Commanding Casey

by Nicolina Martin

  It’s as if my skin shrinks. “Please.”

  “Now!”

  I flinch, a bolt of raw fear shooting through me. I shuffle on elbows and knees until he has me where he wants me. I don’t say another word when he ties me up, wrapping tight, cutting off the blood flow to my hands.

  “There.” He stands, looks me over. “Now, I might be back tonight. Or maybe not. Are you comfortable?”

  I shake my head as tears begin to fall. He’s leaving me? Like this? I pull experimentally at the ties, not getting anywhere.

  “Good. Just giving you a little taste of how fucking uncomfortable it was, spending two fucking years inside. See you later, Casey.”

  “Don’t leave me like this!”

  “Aww. It warms my heart, knowing you’re gonna miss me.” He slams the door closed behind him and a moment later, the front door slams as well.

  At first, I’m frozen in horror, then I jerk to life, beginning the long fight to free my wrists from the knots. I manage to get to my knees and use my teeth. He tied me tight, and it takes forever, but finally I get my chafed wrists loose, whimpering as I clench and unclench my fingers and the blood streams back, bringing with it a tingling, stinging hell.

  I don’t sleep for the rest of the night. I live in a nightmare. I can’t move. I don’t dare to go to the cops. He’d hurt my brother. He will. I know it with a bone-deep certainty.

  Alex Trey will hurt me in every way possible, physically, emotionally, and I don’t know what to do to stop it.

  Curled up on my bed, I cry, haunted by memories of Cole Hooper, from the weeks we had when everything was innocent and new, before he accused me of murder.

  I hope he rots. I hope he lives to regret what he said, because that hurt worse than whatever Alex will dish out.

  My mind spins.

  No.

  I can’t.

  It’s not me.

  I don’t have to be a helpless victim.

  Florida has laws.

  It’s not murder if it’s self-defense.

  It’s so not me, but it’s not me to just lie back and take it either.

  Alex fucking Trey will be in for a surprise if he ever comes here again. I won’t let him threaten me or my family. I’ve had it up to here with being run over by men.

  I shower, a long hot shower, moaning from the pain when the water scorches my wrists. Sweating buckets, I crank up the air conditioner before I go to find the bottle of vodka I have stashed away somewhere.

  I want Cole. I want to slap him, scream at him, and I want to touch him so bad. I want his strong arms to just hold me one last time. No words. Just skin on skin. The booze numbs my mind, and thank God it’s Saturday morning and I don’t have to go to work, because when the sun rises, I’m drunk as a bat. At least nothing aches anymore. I’ve wept my tears and wiped them off, cursed, and chased away the terror. I’ll get a gun permit for sure. I’m not stupid. But until then, I’ll ask one of the guys.

  Casey Keagan is no victim. I’ve been fighting my whole life, fighting to be accepted, fighting against prejudice, fighting against my nature, fighting to accept it. I’ll handle this, just like I’ve handled everything else.

  * * *

  Cole

  I’m thirty minutes early. Sandra set us up to meet at a café. I’ve found a table hidden from the windows. I want to meet my kids without any photographers snapping fucking pictures of us.

  The soft chime from the front door makes me dart to my feet, my heart in my throat. There’s the sound of cars and shouting before it’s abruptly cut off when the door falls closed. I take a step out into the aisle to see if it’s them.

  She’s got a modern Marilyn Monroe look going with her wavy, shoulder-length, platinum blonde hair, and hazel eyes. Her skirt is tight and her heels ridiculously high. She’s stunning, looks like twenty despite being twenty-eight, and has a smile that makes men melt. I know better than most. She’s also cold and calculating, and she holds my kids hostage. Until I have managed to rebuild my father status with them, until they’ve made up their own minds about who I am, I’m really fucking dependent on keeping her in a good mood.

  I don’t see Alicia and Sage at first, and think for a few horrible seconds that she didn’t bring them after all, but a half-wall hid them, and when the blonde girl and brown-haired boy suddenly appear behind their mother, clutching a hand each, my heart stops for a moment.

