Catching Teardrops (MAC Security Series Book 5)

by Abigail Davies

  Shaking my head, I berate myself for leaving the cell with him because I can’t contact him at all now, no matter how bad it gets or how much I may want his help.

  The skin on the back of my legs stings as I finish putting the bibles away.

  Aiden hadn’t been gone for more than twelve hours and apparently that was a sufficient amount of time for Dad to go back to how he always is.

  I shiver when the memories of his cane on my legs flashes through my mind, wincing as I move toward the front of the church.

  My eyes widen when I see someone sitting in the second pew on the left, only the back of their head visible. His hair is dry, and it tells me he’s been sitting here for a while.

  I stand watching him, wondering whether I should say something, but then his head whips around, his hazel eyes piercing mine before they narrow.

  “Hi,” I say lamely, not knowing what else to say.

  The guy watches me for several seconds before inclining his head in a nod and standing up. He looks familiar and it’s not until he’s moving toward me that I realize it’s the same guy I ran into at church a few Sundays ago. I was sure he was new to town, but I haven’t seen him since. At least, not until now.

  “You don’t have to leave,” I blurt out, cursing myself for how my voice echoes in the empty space. “The church is always open.”

  He stops a couple of feet in front of me, his eyes showing nothing as his gaze trails over me, stopping when he’s back at my face.

  “You’re the preacher’s daughter.” It’s a statement, not a question, but I nod in answer anyway. “I was leaving anyway…” He trails off before looking back at the front of the church, his gaze skimming over the podium and the cross on the wall behind it.

  There’s something about the way he stands, his shoulders hunched. He almost looks sad, and I can’t help myself asking, “Are you okay?”

  He doesn’t acknowledge me right away, but when he eventually turns around and stares, I wish I hadn’t have asked. “I think it should be me asking you that, Lily.”

  I swallow, my back straightening.

  “Just helping my dad get the church ready.” Even I can hear the false bravado in my voice, so I’m almost sure he can.

  I nod several times, for what reason I don’t know, but finally my body and brain work in sync and I start to turn around, heading for the doors.

  “Reid,” he says, his deep voice batting against the walls. “My name is Reid.”

  Turning at the last second, I watch him, wondering why he’s really here and what he wants. Is this a test from my dad?

  “Lily,” I reply, placing my hand on the door handle. “But you already know that.”

  He smiles, and it completely changes his face. The gloomy look disappears, replaced with an easygoing one. My head starts to thump, feeling like I have whiplash. How can he change that quickly?

  We stare at each other for another beat before I pull the door open and step out onto the stoop, taking a deep breath of the fresh air. There’s nothing like the smell of rain as it hits the asphalt and trees.

  Wrapping my arms around my middle, I sway to the side, closing my eyes and listening to the peacefulness.

  Faith was never a thing I had to think about growing up, it just was. When your dad is a preacher you have no choice, not that I minded anyway. But something’s changed lately, I still feel at peace, but I don’t know if someone is up there watching over me.

  I tell myself over and over again if there was they’d stop it. Stop the pain, the suffering, the—

  “Liliana! Dinner!”

  My eyelids snap open, my head turning to the left and toward our house. It’s next to the church, a wall separating it but with its own little path that leads into the church grounds.

  “Coming!” I shout back, taking one last look inside the church and seeing Reid sitting back in the pew but his eyes focused on me. I quickly look away before slamming the church doors shut and running through the rain, along the path.

  “What took you so long?” Dad sneers when I step inside and shut the door behind me.

  “Sorry,” comes my automatic reply as I look into his dark-blue eyes currently verging on black. I swallow at the fire burning behind his irises. “I’ll go and get changed and—”

  He grabs my bicep as I put my foot on the first stair. “No, you won’t, you’ll start my dinner right now.”

  “I’m wet—”

  “And I don’t give a shit, get my fucking dinner cooked.” My breaths come as gasps at his words. He’d never talk like this outside of the house, but once the door is shut and it’s only me and him, everything he preaches goes out the window—everything but how he views the word of God.

