by Asha Daniels
“Travis Gregory, Megan Wallace.” It was as if Daddy only wanted to introduce me to this man and no one else. I could see a glimmer of desire in others around us, but all eyes seemed to be on Travis.
“Pre-law. An attorney in our midst,” Travis said then laughed, allowing the others in the room to laugh as well.
“I do believe in right versus wrong. We have very little of that in this world.” I knew my words were terse, but I couldn’t help myself. Men like my father deserved to be in prison and my goal in life was to stop racketeering. Travis seemed amused as well as interested, his eyes flashing.
“She’s beautiful, Gabriel. You’ve done well,” Travis said directly to my father.
“She’s willful,” Daddy said, as he lifted his glass, “yet to learn the appropriate manners as required.”
“I’m certain she can be taught,” Travis added, moving closer to my father as if he was hanging on every word.
I noticed just how much alike the two men were and my guess is they used the same tailor, although I had to admit, my father was much more handsome. His dark hair was tinged with gray located just at his temples. Worry and age lines crisscrossed the edges of his midnight black eyes, but the look was distinguished.
“Yes, well that remains to be seen. A garish dress, Megan,” Daddy said mostly under his breath.
I’d always known I was a product, nothing more but at this very moment, I could see how Travis sized me up, looking through and past me, as if my wants and needs didn’t exist. “I’m all grown up and I can make my own choices. You taught me that, Daddy.”
“My, my, willful indeed.” Travis lifted his glass, no doubt the cut crystal was filled with the most expensive bourbon, a classic drink for every man attempting to get in my father’s good graces. I was disgusted, barely able to tolerate being in the same room.
“I can’t be trained,” I offered, giving Travis a seductive gaze.
My comment garnered a moment of laughter, even tittering throughout the crowd. I kept my smile as I nodded and took Travis’ hand. “Very nice to meet such a disciplined employee.” The remark was almost cathartic, creating a few titters.
Travis gritted his teeth, his glare screaming of displeasure. “We all need to follow rules. They keep us alive.”
Alive? The comment was interesting. The air was suddenly suffocating. “I’m going to go find a glass of wine.” I walked off before my father, or anyone else for that matter, could object. Rules. I’d followed them all my life. It was strange the way I craved a firm hand yet found the concept of being obedient in this household repulsive.
I found the wine, whisking a glass off of a large silver platter, the male server polite, but I could tell curious given the way he looked at me. Another new employee. Another man my father could lord his affluence over. What those in the room would never know was the methods my father used in order to maintain such strict obedience. The wine soothed my nerves, warming my dry throat. I had no desire to sit through my daddy’s statements on business or his next acquisition, even though I’d be required to sit by his side at some point, picking at especially prepared food, my eyes glued to the consummate host.
I allowed my mind to wander, imagining another family, a proud father doting on his daughter. I must admit, I was curious as to my father’s latest business dealings. Had he beaten another competitor to death in an effort to gain additional control over the market? The thoughts were, of course, revolting, but ones I’d had since walking in on Gabriel Wallace standing over a bloodied and beaten man, his face no doubt permanently disfigured.
I was only nine years old.
From that day on, my father had taken the majority of his business out of the house. He’d never spoken of the incident and I’d never asked, but the vision had stuck in the far reaches of my mind. The employee had never been seen around the house again.
Only moments later, Travis found me alone, cornering me, his eyes roaming over my body. “I think you made your statement.”
I heard his words, said as if I’d care and even in the candle lit room, I could tell he was turned on, his thick cock pressing against his pants. Fine linen no doubt, the suit more of a required uniform than a choice he’d made. “I do try.”
He offered another laugh as he sauntered closer, invading my space. “You are your father’s daughter.”
“I am my own woman.”
“Do you know what you deserve?” Travis moved even closer, taking my arm into his hand.
Your balls on a silver platter. “I’m certain you’re going to tell me.” I loathed this man.
“A. Hard. Spanking.”
I laughed, almost spitting in his face. “Over. My. Dead. Body.”
Travis held a smile before he laughed then jerked me closer.
“What in the fuck do you think you’re doing?” His grip was strong, holding me in place. Wine sloshed over the edge of the glass and I resisted bashing him in the head with it.
“And when you are mine, I’d wash out your mouth with soap.” Hissing, he continued to hold me as he fiddled with his belt.
“You are out of your mind!” Shocked, I struggled to get away as he managed to free the buckle and start to pull the thick leather strap though the loops.
“Oh, yes. You are going to get exactly what you deserve. You are never going to talk to me that way again. Do you understand me?”
I couldn’t help but laugh. The man was serious. Whether or not any of the guests heard the commotion, I knew they’d never dare enter the room. My father had every one of them well trained. “Get off me,” I spit out.
As he freed the belt, managing to double the ends, he tossed me over the back of the couch, the glass tumbling to the floor.
The wind was knocked out of me, the shock of what he was about to do stymying my usual quick reactions.
Smack! Slap!
Agony tore through my body and I jerked back, tossing my arm, my fist connecting.
His head snapping back, he narrowed his eyes as he touched the side of his face. “You bitch.”
