Exposed: An Anthology

by Brooke Cumberland

  “Not sure. No return address. Probably something from a client for my birthday,” I reply, distracted by my mission to cut away the tape.

  Dee goes about her own business, walking down the hall to her room, surely to start her getting ready process.

  Cutting the rest of the packaging tape away, I peel open the flaps and start moving around the packaging popcorn.

  I move a folded piece of paper out of the way, placing it on the counter, and remove what appears to be a frame. Carefully turning it over, I gasp and drop the picture to the ground, shattering the glass all around my feet.

  Dee comes running down the hall at my noise, trying to figure out what has me so spooked. She bends down and picks up the frame, turning it over to reveal the picture.

  “That motherfucker,” she says under her breath. “What a fucking motherfucker!” she screams.

  Through the tears streaming down from my eyes, I look down at the photo of Brandon and me. He’s taken something sharp and scraped away the belly part of my body. He is looking at me through the picture with that handsome, perfect smile on his face, his arm around my back holding me close to his body. I look sad but I’m still smiling. I think this was taken during our last Christmas together at one of his company parties. The arm not behind my back was resting on the portion of my stomach he so harshly scraped and dug off the picture.

  Dee picks up the paper I laid out on the counter. Giving a quick peek, she slams it back down looking like she could spout steam at any second.

  “Bastard! That bastard… I’m going to cut off his balls and feed them to him before I kill him with my bare hands. Fucker!” She starts looking around for her phone, momentarily forgetting she left the paper where I could see it.

  I look down, and in his angry scrawl, I read, “Feeling empty today? How old would the bastard be this year? Happy birthday, dear wife.”

  Surprisingly, the sobs don’t start right away. I stand there just looking down at the paper for the longest time, and when it hits, it hits hard.

  Stumbling back a few steps until my back hits the wall, I slide down onto my ass, curling my legs up to my chest and wrapping an arm around myself protectively. My forehead hits my knees and everything I have been carefully storing in the ‘do not open’ box in my head comes pouring out. Giant, body-shaking sobs release, and I’m gasping for breaths between them. My whole frame is jerking violently with the force of my grief.

  Dee comes rushing into the room. I can hear her on the phone, but she is so far away from my understanding right now. Her arms come around me and I feel her rocking me while still mumbling into the phone. The tears won’t stop coming and the crying is getting louder.

  I have no idea how long I stay ass to the floor in the kitchen, crying and rocking. I look up briefly when I feel strong arms wrap around me and hook under my legs, lifting me off the floor. Another sob catches my breath when I meet Greg’s pained blue eyes. Resting my head on his chest, I let him take the lead. Walking over to the couch, he sits down and keeps me close to his body.

  As grateful as I am for Dee, for everything she has done for me, it’s moments like this when the only thing that can make me feel safe is being held tight in Greg’s strong arms.

  If anyone can understand where I am in my head right now, it’s Greg.

  Part of the reason that our bond is so strong is because of how much he can relate right now. About a month after I met Greg, he sat me down and explained that he had lost his sister when he was overseas. Her husband was a real prick and Greg always wondered, but never confirmed, if he was slapping her around. Unfortunately, he was never able to save his sister; she was beyond his protection when he was off fighting for everyone else’s freedom. When he met me, he said that his first thought was how much I reminded him of her. That conversation wasn’t an easy one for him, but it helped me understand why he’d gotten so murderous the day he saw me standing on the curb of my old house, beaten, bruised, and broken. Looking back now, I understand how he was able to recognize my fear, and instead of lashing out, he took it in and turned into my lifeline, my protector. He’s been protecting me ever since.

  “Baby girl? I know you’re scared. Iz, mark my fucking words, he will not touch you. Do you hear me? He won’t breathe your fucking air, I promise you that.” His fierce voice rumbles in my ears. He means it; I don’t doubt that. Greg would do anything to protect his family.

