Parole

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Parole Page 6

by Kathy Coopmans


  I should have told Trent about this right away. It should have been the first thing that came out of my mouth.

  I reach for the knob the exact minute someone else does on the other side. Taking a step back, I gulp down my fear. I wish it will be Trent. Except it won’t be, and I doubt he would send one of his slaves to come fetch me from a bedroom. God forbid they come anywhere near me. My personal bodyguard was the only one he allowed to be close, and it took him weeks after he was hired for Lucian to let him be alone with me, and we were never allowed to go anywhere without his permission.

  I shiver, remembering what happened to my previous bodyguard. I witnessed firsthand what happens when his people betray him, and all Lonny did was look at me in a way Luciano didn’t like.

  “Where is Trent?” I scream with ice in my tone the minute the door flies open, and I’m stuck staring at a set of darkened, glossy eyes that usually scare the living shit out of me to where I’m apologizing for doing nothing but merely existing.

  He just stands there staring at me. His warped mind probably deciding whether or not to kill me.

  “Answer me!” I snarl, shove him in his chest when he stands there and gazes at my face in the same way Trent did while his fists clench and unclench at his sides. Sick, sadistic prick. He has never looked at me this way before. I want to vomit at his feet over it.

  I study him for a minute, looking hard for the fear I know he must feel. Luciano has worked just as hard at building up his career as he has at knocking me down. When I left, it was all supposed to start crumbling down around him. Something happened, or he wouldn’t have gotten to me as quickly as he did. But I’ll be damned if I bring it up or admit to anything if he does.

  I know he wants to strike out at me, too, but something is holding him back from doing so, at least until he says what he needs to. I’m sure of it.

  Whatever this something is unnerves me in a way I can’t explain. It sets my instincts on high alert. It overshadows my way of thinking. It chills me with a thick layer of ice I’m afraid will never thaw.

  I brace for the blow he’s dying to deliver. It’s going to rip my heart clear out of my chest and leave a gaping hole. I know this to be true. Luciano doesn’t do calm, and at the moment he’s the calm before the storm that’s going to pound my soul into the ground.

  “You know,” Luciano says as he takes a step toward me and slams the door. “You surprised me when you took off. Didn’t think you would follow through with it. Imagine my surprise when you did? The dumb cunt somehow managed to use her brain, except she failed to remember her husband always outsmarts his opponent. I’ve known from the beginning you were writing to him, Tara. You of all people should know the one thing important to me. Obedience. I’m disappointed how quickly you’ve forgotten that, my darling disloyal wife. Everyone who works for me is loyal. Did you really didn’t think I wouldn’t find out about this? That someone on my staff wouldn’t tell me about your trips to the post office, or that I wouldn’t eventually track your post office box down? You’ve somehow lost what and who you are to me. You are good for one thing, and that was producing my heirs. Which should have been a son first, but a daughter will work. Especially one whom I’ll groom to be like me instead of weak like her mother.”

  Heirs? Over my dead body. I’m immobilized as terror takes control over me. He took her from me and lied about her whereabouts? Is that what he’s in a roundabout way trying to say?

  Of course, he did. I should have expected nothing less than something this vile from Luciano Saviano.

  “Where is she?” I yell, my throat starting to give way from both screaming and wanting to cry from his digs.

  “Somewhere safe from you.”

  I stand there in a trance. What kind of monster has taken up residence inside of him to make this man able to hate so much he would do this to his child?

  “You must not have as much power as you think you do, Luciano, or you would have been able to take his letters before they got to me. I believe I found a weak link in your chain of command. I can see it now, the poor bastard you are, turned ten shades of red when the post office wouldn’t let you get to my personal belongings. Did you try paying the warden off to stop him from getting my letters?” I need to get him out of here. It’s obvious he wants to piss a ring of fire around me to taunt me with my child.

