Untied

by Katherine Rhodes

  “I can see the puncture.”

  “Ew.” She held up her hand. “I'll help. But I'm not going to…”

  “I'll handle it. For the record, ew. Hard limit.”

  “Not thrilled either.” Donny's breath was becoming thready. “Not into the whole fisting thing.”

  Cece explained what she was going to do as they laid Donny on his front. “You have to hold the light and the tube. I'm going to try and work around it, getting the needle and thread in there, and then pulling closed. Create the stitches first, pull the tube out and then pull the thread tight. Donny, I'm only going to use as many finger as I need.”

  “Again. Dying. Not being picky.”

  “I'm so sorry this is going to hurt.”

  “I'll go ahead and pass out if you're good with that.”

  Diane snickered with Cece, and then held the tube and light. Cece braced herself and started to work. Donny passed out in seconds, and Cece was glad. It took her nearly ten minutes to get the needle and thread in place and figure out how she was going to sew with two fingers. As she puzzled along, she decided on three and worked as fast as she could.

  She and Diane heard a second round of rough incest start upstairs, and Cece was a little relieved, because it meant they had a few minutes.

  Nearly half an hour after she started, Cece felt like she was at the point where there was nothing more to do. “Slowly, pull that thing out. Like super extra slow. Leave me light.”

  Diane nodded and carefully inched the tube toward her. Cece pulled each of the stitches tight as fast as she could, in order and did her best to tie it off.

  “That's good. I'll take care of the tube.” Cece wrapped her fingers around it and slid everything out as a unit, and pulled the sheet up quickly. Hard limit. That ain't changing.

  Diane held out a small container of hand sanitizer. “It's all I have.”

  “Ugh, Diane. I could have used that…in…there.”

  “Oh. I didn't think about that.”

  “It's okay. We're not thinking straight.” Cece opened her hands and Diane gave her a huge dollop. “Don't need that much.”

  “You had your hand…”

  “I know. But here's a fun fact. Most men who enjoy the backdoor action keep their tushes rather quite clean. That's not to say I don't appreciate the sanitizer.”

  Cece took two smaller dollops after and scrubbed her hands well. Diane handed her phone back. “You have a Wi-Fi signal.”

  “I what?” Cece grabbed the phone. “Holy shit. He's that stupid?” She looked up at Diane, who shrugged. “It's not even secure.”

  Cece swiped the phone open again and opened the email. She quickly tapped a short message to Killian. Love you. Find me if you can. Bury me alone. She hit send. The phone worked for a moment and then the magical words, “Message Sent!” appeared. Cece clutched the phone to her chest for just a minute, and for just a minute, let herself hope that there was a future for her and Killian.

  She tossed the phone back in her purse and looked at Diane. “They are probably going to be down in a few minutes. Please, just stay with Donny and let me handle my mother and brother. I don't know what they are going to do. So…just let me handle it.”

  Diane blinked. “I thought that I always wanted a husband, to get it over with. To get done with kids, and get on with life. But now…now I want a love like you and Killian. You're not the end. You're the whole story. The happily ever after.”

  “It's never happily ever after, Diane. It's love and loathing. Understanding and arguing, and patience and pitfalls. It doesn't just happen—it's fought for. Ever after, with happily found along the way.”

  She nodded. “I am jealous.”

  Cece pursed her lips. “Someday, Diane. Maybe someday. First, you have to start checking the stalls and curbing your attitude. And realizing that the dancers at the Grange are no less human than you.”

  She blanched. “You were in that stall.”

  Cece nodded slowly.

  “Shit, I'm such a piece of crap. I'm so sorry.”

  “Are you sorry because you got caught or because you are disgusted by what you said?”

  “What I said—I didn't know…a lot of things.”

  “Pay it forward, Diane.”

  She nodded. “I will.”

  Cece looked up at the floorboards above them. “Think they are done incesting up there.”

  “God, I hope so. You have no idea how vile that shit is.”