  “I’ll find him. I’ve got a friend who just moved to town—Reid. He’s buying into Cage Investigation and Security. He’s been more bodyguard and muscle, but he wants to expand into systems, installs, and investigations—my shit. So we got you, baby girl. He’s been a big deal out West now for a few years. Ex-marine, badass motherfucker. I’ll talk with Reid, explain the situation, and we will take this. I don’t want you to even think about it, you got me, baby girl?”

  How do you argue with that?

  Easy....you don’t. Not when it comes to Greg Cage in protection mode.

  “Yeah, Greg, I got you.”

  With plans for the night squashed by one unexpected package, Greg settles down with Dee and me for movies, popcorn, and beer.

  I’m out before Mike takes the stage for the first scene. I vaguely hear Greg’s grumbles about watching “a fucking stripper movie” when the strippers have dicks.

  Chapter Three

  The next morning greets me much like yesterday, except I’m not hung over from Jack this time. My emotional hangover is much worse. My strength seems stripped from me in a way that makes it hard to remember that I am not that broken and weak woman anymore. I try to remember that I survived, there is no reason to fear life anymore, I’m free, and I am my own person. It’s hard, God it’s hard, to remember the positive in my life. I remind myself that I don’t want to be this woman anymore; I am strong and I will overcome this.

  Then I remember the picture.

  The carving over my empty womb.

  And then all that strength and drive to overcome flies right out the window.

  Fuck strong, I just want to curl up and die.

  Knock, knock…

  “Uhh, Dee…come back later. I don’t want to talk right now,” I whine, turning my head into the pillow.

  Maybe if I’m lucky I can just go to sleep and she’ll go away.

  “Not Dee, baby girl. Turn over so we can talk, yeah?” Greg’s deep voice hits me, leaving no room for argument. Why ask the question? I know he won’t leave until we talk.

  But then I remember. Fuck that.

  “Go away, G. Not interested in hashing out life lessons right now.” My voice is muffled by the pillow. He’ll get the point, and if he doesn’t...fuck him.

  “Iz, get the fuck up—now. Love you, baby girl, but I won’t sit here while you self-destruct.”

  He’s pissed, but not as pissed as me. Why can’t they just let me stay in bed? Maybe bring me some more Jack, the asshole?

  “Go away, Greg.”

  “So fucking help me God, Izzy, get the hell up now. Shower. Talk. Breakfast. That’s all I am asking, which isn’t fucking much.”

  “Not interested in helping you play Dr. Phil, Greg. I just want to go back to sleep.” More of my muffled complaints fill the air, making it thick with bullshit.

  “Goddammit, Iz.” he grumbles, standing up off my bed, giving me a second to release the breath I didn’t know I was holding. Thank God he’s leaving, is the only thought I have before the sheets are whipped off and I’m flying through the air. “Not dealing with this shit, Iz. We have shit to discuss, and I do not have time to deal with you being depressed. I get it, baby girl, I understand where you are right now, but you need to wake up and do it now. You have people worried about you. Dee and I are not going to let you sit here and turn into yourself again. No fucking way.” He is spitting each word out as he throws me over his shoulder and walks into the bathroom.

  “GREG!” I scream. “Let me down now!”

  “Not going to happen,” is the only reply I get before he
dumps me into the shower, twisting the water on and slamming the curtain shut in my stunned, cold, and wet face.

  “I’m going to kick your ass, Greg Cage. Kick it fucking hard!” I scream out at him.

  I swear I hear his laughter as he walks out of the bathroom.

  I stay in the shower until the water runs cold, dreading leaving the solitude of my bathroom. Getting out, I dry off, brush my hair and teeth, and throw on my robe. I take a deep breath in and open the door.

  There he is, the giant asshole, sitting on my bed with his elbows resting on his knees. He is looking right at me, trying to look serious while suppressing his laughter.

  Asshole.

  “All right, you wanted me out.” I throw my arms wide. “Here I am. What is so important, huh?”

