“Wait.”
“No. Not again Thomas. We’ve already gone through this.”
The look in his eyes tripped my breath; was he torn between letting me make my own choice or pinning my hands behind my back? I needed Lisa for support, but she was curled into the corner of the couch, lost in emotional chaos.
Thomas’s voice lowered. “I’ll do whatever you want. I promise. But—”
“You’ve gotta quit making promises you can’t keep.”
He nodded and gently took the phone from my hand and put it on the table. “Just hear me out.”
I waited for him to speak, but he just stared, so deeply I had to blink and remember to breathe. I didn’t resist when his hands ran down my arms to grasp my waist, picking me up and off the kitchen chair to stand facing him. There wasn’t much space between us and the heat in the room rapidly increased. Gold from the candlelight danced in his irises and played in his black hair, and it brought me back to our night under the tree. Dancing. Being free. And happy. And dammit if it didn’t feel right—perfectly, right. We were chest to chest, and although I was still angry at him, I couldn’t say no when he pressed his mouth to mine. It was sweet. Soft. The kind of kiss that moved mountains and lit the night—and made the hole I was falling into that much deeper.
Days ago, I thought Thomas might be my future. But then again, days ago I thought I would never see Luke. I had done the math, jotted down on pen and paper the reasons why Thomas was perfectly right for me, and the pros wildly outweighed the cons. He was someone I could spend a safe, happy, love-filled life with. He was a lighthouse in a dangerously dark world. He was a choice.
But.
Whatever it was that I felt for Thomas wasn’t even close to the all-consuming, soul-binding love I had for Luke. Not. Even. Close.
I watched Thomas’s pulse race at the base of his throat. “I meant what I said before.” His cheeks flushed. “Kaya, I am in love with you.”
I put my head down, focusing on his hands that had firmly latched onto mine. “Thomas… I—”
“I know,” he said, letting go, arms dropping to his sides. “I just wanted to remind you that you could walk away right now and forget all this. Forget Luke.”
Now Lisa glanced up. If looks could kill, Thomas would be insta-dead.
I put my hand on his chest, his heart crashing furiously beneath toned muscle, and cursed my defiant fingers for staying there too long. How I wanted to put my head against him, feel his hands in my hair, linger in the shelter of his arms. Could he sense that? He caught my hand in his and pressed it back over his heart, holding me to him, making my head confusingly dizzy with anger and longing and everything in between.
“Let me take you away from all this,” he said, barely whispering. “I’ll give you everything. My heart, my soul… everything. You would have the most beautiful life with me, Kaya. I can support you, give you a family, keep you safe and protected, be everything you need. I would do anything to make you happy. Just say the word.”
I had to remind myself to breathe. I wanted that life with Thomas. But not as much as I wanted any kind of a life with Luke.
“I have to call Henry,” I said.
Slumping back down dejectedly into the rackety kitchen chair, Thomas’s eyes grew watery, his face so pained I was drowning in a sea of guilt. I had to swallow back the words that would make him feel better though. Words that would make me face the truth too—and make me a betrayer.
I picked up the phone.
Dialed the number.
Thomas tensed.
But Henry didn’t pick up. And Henry always picked up. Weird. I dialed again. Nothing. The candle flame flickered. Thomas stared at his hands. Lisa remained glued to the couch. Time seemed to suspend in uncertainty.
Then a sharp knock at the front door made us all jump.
“Oh crap,” Thomas said, bolting upright.
Lisa stood, too. Her face dark as she scooped the gun up off the floor, snarling and alarmingly unstable. “I’ll handle this,” she said.
I blocked her. “It’s probably nothing. Put the gun down.”
The knock came again, this time louder.
Thomas peeked around the sheet draped over the living room window. “There’s no cop car. I have to answer it.”
Lisa and I stood close but kept to the shadows while Thomas gathered a breath then casually unlocked the deadbolt. There, wavering like a breeze would blow him over, was a wafer-thin man in waist-length dreadlocks and a white shirt covered in stains. The distinct smell of weed floated off him, drifting into the house. Thomas recoiled slightly from the stench.
“Can I help you?”
