“Yes, thank you. The weekend was quiet.”
“Quiet? You did nothing? Met no one?”
As her mind tore in a panic through her head, trying to understand the right course of action, trying to anticipate him, she kept up with the ruse, being as honest as she could but pretending that she didn’t know, and that there was nothing he could know. Carmen had told her she’d be her ‘cover.’ She hadn’t understood completely at the time, but she did now. “I went into town a few times. Out onto the beach, also. I met a woman who lives on the beach, not much far.”
“Oh? And who is this new friend?” He hooked his finger through the lingerie strap on her silk nightgown and lifted it up, but did no more.
“Her name is Carmen.”
He smiled again, and this was more terrifying than the last—more terrifying, perhaps, than any other expression she’d seen on his face in fifteen years. There was real malice and triumph in it.
“Ah, yes. I know her. Carmen Pagano. She has an older brother, doesn’t she? Carlo. You know him, too, don’t you?”
Sabina changed tacks. What she wanted was freedom. She only cared to soothe this beast if it made room for her to get away from him. But she saw no reason to mewl at his feet or to try to convince him that he was wrong. He wasn’t wrong. She and Carlo had not had sex, but only because Luca had come in. Sabina was done here. Knowing full well that he would not simply let her walk out the door, and that he could do her real damage, physical and otherwise, before she could get away from him, she found that she was simply done playing his game. Carlo had told her that his uncles would help her, but it seemed that James had discovered her intent before they could. That was her fault. And so it was her sole responsibility to make her way to the door if she could.
“James.”
“This is where you tell me it’s not what I think?”
“No. It is what you think. It’s enough what you think, yes. I’m leaving you.”
He chuckled. “You’re fucking that guinea.”
She’d never heard James speak like that. The coarseness of it surprised her more than anything he’d done or said yet this morning. “No. I would. I want to. But I have not yet.” A bold statement, but she wondered what she had left to lose.
“You’re lying.”
Moving quickly, he grabbed her hair in one fist and shoved the other between her legs. She didn’t wear underwear beneath her nightgown; she never had. She didn’t like the way it tended to bunch while she slept. His fingers pushed into her, roughly and too many. She was dry, and it hurt, and when she grunted, he added more. He was stretching her, tearing her. Mother Mary—he was fisting her. Dry.
She fought, trying to push him away, pull herself away, but he wrapped her hair more tightly around his fist and leaned into her, pushing her down on the bed, nearly immobilizing her. “Am I going to find him up here? Is he still inside you?”
He’d never hurt her like this; this was more than she could take. But if she cried out, if she begged, he would feed on it and hurt her more. So she stopped fighting and tried to breathe. She tried to take it.
He eased up almost as soon as she stopped fighting him. When he pulled his hand out of her, she closed her eyes and bit back her scream. When she opened her eyes again, she saw him examining his hand. It was bloody.
His eyes shifted to hers. He put a bloody finger into his mouth and sucked it. When he pulled it out, he said, “After all this time, darling, you should know better. You don’t do anything unless I say you may. You may not leave.” He sucked the blood from another finger. “It’s interesting. I thought I was bored. I thought I was done with you.”
“You were going to have me killed this week.” The words came out as gasps while she fought pain for breath, but she wanted him to know she knew. It seemed very important to make sure he knew that he hadn’t surprised her.
“What a smart little miss. Yes. But now, I realize that I was bored because I had stopped being creative. We’d simply fallen into a rut. That happens in marriages. Fifteen years, darling. It’s quite an accomplishment.”
“I’m leaving you, James. I am leaving.”
“No, Bina. You’re not. And here’s the thing. You’re not going to leave, because you’re not going to go. When we’re done here, you’ll remember your place.”
He patted her leg and then stood. His hands went to his waist and she expected him to go for his belt. She turned, intending to roll to the other side of the bed and get up and away. But he’d really hurt her, and she froze, her hands going between her legs as if that would stop the pain.
It wasn’t his belt he was going for. It was his phone. With his clean hand, he reached into his pants pocket and brought it out. He moved his thumb over the touchscreen briefly and put the phone to his ear. “Come in.”
He put his phone away.
James had never invited anyone into their bedroom before. He was far too jealous and possessive to include anyone else in his ‘play.’ Sabina pushed her pain away and tried to understand what those two words meant, but before she could think even one thought through, the bedroom door opened, and a man walked in. The man from the Escalade. He was huge, with shoulders as wide as a refrigerator, a shaved head, and square blocks for hands. He wore a light grey suit, the weave of which was being thoroughly tested by his girth.
