Mutual Release

by Liz Crowe

  Have you told your wife yet? Don’t you think you should?

  No, I will, but she’s pregnant too. And might flip out. We have to wait.

  Thanks for the clothes money!

  You’re welcome. You know I said I’d take care of you.

  Thanks for being with me when Angie was born.

  Of course. I’ll be by later this week. I need to talk to you some more.

  She stood, the rage so bright and clear she could touch it, taste it, squeeze it between her fingers and make it ooze out and coat her hands. Damian sat and watched her pace. Memories flashed across her brain – the New York Thanksgiving weekend, the Christmas she met his mother, New Year’s Eve in Miami, their wacky wedding and the ensuing drama when he’d discovered she’d stopped taking birth control… all the times he’d show up at her office, eyes full of mischief, lock the door and…

  She shook her head, her hair whipping around her face.

  “No. You faked all this. You’re an asshole, and I know it. Get the fuck out of here. And leave my phone on the desk, please.” She spat the words at him.

  She then faced the window again, trying to catch her breath. His hands on her arms forced a scream from her lips. A wholly familiar and unwelcome terror enveloped her as she tried to move away, but his grip was firm. She bit her lip, the ever-hovering fear shoving the rage to the back of her brain for a moment.

  He slid his damp palms down her skin, making her want to vomit. His breath was putrid, as if he were rotting from the inside out. She shivered and tried not to sob. “Don’t fucking touch me, you pig,” she whispered, whipping around and facing him, backing up to get some space so she didn’t have to smell him. The cloying cologne smothered her. And brought a rush of horrific memories. “You are a rapist. And a shithead abuser. Get out of my office.”

  He smiled, stepped closer. Her hand shot out before she knew what she was doing and his head rocked back from the force of her slap. She sucked in a breath and tried not to pass out as he grinned, putting his palm to his reddening face. “I love a feisty bitch,” he said, yanking her close, pressing his disgusting body all along hers. A fluttery sensation under her shirt made her gasp. “Because you just need to be tamed.” He kissed her, shoved his foul tongue between her lips, pulled her hair, then broke away. She spat at him, still backing up until she reached her desk and grabbed her office phone.

  “I am calling the police. Go. And take your stupid evidence with you.”

  He pulled her phone from his pocket. “Better call your husband, hot stuff. He’s been trying to reach you for the last thirty minutes.”

  She hit 9-1-1 on the phone and waited. “Nine-one-one emergency. What is your emergency?” floated out of the small speaker.

  “Okay, I get it. I’m not wanted… yet.” He raised an eyebrow. She lifted her hand, prepared to punch his lights out if he came near her and her babies again. “Best have a serious discussion with the sainted Evan, though, no? And soon?” He nodded towards the photos on her desk, then slipped out of the room.

  Evan frowned at his phone. He’d called and texted Julie nonstop for an hour. He hoped she would not be working late yet again. It was getting to be too much. And he knew damn good and well she never used the alarm when she was alone in the building. But the last time he’d suggested perhaps her iron-clad grip on the business might benefit from loosening, turning it over to someone, considering that in the next few months she would have to, by necessity, he’d found himself facing the business end of a slammed bedroom door for two nights. Pregnancy had heightened every single one of his wife’s personality traits, from her libido to her temper.

  Sighing, he rolled his shoulders and sipped his beer, contemplating the latest lack of luck trying to locate Damian. Even with Nina’s help the police couldn’t pin the guy down. He’d last been spotted in Milwaukee, at a nightclub, picking up and then smacking around a waitress who went straight to the police. And the latest belief was he had slipped back into Michigan, after a report from a strip club a couple of nights ago sounded like he’d visited there and gotten kicked out. Evan stared at the computer screen wondering for the millionth time why he kept all this to himself.

  But he at least felt good about the girl he’d helped. She’d had her baby and had plans to go back to community college in a few months, using their daycare and the money he gave her. She was a nice young woman, very malleable, which was probably what made Damian stick with her for so long – she’d been a good ego stroke for him. But he’d obviously snapped, or something, and kept her as a literal prisoner until she’d escaped.