  “What I do doesn’t concern you. You are my property, which means you belong to me. Your lover, on the other hand, should have never gotten out of that prison.”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Luciano. I might have put up with your bullshit before. You aren’t as big of a hotshot as you think, are you? Only certain kind of people can be bought. There isn’t enough money in this world to pay for what I’m worth. You might think you brought me down. Think again, mister. Every time you struck me, you only made me stronger.”

  “We are about to test that theory, Tara. You think you have me all figured out? You don’t know a fucking thing, you whore. Have you asked yourself why I made you travel with me instead of keeping you at home or sending for you when I needed you like I always do? I needed you with me to derive a plan, to try and destroy all the evidence you tried stashing away to ruin me. You failed then, and you will fail now. I’m the one who won because you left like I knew you would, and in doing so, you brought me straight to him. It pains me to have to watch you suffer, and trust me, Tara, you are going to suffer, and so is he.”

  “You might think I will. But I won’t let you hurt me anymore. However, you are going to suffer where it will hurt you the most. You're running because you found out I turned you in. They have the evidence, and they are looking for you. They won’t give up, Luciano. You’ll run forever, always watching behind your back, always sleeping with one eye open. You are so scared that you’re shitting yourself right now, aren’t you? I’ve been curious about something, Luciano. Did something bad happen to you as a child?”

  “Shut the fuck up, or I’ll kill you right here.” He isn’t going to kill me, not when he wants more children. Why he wants them with me is a mystery.

  “No. I’m not listening to you anymore. Was your life that awful you felt the need to contaminate others with the wicked ways of your world? I suppose the next thing you’re going to tell me is your parents weren’t really shot in their sleep and burned to a crisp afterward, that you killed them for not loving you enough. Tell me, darling husband, what made you hate yourself so much?” I could continue on about this savage of a man. There are things I know, things I still suspected but was unable to come up with the truth to all of them. I stayed and took my beatings to bring him down, and I will fight with all I have to see this through.

  I dig deep into the marrow of my bones for courage; my heart is in his hands. He knows where my baby is, and that notion alone sets my soul on fire.

  In a way, it flows to the surface like a cleansing of my soul. Aimed to destroy the guilt, the shame, and the weakness I’ve let stay alive inside of me for far too long.

  My rage turns twisted and distorted as if I’ve turned into the man standing in front of me. The fire lacing my veins burns and creeps right up my spine and knocks all reasoning out of my skull. All I can feel is a craving to hurt and hate him for what he’s done.

  “You think you know me? You know nothing about me except the fact I am going to watch you beg me for mercy, and when I don’t give it to you, you’ll be on your hands and knees crawling like the little bitch you are. And if you ever talk about my parents or my past again, you won’t see our adorable, sweet little girl. Now get on your fucking knees.”

  He’s goading me. I can see the invitation he’s laid wide open for me to submit in his eyes. I won’t do it. I’ve witnessed his tricks many times. He has people begging for forgiveness, offering them a little string of hope to grab hold of, and when they think he’s going to forgive them, they are tied up in thick ropes, hauled off, and killed. Tortured to death and tossed into the sea.

  Before Trent entered my life, I used to
believe there was no escape. That this was my reality and I was going to live in solitude in my own personal hell with this scum. I will repeat over and over in my head the words ‘never again’ until they are permanently etched into my flesh.

  Trent was right about Luciano deceiving me with my daughter; he’s known where she is the entire time, the same way he’s deceived me since the day I became his wife.

  While Trent, he’s been honest. Whether the words he wanted to say hurt me or not. Told me how important I was, and even though life doesn’t always go the way we planned, we are worthy of ourselves. He knows better than anyone how true those words are.

  Two broken individuals who want a renewal of the heart for the wrongs they did. For the way the knife was twisted in our backs to do what we were told whether it was right or wrong. Trent will torment himself for the rest of his life for what he did, and me, I knew better than to let the devil take my soul and tar it in black by allowing him to take control of my life, to let him have the power to take my baby from me. But my daughter. My sweet little Nola Jean deserves me to take care of her. Not him or the person taking care of her. I inwardly cringe at the thought of her attached to some other female. Makes me want to carve out the hole in his chest.