“Oh, hey man, ya. I had a feeling you guys were here already since the windows were covered up and all. Wasn’t thinkin’ you’d be rolling in this early, but hey, that`s cool. Everythang all right?” The man confirmed he was high with long, drawn-out vowels.
Thomas coughed. “Uh, yeah. Of course. Who are you?”
The thin man hovered in the doorway, smoke from a cigarette curling around him. “You’re the band playing at Jack’s this weekend, right?”
Thomas nodded.
The man seemed relieved. “I’m Moe. I look after the house. I’m the guy ya call if anything goes wrong, or if ya need to get some weed or somethin’.”
“Oh, I see.” Thomas extended his hand. “Hi Moe. I’m… Johnny.”
Moe took a drag of his cigarette, then extended a tattooed palm. “Oh, as in Johnny Cash? I get it. Heard we was having a country band. I don’t usually dig that vibe, but heeeeey, whatever floats your boat. Got chicks in the band?”
Thomas’s back muscles tensed. “Nope. Just four other dudes. And they’re all sleeping right now.”
“Ah, hence the candle light. Good on ya for saving power. Environmental awareness is pretty rad.”
Thomas didn’t move aside to let Moe enter. “Anyway…”
“Right.” Moe blew a half curious plume of smoke into the house. “Well, as I’m sure you noticed, my number is on the fridge if you need anything. The complimentary meals are in the basement deep freeze and fresh towels are in the tub. Pretty sure I washed ‘em. Or, maybe not. Don’t remember. With all the craziness going on around town tonight I thought I’d better check in and make sure there was no one hiding out in here or somethin’. Ya know? With all the freaky stuff going down.”
Thomas pulled the door open a little wider and peered behind Moe’s mountain of dreadlocks at the busy street. “Whadya mean? What’s going on?”
“Haven’t ya heard the sirens?”
Thomas nodded. “Yeah.”
“There’s action at the Bow Springs Estate. Ya know the old hotel that looks like a castle? Some lunatic went all terrorist and blew up the gates. Trees are on fire and half the roads are blocked off. I think every cop in the province is there. It’s nuuuuts. They haven’t found the guy that did it yet, either.”
The cell phone I’d left on the kitchen table started to ring. An ear-piercing, soul-jarring sound cut off Moe’s words and made my heart race. Thomas didn’t budge.
“Uh, you gonna get that dude?” Moe asked.
Thomas shook his head as if waking from a dream. “Uh, yeah. I guess I better. Hey thanks for checking in on us, Moe. Make sure you catch our sets on Friday, I’ll buy the first couple of rounds of drinks.”
The offer of free booze lit up Moe’s eyes as the door was slammed in his face.
Thomas spun around to either grab the phone, or grab me, but I was pressing the talk button before he could do either, and the man who raised me, held me in his arms as a child, locked me in my room and manipulated me, crawled his way through the phone to chew at my ear.
“How dare you do this!”
Henry was riled. I’d heard him angry before—yelling at staff, threatening guards—but this was pure and utter fury. He was livid. I was intrigued.
I used my sweetest voice. “Hello Henry.”
“We had a deal, and this is how you treat
me? Your own flesh and blood? Did you really think that little diversion of yours would solve things? Huh? Was setting half the mountain on fire worth it? Now the cops are involved, and John Marchessa is probably sniffing around here, too. I know you’re near. I know you are in town somewhere and I have every single road and trail in and out of this place on lockdown. If you know what’s good for you, you best come back here on your own or—or—”
He faltered. The mighty, Henry Lowen, faltered.
“Or what?”
“Or I’ll find some more of your friends to take my anger out on,” Henry spat.
Why wasn’t he threatening me with Luke’s safety? Or Oliver’s?
Because he didn’t have them!
I stood a little taller. “I don’t have any friends. You made sure of that.”
A pause. “How about Stephan then? I’ll—shred him to pieces.”
There it was again. A hesitation. A lie. Things had spun out of Henry’s control. I could feel it. He didn’t have anyone I loved to barter with. I let a smile creep into the corners of my mouth and went out on a limb.