“You’re right. Don’t you ever touch me again!”
The look Travis gave me could only be described as possessive, as if he’d just locked me in a cage and taken the key. It was at that moment I knew that Travis was here for me.
To take me.
To use me.
And he’d been given permission by my father.
Chapter 3
Razer
There was a darkness inside, one furrowing deep within my soul. I no longer knew who I was or my purpose in life. In fact, I could give a shit. Days turn into weeks then months and still, there’s no peace, no way of escaping the burning rage dwelling within. I once had a different life. I once had friends, family and people who cared about my existence. Now, I have no one. Time alone. That’s what I realized had to occur. So, I left everything.
Yes, I was lamenting and for no other reason than my difficulties with Raven. I’d retreated to the cabin, dragging a bottle of whiskey from the overstocked bar and drinking myself into what had turned out to be a practiced oblivion. I didn’t want to face reality. I was a lonely man. The thought churned in my stomach.
The mountains. I found some sense of relief. I found a place I could breathe. I found solace. But I hungered. I longed to share this burden, a man condemned for a single careless act. No one could understand. No one would be there to hear my cries. I took what I wanted. I used when I needed. I had no rules, no discipline, only demands. One day, there would be a woman. One day, there would be a way. One day, I would own what I could not have.
One day…
I shifted the gear down as I drove into the outskirts of the resort. I had no business being here nor did I care about the people staying at the overpriced hotel. However, I needed money. There was no way around what was required to keep me alive. And staying far away from everyone I encountered. The moment I turned the engine off, the clanging noises reminded me that the old Ford wasn’t going to last much
longer. A new truck I couldn’t afford.
Let’s just say I refused to touch money from my past.
As I climbed out of the cab, I shot a look at the graying sky. Another storm was on the horizon and if I was a betting man, I’d say this one would become a blizzard. I couldn’t help but snicker as I pulled the gloves off the seat, yanking them on as I studied the pristine façade of the massive structure. Twinkling lights covered almost every inch of the eaves and edges, a garish reminder that the hotel was considered a party location, a getaway for the rich and famous. I was neither.
I could see the craggy face of the old man as he approached, a slight smile on his face. He’d been here for years, a caretaker whom no one cared about, merely a cog in the wheel. If I had to admit it, I liked the guy, even though I’d never offered a kind word or shared a drink. Yeah, he’d asked me on several occasions, but I managed to politely decline. He never pushed. I’ll give him credit for gathering I didn’t want any company and certainly zero friends. I’d had enough in my earlier life, the kind of men and women who would just as soon stab you in the back as sing your praises. I was done with corporate America, the bullshit and the fake crap offered up every day as if anyone could stomach the lies and deceit.
To say I was bitter? Hell, yeah. I’d done my time, gotten the boot up my ass and moved on. Now, I lived by my standards and no one else’s. Fuck them all.
“Razer, glad to see you, son. I thought you might not be coming.” The old man shivered as he extended his gloved hand, yet his arm continued shaking and not just from the cold.
“Had some trouble getting the truck started,” I mumbled after shaking his hand. He gave me a look as if wanting to say something, perhaps chastising me for continuing to run the Ford into the ground. What did I care? I knew only his first name, Marty. I never hung around long enough to hear a last name. He didn’t ask mine either. We had a basic understanding. I supplied wood I cut from acres of timber miles away, allowing the hotel to have warm fires every night and in return, I was paid well. And in cash. I liked the arrangement. It suited the man I’d become.
“I hear ya. You didn’t come a moment too soon. The wood is almost gone. Damn cold weather. Couple other sources we used have dried up. Might be needing some additional cords of wood prior to your normal schedule.”
“Sure.” I grunted my answer before trudging through the snow toward the trailer I’d dragged down the mountain. The wood was stacked, pristine and perfectly sawed pieces that would fuel the various locations for a few days at best. “I’ll have it stacked within an hour.”
“How do you do it, son? I mean, shit. That’s at least four cords. You’re as strong as an ox.”
“Correction, almost five.” Even the back of the pickup was loaded, which kept the speed on second as I lumbered down the mountain. I was strong. The rugged terrain and even worse conditions required muscle. The hours I’d spent honing my body were being put to good use. “I’ll get it done.”
“Well, I’ll have the money in your truck before you leave,” Marty said, giving me a respectful nod.
“Appreciate it.” I moved to the back, lowering the tailgate. I never had any help. I didn’t want anyone in my business.
“You thirsty? I could bring you a coffee if’n you want.”
“Naw, I’m fine. Brought a thermos.” The comment was always the same, the answer never changing. He just needed to be polite, his upbringing obviously better than the majority of the overzealous guests frequenting the lodge.
“Okay. Well, if you need anything, I’ll be inside.”
Inside meant a shack with a portable heater. The man had given his life to work at the resort and he was treated like a damn dog. Another reason I fucking hated people. As I began to unload the wood, stacking everything precisely as always, I could see a group of people out on the oversized deck. They were already intoxicated, given their loud voices and shouting, and it wasn’t yet dark.