  My innocent baby was stripped from my arms and taken away from me. This man in front of me spewing his hatred lied, and as far as I’m concerned, that crime is worse than any of the others he’s committed. He’s not only taken her away from me, he’s taken me away from her, and I’ll be Goddamned if I stand here without putting up a fight.

  “You fail to forget she has as much of me in her as she does you. Strength controls weakness, which means I control you. Any man who manipulates a woman, beats her, talks down to her, and steals her baby is nothing but a chicken shit. You’re the one who’s worthless. You’re the one who thinks he has control when you really have nothing. It has to be awfully lonely inside of your head all by yourself. No one likes you, Luciano. Not even the men who work for you. Hell, you’re too wrapped up in yourself to notice half the stuff happening with the men you claim are loyal to you. They steal, they talk about you, and they all hate you as much as I do. You have them trapped because they know the one standing next to them will slice their throat if you tell them to. That isn’t power; that’s a man with no balls and an even smaller dick, which, after being with another man, I’d say is very small. And another thing, you arrogant bastard. It wouldn’t matter if you killed me right here. The day will come when Nola will figure out the kind of man her father is, and she will hate you. So, go ahead and try to groom her. My daughter will have me guiding her from in here, and this heart, the one filled with hatred for you, is a lot stronger than the weak one you have.” I point to my chest as I lie about his minions through my teeth. He’s a man who’s obsessed with loyalty, and it's killing him to know he doesn’t have control over me anymore. I want him to think he has others who betrayed him, too. He’ll worry himself to an early grave if he believes someone else has done him wrong.

  I watch his face turn red and begin laughing uncontrollably while trying to catch my breath. That was only a smidgen of the venomous words I’d love to drive into him. And someday I will. I will sit on a witness stand and bleed my heart out with everything I know.

  This is the only time I’ve stood up to him since the first day he hit me. He’s at a loss for words. Anger is rolling right off him.

  “She’s mine, and she will be nothing like you. Where is my child, Luciano, you sick bastard? I want her.” I’m so intoxicated with the poison that I have every right to feel, the sharpness of it residing in my core just waiting to be spat out of my mouth to ruin him, that before I know what’s happening, my hand is stinging from the slap to his face.

  “Either you tell me, or you kill me now. I won’t give up, and I’ll fight with every ounce of love I have for my daughter along with all the breath that dwells in my lungs if you don’t tell me where she is.”

  “Well, maybe you aren’t the worthless woman I thought you were, after all. Let’s get a few things straight here, shall we? You think because you let another man fuck you that it gives you the right to speak to me this way and to raise your hand to me? I hope he was good, you stupid, stupid girl. It will be the last time the man will fuck anyone by the time I’m done with him. Nola will learn all about her mother, but not from you. She’ll obey me because by the time I’m finished driving you completely insane, setting up my plans to leave and lock you away, she’ll do everything in her power not to turn out like her crazy mother. You don’t make the rules when it comes to what I decide to do. I’ve allowed you to break too many of them already, and you will definitely do what I say, or you’ll live in a hell you’ve never seen before. I’ve had enough of you. It’s time to play.” I have no time to register his words because the next thing I know is his fist flying and connecting with my jaw. I stumble backward, my brain light and fuzzy.

  My hair breaks and cries out as he grabs a handful and drags me to his body, spits in my face, and backhands me so hard my teeth shift.

  I’ve never gotten used to the pain this deranged man has inflicted on me. I don't think a person ever truly can, but this, I’ll take what he’s doing until I grasp hold of what he’s told me. Thought this through. And I will find my daughter as well as Trent.

  The next punch to my mouth sends all my self-control flying to the forefront of my mind. I press a finger to my lips when a thin trickle of blood runs down my chin.

  “Fuck you, you slimy sick son of a bitch!” I scream, spit the blood in my mouth at his feet.