“We both know that Stephan is dead,” I said, testing the water, dipping my toes in to see how deep it was.
“Then I’ll find Oliver and your pal, Luke. Mark my words, Kaya Lowen—they won’t make it off this estate alive unless you come back here.”
Bingo. Henry was so rattled he slipped up and pretty much told me everything I needed to know; he had no one that I loved to barter with. For one spectacular moment, I held the keys to the crazy bus.
“Ya know, I was going to come back,” I said, grinning. “I thought it might be nice to spend some time with you. But—”
He was barely breathing. “But what?”
“Meh. I changed my mind. You’re boring. And kinda predictable.”
A sharp inhale. “If you don’t come back here, right now, I’ll—”
I cut him off. Mostly because I had started to giggle. And the giggle turned into a laugh that almost had me doubled over. I stopped myself long enough to end the conversation with what I knew would shake him out of his hundred-dollar socks.
“I’ll see ya when I’m twenty-one, asshole.”
Then I hung up. And while Thomas and Lisa watched me with unreadable expressions, I took the phone to the kitchen counter and whacked at it maniacally with a butcher knife.
Then I finished my dinner.
I woke face down in the musty towels with my skin on fire, but it wasn’t the pain or the awkward position that brought me fully around—it was the smell. Oliver was kneeling beside me opening a bottle of antiseptic, and it took me right back to that mountain, gazing at Kaya while she dressed my wounds and stitched me up. Once again, I was painfully aware of her absence.
“Sorry to wake you,” Oliver said. His voice was loud in the cavernous room, bouncing off the cement walls. “But I’m kinda worried about infection.”
I winced when he started dabbing at the wounds on my back. “I appreciate the doctoring,” I said through clenched teeth.
“Yeah, well let’s just hope this ancient stuff works. It’s as old as the hills, but it has gotta be better than nothing. You look pretty bad.”
I reminded myself to breathe as the pain escalated. “Pretty sure that crap is… doing something.”
“Hurts eh?”
Stinging. Throbbing. Aching… heart aching. “Where’s Kaya?” I asked.
Oliver sighed. “I had to leave her with the cowboy.”
I recalled the day Sindra came to our hotel room and held out her phone for Oliver and me to see. She had filmed Kaya falling to a sandy beach in fits of laughter with a dark-haired man—the cowboy. My chest now hurt more than my back. “You met the man in the video?”
“Yes. His name is Thomas. He’ll take good care of her.”
I had no doubt of that, and a jealous rage coursed through me that I couldn`t suppress. I wanted to kill that man…
“Oh relax, Golden Boy. Kaya’s not dumping you for Thomas if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Oliver pressed the antiseptic-soaked cotton to a throbbing spot between my shoulder blades and as much as I tried, I couldn’t stifle a moan.
“Yeesh. This one is deep,” he muttered.
“Promise me… she`s all right,” I said, feeling my stomach in my throat.
“Kaya? Uh huh,” Oliver was distracted with his task. “Perfectly fine. Thomas, uh, well he looks at her like… you do. And as much as that makes me want to pound his face in, I know she’s in good hands.” He paused. I could feel his eyes studying my back. “This is unreal. I can’t believe they did this to you.”
I gulped. ‘They’ was actually The Girl. But I would keep that to myself. “They wanted to know where Kaya is and I… I couldn’t help it. I told them everything I knew. The miscarriage, Sindra coming to our motel room—I couldn’t hold back. They injected me with something. As much as I tried to keep quiet, I just couldn’t.”
“Hey.” Oliver sat back on his heels. “It’s all right. I know what it`s like to have control of your mind taken away from you. I’ve been in the same boat you were, at the hands of someone sadistic and power-hungry, too. There’s nothing you could have done so don’t beat yourself up about it. That’s what I’m here for.”
My skin felt like it was on fire. “Sindra, right? Is that how she got into your head? How she controls you?”
Oliver flinched. “Controlled. But yeah. I’ve since kicked her out.”
I thought of the beautiful dark-skinned woman not making a sound while The Girl performed some of her ‘greatest work’. It was worse to watch it than to feel it myself. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, Sindra got what she deserved.” I swallowed back an acidic taste. “And probably a little more.”
