Текст книги "Contrite"

Автор книги: Kathy Coopmans

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Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 15 страниц)

Chapter Twenty-Three

My head is killing me. Rubbing my temples slowly does no good. I know I am making some sort of whimpering sound. I am so sick and tired of being a punching bag for these psychotic fuckers. It’s not until I open my eyes and I am lying in pitch darkness that I recall how I got here.

Trent. Everything leads back to Trent. He pointed a gun in my direction and I don’t remember much after that. I’m alive. This much I know because I can feel the weight of his arm across me, and the smell of his alcohol on his breath. Unless I am actually in hell and he is here with me? Wouldn’t that be my luck? Oh, yeah, how could I forget? I have been living in hell for days, now.

I chuckle at that thought, which makes him stir and I instantly go stiff. Please don’t wake up. The longer you sleep, the longer I can try and make a plan to get the hell out of here. I lay there in silence as he rolls over to his other side and continues his snorefest. He’s a freak. A crazy stalker freak is what he is.

It has to be sometime in the middle of the night and everyone is asleep; at least I hope they are. As drunk as his dad was earlier he has to be passed out somewhere in this shit hole, which gives me the perfect opportunity to try and get to Turner.

I carefully ease myself up and off of the bed and tiptoe as noiselessly across the floor as I can. The door handle turns with no difficulty at all as I open it and step out into the hall. My heart starts to beat rapidly as I stand staring at the door where Turner is. A small light is on in the living room and I hear heavy snoring coming from James, who must be on the couch.

Two steps, just two small steps bring me to the door. In silence I turn the doorknob just knowing it’s going to be locked and all of my hopes dashed. I am stunned when it turns effortlessly and push the door all the way open, only to find myself staring at the silhouette of a body lying on top of a bed.

The room reeks of blood and urine. Only the thought of my husband lying there on that bed in whatever condition he is in keeps me from vomiting all over the place. I steady my unstable feet and press forward until I am standing directly beside him. It’s so dark that it is nearly impossible for me to see, but I know it’s him.

His breathing is somewhat erratic as if he is fighting to draw even a minimal amount of air into his lungs. Seeing him like this makes me want to go on a killing spree and murder both of these slimy bastards for hurting my husband. There really are no words to describe what they have done to him.

I don’t have the time to stand here and think about torturing these men. I need to do everything I can to get my husband out of here and get him to the closet hospital. After what I saw earlier in Trent’s room and how truly he is fixated on me, I trust him about as far as I can spit. He wants me for himself. And that right there is the reason why he’s lying through his teeth. He thinks I’m a damn fool who believes he will truly help me. He’s a damn liar and this is just as much his fault as it is his father’s, as far as I’m concerned.

As I reach forward to touch him, Turner startles me as I hear my name come out of his mouth in a soft, hushed voice dripping with pain.

              “Turner,” I whisper.

I stand there and wait for a few beats and nothing. Is he talking in his sleep and only wishing I was here, or can he feel my presence just as I could feel he was near earlier? I don’t know, but I am not going to think about that right now. I need to see if he is hurt badly in any way and if he is capable of getting up and walking so we can try and get out of here. It’s our only chance right now.

I sit down beside him on the edge of the bed and reach out to stroke his hair. He’s so hot to the touch when my hands finally make contact with his skin. He’s burning up. Bile rises to my throat as I sit here in stunned silence taking in his beaten and bloody face. I cannot hold it in anymore. I stand and gag, ejecting the few contents of my stomach. The stench from this room does nothing but make it worse as my stomach clenches and I dry heave phlegm and spit. Swiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I turn back to my man, stroking his head comfortingly.

“God, baby. What have they done to you?”

              “Clove? Is that you, or am I dreaming?” Turner asks softly. His voice is so hoarse and sounds like he hasn’t had anything to drink for days. I’m so worried about what damage has been done to him. At last he’s alive and he knows I am here.

              “No, baby. It’s really me.”

              “What are you doing here? H-how?”

              “Shh. We can talk about all of that later. Right now I need to get you out of here. Can you get up and walk?”

              “Honey, I don’t know. My left leg is broken, and I am so weak. I have been beaten, and tortured, and-”

“Shh. I don’t think I can take hearing everything they have done to you right now.”

I continue to rub his head. I just can’t keep my hands off of him. He’s here and I have him and I cannot let him go again. I just can’t.

“Turner, I have no plan. I don’t know what to do, but we have to try and get out of here. Can you sit up?”

He moans as if he is in the most excruciating pain and my heart breaks as I hear him struggling to try and get up. His breathing raspy, he groans in anguish as he clutches hold of his stomach.

