Senator Folsom eyed with a look of bright amusement. The look changed his expression completely into one that hinged almost on the maniacal. “When I met him?” he echoed. “When do you think I met him, my dear?”
I wasn’t sure. I had grown up having the sporadic visit from Uncle Sebastian nearly all through my life. I had always figured they had met when dad had become financially influential enough to back a political candidate.
“I don’t know,” I finally said.
Senator Folsom put down his whiskey glass and leaned over my chair. He stood over me like a giant, looming down with a look of crazed pain and history. “I met your father forty years ago in the streets of New York after he had murdered my sweet Angela.”
I stared at him dumbly. What?
“My sweet Angela,” Senator Folsom said, his voice tinged with that softness of long lost history. “She would’ve been my wife, a senator’s wife, if it hadn’t been for her soft heart and your father’s brutality.
“We were both students at Columbia and were walking back to our apartment after studying all night at the library. Admittedly, our place was not the nicest apartment. A small flat on the edge of Harlem. But it was all we could afford and we made it our own little oasis.”
The Senator shook his head, as if trying to move past the images of his long ago apartment. “That night as we walked, we heard a woman screaming. Angela, being the sweet woman she was, had run to the voice, wanting to offer any kind of help she could.”
The Senator paused, as if letting the memory of the event soak over him. “Two hookers and a lousy pimp is what she found,” he said flatly. “The pimp was beating the women senseless for whatever reason. Before I could stop her, Angela stepped in and tried to pull one of the women he was beating away. The pimp, who had only been using his fists on his hookers, pulled out a knife on my sweet Angela.”
I watched as the Senator’s face darkened shade by shade. “As I held my Angela, trying to press down against her slit open gut, unable to leave her at all to call for help, the pimp told his hookers, ‘Come correct unless you want Eric Madewell to deal with you.’ And then he left.” He paused. “The hookers left as well. The hookers, who Angela had tried to help, left without even a backwards glance at the woman dying before them.”
“The hookers, the pimp, they had all been part of the Made Mafia, do you see?” the Senator demanded. “So I made it my mission to find this Eric Madewell and give him a taste of vengeance for my sweet Angela. And after three weeks, I found him. He was leaving Lucco’s, the steakhouse in Brooklyn. He was surrounded by an army of thick necked goons but I shoved my way through, trying to show this man who exactly he had robbed me of.”
Senator Folsom’s eyes were now clear and focused, free of old haunting memories. He looked directly at me as he spoke carefully. “Your father waved off his bodyguard and cornered me in an alley. He claimed he hadn’t known about Angela’s murder but said he didn’t care otherwise who the ‘dumb bitch’ had been. And then he proceeded to beat the ever living shit out of me. He broke my hip in three different places, a lower vertebra, and my right thigh and left me for dead that night.”
I looked at the man with new eyes. His limp, his constant and well-publicized gait and use of cane, had been because of my dad?
Senator Folsom never broke his gaze with me. “So imagine my surprise when years later, this punk kid who had an ocean’s worth of blood on his hands became a multi-billionaire conglomerate. And then imagine my even greater surprise when several years after that, he comes to me and wants to donate to my campaign. He had no idea who I was. He didn’t remember me.” Senator Folsom snorted. “Then again, I was probably just one of the man nameless strangers he had attacked and nearly killed over the years. Why would he remember me?”
My head spun and not just from the drugs. This was all news to me. But even though I was surprised to find out my dad had been the one to cripple Senator Folsom, I wasn’t entirely shocked hearing his evil deeds.
I had learned early on about my dad’s crooked past. He had done very terrible things. And he did have a pimp ring under his mafia belt back in New York. So that pimp who had murdered Angela could very well have been part of the Made Mafia syndicate.
But my dad had changed so much. It was true—his actions were unforgiveable and heinous. But because of his guilt and reformation, Madewell Ltd was the highest giving charity donator of all billion dollar companies. Central Hartford had created a string of charter schools for poor and disadvantaged inner city children all from Madewell funding.
New York had gotten donations for homeless shelters, educational programs, and hospitals from Madewell. In fact, I remember the day my dad had drafted a program that would help educate people from the street in modern vocational trades so that they could create more legitimate lives for themselves. Former drug dealers, pimps, prostitutes were welcomed and encouraged with no questions asked. Tuition was free.
Eric Madewell had never said a word about his horrendous guilt over his past doings but I saw it in every dollar he gave, every program he fought for, and every political candidate he backed.
That was why he had sought out Senator Folsom. Dad liked politicians who seemed to genuinely care to make a difference no matter how small the matter or how obscure the issue. He liked that Senator Folsom was so passionate about having safer dams and proper road management in rural cities. And so he had contributed and helped the Senator during his campaigns.
Eric Madewell was most likely not in heaven right now. But he made sure that his road to hell was paved with a few less bad deeds. And that, in my eyes, was what change and good was all about.
