Sinful Torment: A Romantic Suspense Novel

by Tia Lewis

  “Yeah, I remember the Saturdays.”

  “Saturdays? What happened on Saturdays?” Tess asked.

  “Two Saturdays every month, Liam came over here and helped me clean. He was a great cleaner. And while we cleaned, we talked. He told me he was proud of what I did—volunteering—and that he would like to do the same one day.”

  “Aww! You were such a good boy back then,” Tess smiled.

  I shook my head. “I never said that, Miss Jones.”

  “Of course, you did, Liam. I’m quite sure it was you…”

  “No.” I sternly corrected. “That was Kevin. He said that. It wasn’t just me who came over to clean. It was Kevin and me. The only reason I came over was because Kevin asked me to because Kevin was the friendly one. Yes, I made that girl a daisy ring, or whatever. But I wanted to tell her to fuck off. But Kevin persuaded me to do something nice.”

  “Liam…” Tess admonished.

  “Because Kevin was the best goddamned kid you ever met, not me! And you know what the fuck happened to him? Don’t you, Miss Jones?”

  “Liam!” Tess shouted.

  Tears formed in Miss Jones’s eyes.

  “I know,” she said, her voice breaking. “Liam, I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize. It’s over. It’s done. It’s all fucking over.”

  “What happened?” Tess looked from Miss Jones to me.

  “It doesn’t fucking matter!” I yelled, feeling the urge to grab the table and smash it against the wall until there was nothing left but wooden pieces. Then I would grab a piece of broken wood and find the Russian bastards who came here and hurt Miss Jones and shove it in their goddamned necks.

  “Hey!” Tess hissed. “Calm down, Liam.”

  I tried to clear my mind, but it was full of blood, death, guilt and ghosts from the past.

  I took a deep breath to regain my composure, pacing around the room. This was no way to act in Miss Jones presence but being back in my childhood neighborhood was starting to get the best of me.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s alright, Liam. I understand,” Miss Jones said calmly.

  “Miss Jones?” I asked meekly.

  “Yes?”

  “The Russians gave you a number, I’m guessing. A way to reach them?”

  Miss Jones wiped tears from her cheeks as she nodded. “They did, yes.”

  “Good. This is what we’re going to do: Tess and I are staying here tonight. Tomorrow morning, you’re gonna call them.”

  Tess and Miss Jones leaned in.

  “All you’re going to say is, ‘he’s back,” I instructed. “Don’t say anything else. They’ll know where to find me.”

  “Yes, Liam.”

  “And when all this shit is over with, and I get my money back…” I paused. “Tess and I are going to England, passport or no passport. I’m getting her back home where she’s safe. We’re going… together.”

  I hadn’t planned to say this last part; it just rushed out.

  “Uh…” Tess creased her forehead.

  “Yes,” I said, facing her. It was out now. There was no point hiding from it.

  Tess bit her lip while she looked back at Miss Jones.

  “Listen, I gonna get my money back and take you back to England where it’s safer. Then you can take me to your homeland where I don’t have to deal with this shit anymore. Just start a new life. Be… normal. That’s the plan.”

  “What will we do in England?”

  “Live. Start over. Start fresh… Are you with me?”

  Tess thought for a moment, and I could see that she was hesitant.

  “I don’t know, Liam,” she whispers. “All of this is a little overwhelming for me. Yes, I want to go home…”

  “How many more men do I have to kill to prove you that you’re mine? How many more men do I have to kill to show you that I’ll protect you, and that I…”

  “I think it sounds like a wonderful idea, Tess,” Miss Jones interrupted. “So romantic.” She sighed wistfully.

  Tess blushed and bit her lip as she contemplated my plan.

  “Are you with me?” I held out my hand to Tess.

  She paused, and for a moment I worried that she would turn me down. A few minutes later she extended her hand to me, and we shook hands like we were closing on a deal.

  “I’m with you.”