  Cece laughed. “Yeah, kinda do, since that's my mother and brother up there.” She sighed heavily. “I wish they'd hurry up and come down. If he's going to kill me, I'd rather not wait.” Cece turned to check on Donny, and the door opened above.

  She motioned Diane to the far side of the bed and grabbed the ropes she needed to take her mother out of commission. She briefly wished she had more time—and more innovation and energy—left to rig something more deadly than she had for her brother.

  But, time was up. Chas was on the stairs on the way down.

  Chapter Twenty

  Marjorie almost screamed when the noose dropped around her neck. There was a strangling sound, but Cece made quick work of her, tying her up and leaving her to dangle by the stairs.

  Cece felt slightly sick. She'd never used shibari to hurt someone without their express consent.

  This felt wrong.

  Chas spun around just as the ropes all pulled tight and suspended Marjorie. She looked terrified and started turning red.

  “What the fuck have you done?!” Chas ran for their mother.

  “Don't touch her.” Cece folded her arms. “If you pull one of those ropes, you'll hang her.”

  Chas reached for one, and Marjorie shook her head violently.

  “See? Mother knows. She can feel how those ropes will kill her.” Cece walked toward Chas at the bottom of the stairs. “She'll only pass out for now. The instant anyone but me tries to take her down, she'll hang.”

  “You fucking pervert.” Chas was shaking with anger.

  “Me? That's rich.” She walked toward him. “Why did you write the words in blood, Charles? Why did you call them sinners, sodomites, when you're the worst of it?”

  “That's why they died. They will all go to hell, and I'll lead the way to Satan's throne.”

  “And you call me fucked up.”

  Chas started circling her. “You're going to let Mother down, and then you're going to hang yourself. Maybe even in that contraption you've rigged.”

  “I don't frankly care what you do to me, Charles. Hannah is safe, and she'll be away from you forever. You've murdered Dad, so whatever there. And Mom is breaking the law fucking her own son. So the way I see it, you're screwed no matter what.”

  Cece walked so she forced him into position. Charles didn't even notice the subtle herding.

  What he did notice was Cece moving and getting closer. The gun came out of his pants waist and was right on her face.

  “I'll take care of all of my problems right now.” His voice was an angry growl. He gestured with the gun. “Let her down. Untie her and let her down. Then I'm going to kill you slowly and painfully.”

  Cece didn't move until the insanity lit up his eyes. She took a few steps up and pulled on a rope there, as Marjorie started making desperate little noises.

  Too late.

  The pick axe swung down from the rafters as Cece yanked the rope harder, giving the rusty metal implement real force. The point drove into his back, not nearly as hard or deep as she'd hoped, then twisted and fell to the ground.

  Charles screamed from the pain. It wasn't the impact that did the damage, but the twisting and falling axe. He grabbed his back and turned to see what had hit him.

  His back, next to his spine, was ripped open from waist to halfway up.

  Not enough to kill him. Just enough to piss him off.

  He spun back, swinging the gun around to shoot her.

  “Charles, no!” Diane screamed.

  The gun tracked by her and ove
r to where Diane was standing and he pulled the trigger without really aiming.

  The bullet hit Diane hard in the shoulder, tumbling her backward, onto the floor hard. Cece saw Chas realize what he had done, shooting the woman he wanted to bear him a child, and took a few steps toward her.

  Just enough for her to grab the axe.

  Chas spun back and fired, as Cece brought the axe up and pierced him through. The impact of the bullet in her torso changed her trajectory, and instead of slamming through his chest, she caught his torso through his hip and up into the flesh and organs on the right side of his body.

  Cece let go and let the rusty axe go with Chas as the impact tossed the gun out of his hand, sending it skittering away.

  Amazingly, while Cece hit the floor, Charles was still standing. He gazed down at Cece as he yanked the axe down and out of his guts. The torrent of blood was overwhelming, but he still stood.

  “Bitch.”

  Cece tried to sit up, but she could feel the bullet in her lung. “Fuck you, Charles Robbe. Die. Die horribly.”

  Somewhere behind her, she heard the bilco doors rattling violently.

