“Well, first you have to promise me two things. If you promise, cross your heart, hope to die, stick a needle in your eye, then yes, sweet child, I will promise to buy you one of those tickets. Can you promise me?”
Winter nods her head enthusiastically as she goes through the hand motions of crossing her heart and hoping to die.
“Good girl. The first promise is you can’t tell ‘him’. Is that understood?”
“Yes! Yes, ma’am!”
“I mean it, Winter. Not one word.” She nods again. “The second promise is I’m gonna need ya to act sick, child. Otherwise he’ll never let you go. We have to make him ‘think’ you’re going to the doctor. Okay? Do you understand me, Winter?”
After a salute or a Scout’s honor, I’m not certain which, she slowly nods her head and the little devil smiles like the cat who ate the canary. I question just how much all of us have underestimated this little girl with blue fire eyes.
As I head downstairs I transform my determination with steel, preparing for not only goodbye, but the fight of my life.
Elizbeth Gorman does not ask questions, and she never voices her opinion.
Not until tonight.
This is the beginning of me living for me.
“I said no, Lizbeth. No. There’s no way I’m allowing Winter to miss school tomorrow. I don’t care how sick she is.” I turn back to the laptop screen in front of me.
“Seb, I’ll take her first thing in the morning. We’ll be gone before you even awake, she’ll be back in her preschool class before lunch. Go feel her head, she’s piping hot with a fever. Do you want to draw attention to us by having her seize from a fever, is that what you want?”
“Goddamn IT!” A second later the laptop of course slams against the floor, shattering.
“Fine!” I storm around my desk and grab her face, my fingertips biting into her pale flesh. “So help me God, if she isn’t in her class by lunch, YOU will be the one who pays, understood, freak?”
It appears as though she swallows a lump the size of a baseball and her eyelashes flutter before she nods once and answers, “Of course, brother. I understand perfectly.”
“Good.” I motion to the laptop, “Pick that mess up and get out of my face. I don’t want to see either of you for the remainder of the evening.”
I don’t wait for her to answer before turning and leaving the office.
The sound of a tornado tearing through the first floor of the house catapults me from the bed. After I pull my pj bottoms on I head towards the door and my feet falter as I remember Lizbeth is taking Winter to the pediatrician this morning. I glance at the clock and see it’s barely six am and stumble my way back to bed. There are other plans apparently. As soon as my head hits the pillow the double doors of my master suite crash open and heavy booted feet slam into my room.
Before I’m able to roll over, much less see who just bum rushed their way into my room I see five huge male silhouettes surrounding my bed. At the same time I feel the cold, hard end of a gun barrel shoved against the base of my skull and my arch nemesis, Roman, speaks. “Don’t open your fucking mouth unless it’s to tell me where the fucking hell my baby girl is you coward.”
His body towers over my prone frame as he pushes the barrel of his gun deeper between my cervical vertebrae. He leans his face against the side of mine and spit flies from his lips, landing in and around my ear as he growls, “I swear to fuck if you don’t point me in the direction of my daughter within five seconds I’ll make the call needed to expedite your mother’s demise in the basement of Payne Manor while she’s still shackled to the cement wall like the pathetic old hag she is. Better yet, I’m more than certain you remember my sexual preferences, I think I’ll wait to kill her. Wait until you have front row seats to her execution. And don’t think for one second I won’t violate and pillage every fucking hole your mother possesses as I carve the skin from her before slitting her throat from ear to ear. Don’t assume, brother that my soul isn’t as fucking sick and twisted as yours. I have every intention of choking her with my cock as she suffocates on the blood pouring down her esophagus from the clean sever created by my favorite ten-blade scalpel. Directly before I give my girl Mace the honor she deserves of ending your life. That will happen long after you suffer. You will watch her body turn rigid while rigor mortis sets in, petrifying her dead, contorted body.”