“H-help me baby.”

His desperate words are almost inaudible. I do my best to try and help by guiding him up with my hands wrapped around his arm, but when he winces in pain I have no choice but to let go, fearful I will hurt him even more.

“Turner!” I half-sob.

              “Clove, just give me a minute here. I need to sit up, and– FUCK!” he hisses as he pushes himself all the way up into a sitting position. All I want to do is kiss him senseless and hold him and take away every bit of pain he has. He’s here. I am with him, and it kills me to not be able to hold him and to have his strong arms around me. There’s just no time. Time is way too precious for both of us right now.

He struggles at his own pace until is able to swing his legs around. They drop with a loud thud to the floor. Time stands still and I stop breathing as my ears perk up. I glance at the open door, waiting and waiting for someone to walk in and hear us. When nothing happens, I reach out and place my hand over the top of his.

              “I missed you so much,” I say as I lean down and kiss his hand.

The waterworks start to flow hard and fast down my face, and before I know it I am quietly sobbing in his lap, clinging onto him as if my life depends on it. And he lets me. The irony of my life depending on him is all but hysterical since it’s really the other way around. Saving both of our lives depends on me, not him.

My beautiful, strong man who has been to hell and back places his hand on top of my head and strokes my hair. His touch instantly soothes me. I dry the last of my tears with the backs of my hands and help myself up. Turner sighs and it’s the most beautiful sound I think I have ever heard.

              “You have no idea how much I missed you, either.” My man is straining so greatly to even speak. “Everything about you gave me the strength to survive. I am so much in love with you, Clove Calloway.”

He pauses.

              “I’m a mess, my beautiful wife, but I need to feel your lips on mine more than I need to inhale my next breath.”

Oh, God. I want that too, more than anything. When I lean in and our lips touch ever so tenderly, we both come undone. Our mouths open and our tongues glide over one another’s in a kiss full of emotion. Love, hope, desperation, longing. Turner breaks our homecoming kiss recoiling in pain. I go to speak and he hushes me with a finger gently over my lips.

“How did you get here?” he whispers.

              “Turner, we don’t have time for any of that. We have to go now,” I say urgently.

              “I don’t think I can walk, Clove. My broken leg is so swollen.”

I shift my eyes to take a closer look at his leg, but it’s so hard to see how much damage there truly is with the minimal light in the room.

              “You should go and run. Run until you find someone to come back here.”

Alarmed by his words, I jerk and shake my head back and forth.

              “No! I won’t leave you. I can’t, Turner. I refuse.”

              “Fucking hell!” he cries out in agony, and I see his hand go to his side.

              “What is it?”

My eyes desperately try to search his face in the faint light streaming in through the doorway. It’s getting lighter by the second when I look towards the window and see outside.

              “It’s nothing, Clove.”

He’s lying. I know him.

              “Baby, James is a crazy man. The thought of him touching even one hair on your gorgeous head would truly be the death of me. Please, just go. I love you too much to die. I can survive this as long as I know you will be by my side and in my arms where you belong when this is all over. Please don’t fight me on this. Go, and get help.”

I know he can see the despairing look on my face. He also knows I won’t leave him as his brows furrow and he closes his eyes. And when he opens them I see and feel everything as our eyes tell each other how deep our love is.

“You are so damn beautiful.”

He lifts his hands ever so carefully and cups my face. His hands are so rough, not smooth like they used to be, and yet I don’t care. I sink into his touch. I feel it all the way into my bones and it’s the best feeling in the world to finally be here with him. I keep my eyes closed for the longest time. I am so scared to open them and look at him. I know I am going to cry and lose it right here if I do.

I have to, though. I don’t know if it’s because I have to see him in the flesh to know he is really here with me, or if I need to look into his eyes and see the love I have missed so much shining brightly back at me one more time.

I open my eyes with my head bowed so that the first thing I notice isn’t his face. I don’t like what I see at all. Blood stained clothes. The same clothes he had on when he left for his trip. They’re filthy and soaked in his own urine. Was he just thrown in here and left to try and survive on his own? And he looks so skinny.

After all he has been through, here he sits with his loving hand cupping my jaw and holding me as if I am everything to him. I make my weak self continue looking upward until I land on his jaw, which is now quite heavily covered with unshaven hair. His face is swollen and his nose is crooked. He doesn’t even look like the man I love at all, and yet when I reach those eyes of his, I smile when I see what I have been missing for over a week. I see my Turner.

