Hero (20 page)

Tuesday afternoon can’t come soon enough. Obligations have kept me tied up in New Rhone when I have a pressing matter in Fenndale. I leave the office early to make the two-hour drive to the Andersons’ home. Since Sunday night, Cataline’s been dangerously on my mind. Her words, her scent, her touch all cloud my thoughts. I’ve both given and taken too much. What it will take to restore balance between us won’t be pleasant, but it must be done.

But before I can face her again, I must rectify the wrong done to her. My mistake, my failure to see that she wasn’t comfortable when I thought she was. Growing up poor before the accident, I knew her tendency toward frugality. I meant for her to have a choice, but that choice was never allowed her.

My fists curl hard around the steering wheel. In order to deflect questions, I’ve always been amiable and patient with the Andersons. If nothing else, I’ve stressed the importance of anonymity—Cataline was never to know of a third party. I realize now that they’ve used that against both of us. Cataline has made it clear that their role in her life is minimal at best, and knowing that, it’s tempting to make them pay for their greed. As I pull the car into the farm’s dirt driveway, Norman’s warning from earlier is fresh in my mind.

“Remember the code,” Norman says. “The punishment must fit the crime.”

“I know better than anyone. One exception will lead to another, and eventually, our system will fail.”

“Any kill must be warranted. Maintain control. I only feel compelled to remind you because this is a more personal matter than you normally deal with.”

“Personal, no,” I say. “It’s obligation, Norman. Lately, you seem to be confusing the two.”

I hear voices in the house before I even enter, which makes them easy to locate. When I stride through the kitchen doorway, Mrs. Anderson screams, raising her wooden spoon so spaghetti sauce flies across the cabinets.

Her husband jumps up from his spot at the dinner table. “What the fuck you doing, barging into my place like this?”

“We had a deal,” I say, slamming my fist on the wooden table. “What happened to the money?”

“I don’t know what you’re on about, Mr. Lawrence. Cataline’s got a check every month like we worked out.”

“And her savings?”

“Yup, she’s got that too. All, what was it, Lynne? Must’ve been twenty thousand or something close. She’s got it.”

“That so?” I ask. “I heard otherwise, Anderson.”

He picks something from his teeth as he studies me. Fear, something that I identify easily, is missing from his expression. His flannel is only half tucked, and I watch his eyes travel down my Armani suit. “Whatever you heard’s a lie, Mr. Lawrence. If it’s the girl telling you that, she’s a little liar. We raised her, we know. Something about growing up the way she did.”

If I were physically able to grow bigger, I would be right now. My muscles are tightening as adrenaline surges to all the dark corners of my body. “You’re saying she made it up?”

He raises an eyebrow at me. “You talk to her?”

“Like I said, I heard it from somewhere else.”

“Young girl called here last month, asking after Cat. Said she’s missing, but the police done think she ran away and won’t do nothing.”

“I don’t know anything about that. You’re my only contact with her, and she’s your responsibility.”

“Not no more, not apart from getting her that money.” He nods at his wife without removing his beady eyes from me. “Lynne and I been talking. Want to know what your interest is in the girl.”

“I’ve told you, I can’t disclose that.”

“Well, maybe we disclose it to Cataline, you don’t get the fuck out of our house. I don’t know what gets you off about giving some little brat money, but I don’t think I want a part of it anymore. Perverted, high-class asshole.”

His words hang in the silence for a moment. His wife’s slight, uneven breathing borders on whimpering. Before she can even scream, I have him by the throat slammed up against the wall. “You’re a piece-of-shit liar,” I say calmly as his fingers pry at my grip. “I want a check for every last dime I’ve given you. The money I paid you and the money you were supposed to give Cataline. Right now.”

“I don’t have it,” he pants. “I gave it to Cataline.”

My grip tightens, and he’s coughing, a rough, dying noise that is music to my ears. I turn my head to his wife. “Tell me the truth, or that’s the last sound he ever makes.”

“We didn’t give it to her,” she cries. “We don’t got it, though.”

I release her husband without a look and walk over to her. She cowers against the counter, crying and muttering nonsensically.

“What’d you do with it?”

“I don’t know. Nothing. Everything. We spent it on groceries, fixing the house, a new truck. I don’t know, sir. I’m sorry.”

“You’re worthless scum. Your only purpose on this planet was to give Cataline a safe, happy home and deliver my money to her. You failed on both accounts. Have that check in my hands by the end of the week, and maybe I’ll let you both live.”

“Is that—are you threatening us?” she asks. “You can’t kill me. I have children.”

“You think I give a fuck? I’d be doing them a favor. And if you run, I’ll find you. I’m always up for a good chase.”

The man’s voice comes from the floor, where he’s crumbled against the wall. “Who are you?”

“I’m someone with the money, the power, and now, the motive to hunt you down. Nobody can save you from me. Get me my money. Understand?”

I don’t wait for an answer before I leave, busting their front door off its hinges in the process. There are female cries nearby. I know they have daughters younger than Cataline, but I can’t muster any sympathy for them. Instead, I get in my car and start back for New Rhone, calming myself with the thought that they’ll spend the next few days in sheer terror.

———

“Gone?” Norman asks.

“All of it. I don’t think they ever intended to give her a dime. And the stipend I provided them every month she lived there, I’ve no idea. She probably never benefited from it. How could I have missed it?”

“You couldn’t be there all the time. You did what you could. They’re the ones in the wrong, not you.” He watches me pace the room a moment. “You did well to contain your rage.”

“You’re giving me too much credit. I want to kill them still. I’m not sure I can’t.”