“You were dad’s friend,” I said slowly, my tongue feeling like it weighed a hundred pounds.
“Biding my time, my dear. I was biding my time,” Senator Folsom said loudly as he leaned on his cane and walked back and forth in front of me.
“Waited till just the right opportunity. And it came with Lawson when he proposed that stupid alliance,” Senator Folsom said shaking his head. “Of course, I made sure to tell your dad how much I thought it was a gamble and how hesitant I was about it. But I hinted to Lawson how having the alliance would only strength RL Co. and weaken Madewell. When the alliance was agreed upon, I just pretended to have been outnumbered and promised your dad I would help to pay him back for all his generous donations.
“With now very clear potential suspects, I hired what I had thought were the best men to break into your house and give your father exactly what he deserved—his heart being slowly burned out his body as he watched his wife and daughter die before him. I thought I had succeeded. And in fact, before you showed up miraculously at the dinner, there had been talks of investigating the members of the alliance about the heinous murder. It was perfect. Nothing led back to me.”
I remembered my bones snapping, my mom crying out for the men to stop raping her, my dad coughing up blood as he was pummeled again. I remembered simmering in agonizing pain as I wondered who had executed such a terrible fate to us.
And here he was, Senator Folsom.
I felt like I was about to throw up.
“You weren’t supposed to have survived and you’ll have to enlighten me on that one but I was determined not to have plans derailed,” Senator Folsom continued. “It was a trial to keep Lawson on the leash. That man was so greedy, he was stupid. He took one look at you and immediately saw dollars flying out the window.”
So Lawson had been innocent of murder, just guilty of greed.
“I wanted to make sure I got my hands on you, the last of Madewell’s pride,” Senator Folsom said, his eyes gleaming with a lust for pain. “So I had to cover up my tracks. I pushed Lawson to court the committee for the contract so that the alliance remained as the top suspects for any suspicious business that might happen.”
“The gunmen in New York?” I whispered.
The Senator nodded. “That was your last chance at a decent death, my dear. I was a little w
orried at the moment that the alliance and contract wouldn’t be enough to cover my steps so I tried to hide a good murder under a silly terrorist attack. But that was when I had a brilliant idea.”
I stared at the man, seeing for the first time how lustful he was for pain and power.
“None of those men in the alliance were people worth keeping around,” Senator Folsom said, walking over to Harrison’s dead body. Gripping the corpse by his hair, he jerked the man up. “Eh, Harry? You weren’t as evil as Eric Madewell but you sure had your fair share of skeletons in the closet, didn’t you?”
Harrison’s head bobbed grotesquely as the Senator shook him.
“But he sure did want to try and come clean,” Senator Folsom said in disgust, staring at the dead man. “He called you over to spill what little beans he did know. As if I wouldn’t be on to him.” The Senator snorted.
“And Ron was easy. He blubbered and cried but I made sure he took those pills because if he didn’t, he knew I would have it leaked that Lawson had arranged the Madewell murders and he would rot in a single solitary cell for the remaining years of his life. Dying instead would be a mercy.”
“How?” I mumbled. “You’re a senator. How can you murder?”
Senator Folsom grinned. “Didn’t you know, my dear? Government is the last real mafia now. It’s amazing what you can have disappear through the walls of bureaucracy.”
The Senator released Harrison’s head, letting it thud onto the table. “T.J. Mackson did me a favor by finally dying. And then all there was left was you, my dear.”
I stared at the man who had eaten dinners with me, the man who had brought me birthday and Christmas presents, the man who had always remembered to thank my mother for cooking dinner.
“You fucking monster,” I said. My mother had died screaming and crying because of this man.
Senator Folsom laughed. “Maybe I am but your father made me that way,” he said. He pulled out a small switchblade from his pocket and opened the blade out. “So let’s see how much I can make you scream before your heart stops beating. Shall we?”
I jerked away from him, trying to rise from the chair but my legs felt like they had been filled with cement. All I managed to do was swing my arm haphazardly a little at the Senator.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” he warned. “None of that now. Take your punishment like a good girl.” Holding onto one of my shoulders, he ran the small blade straight down my chest, hard, cutting open the blouse and running a thin line of dark blood right down the middle of my torso.
Drugged as I was, I felt every tear of pain. Tears immediately sprang to my eyes. How could this be happening again?
I had fought so hard and for so long now to get to this point and here I was, defenseless and at the mercy of another sadist. Where was Liam? Hadn’t he promised me revenge? Hadn’t he sworn to give me that satisfaction? Hadn’t he promised to help me and keep me safe till then?
Senator Folsom studied me. With my blouse and bra cut open, my breasts were completely bared. Blood slowly seeped out of the thin burning cut down my chest. “Hmm,” Senator Folsom murmured, as if trying to decide what to order for dinner, “which breast are you most particular for? I’d like to start slicing open the left one but feel free to chime in with your opinions.”