I feel nothing but disgust towards the mother Roman speaks of. The woman who carried and bore me from her body, but decided to love and raise another man’s son while her own son watched from the outside in. Always hoping to be picked, but instead always left feeling less than an outcast.
It was just after midnight when a sleeping Winter and I boarded the plane bound for Orlando. I’ll take her to see her precious Disney World, but not for long.
Mother waited on Sebastian hand and foot, she made no bones about which child she loved more, and which child she despised. I blame her for every wrong doing, for the mess of the life I was forced to live, as well as the drastic measures I’ve had to take to end Sebastian’s ridiculous little game of house.
I often wondered after my first Christmas holiday visit home, if my father had been the great and powerful Richard William Payne, would my mother have loved me the way she loved Sebastian?
I don’t wonder about it any longer.
Her love and a normal childhood was never in the cards for me because my father was a one night stand who coincidentally bears a striking resemblance to old man Payne.
Speaking of my father, we’ll be meeting at the airport in Orlando tomorrow night. He may not be Richard, but great and powerful among the circles of people living on the wrong side of the law, he is. Edward Cage and his men are more than feared with connections that would make the scariest outlaws avoid eye contact.
He also has been holding a lot of animosity for a very long time against mother dearest. To say he was shocked Lores Chaisson did not terminate the pregnancy of his daughter twenty-six years ago is an understatement. And now with the long overdue chance to meet his only child less than a day away, he has and continues to do everything in his power to make and keep his Elizbeth safe, hidden, and happy.
It took more effort than I originally thought it would to find dear old dad, but the rewards for finally finding him greatly out weight the efforts.
After our short trip to Orlando, my ‘daughter’ and I board the plane bound for Toronto, and it will be by the names of a thirty year old woman named Blythe and her three year old daughter Summer.
And as an extra incentive to maintain contact with Edward he gave me the gift of being a millionaire as well as tracking down Roman and his men to tip them off on Sebastian Gorman’s recent whereabouts.
When I glance at the clock as I lay Winter down, the time reads 6:17 and it gives me a warm and fuzzy feelings to know right now in my old life, the man I once would do anything for is either dying or on the slow path to his guillotine.
Elizbeth Chaisson may have been a sad and pathetic pawn all her life, but Blythe Cage will be as fierce as the color red and she’ll never foolishly hope or dream of love.
Blythe Cage will never need anyone or anything except the woman looking back at her in the mirror.
Chapter 34
I don’t want to be the person you see before you. But men like me, men tainted with evil, men whose hands are as stained with innocent blood as mine? No matter how hard I try or how much I want to be a better man, it’ll never be in the cards for me.
The redemption I never believed I deserved but still fought for against all odds will remain the only feat I wasn’t good enough to conquer.
And so yet again, I stand before you as a man unchanged and unforgiven.
A man who will always remain the man you detest.
Sadist.
Motherfucker.
Murderer.
Monster.
Your favorite… Lucifer’s Belial himself relishing in the blood of those who hurt the two people I love m
ost in this Godforsaken life I continue to suffer and live.
I hope you finally realize why some men cannot be reached…
When you think back on my story, remember even the bête noire, the Black Beast, at least tried to become the white knight you so desperately hoped I could be.
I do not pray to any God, nor do I pray to myself…prayers aren’t answered for men like Roman William Payne.
“Andrew transfer my father into the cell beside his whore’s and be sure he gets a bird’s eye view of what will happen on the opposite side of the two way mirror.” I look over my shoulder at Heather’s three brothers, “It would be in your best interest for you three to leave now. I spoke to Dr. Harrison and Dr. Sharp, as soon as we landed. Heather’s been discharged, she’ll need someone to pick her up from the hospital. I’ll be too busy assuring my guests are settled in as uncomfortably as possible. Plus, all my tools need to be sharpened and moved from the storage to down here.”
Before giving them a chance to argue I turn my back, dismissing them from my mind to return to the task at hand.
