Текст книги "Wrenched"

Автор книги: Emma James

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 11 страниц)

I growl in masculine appreciation as I watch Drill and Cyn. He has her coming for him all over his face. He’s got his mouth latched onto her pussy and isn’t letting go, and that beard of his is doing its thing. She’s writhing all over his face while sucking his cock fiercely in a classic 69 position, and I can’t stand around just watching anymore.

We won’t be going anywhere tonight because it’s all about carnal, lustful gratification.

And I aim to please.

 

The rain has not ceased its downpour for the past hour, and I was just waitin’ on what was gonna be crossin’ my path this cold, rainy evenin’.

And then it happens.

A knock comes at my door. It’s a quiet, scared knock.

Whoever be waitin’ on me on the other side of this door on my front porch needs my help. I pull myself up out of my comfortable old chair, layin’ my crochet down and tightenin’ my shawl around my old shoulders as I make my way over to it.

I am not afraid, but I can smell the fear this person be feelin’. This person don’t know if I be friend or foe, but dem legs of theirs brought dem to me. They knew Miss Catherine was good.

I turn the key in the lock and tug on my worn, old, brass doorknob. The door swings open with a tired old sigh and there she be, shiverin’ and shakin’, soaked to dem bones, and she is such a skinny mullet, barely an adult.

Sad, wary eyes are lookin’ back at me while dem teeth of hers are chatterin’, and her body is rattlin’ from the rain and cold night air. I don’t doubt if she had anybody else to turn to this evenin’, she would have. This child is all alone and she be knowin’ it, and she be takin’ a chance on me.

I don’t be takin’ this lightly. I once had to put a little faith in a stranger to help me out, too.

“Mais, child, you look like you be needin’ shelter for the night. Have you been travelin’ alone by foot on this cold, wet night?”

She nods her head at me while she be assessin’ me. I can see she is poised to run if she be fearin’ who opened the door to her.

“You certainly don’t be lookin’ like you are from around these parts. I lived here long enough to be knowin’ that.” I give her a little longer to judge me. “Come on in out of the weather, if you be choosin’ to take a chance on me, and tell Miss Catherine all about your troubles.” I hold my old arm out wide, givin’ her the choice.

“There be no one else here but me, and you need not be fearin’ an old lady. Dem legs brought you here because they knew to bring you to safety.” She watches me for a moment longer, still judgin’ me, and I can see when she be makin’ the decision to grab hold of the wrinkly old hand I have held out in front of her, the bones all twisted up on my fingers from painful arthritis. A strong wind could be blowin’ me over like a tumbleweed. I’m no physical threat, and she knows she gots nobody else to hear her words but Miss Catherine on this dark night, nobody else to bring her in out of the cold, unless she continues walkin’ the night.

“S-s-sorry to tr-trouble y-you.” The child is a quiverin’ mess as I gently pull her over my threshold. I can see her wrapped hands, but I pay dem no mind. There be time enough after to be assessin’ the damage.

“Hush now, child. Miss Catherine will get you warm, then we be talkin’. You be makin’ no sense shakin’ and drippin’ puddles on my floors, and you can be takin’ dem mud-ruined shoes off where you be standin’, so I can clean dem up for you later on.

I usher her over to the warmth of the fire in her sodden socks and slide another log on for good measure. “You best be takin’ those wet clothes off so your body can be warmin’ up quicker. Your lips be goin’ blue and I can feel you is ice cold.”

She looks around my livin’ area, searchin’ for a man. “It’s just you and me in my blessed home. I be livin’ alone here; no man has ever lived under my roof. All I gots for conversation this evenin’ is you.” I give her a gentle smile. “Here, child, let me be helpin’ you with dem clothes. They be stuck to you like a second skin, and dem hands of yours look like they be hurtin’.” There is no way she should be usin’ her hands until I can get an eye over dem.

I wait for her to give me a sign that she be willin’ to accept my help, and then I make sure not to keep my eyes too long in one place on her body as I help her peel the layers away.