“You can. You’ve come too far, learned too much control to let it slip. Think of what it makes you to kill a family.”

“They deserve it,” I say.

“Perhaps they do. But not for this. Find me more evidence of wrongdoings, and we can revisit.”

I know he’s right. And the fact that I want them to pay so severely means I’m in too deep. Spending a day with her was imprudent on my part. She won’t know why she’s being punished, but that won’t make it any less sweet for me. It’s my responsibility to return us to captor and captive. Anything else can only mean more danger for both of us.

When I kneel, it’s not in worship or gratitude. It isn’t to unload my sins and ask for absolution. It’s only under the guise of these things. In my heart, it comforts me to be in the Lord’s presence. It’s a selfish time for me, to ask for healing and to be brought back to my parents. I kneel in supplication.

The glow is not simply from the lit candles at the base of the statue of the Virgin Mary. It’s from a feeling of warmth and security that exists only in the sanctity of this room in a dark mansion. I ask for help, greedily, for relief, for guidance. It’s only my second time in the mansion’s chapel. It feels wrong to be in here after these past months, after the shameful things I’ve done.

My forehead touches my knuckles, my hair long and loose over my shoulders. Because everything in my closet is fitted, short, or sexy in some manner, Rosa has lent me a white, long-sleeved, shapeless dress. I am relatively calmer hidden beneath it with my sins. Deep in the recesses of my thoughts, I don’t hear Calvin enter. It’s the creak of the pew directly behind me that draws me from my prayer. His presence is strong at my back. Through the cotton of my gown, his hand cups my bottom, his fingers curling under but not quite reaching their target.

“What are you doing?” I whisper.

His hand moves, rubbing me as my body devolves into pure panic. My heart stutters and stammers against my chest as his fingers move deeper toward my clit with each slide.

“Y-you can’t do this,” I stammer. “Not here.”

“I can do whatever I like to you because you’re my possession. I own you.”

“No, you don’t,” I say in hushed fury.

“I don’t?”

“No.”

The wood groans again, and his heat envelops me, his mouth moving to my ear. “You keep denying that you’re mine. Do you belong to someone else?”

“I belong to no one.”

“I’m glad you think so. I have a debt that can’t be paid with money. Since you don’t feel obligated to me, I think I’ll have you repay it on my behalf.”

“What are you talking about?” His massaging is harder now, my body warming against my every instinct. I fight it entirely, but his fingers are too skilled. When his other hand closes around my breast, my body convulses slightly.

“You’ll fuck my friend because I say so. Because you aren’t mine. Perhaps I’ll watch, or even record it so we can watch it together.”

My loud words echo in the small room. “No. You’re psychotic.”

He moans hot breath against my ear. My knuckles shake as I crush my intertwined fingers together. “Then tell me this is mine,” he says, squeezing between my legs with a firm grip. “That’s all I ask.”

“Never,” I whisper.

He gathers up the dress behind me and slips his hand underneath, caressing up the inside of one thigh. “My stubborn sparrow. Your pride will only hurt you.”

One finger pushes into me, and my vision blurs. It delves deeply into my heat, and I know when he removes it, it’s wet. It returns with a second finger, driving up again until he can’t push any deeper. “How many fingers do you think I can fit inside you before you come?”

My shoulders shudder with a sob. His hand on my breast slides up around my neck and under my chin, forcing my head up. “Keep your eyes open,” he says. The Virgin Mary looks down on us impassively, and I’m forced to watch her as his fingers curve inside me and massage, causing my body to tighten up. “Not yet,” he says. “Two is nothing.”

A third finger presses inside, and I’m full with him.

“Tell Him,” he says. “Confess how naughty you’ve been.”

I shake my head in his grasp.

“Confess,” he hisses. “I know you touch yourself at night and think of me.”

My denial is garbled by the lump in my throat.

“You liked when I fucked you, and you want me to do it again. Say it.”

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.”

He groans, and his erection jabs into my ass cheek.

“I’ve had impure thoughts and committed impure acts.”

“Did you touch yourself?”

“Yes.”

“Did you wish it was me?”

“Yes,” I say as tears roll down my cheeks. “And I wished you would do it again.”

His fingers spread inside me to welcome a fourth. I groan loudly and attempt to squirm away. His movements are fast and hard now, and his thumb presses against my anus.

“You’re dripping all over my hand. I wonder if you’ll come this way, or if you need more.”

I gasp. “More?”

“I have ten fingers, don’t I? A fist?”

“Oh my God.”

He chuckles in my ear. “Thou shalt not take the Lord’s name in vain.”

I’m too afraid to come and too afraid not to. I’m dissolving into nothing but tears that stream from the corners of my eyes as my head is tilted up. His fingers still, and his other hand releases my throat to pet my hair. My head drops, but I incline slightly into his gentle touch. His thrusting starts again, this time soft but deliberate.

“There, there,” he whispers. “It’s okay. I’ll make you come this way.”

True to his word, he removes the pressure from my anus and swivels his hand to replace his thumb on my clit. His rhythm goes unbroken as he pushes me to the edge, whispering nothings into my ear, and stroking my hair. My orgasm crests, and I reach back to grip his hand in my hair, squeezing it as my thighs tremble and my pussy constricts around his fingers.

My body wholly unclenches, and I melt against the pew in front of me. He removes his hand and pulls my dress down, smoothing it over my backside with a saint’s touch.

Behind me he moans with a sucking noise, and says, “So sweet.” His breath is hot on the back of my neck as he kisses me once on my hair. He leaves without another word.