Two hours have passed and everything is set up perfectly.
After I push play the dark classical sounds of The Kiss by Trevor Jones & Randy Edelman pour from the Bose surround sound system and flow beautifully through the master suite and bathroom. I peel the blood soaked clothes from my skin and step into the shower reveling in the feeling of twenty showerheads pelting my flesh with scalding hot water.
Once I’ve showered, scrubbing the blood of my enemies from my body and watching as it circles the drain, I step from the shower and dry off. I choose my black on black suit, comb my long black hair back, slip on my black leather Ferragamo shoes and slide my arms into my black suit jacket before clasping the onyx cuff links to my sleeves and then step from the dressing room as the black melody continues to set my heart rate to an even beat.
When my feet hit the soft Berber carpet my eyes land on my most prized possession, Heather Mackenzie Payne. The black chiffon floor length gown has an empire waist making it slightly hard to tell she’s fifteen weeks pregnant with my son. Her makeup is as dramatic as it is perfect, and her long, pale blonde hair spilling down her bare back contrasts beautifully against the dark as night silk lace and chiffon dress.
If I am the Bête Noire, then Heather is my Ange Noire, she’s my Dark Angel.
She hasn’t moved since our eyes met when I walked into our master suite. She’s as still as stoic as a goddess, the rage just beneath her surface would go unnoticed by any other man than the one standing before her, the man utterly and irrevocably in love with her and her alone. To anyone else her malevolence can only be seen from behind her dark eyes.
“You’re absolutely breathtaking, my Ange Noire. Are you ready? You don’t have-“
“Rome, I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life. Yes, I’m ready.”
I slowly approach her and gently cup her face in my hands. With her shoulders remaining back, she raises her chin to meet my gaze head on. It’s in this moment I realize my mouse was never a mouse, she’s a goddamn warrior. She loves as fiercely as she protects. This dawning takes my breath away and at the same time I feel the heart in my rib cage jolt to life. I suddenly feel humbled, blessed, to have her as my wife.
I nod my head before bowing it against her forehead. “Then let’s go bleed those responsible for our continued pain until they are dry, shall we?”
Heather brushes her soft lips against mine before looping her arm around my extended elbow.
As we walk from our room through the double doors side by side she calmly speaks with hard determination, “Sebastian’s blood is mine. I could fucking care less what you do with his mother.”
My Ange Noire.
My Heather.
My Mac.
My Mace.
My mouse.
The mother of my children.
The lover of the Bête Noire.
My wife.
As we walk into the cell in the basement shoulder to shoulder, both Sebastian and Dolores look up, fear so strong you can not only smell it, but you can also see it staring back at us.
“Let the games begin.” The Devil’s smirk snakes its way across both Heather and my faces.
“Indeed, let’s.” My dark angel replies.
I’d done most of the work before Heather returned home. After spending a lengthy amount of time snapping every bone I could with my bare hands that Sebastian possessed, I scored his flesh with my favorite paring knife for every day he had my wife, then for every day he had my daughter. Before I removed his scrotum I did give him a chance to tell me who had my daughter. I gave him a second chance to tell me afterward, when he remained silent, I sat my blade on the table and grabbed a grapefruit spoon. When I turned to show him what I was going to remove his cock with, his face did go pale. However, when I asked who Lizbeth was, he declined to answer. Consequently, he lost what was my favorite appendage of his to remove.
Dolores didn’t need as much carving as her son did. She’d spent months being beat and cut to the edge of death only to be left alone for a few days, fed watered, and bathed before being dragged back to the edge of death.
Breaking Dolores was a little tricky at first. It seemed the more pain I inflicted the more her defiance grew.
It was Andrew who discovered the chink in her armor. The key to her devastation was found within the words my father spoke.
At least that was the case…until I dragged her bleeding son into the cell and shackled his arms and legs at awkward and unnatural angles to the wall facing her.