  “Can—”

  He squeezes my arm harder, yanking me toward him and causing me to stumble. “If you’re wet then take the clothes off.”

  My cheeks heat as his gaze burns a path down my body and over the wet t-shirt sticking to my body. I shiver, disgust rolling through me as he pulls me again, this time making me collide with his chest.

  “Dinner. Now.”

  I nod emphatically, my eyes wide when I feel something hard pressing against my stomach. I want to close my eyes, take myself somewhere else—a place where he’s not waiting for me—but I don’t because I’ve learned it’s the worst thing I can do. I have to know what’s coming with him so I can prepare myself.

  His grip loosens slowly, allowing me to step back and slide past him into the living room. I slide my ballet flats off, my feet hitting the cold hardwood floors and making me shiver.

  My gaze lands on the open fireplace. I can’t remember the last time it was lit. Definitely before Mom died.

  Walking between the small table sitting in the center of the room and the two-seater sofa, I head through the only door off this room.

  There’re three rooms downstairs: a kitchen, living room, and laundry room; and four upstairs; three bedrooms—one of which is now my dad’s office—and a bathroom.

  Footsteps follow behind me and I keep my head lowered as I step into the small kitchen. Things are basic in here. He likes to portray that he leads a simple life, but I think he enjoys having the control over another human being.

  Abuse victims are usually in denial, whether that be a child being abused by an adult, a wife being hurt by her husband, or the other way around.

  But I’m not in denial. I know exactly what it is he’s doing. I’ve tried so many times to tell someone, but being laughed out of the precinct—literally—knocks you. There’s only so many times you can go to the same people and have them tell you you’re a liar.

  Maybe that’s why I didn’t tell Luke? Maybe on some subconscious level I thought he wouldn’t actually believe me?

  I’m stupid. So, so, stupid.

  Turning around, I lift my head, looking into his now fully black eyes.

  I don’t want to protect him; I don’t want to live like this anymore.

  “What would you like?” I ask.

  He tips his head back, groaning low in his throat as he grabs his belt, the metal clanging as he undoes it making me flinch.

  “What would I like?” he repeats back to me, keeping his gaze fixed to mine as he slowly pulls the leather out of each loop on his pants. “That’s a loaded question, my little petal.” My stomach churns at his nickname he only uses when he’s about to inflict pain.

  Stepping back as he moves forward, my back collides with the countertop—another reason he likes the small place, because there’s nowhere to hide.

  His lip lifts on one side as his mask starts to fall, his eyes flashing. “What I want is for you to follow my rules.”

  “I do—”

  “No, you don’t!” he shouts, so loud my ears ring. “Obey your earthly masters in everything.”

  I roll my lips between my teeth, stopping the words desperate to escape. I can’t let them; I know what happens when I do. Am I submitting to him? Yes. But it’s for self-preservation.

  He
tilts his head, watching me, waiting for me to do or say something, but I learned that lesson a long time ago. Inside I’m screaming at him, telling him he’s a monster, but on the outside, I exude calm.

  His arm lifts and I try my hardest to hold back the flinch, but I can’t. I swallow, waiting for the blow.

  “Such a good little petal when you obey,” he murmurs. I close my eyes when the leather of the belt whispers over my wet t-shirt, the buckle grazing my breast. A sob bubbles up, begging to escape.

  I turn my head away, opening my eyes and searching for the peace I desperately need out of the kitchen window.

  The leather leaves my body and I breathe a sigh of relief, but it’s soon replaced by his hand.

  “No,” I choke out, my head whipping around and traitorous tears leaking out of my eyes. “Please don’t,” I beg.

  He doesn’t listen. He never listens.

  I try to turn away from him when his thumb and finger pinch my nipple, but his other hand grasps my waist, keeping me in place.

  “Slaves, in all things obey those who are your masters on earth, not with external service, as those who merely please men, but with sincerity of heart, fearing the Lord.”