The way he looks at me is like no other. It’s the same look as I give him, the same look that has been staring back at me since the day I met him. It’s the look of, you’re my forever, my one and only true love, and until my last breath I will cherish you always. Holes are being poked into my heart when I think about how much I have betrayed him, and on so many levels. As if he could read my mind, he bends down and places the lightest kiss on both sides of my cheeks.

              “We will talk about everything later. Now let’s get the hell out of here before-”

              “Before what?”

We both turn our heads and James is standing in the doorway, hung over and waving a gun around in his hand.

“The two of you think you’re going somewhere? Fuck that shit! The only place either one of you is going is six feet under and you, you fucking slut, are going first. I warned you not to cross me. It’s because of you that I won’t be getting what I fucking need to get me the hell out of this shithole. So you better say bye to my fucking pussy ass son because today is your last damn day on this earth.”

He’s dripping with such rage that I cower in front of Turner. Turner is weak and badly beaten; who knows how long he has gone without food or water? There is no way he can do anything to try and protect either one of us, even if he tried, so I can’t afford to back down. I know it’s crazy but I just can’t stay and not fight for our lives.

“Listen, James. Why does it have to be this way? Why do you have to kill us both? I mean, I just don’t get it. He’s your son, for crying out loud! How could you do this to him? If money means this much to you, then we can get money for you. You don’t have to kill us just because you can’t get the money you thought you were going to get.”

“Bitch, I know damn well you two don’t have the kind of money I need. Do you think I am a fucking fool?”

              “No we don’t, but we know someone who does.”

Turner winces in pain behind me and I turn to see he has fallen back down on the bed, barely able to keep his eyes open.

              “Turner!” I turn to lean over him as his eyes roll into the back of his head.

              “Turner, stay with me! Come on, baby!” I cry, shaking him ever so lightly.

              “Babe, I would rather fucking die then to give that worthless fucker a dime,” he groans.

“For the love of God, he’s your son and he needs to get to a hospital. What kind of man are you to do this to your child?” I scream.

“I will tell you what kind of man I am, you fucking whore. I am a man who needs money; a man who thrives on inflicting pain on those I hate and I hate this son of a bitch who you call my son. He isn’t my son. He’s his momma’s son. He’s always been his momma’s precious little baby boy. The one who couldn’t walk or talk and cried like a fucking baby every MOTHER. FUCKING. DAY. My son is a man. Always has been since the day he was born and wrapped his fingers around my hand and gripped on tight, unlike this one here who screamed at the top of his lungs just begging to be held. Ain’t no son of mine. Now let’s talk about that money you said you could get me.”

His tall and yet lanky frame comes into the room.

              “Get the hell over here,” he commands, lifting the gun in my direction.

“No!” Turner hollers from behind me. “Leave her alone. I know who she is talking about. Give me a damn phone and I will make it happen, but not until you let her go.”

I shake my head no as I kneel down beside him on the bed.

              “I am not leaving you. No way. Just let me make the phone call. I can do it from right here. I can’t leave you now that I found you, Turner.”

I hold his stare with mine even though he can barely keep his eyes open. He looks so much worse now that the weak early morning sunlight is cascading though the window. Bruises cover his face, neck, and bare arms. His striking green eyes are barely visible as he tries to hold them open.

Seeing exactly how badly Turner needs medical attention pushes me to the farthest point of my endurance, and I have had enough. Someway, somehow, I have got to get my bag out of that truck and get hold of the knife. A lot of good it’s going to do me up against a gun, but it’s the only choice I have, especially after last night’s revelations about Trent.

“Just to be clear, love birds, no one is calling anyone. I know everything about the two of you. I know your brother is a detective and I would bet my life he’s found a way to track your ass down by now. Ain’t no damn way I believe a word your sweet little mouth says. Speaking of sweet little mouths . . . I do believe I need to sample what my offspring finds so delectable about you, don’t cha think?”

Out and out horror pulses through my veins. My body shuts down and all I can feel are the tremors of the utmost fear imagining James touching me anywhere. Closing my eyes firmly, I try and re-group, telling myself to be strong. I don’t open them until I hear Turner’s words garbled in a painful jumbled mess from behind me.

              “Y-you stay the fuck away from her, you worthless cocksucker.”

James tilts his head and laughs, slapping his hands on his knees as if Turner just cracked some sort of funny joke.

              “That’s priceless, boy, coming from you. From where I stand, there isn’t a damn thing you can do about it. Your punk ass is lying there half-dead. Your sweet little innocent angel here ain’t so sweet anymore, are you sunshine?”