She does not fear me seein’ her naked, and that concerns me—she’s not bashful around a stranger. I’ll put it down to bein’ soakin’ wet and needin’ to be comfortable. I don’t bat an eyelid when she turns her back on me and I see the scarrin’ on her lower back before I can cover her bony body up from my pryin’ eyes. The blanket is one of my finest. It’s warm and thick, swallowing up her too thin frame so she can be afforded some privacy to take off her undergarments, while I hang her wet clothes up by the fire to dry.

I know what dem marks look like, and I can see purplin’ bruises where she has had some recent trauma to her body.

I motion for her to sit on the couch while I go fix her a glass of warm milk, and she can be takin’ in her surroundin’s. I call out to her from my small kitchen. “You are safe in my home, child. Nothing bad will happen to you here under my roof. That be a promise I make to you.”

I bring the warmed milk over. “Here, honeychile, this will take the blue out of those lips of yours.” She takes the warmed milk and sips it timidly.

I settle into my old, comfy, worn sofa chair and wait patiently for her to finish her drink. I can see her mind churnin’ away, questionin’ my kindness, and so she should be. Her trust has been broken by someone. I can see that written all over her face, and I’m new folk who entered her life out of the blue, but I can see she be believin’ what I tell her. She has good gut instinct. She has survived well usin’ it.

I see a night of tales comin’ before me, and I fear what she be tellin’ me.

“As I have already stated, I’m Miss Catherine, and I am eighty-five years old. I have lived in this here home for fifty-two years. My life has not always been easy or without fear. Some memories don’t disappear, but they do fade.” I give her a soothin’ smile. “What name would you be goin’ by?”

“Whisper.” The girl is so quiet.

“’Chile, I’m a little weak of hearin’. Can you say that a little louder, please?”

She looks over at me, huddled in the blanket, the light from the fire flickerin’ over her face. She be lookin’ way too young for the life she’s been dealt. I already know before she be tellin’ me a thing that she has lived a life of great despair.

“Whisper,” she says loud enough for me to hear this time.

“Nice to make your acquaintance on this rainy night, Miss Whisper. Do you be havin’ a last name?”

“I don’t know.” She looks down into her empty glass. There be no tears comin’; there is only a deep sadness inside her that she don’t be knowin’ what to do with.

“Mais, Whisper, you only be needin’ a first name. That’s the important one.” She attempts a weak smile at my effort to make her feel better. “I am here to listen now, and you can tell me only what you want to be tellin’ me. I am a stranger, I know, but you can call me a friend from now on. It looks like you may be in short supply of them. You look like you are runnin’ from some dark past, and the only way I can help you is if I know what you been dealin’ with.”

She sat lookin’ into the orange flames until she is ready to begin, no doubt wonderin’ where on earth she’s goin’ to be startin’.

I listen to her pour her stories out to me. When her voice gets quieter, I gently prompt her to speak up. She doesn’t need to be afraid to speak up in my house.

The child is like a tap on a water tank that has been left turned on, and water pours on out until it be empty, and then she is all dried up.

She’s probably sittin’ there weighin’ up why she chose my house and me to tell all her worries to. I know the answer to that: because she has never been able to talk so freely before. She never had anybody to be listenin’ to her before. She had that one woman in her life, and I am the only other she has met face-to-face. That woman was a damaged shell who thought she be loved by this evil man, who made this child’s life a nightmare. She didn’t hurt Whisper, but she didn’t save her either, and all that got her was dead.

I knew that William Dupré was no good, but even my bones couldn’t tell me what was happenin’ behind those closed doors. There was no way anybody could have known.

I was figurin’ she would sleep better with a small bowl of my gumbo in her skinny frame, which I go and heat up while she quietly sits warmin’ up and thinkin’. This is the first time she has ever left that plantation home. There is a lot she would be mullin’ over. I am the first black woman she’s ever met.

When I bring the steaming bowl over, she thanks me in a timid voice, and I be pleased to see she eats nearly all of it while I sit patiently watchin’ the flames cracklin’ and hissin’ in the fireplace as I be processin’ what she told me. Her eyes were meetin’ mine every now and then, and no doubt thinkin’ on what the impact is goin’ to be with what she said.

Long ago, I learned not to be shocked by what I be seein’ or hearin’. Some human beings can be the salt of the earth, and some are dangerous creatures with evil poured into their veins and no hope for dem to ever be on the path of good. Some innocents would be crossin’ their paths, and that be their fate in life.