  I look up, staring into his soulless eyes, wondering why. Why me? Why is he like this? Why can’t I escape? Why didn’t I tell Luke? Why, why, why?

  My gut churns as his hand lowers, dipping under the waistband of my maxi skirt and something inside of me snaps. I lash out, my palm hitting the side of his face with a loud crack.

  He stumbles back, shock written over his features.

  “No,” I tell him, wanting my voice to come out firm but instead it’s weak. Just like I am.

  I make a run for it, my legs carrying me as fast as I can. My feet slap against the living room floor, inches away from the door that will lead to my freedom before I’m pulled back by my hair, my scalp burning from the force he grabs me by.

  His sinister laugh echoes around us, bating off the walls as my back collides with the floor. I thrash, knowing if he overpowers me now, I’ll never be the same.

  I can’t let him do this, I’ve known it was coming, but I wished—prayed—he wouldn’t follow through with it.

  His boot collides with my ribs, knocking the breath out of me before he crouches down beside me, his lips pulled into a grin. The kind of grin he gives his congregation.

  “You can run, but I’ll always catch you.” His words are said with such conviction that I don’t doubt him. Will I ever be free of him? Will this ever end?

  His hands slide down his body, undoing his pants, the sound of his zipper mixing in with my gasps as I try to catch my breath.

  I hold my hand up, trying to silently tell him to stop, but he slaps it away. I squirm as he moves closer but he overpowers me as he places his palm on my chest, pushing with so much force I’m sure he’ll crack a rib.

  “You walk around in tight t-shirts and skirts, tempting me with the devil inside you.” He climbs on top of me, pulling my legs open and ripping the material of my skirt as he yanks at it. I put all the strength I can into closing my legs, but it’s no use because he’s there between them, pulling his pants down.

  “No,” I repeat, hoping this time he’ll listen.

  His head whips up at my voice, his eyes narrowing. “Silence.”

  “Pl—” His fist collides with my mouth, blood immediately coating my lips. I whimper at the pain flowing through me, but that’s not enough for him. He slams his fist into my face again, hitting my cheek and eye this time.

  I cry out, lifting my arms to stop his attack, but he sees my move before I can do anything and grips my forearms, squeezing so tight I’m sure he’s going to break my bones.

  “Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights.”

  He pulls me forward, pushing my arms behind my back before shoving me back down. His body weight crushes me as he places his chest against mine. I try to fight him, not willing to let this happen. I can’t be this person, I won’t be the one who accepts what is happening to her. I can stop this, I can—

  “Watch me.”

  I shake my head emphatically, refusing to do as he says. He replies by grabbing hold of my jaw, keeping my head in place as he pushes forward, his eyes connected with mine. I tell him silently how much I hate him, words failing me.

  “No,” I sob, the sounds coming from my throat like a wounded animal.

  He groans, the sound echoing in my head over and over again as he enters me, taking not only my virginity, but my soul and dignity at the same time.

  His hand works its way down to my throat, forcing my head back as my hands lose their feeling being crushed between the floor and my back.

  My vision starts to blacken at the edges, and for the first time in my life, I beg the darkness to take me under. I gasp as it swallows me, and the last thing I feel is a thrust as he closes his eyes, moaning.

  I’ll never forget that sound for as long as I live.

  LILY

  When I was a little girl, the place I felt safest was in my home. My mom singing in the kitchen as she washed the dishes, my dad sitting on the sofa highlighting scriptures in his bible, my brother running around the backyard.

  So many memories fill these walls; memories destroyed within minutes. Shattered into so many pieces they’d be impossible to fit back together again.

  I keep my eyes closed, listening to his footsteps as he climbs the stairs, the shower turning on and giving me the all clear. Opening my blurry eyes, I look around the living room, it seeming so different to how it was only thirty minutes ago.

  How can everything change in the blink of an eye?

  Wincing as I sit up, I lift my hand to my mouth and eye, knowing there’s no doubt they’re both swollen. Keeping my attention focused in front of me, I don’t look down, scared of what I’ll find.