I didn’t do these things to keep Heather from the retribution she justly deserves. I did them because I had no other choice. The monster inside me allowed no less. I’ve wanted Sebastian’s head on a stake from the moment I realized it’s always been him lurking in the shadows, plotting his scheme to finally get the chance to steal everything and everyone I love.
Walking away knowing he still breathed was the hardest fucking thing I’ve ever done; besides being forced to first live without my wife, then losing our daughter. Still uncertain if Heather and I will ever see her again.
“Rome, I really wished you would have at least left me his pathetic, worthless cock to remove.” She glances up from sharpening her own blade and looks over at Andrew, “Andrew, make certain it’s duly noted I was cheated out of snipping away this pussy’s manhood, please.”
Andrew looks over to where I’m securing the heavy chain from the shackles pulley system hanging from the ceiling. I can’t keep the chuckle in as I shrug. “Do what the woman says.” I glance at my wife before walking from the cell, “Mouse, do you need anything? I have to step out, make sure Father’s paying attention and we’re still on the same page.”
Her long thin fingers grasp the grapefruit spoon, the smile on her face is deliciously wicked, “No, I think I have everything I need. Actually, a sparkling water would be lovely.”
I nod towards Andrew and he returns the gesture acknowledging his order.
As I step into the basement hallway I hear a sinister voice ask her victim, “Tell me, how much did it turn you on when the brother you’ve envied for so long finally wrapped his hands around your impotent cock before using this to remove it?”
Goddamn, the woman is worse, or better, however you look at it, than I am.
After grabbing a wooden stepstool from the garage, a can of gasoline and a box of matches I head back downstairs.
The moment I walk into the cell, her menacing laughter sends chills down my back and my earlier thought becomes solidified when I see she’s already removed one of his eyes and is currently carving the eyelid off the opposite eye.
“Can you comprehend what lesson I’m teaching you? Hmm…I probably should’ve waited before cutting out your tongue, but then again it wasn’t very useful. This segment of today’s lesson is called an eye for an eye. Now, as much as I think I deserve two eyes for an eye, I want you to do what you’re best at, watching.”
I place the wooden stepstool on the floor then make my way to Heather. My arms circle her waist and my hands cradle her slightly swollen belly. My lips brush the crown of her head before making their way to her ear and whispering, “Do you know how fucking hard you make me when you talk shop, Ange Noire?”
“The evidence of that can easily be felt at the small of my back.”
“Mouse, I’m sorry, but play time is over. Ready?”
“How long were they questioned?”
“Over a month. The entire time you were in the hospital.”
She turns towards me and for a moment sadness clouds her eyes, “And still nothing, nothing about where Ivy is, or who she’s with?”
I’d give almost anything to be able to tell her differently, “No, mouse. I honestly don’t think they even know. They were both questioned by Andrew with a polygraph attached to them. What little they did answer, it was enough conclusive evidence for me to decide keeping them alive wouldn’t help us our daughter back.”
She gathers her anger and rage and pulls it around herself like a cloak of armor. The sadness is replaced by determination in her eyes, “Then yes. I’m more than ready.”
The following five minutes and thirteen seconds passes quickly. I secure Dolores’s hands behind her back and lead her to the stepstool. After a futile fight from her and even less of a resistance, in the end she steps on to the stool. I drench the stool as well as her from the neck down with gasoline and slip the heavy chain suspended from the ceiling around her neck.
Once I’ve set the stage for the death of a woman I would have never thought I’d kill, I step back looking over at Heather and watch as she finishes sharpening her blade.
As if she senses it’s time for the end, her eyes glance up and bore into mine, “I only want her alive long enough to witness and process her son’s death after I’ve slit his throat from ear to ear. I’ll make sure most of his mother’s flesh has melted from her bones before allowing the idle hand of mine holding the blade at his neck into action.”
Roman's Redemption: Roman: Book II (Roman's Trilogy) Page 17