  Evan was trying to break her of her clinginess with the help of a social worker so she would not continue to be a victim, along with her baby daughter. And, of course, he’d kept all this from Julie for reasons he could not explain even to himself. He hadn’t told anyone about it, in his typical close to the vest way. He preferred instead to visit her, shuttle her money, and work with her to take the next step to emotional freedom. Then discarding the whole thing when he hit the door of his own house.

  He smiled when he heard the garage door open, relieved and frustrated by the woman he married and loved beyond reason. Even her stubbornness turned him on in some perverse way. He rubbed his sore cock. And damn, she was a walking, talking stew of horny hormones lately. He wandered into the large kitchen, pulling out leftovers to heat up for their dinner, whistling and already planning how he’d meet her halfway tonight. The door between garage and house slammed. Hard. He turned, and caught the full force of an open-handed slap to his face.

  “What the fuck?” He grabbed her wrist before she could hit him again. She used her other hand this time, the one with the giant diamond, punching him right between the eyes so hard he saw stars. “Christ almighty!” He held his face and stumbled back. “What is wrong with you?” He felt blood trickle down his face from the cut on his nose.

  “Get your shit and get the fuck out of my house,” she said, gripping the countertop. She swayed on her feet, her eyes red from crying. His inner Dom leapt up and made him act. Taking two steps towards her, he grabbed her arms and pushed her into a tall bar seat at the counter. “I mean it, Evan. You and I are through.”

  He frowned, watching her rub the increasing swell of her belly. “Calm down, Julie. What happened? What did I do – ” He jerked back, missing her open-handed smack by a few inches.

  “You are a lying asshole. That’s what. And I’m done with you pretending you love me and our babies and our life and… oh!” She broke down and sobbed so loudly his pulse raced even faster. Trying to get some measure of control over the situation he pulled a chair over and sat, taking her shaking hands in his.

  “Julie, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Tell me what the hell I did, preferably without punching my lights out.” His nose ached, his skin burned, and his gut was churning with confusion.

  “Here. Why don’t you try and sweet talk your way out of this.” She tossed the stack of photos and emails at him.

  He picked one up, grimaced, then looked at the other two. Sighing, he ran a hand across his jaw. Her beautiful, perfect face was a mask of raw fury. He swallowed hard, sought words, and failed. His shoulders slumped. Lame as shit yet again, Adams, and now what?

  “Yeah, I thought so. Goodbye, Evan. Don’t call me. Take these.” She yanked her rings off and threw them at him. They clattered to the hardwood floor as he stared at her. She stomped into the next room and returned, clutching the collar necklace. “And this.” She grabbed his hand and stuffed it into his palm. “You will hear from my lawyer by the end of the week. I’m keeping the house. But I don’t want or require anything else of you.” Her eyes blazed, and she cut him in two with her next words. “I should never have trusted you.”

  Her chest heaved, her long blond hair hung in her red face, making him worry about her blood pressure and the babies. But her anger was a living thing, coming from her in waves and smacking him in the part of his brain where he knew she was right. Well, in
a way. Those photos told a story she’d misinterpreted. However, if he’d been more of a man and just told her about it from the start, they would not be here right now.

  “Julie…” He spoke softly and held out a hand. She smacked it away, turned and walked upstairs without another word, leaving him sitting in the middle of a mess of photos, out-of-context emails, her rings, a necklace, and what remained of his heart, watching her go.

  Chapter Eleven

  “I’m bringing Julie to meet you,” he told Nina the following morning. “She thinks there is something… other than what it is… between us.”

  Nina clutched his arm. “Oh no, I told you we should… I mean… sorry.” She dropped her eyes.

  “No, you were right. I should have had her in on this from the start. Hell, she’d probably have the guy caught and behind bars by now.” Evan sighed and stood. “I’ve gotta go. Hopefully she’ll come with me later. But maybe not. Shit.” He dropped back into the hard kitchen chair in the middle of the small but very tidy one-bedroom apartment he funded for Nina and her baby.

  “Okay, listen,” the young woman said as she jumped up and got them glasses of water. “I’ll talk to her, explain everything. It will be fine.”