  The sound of the shower turning off has adrenaline running through me. Stumbling up off the floor, I use the wall to steady myself as I stay silent, hearing the bathroom door open and his footsteps as he walks across the hall to his bedroom.

  It’s now or never. Him or me.

  And from now on, I’m going to choose me every single time.

  My hand slips on the wall, but I keep my attention focused on the one thing I was offered yesterday but didn’t take. Freedom.

  I grip the door handle, taking a stuttering breath before pulling it open and making a dash for it, pain consuming me with each step but it doesn’t matter, because I’m out… I’m away from him.

  A sob bubbles up inside me as the pain between my legs ricochets through me, the stinging worse than anything I’ve ever felt before. When I get to the other end of the field, I look down, seeing my skirt hanging in two pieces, blood trickling down my legs and onto my bare feet. Red; just like the poppies surrounding me.

  I stumble, leaning against the wall in the alleyway, my chest feeling like it’s going to cave any minute with the force of the sobs coming from me. I sound like a wounded animal, and all I want is to find shelter.

  My gaze finds the house on the other side of the field and it’s all I need to get moving again.

  Kim’s house comes into view, the light illuminating her living room and I stumble toward it, crossing the road and making it to her front door before slumping against it.

  I have to tell someone what happened. But how are you meant to tell someone your own father raped you? How are you meant to explain that the person who should protect you from every single person on this earth did the one thing he never should have?

  Lifting my hand, I knock on the door with all the strength I can muster before it opens, Kim’s smiling face coming into view before she sees me.

  “Lily?” she gasps, her hand flying over her mouth as she reaches for me. “What happened?”

  “I—” My throat dries, a lump the size of a baseball lodging itself there. I’ve said the word over and over again in my head on the way over here, but not out lou
d.

  I open my mouth, willing the word to come forward, but it won’t escape.

  Kim pulls me inside before leading me to the sofa and sitting me down. “Lily, honey. What—”

  “I think something is wrong,” I croak out, looking down at my legs and the blood still trailing down them. “He… he…” I hiccup a sob. “He raped me.”

  LUKE

  I sit at the meeting table, listening to Evan as he talks on his cell with his pop. “I’m on my way.” He stands still after ending the call, his eyes flashing before he tells us all, “She’s awake.”

  We all seem to breathe a sigh of relief at the same time now that Lexi is out of the woods, and Evan’s lips quirking show us this is a good thing. She’s part of the family now, and we take care of ours.

  “You heading there now?” I ask.

  “Yeah.” He nods, taking a step away from the table.

  “I’ll come with.” When he raises a brow in question. I tell him, “I left my car there last night.” There was no way I was going to let him drive home from the hospital with the way he was inside his own head.

  We’re both silent as we get into Evan’s car, neither of us saying a word as he starts the drive to the hospital. I’m sure his mind is on nothing but Lexi, whereas mine is clear, plans of action for my jobs slipping into place.

  I need to get Evan to help check Dean’s devices, but I know I can’t do that until Lexi is better. So in the meantime, I’m going undercover at the bar for Charlie, trying to get more intel from the inside, and hopefully find out who the mole is.

  The bar is the connection, and for some reason, they don’t want us in there. Little do they know, they played their hand and I’m determined to find out why.

  I shuffle in my seat, looking out the window, making a mental list of things I need to do before going undercover. Ty said he wasn’t gonna let any of the guys know, so I’m going in alone. I won’t lie, a break from everyone and the compound will do me good, I can get my head on straight and my focus on my work and the people who have become my family over the last few years.

  Closing my eyes, the gritty feeling from lack of sleep gets more intense the longer I keep them closed. I’ve never told anyone about the insomnia I suffer with, the way my brain will flash images inside my head as soon as my eyes are closed and I’m in a dark room. It clicks over and over like a movie reel, memories from when I was a kid mixing in with the battles I used to be part of while in the Marines. There’s nothing quite like being back in the sandy desert, the smell and feel on my skin mixing in with the pained cries from my mom. It’s torture.