  “Okay,” I took a deep breath and smiled. I turned my attention back to Miss Jones. “Miss Jones. I need you to run to the hardware store and pick up some supplies for me tonight. It’s a large list. I need razor wire, knives, ropes, chains, chainsaw, tarp, shovel, heavy-duty black trash bags, bleach, lots of towels, salt…”

  “Salt?” Tess interrupted with wide eyes.

  “Yes, and I’m going to need a new set of clothes.”

  I searched the room until I found a pen and a notepad. I wrote down all of the supplies and clothes I needed, included my clothing sizes. Once I was done with the list, I ripped the paper off of the pad and handed it to Miss Jones.

  “Here. Go it?”

  “Got it,” Miss Jones nodded.

  “You feel safe going alone? Do you want Tess or I to go with you?”

  “I got this, Liam,” Miss Jones stuck her chest out proudly.

  “Good. I hope that you’re ready because there’s going to be a bloodbath tomorrow.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Tess and I showered and changed we moved into Miss Jones’s guest bedroom for the night. I wore some clothes Miss Jones had provided. They had been her ex-boyfriend’s; he was on the bigger side, and they didn’t fit me too well, but at least they were not soaked in sweat or blood. Miss Jones gave me a baggy, blue plaid button-up shirt that hung from my torso, loose-fitting jeans, and red socks with pictures of reindeer on the feet. Tess wore a short nightdress that showed off her svelte, feminine shape. The fabric was red, with purple frills around the hem. Her face was freshly scrubbed of makeup, and she looked younger, much too young for everything that had happened to her and far too young to be sharing a bedroom with a man like me.

  The bed was queen sized and tidy, draped with crisp white sheets. The lamp that sat on the nightstand filled the room with an orange glow. On the wall, a painting of Napa Valley in some impressive portrayal of the California landscape looked down upon us, as if tempting us to experience its natural beauty and temporarily escape the mess that we’ve gotten ourselves into. In the corner stood a small cactus tree. A wardrobe chest stood beside the door, and the walls were painted a pale mint green. Combined with the painting and the plant, the green color made it feel like a little piece of nature existed in the room, creating a comforting, peaceful world of its own.

  I sat up in bed, cleaning and assembling one of my pistols with steady hands. Then I moved on to oiling the second. Once I finished, I placed my guns on the nightstand and laid back into the bed.

  “Well, this is an upgrade,” Tess said, nodding as she looked around the room. “Not too bad. Not bad at all. First, it was your dump, then the 70’s motel room... but this is actually habitable.”

  I didn’t respond. I didn’t feel like talking too much.

  “Hey,” Tess poked me. “Are you okay? You seem quiet.”

  There was a knock on the door and Miss Jones poked her head in.

  “Everything okay?” she asked as if Tess and I were at a sleepover.

  “Everything is great, Miss Jones,” Tess nodded. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” Miss Jones smiled. “Oh, Liam. I have all your supplies in two duffle bags on the kitchen counter.”

  “Thank you, Miss Jones,” I answered. I was more thankful for her help than she would ever know.

  “The only thing I didn’t buy was the chainsaw. Everything else was fairly easy. When I went to the aisle of power tools they had such a large assortment of chainsaws, and I didn’t know which one to pick,” Miss Jones giggled. “The hardware store was starting to close, and a clerk wasn’t around to help.”

  �
��It’s okay, Miss Jones. You’ve done enough. I want you to go to bed now and rest.”

  “Yes, Liam,” she smiled. “Oh, and I did make a stop and brought the clothes you wanted—black T-shirt, jeans, boxers, clean socks…”

  “Thank you again,” I said dismissively. “Now, please. Get some rest.”

  “Yes, Liam. I’ll see you two in the morning.” Her voice dropped at the end of the sentence. We all knew what the morning would bring.

  “Sleep well.” Tess waved.

  Miss Jones closed the door, and I heard her footsteps down the hallway.

  Tess yawned and stretched her arms. “Well, this has been a long day. Can you believe it’s only been one day since we left Boston? So much has happened since then.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “What’s wrong, Liam?”

  Without replying, I stared up at the ceiling like I always did at my apartment except the ceiling here had no cracks. Everything in Miss Jones’s house was clean and well-maintained, but I was used to living in filth.