  “I’m not so sure.” Evan sipped his water, his heart so heavy he doubted he could even move. “We had a Damian sighting, by the way. He’s nearby, they think. If they arrest him, it means you have to testify. That still okay with you?”

  She smiled and picked up her daughter, nuzzling into the infant’s neck. “Yes. I will. I’m not afraid of him anymore, thanks to you.” She looked up at him, her dark eyes intent. “You have got to fix this with Julie. Your babies… I mean, you know. You guys have so much going for you. Bring her here, Evan. I’ll make it right.”

  He stood again, touched baby Angie’s sleeping face. He hurt all over and not just from his black eye. What ached the most was his soul. He was on the verge of a truly colossal fuck-up. He had to remedy it, fast, before Julie had too much time to get her head around what she thought was a blatant infidelity.

  He drove straight to their house, the imposing all-brick semi-mansion he’d bought because he knew she’d love it, which she did. All he wanted out of the rest of his life was to make her happy. He smacked the steering wheel, cursing his stupidity.

  But he parked in the front circular drive, got out and marched up to the front door, throwing it open before he talked himself out of it. “Julie! Come with me! I need you to meet somebody,” he yelled into the empty foyer. He heard her moving around in the kitchen.

  “Go away or I’m calling the cops.” She stood in the doorway, looking devastating, her color high, the sexy swell of her body making him clench his jaw.

  “Julie Adams, come get in the car, or I’m going to put you in there myself.”

  She leaned against the doorjamb, arms crossed. “Fuck. You,” she spat out.

  “No, thanks. Let’s go. Don’t make me ask you again.” He felt his own anger rise, thankfully, or he would lose his nerve. He shook, but he controlled it. He had to do this. Losing Julie was not in the plan, not ever.

  He strode over to her, picked her up as if she were no more than a sack of potatoes and walked out the front door. He opened the car door putting her inside, not exactly gently. She glared at him.

  “You’re the one who claims you won’t break,” he growled as he stretched the seatbelt over her stomach. “Don’t play like you’re fragile now.” He slammed the door, strode around to his side after shutting the house front door, and jumped in, screeching out onto their quiet street without another word.

  It was a short ride. He’d installed Nina and Angela in an apartment just off Washtenaw and Platt, between Ann Arbor and Ypsilanti, a few blocks from the community college.

  “I have no interest in meeting your slutty girlfriend and love child,” she ground out as he parked and turned off the engine. He stared straight ahead for a minute then turned to her. Her eyes blazed. And he had never loved her more than he did at that moment.

  “Her name is Nina. Damian held her prisoner for nearly a year, faking the Dom/sub relationship with her until she was a prisoner in his house. She escaped a few months ago, pregnant. I found her thanks to the Detroit Police who I’d alerted to any potential odd abuse cases. The baby is Damian’s, Julie. I’m trying to help her recover.” He put his head on the steering wheel. He could hear her breathing.

  “Oh,” she said, a little breathy. “Evan,” she said. “Damian brought me the pictures and the emails. He… he…”

  Rage flooded his brain. Damian had been in the same room with his wife? And she hadn’t told him? He jumped out of the car, ran around and helped her out, then clutched her close. She shook but her eyes were dry when he looked at her.

  “Did he touch you?” His voice sounded calm. Interesting, since he honestly thought he might possibly look like the Incredible Hulk. He gripped her arms, resisting the urge to shake the information out of her. “Tell me, god damn you.”

  “Evan!” He heard a voice behind him. “Let go of her!”

  Julie’s head spun. Her whole body was burning hot. She couldn’t process anything, any more information or input about this whole fucked-up scene. Damian’s child? That girl in the photos had been his prisoner? She moaned and let Evan shake her. She didn’t care anymore. She was so tired…

  Her eyes snapped open when she heard the female voice behind Evan.

  “Let go of her!”

  She looked over his shoulder and saw the girl, she of the small stature, huge dark eyes, clutching a baby in those photos. But she wasn’t now. She was standing with her arms crossed, glaring at Evan’s back. He took a long, shuddering breath and released Julie’s arms, turned, and held out a hand indicating the girl should join their odd tableau.