  “I'll meet you at the gates of hell.” He pulled a small hand gun from the untouched side of the waist of his pants. He couldn't stand against the loss of blood, and finally fell to his knees as he raised the gun, aiming carefully at Cece this time.

  “Kill me, asshole. Go ahead. I said I'd make sure you were dead. I don't care if I die now.”

  “I hate you, Frances. I always have.”

  “I know.” Cece stared at him. “Go to hell, Chas.”

  “Meet you there.”

  The explosion of the gun was much louder than she expected from such a small caliber pistol. And there was no pain, so Cece figured she was beyond that sort of Earthly bullshit.

  Until she saw Chas open his mouth and blood and brain fall out. He collapsed forward in the next instant, leaving Cece with a clear view of Diane kneeling there with the gun that had danced away.

  Diane let the gun fall. “Fuck you, Charles Robbe.”

  Cece smiled at her, and Diane smiled back. They passed out at the same time.

  * * *

  Dunham and Killian ripped the doors off the hinges. Neither of them had time for that 'run through the house' bullshit.

  They all dropped down the stair and fell into the cellar together.

  Just in time to see Chas flip the safety off.

  “I hate you, Frances. I always have.”

  “I know.” Cece stared at him. “Go to hell, Chas.”

  “Meet you there.”

  The gun went off—but didn't. There was no flash and bang from the barrel of the gun Chas was holding. Killian took a step to surge forward—

  —as Chas opened his mouth and all kinds of blood and brains came flooding out.

  Killian looked behind him to find Diane holding another, still smoking gun.

  “Fuck you, Charles Robbe.”

  The two women collapsed a second later.

  Garabaldi was already on his phone to the county police as Killian rushed over to where Cece had fallen. Dunham ran to Diane.

  Cece's eyes fluttered open. “Heaven? Or hell?” She coughed and winced. “Not heaven.”

  “Earth, Cece. You're alive.”

  “Mm. Kinda hurts real bad.”

  “What?”

  Killian didn't expect the answer to come from across the room. “He shot her in the shoulder, and it probably went to her lung.” He and Dunham looked up and over to the bed. Gordon was lying there, face down, not looking good.

  “We need four ambulances!” Dunham called to Garabaldi.

  “Five.” Donny nodded at the stairs.

  Garabaldi almost dropped his phone. “What the shit is that?”

  “A rope trap,” Dunham answered. “Only a nawashi could do that.” He looked at Killian and Garabaldi. “A shibari master.”

  “Who is tangled up in that thing?” Garabaldi asked, walking over.

  “Marjorie Robbe.” Donny smiled as best as he could. “You have to get Vanity here to untangle her. She's the only person who knows enough shibari to let her down safely.”

  “The paramedics are on their way.”

  Killian looked down at Cece, who had passed out again. He held her close, as carefully as he could and hoped they could finally put all of this behind them.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Cece flickered her eyes open, the harsh light of the fluorescent bulbs causing her to blink rapidly.

  There was a warm, careful hand in hers that didn't feel like Killian's, and she turned to find who it might be.

  Hannah was standing there, smiling at her.

  Cece didn't even try to stop the tears, and Hannah slapped her good arm. “Come on, don't do that! I've cried enough!”

  “I was so sure I wouldn't see you again!”

  “I was a little scared too,” Hannah admitted.

  “Which hospital am I at?”

  “Magee Women’s,” came a new voice.

  Cece lifted her head to see her father rolling into the room in a wheelchair. There was no stopping the tears this time. Cece wept so hard the bed was shaking, and Hannah was trying to get her to stop moving.

  Roger rolled to the bed. “What's wrong?”

  “I thought you were dead! Chas said he killed you!”

  “Made a good effort. But your boyfriend has a steady hand and sure needle.”

  Cece grabbed his hand. “Quit drinking, Dad. Please. Whatever the—”

  He squeezed her hand. “I'm going to rehab tomorrow. I'm healed enough to go. I have some serious DTs to get through, and some serious counseling to deal with. But I haven't even thought about a drink since your brother poked a hundred holes in me.”