Oliver forced a weak laugh. “Good. When I first came here, I was just a kid, Luke. I trusted her. I spent months out of every year for as long as I can remember down in that dungeon. Months. The memories have been coming back to me in waves now, and I wished they wouldn’t. Things I thought were strange dreams, or nightmares, were real. Sometimes I even relive the pain, too.” He coughed, and his lungs sounded wheezy. “Sindra always handed the whip to someone else or gave instructions on exactly how she wanted certain ‘exercises’ to be played out—never getting her own hands dirty of course—but she was the one in control. She wormed her way into my head so she could use me as her puppet. I don’t care what happens to her. I just hope she feels as much pain as I did.”
“Oliver, I had no idea.” I tried to roll over, but he pressed his hand to my shoulder.
“Just stay put.”
He twisted the cap off a silver tube and began applying a sticky substance to my skin. The stinging instantly subsided. I could breathe again.
“It wasn’t long ago I wanted to kill you,” he said, gently working on the wound.
“Yeah.” I choked on liquid pooling in my mouth. “And now we’re practically dating.”
“Ha,” he snorted. “You wish dickhead.”
I stayed where I was, letting Oliver doctor me and not wanting to admit to myself that the kindness in his touch was almost euphoric after suffering at the hands of The Girl. When he was done with my back, he dressed and wrapped my wrists. Managing to get onto my side, it was then that I got a solid look at him; he had a gash over his eyebrow that had left streaks of dried blood on his cheek, a swollen and cut lip, knuckles that resembled hamburger meat, and he seemed to be favoring his left arm.
“Whoa. You better apply some of that sticky crap to yourself,” I said.
Oliver shrugged off my suggestion and offered me his hand.
“How did you break into the estate, by the way?” I asked, embarrassed to need his help maneuvering off the mountain of towels with legs quivering like jelly.
Oliver grinned, latching onto my elbow, keeping me upright while my head adjusted to the change of position. “I shoved a rag halfway into the gas tank of the truck, then taped a jerrycan to the tailgate s
o petrol would trickle out in a nice, even trail. After, I jammed the gas pedal with a rock, set it in drive, and let it head toward the estate gates. As luck would have it, I just happened to have a pack of matches—”
“Holy shit!”
Oliver was proud of himself. “Yup. I dropped a flame from a safe distance, and… kaboom!”
I had to laugh. But then I clued in. “Wait a sec… you blew up my truck?”
“Yup.” His eyes shone deviously.
“I thought I’d heard an explosion, but I didn’t trust my mind. The Girl was just about to inject me with something. She had a needle in her hand and that look in her eye, and…” A chill rolled up my spine. “Thanks for saving me from that, Oliver.”
“Well, I kinda owe you one for not letting me drop off the side of that cliff. And for not leaving me during my, um, rehab. I would be dead and rotting somewhere if it wasn’t for you.” His arm was around my waist now, coaxing my feet to shuffle over to a stool where I could sit and catch my breath. Clearing his throat, he straightened his shoulders. “Anyway, you ain’t saved yet, Golden Boy. They know we’re here somewhere, and it’s only a matter of time before—”
An explosive cough stole his words. He struggled for air and doubled over. When the cough quit, he spat a slick red line on the dusty floor.
“Uh oh,” I said.
Oliver quickly reined in whatever fear briefly shone in his eyes.
“How long has this been going on?” I asked.
“It never quit,” he admitted after a moment.
I felt something stab at my heart. Worry. Worry for this big lug that had once tried to kill me. “We need to get you to a doctor.”
He laughed. But nothing was funny. “I’m fine. Chillax, Luke” he said.
He wasn’t. And we both knew it.
At the end of a hall lined with dozens of washing machines, drying racks, shelves of dusty towels and bottles of soap, we came to a brightly painted, windowless room with staff schedules on the walls and tattered newspapers on the table. I was glad the lights still worked. Otherwise, we’d be in a pit of darkness. With the number of cobwebs and other things lurking in the corners, I would not be cool with that.
Rhapsody Page 5
