm-up.”

  “Dreams do come true, if only we wish hard enough. You can have anything in life if you will sacrifice everything else for it.”

  J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Garrett

  I have no idea where we are going, I hope Thomas does. He seems to, I trust him. I guess I better—trust him—what else is left? In the blink of an eye I’ve made choices that will change the direction of my entire life.

  At Salt Lake City he drives into a storage unit compound.

  The interior of his unit is like something out of a spy movie. Computers, satellite linkup, heavy artillery arsenal, enough clothes and disguises that he could change his identity a hundred times over. A truck. But not just any truck, a 1960 Ford in mint condition. When he unveils it I am left awed. And antiques don’t do it for me, but my God, what a beauty.

  “I always hoped I’d need this one someday.”

  “We’re taking the truck?”

  “Yep. I’m a new man, a different man, gotta have a vehicle that represents the new me.”

  “This old truck represents the new you?” This worries me.

  He explains as he loads the back with tool boxes and canvases. “This was always plan B, for when all else failed and I needed to hide away. It probably won’t be a permanent gig, but for the next few weeks, while we figure out our future, I have to be the character people remember. Crazy guy, artist, drinks too much, smokes too much, doesn’t talk hardly at all and keeps to himself in the hills. The only snag in my plan is you, and of course Celia. Fitting you both into my story.”

  As I watch him become more laid-back artist and less Thomas by the second. Iit becomes apparent how easy it is for him, and I realize if this is going to work for us, it has to become easy for me.

  Over the next three hours we head west then south. The passing time means nothing as I dwell on who I can possibly be other than me.

  “So, weird hippie artist dude, who do I become to fit in with that?”

  “Think about it as a new chapter in your life. Who would you be if you weren’t Lewd Larry?”

  “Not a doctor.”

  “Okay, so where else can you go with the education you have?”

  “You don’t get it, I like being me!” Has Thomas ever gotten to be himself? After a moment I say, “I could be a college professor. I’m not sure how I’d pull it off without transcripts and recommendations, but as a secondary career choice, I could see myself teaching.”

  “Awesome! See, now you’re thinking. Documentation is easy. Validation, no problem. I can see you teaching, and college towns are easy to get lost in. My kooky artist scam wouldn’t stand out at all.” He smiles. “And there’s always hot collegiates who want to get a little wild. We could host some very private parties.”

  Sharing a look, we laugh. I am encouraged we don’t have to give up kink altogether. “What about Celia? How does she fit in? How do your children fit in?”

  He lets out a heavy sigh. We must be getting close, because every mile we drive the tenser he becomes. I think he’s worried she won’t be there, wherever there is. “She has to create her own character and then we all work together, tweaking and defining our roles until our story works.”

  “What if she wants nothing to do with this?”

  As soon as I ask the question I regret it, realizing that he’s probably been asking himself that since we left Washington, DC.

  “Throw your dreams into space like a kite, and you do not know what it will bring back, a new life, a new friend, a new love, a new country.”

  Anaïs Nin

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Kitten

  I am a mother.

  I’ve counted fingers and toes, again and again. I stare at my babies, stripped down to their skin, memorizing every fold, every dimple, so important fo
r keeping track of Boy Number One and Boy Number Two, but more specifically so that they become real in my mind. I can’t name them. I want Thomas here, and Garrett. To name them without their input would seem as though I’ve given up on ever seeing them again.

  I know Garrett must be worried sick after so many days of not hearing from me. He was busy with his mother, but he always called to tell me good night. Soon I will take the children into town. Not Ely, we’ll go to a different town and I’ll call him from a pay phone.

  The last few days have seemed like such a dream. Did I really give birth?

  I must have, because these two perfect angels are here.

  I listen to their hearts, I listen to them breathe. They seem abnormally small and that scares me, but then I’ve never seen a newborn. I don’t know if they are small, very small or normal.

  They’re little piggies.

  It seems I nurse them one by one, and no more than finish with the two of them than they want to eat again. They are so beautiful. I wish I had a camera so that I could photograph every angle of perfection, every second of their lives.

  If I am gaga over these babies, their brothers and sisters are even more over the moon in love. Everyone gets a turn holding them—even Atso, with close supervision and a pillow bolster.

  It’s been a long day and I’m exhausted. I keep telling myself only another few hours until we can go back to bed—and I haven’t done anything.

  The courtyard is shaded in the evening, and so I move us all outside to enjoy the breeze. The twins fit perfectly inside a dresser drawer and it seems practical for transporting them around. I placed it near the chaise where they’re sleeping contentedly.

  “What’s that?” Olympia asks and I listen, hearing a loud rumble. After days of desert silence it is jarring.

  Heart pounding, I stand quickly, pulling the children back until I discover the source of the noise is dozens of horses’ hooves pounding against the rocky terrain below us. Wild mustangs. We all creep closer to the low stone wall for a better view as the horses race through the valley. I lift Atso so that she can see, regretting the strain on my body, but when she points and claps, I tough out the discomfort. Hektor lifts Nikkos but has a hard time holding him because he is so excited.