“This, darling, is Eddie. He is an associate of mine. He’s been on a job for me lately, and he’s been quite helpful. I’m feeling generous today. And also, frankly, not remotely attracted to you. I am not interested in another man’s leavings. Eddie, though, you’re interested, aren’t you?”
Eddie looked worried and confused more than anything else. “Boss?”
“You do what I say with her for a while. But then I’ll give you an hour to do what you want.”
As understanding dawned, Sabina’s world closed to a pinpoint. Again she turned to get off the bed at the side farthest from these men. This time, she willed herself to ignore the pain.
James sighed. “Stop her.”
Eddie did, reaching out and grabbing her arm around the bicep. “Boss, what are you talkin’ about?”
“I know you’re not stupid, Eddie. I don’t contract with stupid people, and I don’t pay stupid people. Neither are you deaf. I spoke plainly. Are you continuing in my employ, or are you not?”
“You want me to fuck your wife?”
“Among other things, yes. She apparently has a desire for something new.”
His hand still around her arm, Eddie turned to her. “Are you into this, doll?”
She shook her head. “No. Please.”
James’s voice was steady and calm. “Eddie. Make your choice. I can offer you a $20,000 bonus if you make the right one.”
At least Eddie took a second before deciding. “Sorry, doll.” Then his expression went hard, like a mask dropping over his face, and he pulled her back to the edge of the bed. “What do you want me to do?”
“For the moment, just keep her where she is while I set up.” James went to the bathroom and washed his hands. Then he left the room.
She had a chance now, if only Eddie’s moment of hesitation could be exploited. “Please, Eddie. Let me go. He wants you to hurt me.”
Eddie ignored her.
“Eddie. Eddie, please.”
His hand tightened around her arm, and he yanked her up and bent down so that they were face to face. “Shut up, bitch.”
He had made his choice. And Sabina was back to hoping for death. She’d had a few scant days to enjoy the dream, the illusion, of freedom. She wilted.
James came back into the room with a large, lacquered black chest. His ‘toy’ chest. “Strip her. I’ll give you something to bind her, and we’ll get started.” He took out his keys and unlocked the chest.
~oOo~
James pressed his mouth to her ear. “So, darling, was I right? Are you staying?”
Eddie had never touched her face or her head. James never marked her face. Nothing she couldn
’t easily cover. So she could see clearly, and she could think clearly. Except for the way her pain kept demanding all of her attention. She had been clear through all of it. All of it. Until today, despite fifteen years of living with his twisted needs, Sabina had not understood the true depths of his depravity. And after a first few, unsteady minutes, Eddie had been a perfect henchman.
And he had taken his hour.
“Darling? Answer my question. Are you staying?”
She nodded.
“Say it, Bina.”
“I stay.” Her voice was rough.
He released her bonds and sat back. “I thought so. Good. Clean yourself up. We have a guest for dinner.” He slapped her ass, and she cried out before she could stop herself. He grinned down at her and hit her again, harder. She’d known to expect that one, so she was able to stay silent. “One to grow on,” he sneered. And then he left the room. He closed the door.
She was alone in the room.
She lay there for a moment, trying to understand how much of her body would work for her. And then she decided it didn’t matter. She had this slender chance and would probably never again in her few remaining days have another. So she got herself onto her feet and went to the sliding door that led onto the veranda. She would not take even so much time as she’d need to dress or find shoes. She grabbed the bloody top sheet off the bed, tore open the door, and ran.
She just ran. Toward Quiet Cove, over dunes and shifting sand, wrapping the sheet around her as she went, she ran.
~ 11 ~
Carlo ran onto the beach and around the corner of Carmen’s house. As he flew toward her porch and front door, John cut him off. “Wait up, Carlo. Wait.”
“Get off me!” He shoved his brother’s hands away and tried to veer around him, but John cut him off again. “Get off!”
“You can’t go in there like that. She needs you to be calm. So sit, and I’ll get Carmen.”
He didn’t need to; Carmen came out the door at that moment. “I called Uncle Ben. He’s bringing Dr. Kerr. She won’t go to a hospital.”
“No. He’d just get her again. Has he tried to get her here?”
“No, he hasn’t come here, not yet. John and I are both carrying. Joey is coming with Uncle Ben. We’re okay.” She took his arm. “Come sit with me a second. We’ll talk. I’ll tell you what I know. Okay? It’s not much. She’s not talking much.”
“Who’s with her? Is she alone in there?”
“Rosa’s with her. Carlo, you need to sit and listen. Do you want John to call Luca, have him bring Trey to you?”