Whisper be one of those.

She be chosen and she be plucked from her family, and there was no choice. It is what it is. Her past can’t be changed, but it’s what she be doin’ with her future that will count.

When I see her eyes be droopin’, I take the bowl from her bandaged hands before it slips onto the floor. “Fais do-do, honeychile,” I murmur. “Go to sleep.” I don’t doubt she will sleep the next eight hours, and then I will have some answers for her, because Miss Catherine, she knows people who can help a skinny mullet who is very much mal prise, stuck in a bad situation.

She be so traumatized, her mind has not caught up to the day’s events, and then she might want to be runnin’. I need her to be stayin’, so she has a chance at a new life, a good life, one with choices. It sounds like the threat to her person is dead, good and gone, and she is no longer in danger.

My heart hurts for the girl; her mind be broken, turned to stone. She is not embarrassed about what left her lips because she don’t understand that emotion. Submissiveness had been flogged into her, and humiliation had become her closest friend.

She is brave and in control of who she is more than she be realizin’. She has no experience with life to show her otherwise. She’s a survivor and braver than she be ever givin’ herself credit for.

The help of a strong sedative in the gumbo is what the skinny girl needs for now. We would work on the rest of her demons with a new day. She be safe now. Miss Catherine will see to that.

I need Boxer’s help. He be knowin’ what to do for her. When Boxer moved into town ten years ago, I made it my business to seek him out. It’s rare in all my years of livin’ in Connard that new folk be wantin’ to be buyin’ up a business and settlin’ here. My bones be tellin’ me he was one to look out for.

I owned a couple properties in town, one being the bar. I had made some money in stocks over the years and bought dem up cheap. I was always smart with money, and I didn’t need much to get by on.

Amazin’ what dem bones of mine be tellin’ me, and where my gut instinct steered me. But that be one of my little secrets.

Boxer be needin’ a reason to be livin’ in Connard, so I sold half my share of the bar to him. I am now the silent partner. Folks be thinkin’ I sold it all to him, but I am a smart one.

Boxer has become family to me, and family look after each other. Family are loyal and keep secrets.

There’s an evil body waitin’ to be taken care of, somethin’ the child can’t be doin’ herself. She will be mine and Boxer's secret until we can resurrect her identity. I will make sure Boxer understands that. I might be an old woman, but I be knowin’ things. He will need to be validatin’ her story, because that be Boxer, but he will be doin’ the honorable thing by this girl.

She didn’t hesitate to do everythin’ I asked of her without question tonight. This be a dangerous thing. Boxer must teach her to defend herself and be in control of her destiny from now on. She don’t yet know it, but she be stayin’ under our protection for as long as she be needin’ us.

That is somethin’ I am sure of.

What be layin’ here before me is a broken child, a scared little rabbit, who is a danger to herself. She be an injured bird that needs to learn how to fly. The horrors that she been livin’ down a ways from me for all her years, she needs to be leavin’ dem behind in her mind and learnin’ what a safe life is all about. But, even in this world, there are still dangers, and she needs to be trained. She has good gut instinct, but that can’t fight an attack on her person.

I did not show the shock on my face from dem stories she told. That would not be helpin’ her to release her inner demons to me.

I had helped to save souls in my younger days. I had worked for a shelter, among other jobs, and tried to help those who needed an ear to tell their hardship to, and feed dem and let dem know they weren’t alone. I understood. This little one had slipped through the cracks. For that, I was deeply sorry. William had us all fooled.

I heard not a whisper of a child being raised in that home. I would have paid dearly to save this soul, had I known. But for now, this child, Whisper, be safe. She may have paid deeply for the sins of this vile man in blood and with her soul, but he be dead now.

Evil always loses out. That I be believin’.

Boxer is good at keepin’ things hidden that need hidin’ and cleanin’ up evil, and then we can see how much damage has been done to the skinny mullet’s mind. I can tell she be strong just from how she was when she be tellin’ me of her life.