I’m stricken dumb. He really is a psychopath. My body goes rigid as I whirl around to gauge Turner’s expression upon hearing this revelation. He’s out cold and barely breathing as I watch his chest move up and down little by little.

              “Turner, baby!”

I barely even touch him before James’ next words cause me to jump out of my skin.

              “Now, time to say goodbye, so I reckon you better get your ass over here, girl, unless you want me to finish him off right now.”

I press my hand as delicately as possible against Turner’s cheek, holding it there for a few moments just welcoming any kind of contact with him at all. And when I am jerked away from him by my arm forcibly, Turner’s eyes fly open as he tries to reach for me, but fails. A slew of curse words leave his mouth.

              “You’re going to rot in here, motherfucker, so say good bye to your lovely wife,” he snarls as he pulls me through the door and slams it behind him.

              “Trent! Get your motherfucking ass up now and help me get rid of this bitch. We have to get to Mexico today. Our time is up.”

He gets to the door to Trent’s room and I hear Trent mumble that he’s getting up. Fuck him, the spineless prick. All this time he has lied to me. He said he would do anything to try and save us. He’s just like his father. Worse, even. If this is my last day here, I will make sure he knows exactly how I feel about him.

“Get your slimy hands off of me, you nasty old bastard!”

I squirm and try to break free of his grip on my arm as he drags me ruthlessly down the short hallway.

“Fuck off, cunt.”

He shoves me down on the couch with so much force that I smack my head against the wall. I cry out as loud as I can and scream. I am so sick of being shoved around. I hear Turner yelling from the other room for him to leave me alone.

              “Trent, shut that motherfucker up!”

Please, no!

I am trapped here as this man stands over me with his wandering eyes looking like he wants to have his way with me. That is one thing that will never happen. He will definitely have to kill me first before I let him touch me the way he wants to.

I hear the door to Trent’s room open and then the other one slam shut as I sit there shaking. James is still hovering with his gun pointed directly in my face. It gets eerily quiet for a few beats and then a gun goes off. I scream and jump and try to get up as I kick and claw trying to get to Turner.

“Noooooo! Oh, God. No! Turner!” I scream as regret, sadness, and anger ripple throughout my entire body.

I sink back into the couch, dazed. I don’t want to live if he is dead. All these visions start running through my head of my husband lying there, bleeding to death. I didn’t say ‘I love you’ when I was forced from his room. I want to die right along with him. I have nothing left. That was it. They have broken me and now I don’t care what they do to me. All my fight is gone as I slump back in defeat and cry a loud, soul-piercing cry.

              “Oh my God, he’s gone! What have you people done?”

My hands go into my hair gripping it tightly as I tug and rock myself back and forth. “God, why? Why?” I wail.

Then Trent kneels down in front of me and all I see is red. Everything he has done to my life since he walked off of that damn plane comes flashing before my eyes and I hate him. I hate him so bad that I lunge at him and grab him by the neck. We go tumbling backwards, knocking over the flimsy coffee table which splinters in half.

Trent lands on his back with me on top of him. It doesn’t take much for him to get me to release my hold but not before I have clawed the hell out of him.

“Fucking hell, Clove! Settle down!”

He grabs me by my wrist and pushes me backwards slightly. The look in his eyes is the same look he has given me before. Blank and unreadable.

“You liar!” I scream. “You said you would help us get out of here, and you killed him! You killed my husband! I hate you more than I have ever hated anyone or anything in my life. I hope both of you are happy now, because-”

“Because what, princess?”

James is now up in my face. The smell of his body odor and breath make me gag and I do nothing to disguise it. Trent wrenches me into a standing position as James moves in closer.

“I said, because what?”

I feel spittle all over my face as he is standing not even an inch away from me. Trent is now behind me securely holding my hands together. I am trapped. Sandwiched between two of the world’s biggest frauds, pretenders, fakes, murderers.

“You lose, you fucking deadbeat!” I spit back in James’ face. “You come out of whole thing empty. You orchestrated a senseless crime in hopes of getting your hands on money that never belonged to you in the first place. You’re worse than scum and you will pay for what you have done and in the worse way.”

I fling my hatred at him, and then I spit right in his face. I watch him stand there as his eyes change from mad to downright furious.

“You got a lot more heat and determination in you than what your husband had, I’ll give you credit for that. But before I put a bullet through that pretty head of yours, I am going to fuck every hole in your body.”

I feel Trent clench at his dad’s words.