He let his sister lead him to the fire pit and sit him down in a chair. “No. He should keep Trey away. Until we know…” Know what? Whether James Auberon planned to attack his child for the encore of his magnum opus?
Carmen sat next to him. “Okay. Just listen. It was really quiet on the beach today. The sun went in around noon, and nobody was around. I was out on my board, just getting wet, and I saw her running down the beach. I couldn’t figure out what I was seeing at first, because she was wrapped in a sheet and was running strangely. I didn’t even realize she was a person at first. But then I saw that somebody else was running after her. I paddled back as fast as I could, and by the time I hit the shore, I knew it was Sabina. She was…she looked bad. She wasn’t crying or yelling or anything. She just looked…determined. When I caught her, the guy chasing her stopped and turned back the other way. I didn’t think to pay him any more attention, because she was falling down, breathing weird. I got her into the house. She’s really hurt, Carlo.”
“Tell me.”
“I don’t know it all. I didn’t get that personal, and she hasn’t let anyone touch her except to get her to bed. Not even to clean her wounds. But the sheet she was wrapped in was just about soaked in blood. She’s bruised pretty much all over. There’s—there’s a lot of blood on her legs. And her feet are shredded, but that’s from the beach, I’m sure.” Carmen made a strangled little laugh. “Except her face. Her face is beautiful as ever. That’s almost worse somehow. Like it was so controlled, what he did.”
Carlo moved to rise, and Carmen dropped a restraining hand on his leg. “I know you, Carlo, and what I’m about to say is gonna piss you off, but I need to say it. I understand. I like her. And I’m so sorry for her. I can’t even make sense of what she’s going through. But you met her four days ago. Four days. I see that she needs your help. Our help, and I think we should help her. But you, big brother, have a hero complex. Don’t mistake rescue for love. Don’t get tangled up in that again.”
She’d been right; he was pissed off. “Again?”
“You rescued Jenny, too.” When he opened his mouth to protest, she raised her voice and kept going. “And you know that’s true. When she didn’t need you anymore, she left. I don’t want you to go through that again.”
“Fuck you, Carm.” As comebacks went, ‘fuck you’ was not among the greats, but Carmen was digging in a sore place. Jenny had been fragile, yes, and he knew his siblings thought she was odd and too needy, but they’d been together for more than five years, and he’d been happy. So had she, for part of it, at least. They’d had a son together, and they’d had years Carlo knew had been good. No matter its end, his marriage had been real. More than merely rescue. Besides, Jenny had never needed rescue from anyone but herself.
So he said again, “Fuck you.”
Carmen grinned wryly. “I knew it was going to piss you off. Truth hurts, big fella. I’m just saying—keep your brain engaged here. Your heart runs amok.” She squeezed his leg. “Sabina needs calm. You ready to be calm?”
He felt the farthest thing from calm. His day had been chaos and shit since lunch. His son had been threatened, his home and work destroyed, his…Bina had been hurt, and he had no idea how much of his life he would even have left when he woke in the morning. But he needed to see her and know. He would maintain. He nodded. “I’m calm. I’m going in.”
Carmen lifted her hand from his leg, and he stood and walked to her house.
Rosa was in the kitchen, making herself a cup of tea. She smiled, but she looked pale. “She’s sleeping—on the daybed. Carmen called Uncle Ben.”
“I know. I’m…I’m going to sit with her.”
“Okay. Carlo, she’s—be ready.”
Bile boiling up in his gut, Carlo nodded and went to Bina.
The room was dim, only a small table lamp with a red scarf over it giving any light. Bina was curled on her side, under an old patchwork quilt that Carmen had taken at some point from the closet in the upstairs hall in the house on Caravel Road. Her feet, stacked one on top of the other, peeked out from the bottom. They were still caked with blood and sand.
Her eyes were closed, and she seemed to be sleeping. Her breath, though, was heavy and labored. The red glow of the lamp cast an eerie shadow over her face, making the skin under her eyes appear bruised. But Carmen had said her face wasn’t hurt.
Carlo knelt at the side of the daybed. A lock of her dark hair curled over her cheek, moving slightly in time with her exhales and inhales. Very gently, he reached out and brushed it back from her face.
She woke with a violent start, her eyes popping open, and took a breath that was almost a scream. She fixed on him but didn’t seem to know him.
“Bina. Bina, it’s okay. You’re safe.”
Her eyes cleared and relaxed from their wide-open fear. “Carlo. You are all right? Trey is?”
Footsteps Page 15