There were no tears. She be all dried up like a drought-ridden riverbed. I think a tear has not slid down those soft cheeks in almost a lifetime. She be hard on the surface, but Boxer will be able to help me see beneath and look for what needs fixin’. For now, sleep and warmth is what she needs. I be lookin’ after her from now on. This is my place now to do because she gots nobody else.

Most are not smart enough to fear me, but this child should not. I am not what she needs to worry about...but what be comin’ for her.

I fear there is still danger to her heart that be comin’ for her over the horizon.

 

My phone rang past midnight, waking me up. Miss Catherine was in need of my services, the services only the few I trusted know about.

They call me Boxer because I’m an ex-boxer, among other things. I was here playing a part in this small town, and Miss Catherine had received a visitor who needed both our help.

I arrived at Miss Catherine’s to find a stunning female, who had a story of a lifetime, long asleep, knocked out by a strong sedative—the weapon of Miss Catherine’s choice in case of any danger she needed to contain.

I gave her this sedative. It’s something nobody will see coming. Given on an offer of food or drink, they’re all welcoming things, that with a little sleight of hand, can incapacitate the danger until help arrives. This time, she used it solely for comfort, to ease the girl into a deep sleep.

She lay naked under the blanket, and I got the short rundown of events that led this girl to Miss Catherine’s doorstep, while we both checked her over without uncovering her to my eyes. I didn’t want to see what that bastard had no doubt touched without permission.

Her wrists were a shredded mess and her hands needed stitches, the cuts too deep to leave to heal on their own. She would have been in pain, but Miss Catherine said she was stoic, strong of body and mind...until it would come time for it to crack open.

It always eventually does.

Now, as I really look down at her for the first time since I arrived, I see she’s beautiful. Her long, thick brown hair has dried from the heat of the fire. Miss Catherine had undone her braid while she slept. It is now in need of a good brushing. Her young face is haunted, even in her sleep. I doubt she has gotten a good night’s rest in a long time. The best thing for her is a chemical induced sleep.

The stories she has told Miss Catherine painted a pretty damning picture. I agree to look into it for Miss Catherine. I just need to go over to the house and validate the girl’s stories. I’ll question her when she wakes in the morning, then make a visit to William’s home.

I will need to be careful; it sounds like I’ll be the only other male she has laid eyes on in person. That will be a frightening thing to a female who has only known one other male in her whole life, a son of a bitch who had abused her in more ways than one.

I’d seen William around town, but he seemed to be acting like a model citizen and he kept mostly to himself, but inside him was a dangerous monster, a master of deceit.

I trust in Miss Catherine’s bones and what they are telling her, and they are telling her getting the police involved this early wouldn’t bode well for the girl, nor would the public attention. Miss Catherine believes the media circus it will turn into would only damage her more.

I need a lot more information before I go turning to the local police, for my own peace of mind. The way it reads at the moment, she has been badly abused. This town is small, and none of us knew she had been living close by. William wanted her kept a secret for reasons this girl can’t fathom. I’ve seen evil, and if William had abducted her, then there is more to her story than even she understands. I want to see the evidence of her stories for myself, then take it from there.

I send Miss Catherine off to bed after she gives me a warm blanket and makes me promise to wake her when the girl comes to. For now, I’m here to protect them. I throw another log on the fire and make myself comfortable in her chair to see the rest of the night out.

***

SMASH!

My training has me jumping up out of the chair where I’ve nodded off, the blanket falling in a heap at my feet. I’m instantly alert, ready to protect the females in the house. I focus on where the girl had been asleep and realize she’s now awake and must have knocked an antique vase off the sideboard, trying to snatch her clothes from the fireplace, where they had been hung on a rack. She obviously wants to get away from me.

The vase has shattered into pieces on the wooden floorboards. She gasps and freezes, more afraid now of having broken something that isn’t hers. She has forgotten about me for a second, while her eyes are fixed on the damage. She’s deciding what she should do.

“It’s ok, love.” I keep my voice light and hold my palms up as I sit back down in the chair to show her I’m not going to come after her. “My name’s Boxer.” She doesn’t know whether to clean up the mess, hide the evidence, or move away from me.

She has her clothes in her hand held to her chest, trying to hide the fact that she’s naked under the blanket, which is slipping off her shoulders, exposing her long legs beneath.