  “Julie, meet Nina. I told you about her but should have done it earlier. I don’t know why I didn’t. Nina, this is Julie. My wife.” He dropped his arms and headed to the driver’s side of the car.

  Julie looked at Nina, then at her husband. She’d never seen such a look of defeat in his eyes. Her heart stuttered. The babies gave a fluttery kick.

  “I’m sorry. To you both. I shouldn’t enable you to be so dependent.” He pointed to the small but sturdy-looking young woman. “And I should never, ever keep anything from you, my love. I am sorry. But so help me, Julie, I needed to know he was… here, that he came to you. I can’t protect you if you won’t tell me things like that.” He got in the car and peeled out of the parking lot, leaving Julie standing slack-jawed.

  She turned to Nina. “Well, I guess we have some talking to do.”

  The girl nodded, smiled, shy but with a bit of sass about her Julie liked already. “Yeah. Come on in.”

  After a couple of hours, the two women had a clear understanding of how Damian had manipulated them both. Julie took Nina’s hands and said with full conviction, “We will find him, and he will pay. For everything.” She squeezed the girl’s cold fingers then let her go, running her palms along the curve of her own stomach.

  Her mind drifted back to a few hours prior when she had faced down what she believed was her worst nightmare – her own mother.

  “Oh Julie, you are so…” Her mother’s eyes had been full of tears. She’d tried to hug Julie right away, but Julie kept her distance at first. “Just look at you,” the woman had said, while Julie sat unable to focus on eating or drinking anything.

  The woman in front of her was not her mother. She couldn’t be. That woman was tall, full-figured like Julie, with snapping blue eyes, thick hair, and an ageless, lineless face.

  This woman was a too-thin, dried-up-looking, unhappy version of that woman who would forever be frozen in Julie’s mind standing next to Bartholomew Hardin, the man who’d stolen her virginity and raped her for months, usually inside the small, smelly office in the restaurant and a few times, once he got brave, in Julie’s own bed in his huge house.

  Her mouth was dry. She could feel her tongue swelling up
. Her temples pounded with memories, voices, smells. For the first time in weeks nausea rose, flooding her mouth with spit. But she squared her shoulders and forced herself to be calm. This is your final step, she’d thought. Take it, by yourself, without Evan or anyone else to prompt it. This way, you are whole and can move on beyond him and his shitty behavior and lies and… She’d turned away, unwilling to let her mother see the tears and think they had anything to do with her own presence.

  “Um, listen, I just thought, I mean, I’m not here to dredge all this up again. But I – ” Julie jumped when her mother reached across the small table and gripped her fingers. The ones that were ringless now.

  She stared at their joined hands, trying to come to terms with how, exactly, she had arrived at this bizarre juncture in her life.

  “Julie, all I can ask is for your forgiveness knowing all the time it is the very last thing I deserve. I divorced Bart a month afterwards. He ran off to Mexico or some damn place, avoiding the cops, because I went straight to them to back up your… your… Oh honey, I am so sorry. I…”

  Julie watched as the skinny ghost of her once loud, bossy, opinionated mother dissolved into tears at the table.

  “You called me a slut, Mom,” she whispered, still staring at the hands that had raised her, spanked her plenty as a toddler and small girl, and finally rejected her. “You told me it was my fault.” Glancing up, her eyes were surprisingly dry. “I’m having girls. Two of them. And the only reason I’m here today is to get some closure. To look you in the eye and tell you I will never say anything like that to them, ever. I won’t be perfect, but I damn sure will not be you.” She’d tried to wrench herself free of her mother’s surprisingly strong grip, too near to tears and needing her space.

  “I’m glad you made it. That you are so successful, beautiful, happy,” her mother declared, her gaze sharp like Julie remembered it.

  “Mom, I may be successful, but I am hardly happy.” She slumped back in her seat, put her hands in her lap. “But I needed this, for myself. Not for you and your need to be made guilt-free. I can’t do that. Only you can.” She rose to her feet.