There were times I stopped, watching the various men and women, curious as to how far they’d go with their caustic antics. How many people had I seen fucking outside in this kind of weather? Hell, the temperature was dropping like a damn rock and half the women were in slinky dresses. I could even catch their various fragrances given the light breeze that always seemed to flow. This late afternoon was no exception. They were all beautiful, fragile in their own complacency. They wanted for nothing and men fawned over them, providing lavish gifts as if money meant nothing. I remembered those days. I was the man standing at the center of attention, women draping themselves over my arm, begging for my attention.
And I never cared. Except for one.
“Son, will you come here for a minute or two?” Marty had a strange look on his face. “I mean if’n it’s not too much trouble.” He pointed to his small shack, one that had seen better days. I’d never been inside, never cared to. Why today? Well, perhaps Marty was lonely. I resisted chuckling. The beautiful people would never have to worry about being alone.
I glanced back at the wood then shrugged. Marty never stopped my work, unless he had something important to say. “Sure.” I followed him into the shack and I had to admit, he’d managed to make the environment his own. Pictures covered the walls, black and white photos that drew my eye in. They covered almost every wall, various shapes and sizes, depictions of a life I’m certain he pined away for during the long, bitter nights. I couldn’t help but allow my gaze to sweep across the faces of men, women and children, no doubt friends. Did they know what he’d been reduced to? Did they care?
“Ain’t nothing much, but it’s mine,” Marty laughed, the sound bitter.
He had a string of lights, no doubt left over from Christmas, strung across the rafters, giving the wooden shack more of a homey feel. I couldn’t help but walk toward the largest group of photographs, staring at the smiling faces, the beautiful locations. I noticed what had to be pictures of Marty, dressed in an outdated military uniform. He seemed so proud to be serving his country. My country.
The one that had forsaken me.
“Like my photographs?” he asked and when I didn’t answer he sighed.
“Good work.”
“I thought I’d become a photographer. Course, that was years ago,” he whispered.
I wanted to say something that mattered, a kind word about his obvious gift, but I had nothing to offer. I concentrated on the war pictures, a story unfolding in frame after frame. They gave me chills, a haunting reminder of dedication.
“Oh, they are memories I couldn’t live without,” Marty said as he flanked my side. “Korea and even served in Vietnam. Course, nobody cares about that war. I learned then that America has a funny way of looking at war heroes.”
I heard the anger as well as the sadness in his voice. “And that’s my girl. She’s beautiful. Isn’t she?” Marty pointed toward the raven haired beauty, lounging against an aging Cadillac.
“Your wife?”
“She was. Forty-two years of true married bliss. Until cancer took her. Saddest day of my life.” Marty rubbed his fingers across the picture, blinking as his smile turned solemn. “She was my light. My shining star.”
An awkwardness settled in. No doubt, he was expecting me to comment, perhaps provide a snippet of my life.
“Do you have someone special?”
“No, sir. Just me.”
“Well, the goodness of a man is brought out by a woman. I can tell you that without any hesitation.” He laughed, regaining a smile. “We had so many good years.”
I allowed him to lament, remaining quiet. There was no need to break his revelry. Someone had to have decent memories.
After a few seconds, he seemed to remember I was here. “So, I know you’re a loner. Too much so if you ask me. You’re a good looking man behind all that hair.” The comment was meant to be light, a break in the tension.
“I like it that way.”
He turned, his frail hand wrapping around my arm. I was surprised at the strength in his grip. “You
’re hiding. Now, you don’t have to tell me nothin’. I won’t ask questions. I think you know that, but you need to do more with your life.”
“I’m fine. Really.” He searched my eyes as if glancing straight into my soul. I was suddenly uncomfortable, wanting to get the hell out of there. I didn’t need anyone getting too close.
“All I’m going to say is that there is a job here, at the resort I mean. If’n you want it. You’re a smart man. I can tell you have tremendous skills, and the resort could use you.”
Even his eyes were twinkling as if offering me a very special deal. I’d normally lash out, issuing a biting series of scathing words, but his eyes were so imploring that I couldn’t. “Thank you but I’m fine. I like my solitude.”
“I gathered you’d say that. The offer stands though. You’re a damn hard worker and very honest. I can tell that about you. My guess is that you need a break. I understand that better than most.”
“I’m…” The words died in my throat. “Thank you again. I need to get back to unloading.”
“Sure, son. No problem. Just stay true to your heart.”
Heart. I had no heart. I walked to the door and for some reason, I tilted my head, wanting to take another look at the special place he’d created among the bullshit of life. “There’s a blizzard rolling in. Just be careful in the next couple of days.”
Marty tipped his head, his eyes meeting mine. “I know, son. I know. Been around these parts a long time.”
When I walked outside, I stood shivering. I knew instinctively the frigid chill slithering down my entire body had nothing to do with the weather.
Gritting my teeth, I continued to carry the wood to the pile in the back, preferring to carry everything in my arms. I don’t know why. The exercise? I was already far too muscular for most tastes. The outdoor work had changed me, body and soul. Still, the darkness swept in me every night, the curse as vicious as I could ever have imagined. I was plagued by demons and neither liquor nor hard work abated the nightmares.