She’s stunning, even in her messed up state of mind.

I can see she’s losing her grip on the blanket as she tries to keep a hold of her clothing, which is adding an extra protective layer between her and me. Her hands must be stinging, since the pain will be kicking in now that she’s awake. She loses her battle with the blanket and drops the clothes to the floor to save it from falling, and snatches it tighter around her small frame. I make sure to lower my eyes to the floor while she adjusts herself. I know she’s watching me the entire time.

“Whisper, your body is safe around me. I will not touch you in a manner that will cause you distress, and you are free because nobody here will cage you or take away your rights.” Her face reddens at my bluntness. “If you will allow me, and if you won’t run, I’ll slowly get up and go wake Miss Catherine. She made me promise to alert her when you woke up. I’m a trusted friend of hers, and that means I’m a good guy. She does not suffer fools.”

She looks like a wild child, flighty and anxious. I carry on trying to give her a little peace of mind that I’m here with good intentions. “She called me last night while you slept and we fixed your hands up. Your body was safe from my eyes. I stayed the entire time to protect you both, in case there was a threat we did not know about.”

She looks down at her hands and wrists, which are trying to keep a grip on the blanket folds and notices the clean bandaging, and then looks back at me. “I cleaned your wounds and stitched your hands up while you slept.” I point to the other room. “There are pain killers to help with the discomfort in the kitchen cupboard. Miss Catherine can give them to you when she comes down, if you’d like?” I’ve painted on the most nonthreatening, peaceful, friendly face I can muster, which is a little hard, considering I have a slightly crooked nose and I have a boxer’s build.

“No drugs,” she whispers to me. Her pupils are big black orbs filled with fear and confusion. I’m the only other male she has ever laid eyes on, and she simply doesn’t know what my angle is. Her mind will be sending her mixed signals. She sounds like she needs me to command her and will do as I say, but I can’t resort to doing that to her if I’m going to get her to trust me.

So I try my way. I reason with her and let her mind decide if I’m indeed a good guy. “They are just an over-the-counter tablet that everybody uses for pain relief, nothing more. They won’t put you to sleep. ”

“Do you have a computer?” she asks timidly.

“Well, yes, love, but not here. I have my phone? You can Google the name of the tablets. Is that what you want to do?”

She nods.

“Your name is Whisper, isn’t it?”

She nods again.

“Whisper, you won’t be able to hit the buttons with your hands bandaged. I tell you what—if you let me go get Miss Catherine, she will do it for you, and you can read all about Ibuprofen. Your hands must be causing you a lot of pain.”

She gives me a little nod before she can stop herself. She doesn’t want to show me she is hurting. I would bet a thousand bucks she’d never admitted to being in pain in front of William. I know from this small betrayal of her body that she already trusts me more than William, even if her mind doesn’t quite want to accept it just yet.

“Miss Catherine drugged me last night. I can tell. That’s the last time anybody does that to me.” Her voice is determined and stronger.

Ah, hell. She’s a smart girl.

“She wanted you to sleep, and nothing was done to you other than taking care of your wounds. You wouldn’t want to feel stitches being put in, love.”

“I’m used to pain. I will not be drugged again.” She ruins her confidence by looking down when she says those words to me.

Fuck, and I need to be able to question her this morning. There goes the truth serum.

“Nobody will do it to you ever again; you have my word. But we need to have a talk once you’ve had breakfast, and I need some straight answers to my questions. What you told Miss Catherine about the dead body, I want to be able to handle that for you, but I need to know details. Is that a deal?”

I wait for her while she works it all out in her head. Is he a safe bet? That’s what she’s asking herself. Can she trust me?

Then she surprises me with her response. “You sound different than Miss Catherine and Master William. Where are you from?”

Master? What a fucking joke.

“I’m British. You have my word I won’t hurt you in any way, nor will Miss Catherine. She’s a good sort. She did the right thing contacting me. Once we talk a little more, you will understand I’m trying to help you. I need to find out more about William, you, that house, and a few other important details. Miss Catherine believes you need to be protected, and I trust what Miss Catherine thinks.”

She’s staring at me all confused because she has forgotten about what her future holds.

I watch her as it all comes flooding back to her.