  Sage perks up, clearly recognizing me instantly. With a quick look at Sandra, who nods gracefully, he flies through the room and throws himself around my waist.

  “Dad!”

  Alicia is a little more reserved, clutching her mom’s hand.

  I crouch, holding Sage’s hands in mine. “Hey, little man.”

  “I always knew you’d come back.” he says, with a child’s conviction and simplicity.

  “Always, Sage.” I fight to keep my voice steady as a glance at Alicia, hiding behind her mother. There’s recognition in her eyes. I try a smile and she grimaces, then hides her face.

  “Are you feeling better, Daddy?”

  It’s like a dam opens. My nose pricks and my throat tightens as my heart sings. “Daddy is feeling better, Sage.” My voice is gruff. It barely carries.

  “Are you staying with us this time?”

  There’s a lady on the other side of the country that I need to see to, but yes, I’m staying. “I’m not going anywhere, Sage. I have missed you and your sister so, so much.”

  “Lissa!” says Sage and runs off to pull at her arm. “Stop being stupid!”

  Alicia peeks out again. Her eyes huge in her little face.

  “It’s all right, Sage. I was gone for a long time. She doesn’t remember—”

  “Dad?” says Alicia, and it nearly does me in.

  “Hey, tiger. Do you still like blueberry pancakes?”

  Her eyes dart between me and Sandra, then she lets go and takes a few steps toward me. “Yes...”

  “Wanna see if they have some?” She nods eagerly and I look at Sandra. “Can I buy you something?”

  She glances behind her, at the exit, then back toward us. “Sure.”

  The kids have both run up to the counter to see what they can get. Sandra comes up to me. “Are you staying this time? Don’t you dare lie to them.”

  “I never lied. Not lying now. Yeah, I’m staying. I have something to take care of, but I want to be in their lives. A lot. Can you handle that?”

  She scoffs and shrugs.

  “Can... everyone around you handle that?”

  Her quick intake of air makes me fear the worst, then she twists her lips into a grimace. “I live many kinds of lives, and I don’t mix them. So no, I don’t let my acquaintances get involved with Sage and Alicia. There is no one who needs to ‘handle’ anything.”

  It makes me unexpectedly happy. I had somehow imagined I had been replaced a long time ago.

  “Sit. We have lots to talk about. Coffee, no cream?”

  She smiles, a wide, brilliant smile. “You remember.”

  It’s not hard to see the appeal on the screen. She got into the business a tad too late—they want them younger, malleable. Hollywood likes to make women out of girls in the factories of fantasies—or she would have been every bit the A-list celebrity she looks like.

  Yeah, I remember. I also remember how infatuated I was by this woman, but I finally know what real affection feels like. I see a young woman with spiky black hair and a big mouth, in every sense of the word. I see her by my feet, feel her devotion and her trust.

  I have made a terrible mistake, and I have to fix it. Looking at my chattering children, excited, already cool with being around me, I realize that my life has been a long series of mistakes and that this is my chance to make it right again.

  “So—” Sandra sits on the chair in front of me and crosses her long legs, slowly spinning the content in her cup. “What’s up with Alaska?”

  The kids sit next to us, chattering excitedly with each other. Alicia sits next to
Sandra, and Sage next to me. My heart nearly bursts at the sight.

  “Were you ever coming back, Cole?”

  I push a hand through my hair. “Maybe. I dunno,” I mumble.

  We both look at our children. Sandra tightens her lips and I’m overwhelmed by sorrow over all that I’ve missed.

  “What made you change your mind?”

  “Someone...”

  “And where is this ‘someone’ now?”

  “On the other side of the fu—” I shoot our children a glance, “world.”

  Sandra raises an elegantly arched eyebrow.

  “Florida,” I clarify.

  “But... you’re staying here?”

  “You’re assuming it’s a woman.”

  She laughs. “Yes.”

  I clear my throat. “I’ll find a way. I don’t think she wants to see me again anyway.”

  “Why? What’d you do now?”

  The waitress comes with our order, saving us from the awkward moment. Saving me. She can’t tear her eyes off Sandra, clearly recognizing her, but she delivers pancakes, juice, coffee and backs away, clearly itching to say something, but keeping up the professional facade.