  “Chas…”

  “Dead.” Garabaldi walked in with Donny.

  “You got him good, Dusty. You and Diane.”

  Hannah punched Donny. “You're going to make her cry again.”

  “Let her. She's had a rough few weeks. Killian guessed that your emergency operation on me saved me. I had a cardiac incident at the hospital, but I made it there. I wouldn't have without.”

  Cece looked at her father, and then at Donny, then back at her father.

  “Dad?”

  “Yes. Yes, he didn't lie. Donny and I have been having an affair for months. I'm tired of hiding, CeeBee. I'm drying up, and I'm going to come out. I don't care.” He laughed. “Hell, after what my wife and son were doing, I'm a goddamned angel.”

  “All right. Everyone out. Out, out. Cece needs rest, not her insane family hovering over her.” Killian's voice was strong and clear from the door. He clapped twice and jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Let's go. All a'yins, scoot.”

  Hannah gave Cece a hug, and Donny did the same. Roger leaned in and gave her a kiss on the forehead, and even Garabaldi shook her hand. They all filed out of the room and left Killian standing there staring at her.

  He unfolded his arms and moved to the bed. “Your text did it. We had the IP.”

  “I was hoping.”

  “I kinda wanted to kill Chas myself.”

  Cece shook her head. “Diane won the day. Oh! Diane!”

  “Fine, she's fine. She's resting at Shadyside. She had a clean through and through, and I was able to clean her up.”

  “Is she pregnant?”

  “Yes.”

  Cece was quiet and studied Killian's face.

  “What are you thinking, Mistress?”

  “I need a drink and spanking. And not necessarily in that order.”

  Killian burst out laughing.

  * * *

  Once again, Doctor Killian McInnis was able to save three lives in that dank basement.

  Cece's wound had been the most life-threatening. He quickly packed the wound once the paramedics arrived and had her board-and-collared.

  He didn't miss the irony of collaring her again.

  Bundled off to Magee Women's, he was brave enough to trust
the doctors there to repair her wound and punctured lung.

  Diane's wound was a through and through, clean but bloody. He opted to check on Donny instead.

  Donny's wounds, several fractures, and cuts, as well as internal bleeding were bad, but the scope revealed that Cece's stitching—rough, unpracticed, blind, and filthy—had done exactly what they had to do: staunch the flow of blood. Donny was moved to the local county hospital for immediate transfusions. He would be sent to Shadyside later—the restoration of blood was far more important.

  And Diane was the last one there in critical condition. While she was hurt badly, Killian was able to stabilize her for transportation to the city. He went with her back to Upitt so he could do her operation and check on his other patients.

  Vanity—Vanessa Gregorson—arrived not moments after Killian pulled away. Walking in with her escort, Paul Wainwright, she was led directly over to where Marjorie was suspended. She took a long look at the intricate ropes, tracing some with her finger, backing off others, poking still more. When it was all said and done, she pulled a single rope in the middle of the rigging, and Marjorie’s feet were on the floor, and with another tug, she was free of everything.

  The police loaded the unconscious woman into another waiting ambulance and were gone.

  With the way Vanity and Garabaldi resolutely ignored each other, they were clearly romantically involved.

  After bundling the little submissive out of the cellar, the medical examiner had his turn with the remains of Charles Daniel Robbe. Oldest son of Roger and Marjorie.

  Serial killer. Sociopath. Incestuous lover. Words that no one wanted to string together.

  On scene, Paul Wainwright declared the cause of death, GSW to the head. He catalogued all of the wounds received, describing each one and noting all evidence for the exoneration of Diane Hamburg and Frances Robbe. There was no doubt that Cece was innocent, and he wanted to make sure that Diane did not get charged. All of the injured parties—Cece, Diane, Donny, Marjorie, Imogene, Hannah, and Roger—were all expected to recover with no long-standing effects.

  Except Diane. No matter how much one disliked her before, there was a great measure of pity and silence around her now. She didn't speak to many people either in or out of the hospital.