  “Okay… Well, at least answer one question for me. When you get your money back and we go to England… How are we going to get into the country when we don’t have passports?” Tess asked, sitting on the edge of the bed near my reindeer-clad feet, looking up at me.

  “I know a guy. It won’t be a problem.”

  “Ah,” she said. We sat in silence, and she glanced around the room.

  “Who was your mother, Liam? You’ve never mentioned her, not even once. I know you had one, and I want to know where you come from. I want to know you.”

  “Of course had a mother,” I said. “But I don’t…”

  “You don’t want to talk about it. I know.”

  I stretched out my arms letting out a deep yawn and hoping that she would catch the hint. “We need to go to sleep.”

  Tess cleared her throat. “About what you said earlier… I hope you don’t think I’m foolish enough to back to England with a man who refuses to open up to me. I need to be able to trust you.”

  “I figured that you would back out.”

  “Does your ‘grand’ plan sound exciting? Sure. I would love to go back home. But I would be fooling myself to think I can start a ‘new life’ with someone who I can’t even get to know.”

  “You know enough about me. I’m a hitman. I kill for a living. I like fast cars, guns and I like to fuck. That’s pretty much it.”

  “It’s like I know you, but I don’t know you, and that scares me. Like what are your motives? What are your true intentions?” Tess looked exasperated, and that annoyed me.

  I let out another loud yawn, staring at the ceiling and preparing myself for the worst. If she backed out, it wouldn’t be the first time someone I cared about had abandoned me. I was used to that shit.

  Fuck! Where are all these feelings coming from? The fact that I was acting like a pussy over some pussy pissed me off.

  “I have to be upfront with you. I can’t help but feel there’s something else you’re not telling me? What other secrets are you hiding Liam?”

  “Tess, we only met a few days ago, and all of a sudden you’re acting like we’re together.”

  “We basically are together. If we weren’t, then why in bloody hell would you want to go to England with me?”

  “You need to get some sleep.” I tried to brush her off, but she wasn’t having it.

  “Whether you want to admit it or not. I know that deep down inside this emotionless hitman there’s actually a good guy with a big heart. It may be buried somewhere deep in the ocean…”

  “Goodnight, Tess.” I was done with this conversation.

  I rubbed my eyes with my thumbs, trying to wipe the painful thoughts away and clear my head. Tess could see too far deep into the heart of me. It was unsettling. Before she came along, I felt like a man wearing a thick, sturdy suit of armor that had taken decades to build. The suit of armor was thicker than the hull of a tank and could withstand anything. And then along came Tess, holding only a bread knife, and somehow she stabbed right through this suit of armor and deep into the vulnerable skin beneath.

  “What! Goodnight?” Tess looked furious.

  “Yes! ‘Goodnight.’ There’s gonna be blood tomorrow, Tess! Do you not realize what’s going to happen in the morning? The last thing I need is to feel is—”

  “Scared?”

  “Exposed. Okay? Is that what you’re trying to do? Make it so I can’t do my goddamned job tomorrow?”

  “You want to know something? Zharkov used to make me dance for him…”

  “Tess…”

  “Will you shut the hell up and listen to me!” She shouted. “Just listen to me.”

  “I’m listening.”

  She continued. “Dancing for Zharkov was degrading because he would sit there like a customer at a strip club, watching me with depraved eyes. But do you know it wasn’t the degradation that made it horrifying? It was the fact that I’ve never, ever been a good dancer. I just went up there, fidgeted and struggled to keep a decent rhythm all the while hoping that I wouldn’t be beaten for my terrible dancing. I didn’t want to please him—I hated the idea of pleasing him—and yet I didn’t want to disappoint him, either. I started to forget who I was. I wasn’t a girl who danced for men. I had never been that girl. But there I was, dancing without my clothes on, and parading myself around the stage for him.”