  “You’re doing well,” I say, raising an eyebrow.

  “Can I have the syrup?” says Sage.

  “Not until I’m done,” says Alicia.

  “You’ve got one each,” I say and hand Sage the other one while Sandra intervenes, stopping Alicia from emptying the bottle.

  “Are you staying with us, Daddy?” asks Alicia.

  Sandra clears her throat. “Ehm, Daddy’s got a whole new house. Aren’t you curious to see it? I bet he’s got room for you.”

  My cheeks heat up. Fuck. “Are you okay with sharing a room?”

  “Nooo!” Both Sage and Alicia stare at me in horror.

  “She’s messy,” says Sage.

  “He’s got smelly socks!”

  “No, I don’t!”

  I shake my head, both amused and mortified. “Ehm—”

  “It’ll be all right,” says Sandra.

  We look at each other and I shrug helplessly. I’m not rich. LA is expensive.

  “Are you going back as an EMT?”

  “That’s the plan.”

  “Why don’t you use your carpenter skills? With your knowledge—do you know how desperate people are for custom-made furniture here? Everyone wants something unique. Team up with an upholsterer. You can make a freaking fortune doing something you like.”

  “That was Dad’s job. His dream.”

  “Fuck your dad. He’s a pathetic, bigoted little man who was never gonna get anywhere.” Then she puts a hand over her mouth and looks at the kids who have gone silent.

  “Mom!” says Alicia. “We can’t curse.”

  “No, you can’t,” says Sandra and I with one mouth.

  I don’t want to admit that she’s right. I grew up a carpenter’s son. My dad spent his life making custom-made kitchen, tables, chairs, and cupboards. I know the profession in and out. I’ve known Sandra since we were in our early teens, even though we didn’t get together until later, her being some years younger, the annoying younger sister of one of my classmates.

  My mind spins. Everything happens too fast. Four months ago, I picked up our new mechanic at the local airport. That bratty little hellion set off an avalanche, and here I am, making amends, fighting to find my way back to life.

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “I have connections.”

  “I’m not your charity case, Sandra.”

  She scoffs. “Up to you, but you better build up a life here. A good one this time. Get some financial stability.” She cocks her head toward our children. “For them.”

  Alicia tugs at Sandra’s blouse sleeve. “Mom, when can we see Dad’s house?”

  It’s as if something breaks inside me. Dad. What did I ever do to deserve these people? I thought Sandra was going to raise hell and keep me away from our kids at all cost.

  “Yes,” Sandra looks at me, “when can we see Daddy’s house?”

  I spread my arms. “Anytime.”

  She holds my gaze. “You better be staying this time, Cole.”

  “I’m not going anywhere. I have something to take care of on the other side of the continent, but I’ll be back.” I take in my children, my chest tightening, my heart swelling. “I promise.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Casey

  It’s been a week. Alex is a no-show, but he has succeeded with one thing. Despite now being the proud owner of a handgun, I live in constant fear. He’s like a bomb waiting to go off. I don’t know if he’ll hurt my brother. I don’t know where he is, how to get ahold of him. I try with my old friend from high school, the one who once introduced me to Alex. Gregory Wu, standing behind the counter of his surf shop, greets me with so much love and care that it makes me cry. I’ve never been this emotional in my life before.

  “Casey Keagan!”

  I look at the poor man who guided me into the hands of a monster. He has lived with regrets ever since. He didn’t know. I’ve never blamed him. I was younger, stupid, naive. I should have known much, much better myself.

  “Have you seen him?”

  “Trey? I heard he moved out of state?”

  I shake my head slowly. “Nope.”

  “Aw, fuck, Casey. What’d he do? Did he hurt you?” He looks me over and his gaze lands on my wrists, still not fully healed. I have worn long-sleeved shirts despite the heat, but he sees right through me, a sliver of skin enough for his compassionate eyes. “I’m gonna fucking kill that bastard!”