  He smiles at me, letting a few gruff chuckles free. “Try and be a badass another day, Izzy. I’m fucking tired. Went to chat with Reid when I left last night. Told him a little about the situation, not everything. He knows there is a husband not wanting to become an ex and not being quiet about it. He doesn’t know the significance behind the picture, but it’s disturbing enough that he didn’t question me too deep last night. I want you to be honest with him. It’s important for him to do his job, Iz. He doesn’t know a thing about shit other than this mess currently going on and the little he needed to know about your marriage to understand the threat. He’s booked solid with shit for the next two weeks, but I told him I would keep my eyes open until we could put a plan of action into play. You meet with Reid, explain the whole situation, everything—and I mean everything—and then we deal. Understand?”

  I take a second to process what Greg just said. It’s a lot, and I know he means well, but I do not want someone else in my business.

  “Greg,” I start, “I really would feel better if it were just you dealing with this. I don’t really know this guy, and—”

  “Not negotiable, Iz. I’m good, but I am not as good as Reid.”

  Sighing, I look at Greg. Defeated, I reply, “Fine, G. You know best.”

  “That’s right, baby girl. Don’t worry. Reid’s who you need. Him and the boys, between all of us, there is no fucking way that shit fuck is getting his hands on you, got me?”

  “Yeah, G. I got you.”

  Greg left a little while ago, leaving me with a worried Dee. A worried Dee planning another ‘forget the world’ mission. I’m not sure I can handle another one of these. Her newest plan? Continue with birthday weekend. Since yesterday’s plans went wonky, she calls up Greg to let him know the plan—drinks and dancing at Club Carnal.

  Fabulous.

  Just what I want.

  My defeated mood continues throughout the day, and I just don’t have the strength to fight Dee on this. I can handle one night out with Dee, Greg, drinks aplenty, and loud music to drown out the pain.

  I spend my day vegging out on the couch and just hating life in general. Why can’t he just leave me alone? The divorce has been sitting in limbo for six long months. I didn’t want a thing—not the house, cars, or the money. Nothing that would tie me to Brandon. I’m beginning to think he won’t ever just go away.

  Dee joins me for lunch. She doesn’t say anything about the previous day, but I can tell she wanted to. She is just working it out in her head, trying to figure out the best way to approach. No doubt she heard everything Greg said too. She knew I would crawl into myself and start going back to that dark place; no way in hell she was letting that happen.

  I’m sitting on my bed, folding laundry, and avoiding the world when she walks in.

  “Hey, have a second?” she asks, lacking the joy she normally greets me with.

  “If you want to hash shit out, I just don’t think I have it in me today, Dee. I love you, but I just don’t know what you want to hear.” I reply, setting the laundry aside and clearing her off a spot to sit.

  “I just want to see where your head’s at, make sure you’re okay.”

  “I don’t know. I really don’t, Dee. I feel like there isn’t anything I can do at this point. He knows where we are, even though I hoped we could stay invisible to him. It was stupid of me to even nurture that thought. I knew he had reach, I just honestly thought he wouldn’t care. Why? I keep asking myself why he even wants to play this game?” I swallow the tears back down. I can’t go there. Not again.

  “Babe, we won’t ever know what goes through that sick bastard’s head. I think it’s all about letting you know he could if he wanted to. He knows you are here, knows you want the divorce. Surely he knows you aren’t that girl he controlled so easily. Iz, I don’t know what his plan is, but I really think you need to speak to Greg’s friend. I would be lying to you if I said I didn’t have any fear that he might try something.”

  I know she’s right. Hell, I lived with his evil for six years. I know more than anyone just what Brandon Hunter is capable of.

  “I know, and I will. It’s just hard. You understand that, right?”

  She nods her head, compassion lighting her eyes. “I get that, I really do, but when it comes to your safety, your life…well, I won’t take any chances, Iz. We have come so far. YOU have come so far. It just doesn’t seem right that fate would be throwing him back up in your life.”

  Ha! Again with that bitch, fate. I should explain how much she hates me to Dee, but she wouldn’t understand. Not with her hopeful optimism.