              “Take her into your room and tie her up, then go into town and get me some coffee. I have a raging headache and this bitch is making it worse, boy. I ain’t fucking around with this cunt anymore, or you either. You better have killed your sack of shit brother, boy, or I swear to God I will tie you up by your balls and beat you to fucking death.”

Trent stands still for several heartbeats and says not a word as his father threatens him. Jesus, he is either brainwashed or scared of this man; most likely both. Well, I have a few words for this coward when we get alone, too. I know now that no matter what I say or try to do neither one of these two will listen to me, but I will not die before I make sure every word I have to say penetrates and wounds Trent in any way I can.

I let my head sag down, pretending to claim defeat as Trent brushes us both beside his father in a hurry and scuttles us down the hall toward his room. I close my eyes and desperately try not to open them as I know my husband’s dead body is directly across the hall. He shoves me inside brutally hard after opening the door, and slams it shut behind him.

“Get on the bed,” he demands.

              “Fuck off! I will not get on that bed, you lying asshole!”

“Clove. Get on the bed. The longer you stand here and argue with me, the longer it takes for me to save you.”

He’s lying. Every fucking word he has ever said has been nothing but a damn lie. My life has been nothing but a fucking game of whiplash right to the fucking core.

“Since you stole my husband’s life right out from under him, your warped mind thinks you can make me fall in love with you? Man the fuck up, Trent. Your father is a fucking chicken shit son of a bitch who has manipulated you your entire life. He has robbed you of a good home, a kind mother, and one hell of a brother who would have done anything for you if he would have known about you. And this is how you have repaid them both, by killing him at your father’s command. And now you say you want to save me?”

I laugh.

              “You want to save me, huh?” My finger pokes him in the center of his chest as tears of heartbreak roll down my face. “You just killed my husband, so there is no saving me.”

“I didn’t shoot him,” Trent whispers.

It takes me a moment for my brain to register what he just said. And I don’t believe him for one second. My sobs are uncontrollable now as I grieve the loss of the only man I have ever loved.

              “You really expect me to believe you when all you have done is deceive me from day one?”

Tears are streaming down my face. My heart has been ripped out of my chest and I can’t breathe.

              “Just kill me, please. I beg you. I can’t take this anymore,” I plead, dropping to my knees.

“You have no reason whatsoever to believe me, Clove. I am telling you the God’s honest truth here. I did not kill him.” I study him closely as he stands before me with determination written all over his face.

              “But I heard the gun!” I cry.

              “Yes, you heard a gun, but I didn’t shoot him. I opened the window and fired a shot outside. Now pull your shit together and listen.”

I sit there and search his face trying to decipher if he is lying or not. This man before me lies so much I don’t know whether this is a lie as well or if it’s just another ploy to get me to be quiet. I have no other choice but to believe him, or at least pretend to.

“Now I am not going to tie you up. But you will sit on this bed until I come back.”

“No! You can’t leave me here with him. You heard what he said out there; he’s going to rape me and then kill me.”

My mind flashes back to yesterday remembering exactly what Trent did to me. I scurry back away from him until my back hits the wall. I see it clear as day that he is remembering what he did to me, too. Good.

“Fuck.” He runs his hands through his hair and starts to pace the floor. “Listen to me for one goddamn minute. I am not leaving you for more than five minutes, I swear it. I am going to go out there and get into my truck and pull down the drive until he thinks I am gone. Then I am going to come back and tap on the window and get you out of here. We’re both getting out of here.”

“No! I am not leaving without Turner. He needs to get to a hospital before he really does die. Besides, what reason do I have to believe you anyway? You came in here last night and hit me with your gun. Why? Why would you do that?”

I plead with my eyes for him to give me an honest to God answer for once. Finally, he sighs.

“Fuck, Clove. He was ready to come in here and do all kinds of sick and twisted things to you. So I sat with him and made up all kinds of bullshit about how I would come in here and make you pay myself. He was so drunk when we got here he could hardly stand up straight, but when he got up and said he was coming in here to finish you off, I told him to wait and that I wanted you one more time. When I came in here, I knew by the look on your face that you had seen all of the pictures of you all over the place. You’re a feisty one, Clove, and I knew you would panic and start throwing your sassy mouth all over the place. So yes, I hit you. I am sorry for it, but I had to because it was the only thing I could think of to do at the time to save you from the sadistic things my father would have done to you.”

Even though his voice sounds sincere, I’m not buying a word of it. Not one fucking word. Trent Calloway was sewn from the same damn cloth as his father, and in my judgment of character he’s the spawn of Satan himself. I will play along, though, until I get the chance to slice his fucking throat.

“Hurry the hell up and get me out of here.”