  He wants me to beg him to stop like I’ve done many times before. I won’t do a damn thing he tells me ever again, and I won’t submit to giving him what he wants afterward. My bloodshot eyes travel down the length of his suit, his erection prominent and protruding through his pants.

  Beating me always made him hard.

  Good God, I knew he was crazy, but seeing this now, knowing the way Trent was with me, rough yet pleasuring, hard yet soft, worshipping me the same way I did him, the sight of Luciano hard over this makes me want to take him in my mouth only to bite the appendage off. To shake my head like a wild animal and watch him scream in an insufferable way.

  When I lift my face to meet his hardened gaze, I let out a vicious laugh. He wants crazy; he hasn’t seen anything yet.

  “You fucking whore. I should have killed you when I had the chance. Many times I wanted to. So Goddamn many, and yet I couldn’t get myself to do it. I needed you. I don’t need nor do I want you, but I need a son. And I’ll be good and damned to hell if I will let you live a life with anyone else but me. You will suffer, you cunt. Suffer so bad you’ll beg me to take you back. I will make you pay for humiliating me in front of my men. Your betrayals are going to cost you everything, Tara, and it’s going to cost you good. And him. You see, I might not have been able to get to the warden where he was before, but your lover has flown across the country to try and steal another woman he’s become obsessed with. He broke his parole, darling. You thought you covered your tracks, think again.”

  “My tracks are covered. If they weren’t, you wouldn’t be running.” This bastard let me escape to set Trent up. Jesus, he has lost it.

  I will not comply with this twisted game he wants to play, nor will I give him a son. My defiant chin juts out, and I crumple to the floor as a hard kick comes in contact with the lower part of my stomach. It knocks all the air out of me. I mechanically curl into a ball. My breathing is choppy. My brain on the edge of blackening me out. Every blow to my head, every punch to my back sends a sharp searing jolt of endless pain throughout my entire body. The black of unconsciousness beckons me, and finally, I give in to the darkness.

  Chapter 8

  TRENT

  Turner, answer me, brother. Where are you? my mind screams. Every part of me wants to ask these fuckers where he is. If I do, they’ll taunt me with his whereabouts, and I’ll be surrounded with more guilt than I already have inside
of my heart not being able to help him.

  A thickness of dread lodges in my throat when the tip of a whip slices through my jeans and snakes around my ankles. The pain isn’t sharp like the wound from being shot years ago. It burns in a circle around my skin worse than what I imagine scalding hot water would feel like.

  I can’t see the men who are attacking me as. They barged in here and threw something over my head, then one of them grabbed me from behind, loosened the chains, cuffed my hands, and chained me to something on the wall.

  They're trying to torture me with pain. It isn’t working. They fail to see that watching him beat Tara until her unmoving body fell to the floor brings more pain than any amount they inflict on me.

  The pain eating away at me now, though, wouldn’t be so bad if I had use of my hands. Hell, they would be dead if I did. I hate pussy-ass motherfuckers who don’t fight like real men. Hands, fists, feet, and the feeling of someone’s flesh being torn by your own deadly paws is a much greater reward to a man like me than this shit, but never raise them to a woman. Especially my woman.

  Now, as I sit here taking their wrath, I can’t help but wonder if he’s forcing her to watch what they're doing to me. Christ, I could see how strong she was when she stood up to him. Pride rang through my chest as I squinted to try and read her lips through the screen. It cuts me deeper than every slice to my skin that I’m down here, while she’s lying on that floor where I can’t help her either.

  The chaos in my mind is at an all-time high, and I can’t help but wonder if they are doing this to my brother, too. He’s the good part of my soul, and God help these men if they hurt him. He’s been through enough.

  “Is that all you got?” I tempt. Baring my teeth and waiting for the hiss of the whip through the air. I’ll keep dishing out digs until one of them talks. I need fucking answers.

  Motherfucking bitch, I inwardly hiss when the whip cracks across my inner thigh and blood coats my jeans.

 

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