  “I’ll talk to him....Reid. I think that’s what Greg said his name was. Two weeks. I have two weeks to prepare myself to open those wounds back up. God, Dee. I don’t want to go there again, remembering it all, and Greg says I need to tell him everything. You don’t think he means everything do you? Surely anything from before Brandon isn’t important?” I think that’s panic in my voice. Surely not, but I can tell by Dee’s watery eyes that it most certainly is.

  “Izzy, babe, that picture. I think all the before Brandon stuff is kind of important. He knows what yesterday was for you, which means he won’t stop pulling more of your pain into the open. It really is best you tell this guy everything. Greg and I will be there. We won’t let you do this alone. Never again.”

  I look into Dee’s big brown eyes and know that she is prepared to fight by my side, and I love her for it. Maybe it isn’t right for me to depend on her so much for strength, but try as I might, I just can’t find another way.

  “All right, Dee. Together, when Greg sets something up, we can go talk to this guy, figure out what to do next.”

  With a small smile, watery eyes, and relief hidden in their depths, she gives me a hug and stands up. With a small clap, she has officially brushed herself off and decided that the heavy is done with for today.

  “Well, now that we have had that talk, let’s get ready. Greg is coming back after he grabs some stuff for the night from his apartment, stops by his office, and lets everyone know what’s going on, all that stuff. That should give us plenty of time to start all our prep work for tonight.” Huge smile. Yup, my Dee, the queen of joy and happiness, is back.

  With a groan, I let her pull me out of bed and set off for the shower.

  I have been thoroughly waxed, buffed, shaved, tweaked, and generally molested by beautifying products by the time we hear Greg’s knock on the door. Just in time for him to sit back and enjoy the freak show.

  I’m sitting on the living room floor painting my toes and Dee is sitting back on the couch finishing her fingers when I yell at him to come in. I hear the door click open and his heavy steps down the hallway. Looking up, I meet the fierce scowl he is famous for.

  “The fuck? What the hell have I told you two about letting just anyone walk into the fucking house?” he growls—yes, growls—at us. If this were anyone other than Greg, I would be sitting in my own piss right now.

  “Oh, come on, G. We knew it was you.”

  “Oh really? So you can see through fucking wood and steel now? I didn’t realize you picked up fucking super powers. Remind me next fucking time to just have you beam me the hell over. S
ure as hell will save on the gas.”

  Oops. Guess I didn’t realize big bad protector Greg would be coming out to play.

  “Iz, baby girl, I did not put this fancy-ass alarm system in for you to not only never set it when you are home but to leave the door unlocked and basically invite Tom, Dick, and Harry to come over. Do I really need to remind you of the dangers out there?”

  If he was trying for the soft and tender route, he missed by a mile there. I instantly shut down, my gaze falling to the floor.

  “Sorry,” I mumble.

  “Don’t do that shit, Izzy. Brush it the fuck out of your pretty little head. Just promise me to start locking the door, use the alarm, and for shit’s sake, check the damn door before letting someone in, yeah?”

  “Got it. Alarm, lock, and check.” I pick up all my nail products and head off to my room. I have some time to get ready. We aren’t leaving until later tonight. I’ll let Dee deal with keeping the bear happy. “I’m going to take a nap before we leave. Wake me up in a few, Dee,” I call down the hall as I step in my room. I lock the door and shed my clothes before curling into my bed.

  It takes me a while to finally fall asleep, but once I do, it is anything but restful. Nightmares of Brandon and dreams of a future lost invade my sleep. When Dee comes to knock on my door around eight o’clock asking me if I want to grab something to eat, it takes me a second to remember where I am and what we’re doing.

  “Yeah, let me get some clothes on and I’ll be right down,” I yell through the door, still shaking the dreams from my mind. I get out of bed and grab my robe, setting off to find Dee and Greg.

  “Pizza. Sit…eat,” Greg says around a mouthful of said pizza.

  “Classy, Greg. I wonder why you’re still single.” I laugh over at him.

  He levels me with a mocking hard glare that has me laughing harder.

  We eat in comfortable silence, just enjoying each other’s company. When it comes time to get dressed and do makeup and hair, we leave Greg in front of the TV with some sports shit to keep him happy.