  “No, you’re not. It’s okay. He’s not gonna bother me again. He just...” I chew on my lip. “Left me with a parting gift. So... anyway... you haven’t seen him or... know anyone who knows him... or something?”

  “He moved here from Louisiana, I think. I got to know him through my ex-girlfriend. We hung. He was a fun dude, you know, easygoing. I haven’t seen him or heard from him since... that night. I can ask around.”

  “No. Don’t bother,” I say, unable to keep the bitterness out of my voice. “Don’t pull anyone else into this shit.”

  “If he comes for you, Casey, you have to go to the cops!”

  “Of course, Greg. Don’t worry.”

  If I go to the cops, Alex will find a way to hurt my baby brother. I’ll do this my way. He’s out there and he will be back. He’s holding my life hostage, playing with me, but I won’t let him put a hand on me again.

  I slap Gregory’s shoulder. “Take care, man. See you around.” Then I leave his little shop and head out into the blustery day. It’s hot and moist and the wind only manages to shuffle around the suffocating atmosphere. Or maybe it isn’t the air that makes me feel as if I have hands around my neck?

  * * *

  Cole

  At the airport outside Daytona, I get a call. I jerk when the phone vibrates in my back pocket and move to the side as I pull it up. The display says Max, TLC.

  Track Line Corp. A shudder runs through me. Seeing that name brings back so many memories. Most are pretty fucked up. Some are a few of the best in my life.

  I take a deep breath and slide my thumb over the screen. “Hi, Max.”

  “Cole! My best welder ever.”

  “What’s up?” I look around me, taking in the busy arrivals terminal, looking for the exit and for a sign for the car rental agency.

  “I was hoping for ‘Max. When can I come back?’”

  I inhale and let the air out on a sigh. “You back up and running?”

  “We open the site in a week. Company’s been here, repair’s been done. The site needed to be moved anyway. We’re set to go. I need my men back.”

  “Did they investigate the explosion?”

  “Oh, yes. It was that shit Dover.”

  “What? How... Why?”

  But I have a suspicion why. A strong fucking suspicion why. Casey was supposed to be in that tent. Casey, who he had his own twisted reasons to wa
nt to hurt. But kill? Fucking hell. I clench my jaw, seeing him before me, seeing how I beat him. I wish I’d fucking killed him!

  “He’s in custody. No bail. He hasn’t confessed. He hasn’t talked at all. He’s a slick shit, that one. You know, I looked him in the eyes, asking him how the fuck he could murder my men. Know what he said? Zip. Fucking nothing.”

  “But... there’s evidence?”

  “Circumstantial. But I’m fucking sure of it. He... had a motive. Bet the DA has talked to Keagan by now. She has some input. They didn’t talk to you yet?”

  “No. Not yet.”

  It feels as if the ground opens up beneath me. If Casey had died... I’m suddenly nauseous. My accusation against her hangs heavily over my soul. I haven’t asked her to forgive me. I don’t know if she ever will.

  Max keeps talking. I have to sit. I make my way to a concrete divider that separates the walkway from the street. A bus honks at me, the horn blaring. I unbutton my shirt, pulling it off while I take the phone in the other hand, leaving me with a T-shirt and jeans. It’s hot as hell. LA has a more manageable heat, or maybe it’s me being used to that climate. This is like getting a hot, wet blanket wrapped around you.

  “Hooper? You there?”

  I snap back to the present. “Yeah.”

  “So, are you coming back? We need you.”

  There’s not a bone in me that wants to leave again. I don’t expect sunshine and flowers. There will be fights and dark days, but no. I’m not going back. “Sorry, Max.”

  “Cole! Man. Tell me what you need and I’ll fix it.”

  “There’s nothing to fix.”

  “Your contract states—”

  I stand and move toward the car rental. “My contract ended a week after the explosion, and you know it.”

  “Well, that’s a week—”

  “You really gonna argue that, Max? It’ll cost you more to get my ass there for those few days than it’ll cost you to just let it go, and you know it.”

  He’s silent and I know I’ve won.

  “Whatever,” he finally says.

  “How about ‘thank you for your service’?”

  Max scoffs.