Hot tears fell. Another night of excruciating torture and pain was in store for me before I finally succumbed to the darkness of death. But this time, I wasn’t sure I could make it through. The leering gleam in the Senator’s eyes made it clear just how demented he was. And he would execute that demented mind through sadistic torture.
“In the end, I guess there’s no point in quibbling over small details, eh?” Senator Folsom said with a shrug and a grin. He grabbed my left breast and squeezed hard, making me cry out. With his eyes bright with a sick lust, he raised his blade over the top of my captured breast.
I took in a deep breath, tears clinging against my lashes.
But before the blade or my tears could fall, a loud bang echoed against the walls of the house.
The Senator took a step back in surprise, his head whipping around for the source of the sound. Even in my addled mind, I still recognized the sound of the front door being thrown open.
I heard the quick even steps of someone moving with a purpose. And then there, within a matter of seconds, stood Liam in the dining room entrance.
He was completely drenched in blood. But it was obvious by his tall, rigid stance that none of the blood was his. Clearly the guards had given him quite a bit of trouble. Blood was even smeared against his cheeks.
“My god,” Senator Folsom whispered. “Who the hell are you?”
Liam, eyes glowing a fiery green, just stared at me, his eyes running over my body, taking note of the blood seeping down my breasts and my dilated drugged pupils. His lips turned thin in anger.
I looked up at my dark angel.
“Liam,” I whispered.
Chapter Twenty One
Liam slowly walked into the dining room, taking in everything—Harrison’s dead body, Senator Folsom and his blade, my slumped form.
“Who the hell are you, I said?” Senator Folsom demanded.
It wasn’t surprising he didn’t recognize Liam. After all, the real Liam had barely ever met the Senator. And this Liam looked almost nothing like the smooth and sophisticated Liam that had gone to the dinner weeks ago.
No, this Liam was oozing something unearthly, something dark.
Something devilish.
In New York when we had been attacked by gunmen, his whole body had radiated a power that had become unleashed. He had looked like anger incarnate and had had the power to show it.
But now, standing here in Harrison’s luxuriously decorated dining room, he did not look like anger incarnate. He looked like pure darkness. With blood soaking into his clothes, darkening them, his whole body took on a black aura. His eyes glowed menacingly and his face hardened into granite.
He had no uncontrollable rage or anger though. He seemed completely in charge of his body. If New York had been raw power, tonight he was holding honed, lethal power, sharp as a sword’s edge.
Ignoring the Senator’s gape mouthed expression, Liam stood in front of me, his head slightly bent.
“Tonight, I will fulfill my contract,” he said, his voice somehow deeper than before. It seemed to resonate all across the room, making the house echo with his voice. “Tonight, I will help you achieve everything you’ve worked for. Tonight, I will give you justice.”
I stared at him. I could hardly keep my vision focused. But even without my eyes, my body felt his presence and it recognized the truth in his words. Every word, every note, rang with a vicious sincerity. Without realizing it, I closed my eyes and nodded, grateful to not have to fight till the bitter end alone. I had someone.
I had Liam.
“Wait….” Senator Folsom started, his large eyes peering up at this demonic hell force. “Aren’t you the brother? Aren’t you Liam?”
I could hear the note of doubt in the Senator’s voice as he looked at this bloody man, dripping with power and darkness.
Liam shook his head.
“No, Senator,” he said, his voice still possessing that odd deepness that made me shiver a little. “Tonight I am merely a servant carrying out an obligation.” Slowly, Liam began to advance on the politician.
“Obligation?” Senator Folsom said, gripping the small blade as he wielded it against Liam. It looked almost comical. “What the hell are you blathering on about? Do you want to die as well?”
Liam raised a hand that was drenched in dark red blood. It looked as if he had literally shoved his fist inside a man’s body. Thinking about it, I realized that’s probably exactly what he did.
Liam raised his bloody hand and slowly licked it from wrist to fingertip. “Die?” Liam finally said. “I can’t die. I have the blood of eons running through me and the power to destroy existence. No, I can’t die.” I saw him flick his green eyes towards me. “
I have a bargain to satisfy.”
Senator Folsom, seeing that Liam would not be put off by simple threats or a switchblade, reached behind him and pulled out a gun. The gun he must’ve killed Harrison Dell with. Holding it with a steadier hand than I would’ve given him credit for, Senator Folsom fixed Liam with a steely gaze.
“Son,” the Senator said, his voice calm, “you take a seat and behave yourself and I promise I won’t make your death so agonizing. But you try to come at me and I’ll kill you. Slowly.”
I could see the Senator inching towards the silver dart gun he had left on the table near me. With monumental effort, I swung my arm out and sent the dart gun flying off the table towards the other side of the room where it crashed against a wall with a loud thud.
“You stupid little bitch!” Senator Folsom cried as he reached for me.
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