  An image of Tess naked, dancing for that fat Russian fuck obliterated all rational thought. I punched the bed sheets in my hands, burying my fingers in them, and imagining that they were Zharkov’s eyes. My body was overwhelmed with burning hatred, the kind of innate, retaliatory hatred that is rarely seen outside of war zones. I felt like a wild man preparing himself for a primeval battle: I became a beast, an alpha preparing himself to protect his woman from a nearby threat.

  “Grrr!” I roared which frightened Tess. “Why are you telling me this? I know what he did to you was horrible!” I was damn near inconsolable at this point.

  A minute later, Miss Jones knocked on the door.

  “Is everything okay in there? Did something happen?”

  “Everything is fine, Miss Jones. Thank you,” Tess said, forcing a smile.

  “Okay, just checking. See you in the morning.” She watched for any signs of distress before closing the door.

  I heard Miss Jones footsteps retreat down the hallway right before I listened to the sound of Tess sniffling.

  Tess wiped her face. Tears were clearly visible on her hand.

  “I’m telling you this because I want you to know that it’s okay to talk about how you feel. Take that, for example. That was the first time that I have spoken about that…. ever! And do you know what? I feel much better now. I’m not looking for sympathy, and I’m not playing the victim card. I’m simply letting you know that it’s okay to open up. Why can’t you understand where I am coming from?”

  “Because some things should remain private. Every single issue does not need to be discussed!”

  “I disagree.”

  There was a pause.

  I took my hands from the bed sheets and rubbed the thumb of my left hand along the knuckles of my right hand. I’d taken the bandages off, and they were raw and red. A few minutes had passed before Tess spoke again.

  “Look, I’m just trying to help. I want to let you know where I stand about this whole grand plan that you have about us starting a life together in England. I appreciate you for wanting to get me back home, but I have to feel like I can trust you if we are going to start over together,” she admitted. “But I guess I’ll go to bed so I can prepare myself for the massacre that’ll happen in the morning. Goodnight.”

  As much as I wanted this conversation to be over, I couldn’t help but change my mind. I could see Tess starting to give up on me, and I was afraid that she would pull away or change her mind if I didn’t share more about myself.

  I took a deep breath.

  “I’ll tell you what happened to my mother.
”

  “Are you sure?” She didn’t believe that I would talk.

  “Yes.”

  “Okay. I’m listening.”

  For whatever messed-up reason, she really cared about it, actually gave a shit what had happened to my mother. I didn’t know why—no one had ever cared for me, except for Kevin—but I knew Tess did. It was written plainly on her face and sounded obvious in her labored breathing.

  I felt a violent reaction in my chest at this idea like my ribs were closing in on my heart, trying to stop it from revealing anything with the potential to compromise me. I felt the need to protect myself and keep my secrets. It was like my body was caving in, compressing and constricting to protect itself. But at the same time, I could tell that Tess wasn’t going to quit pursuing the topic. If I gave her a morsel now, maybe she’d stop asking about my past for a while. Maybe I could go back to being the cold, detached, emotionless man that I was a week ago before I saved a nineteen-year-old English woman from a group of Russians.

  I pressed my fingertip down on my knuckle so hard that it hurt. I looked at the wall because I didn’t like the idea of looking at Tess while I told her the truth. They say that the eyes are the windows to the soul, and I wasn’t ready to show my hand just yet.

  I spoke fast, wanting to get it over with and hoping that she didn’t interrupt me.

  “She died while giving birth to Kevin.”

  She gasped. “I’m so sorry!” I could tell that she didn’t see that one coming.

  “It was a long time ago,” I said. “There’s nothing to be sorry about. My mother is dead. My little brother is dead. Mrs. McGreevy is dead…”

  “Who’s Mrs. McGreevy?”

  I just shook my head. I didn’t feel like revealing any more than I had to.

  I continued. “My mother and my little brother were the only two people that mattered to me—especially Kevin. The only good thing that came from them being dying is that they no longer had to deal with the fury of my drunken father. But they’re dead now, and there’s nothing else to talk about. Can we go to sleep now?”

  I’m so sorry, brother. I bet she was a wonderful woman. I’m sorry she had to die for me. I heard Kevin say in my head.