Текст книги "Contrite"

Автор книги: Kathy Coopmans

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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 15 страниц)

Chapter Five

Exactly how the hell I am going to act like I don’t want to slice this piece of shit’s throat the minute he is ready to leave is beyond me. Zack and I didn’t really have much time to talk or strategize any of this out before he had to leave; I have so many questions running through my mind.

“God, Turner, where are you?” I whisper.

Turner was an only child, for God’s sake. How could this be? His father took off when he was two and neither his mom nor Turner ever heard from him again. It was as if he fell off the face of the earth. And Melody, his mom, has kept the fact that he has an identical twin brother a secret. How could she do that? The biggest question is, why would she do that? And what does Trent expect to gain from stealing his brother’s identity?

The thing that is tearing me up more than anything is the fact that I’ve had sex with him. No wonder he seemed so different. I’ve slept with another man a man who I don’t even know and now that I know the truth about him, I have to pretend that I don’t? I lay my head on my desk and I can’t help but let the tears fall. My body is wracked with deep, body-thrashing sobs. Tears continue to fall as my heart feels the pain and torment of what is happening all around me. I need Turner, my Turner.

“Oh, God!” I scream.

“Clove! What in the hell is the matter, sweetheart?”

That voice. The voice sounding just like my Turner is asking me if I am all right? Fucking hell no! I am not all right, you asshole. You have destroyed my life, so fuck no, I am NOT ALL RIGHT.

I can’t look up at him yet. Keeping these murderous thoughts to myself, I shake my head back and forth in pure disgust at myself for what I have done and what I will have to do. I feel him place his hand on my back and I stiffen from his touch. Pull yourself together, Clove and think. Think! I lift my tear stricken face off of my desk.

“I have a horrible headache,” I mumble and try to gauge his reaction to see if he knows that at times I come down with migraines.

“Is it another one of your migraines?” He asks with his fake concern.

Oh, this asshole is good. How he knows about my headaches makes me wonder what else he knows about me. He knows everything. I just know he does.

“I think so. Do you mind if we skip out on our plans for tonight? I just want to go home and take a pill and climb into bed.”

“No, not at all. Let’s get you home. You know I hate it when my girl doesn’t feel well.”

Oh, how I want to slap him across his smug face as he removes his hand from my back, then strides to the table on the other side of the room to bring me back a box of Kleenex. With shaky hands I remove a few and wipe my face, stand, and gather my belongings without a thank you or another word to him.

Now that I know the truth about this man not being my husband, the thought of being anywhere near him repulses me. Until I can come to grips with all of this I need to stay as far away from him as possible. I need time to think and time to plan how the hell I am going to deal with the fact that the man I am sharing a bed with is not the man that I love.

I should win a damn award for best actress as we drive home and I am forced to listen to this stranger who looks just like my husband ramble on about how he is going to take care of me when we get home. I don’t want him to take care of me. I want my husband to take care of me!

As Trent soothingly runs his hands through my hair as we drive home, I take the time to study him in profile. Everything about him looks so similar to Turner’s distinctive features . . . eye color, hair color, body size, even the shape of his head. Their voices are the same, too. My head really does start to ache as I think about the one thing that truly sets them apart from one another– it’s the way they have sex. Turner is so gentle and kind and worships every part of my body and Trent fucks. Plain and simple, he just fucks. I recoil as far into my seat as I can, shying away from his touch and laying my head against the window.

“Almost home. Do you need me to stop and get you anything?”

Every time I hear that voice it takes me further into a state of heartbreak.

“No. Just get me home. Sorry about ruining our plans for tonight.”

I remain still with my eyes closed.

“Hey, don’t be sorry. I hate seeing you like this. You’re the most important person in the world to me, Clove, and you know it.”

No, asshole, I don’t know it. Whatever your reason is for doing this, it seems to me you’re the most important person in your world, you bastard. God, I wish I could tell him how I feel.

“It will be good to just sit around and do nothing. It’s been one hell of a week at work.”

His voice sounds a little irritable.

An epiphany hits me when he mentions work. How in the hell has he pulled off pretending to be Turner for almost a week now, even at the office? Has he been stalking us and watching our every move? How did he know where we lived after I picked him up from the airport? And my home! He knows where everything is. He walked right in the other day and he knew.

Jesus Christ, he knows my morning routine. He knows almost everything about me. How does he know all this? Unless . . . oh God, no. He’s been in our home when we haven’t been there. He might even have hidden cameras all over the house, seeing as how he’s so familiar with the most private details of my life.

All of a sudden I am fuming. I want to claw his eyes out and scream at him, to demand for him to tell me where Turner is. Why? What in the hell could my husband have possibly done to him to make this crazy fucker want to destroy him? But I can’t. I sure as hell know who can, though, and after my brother and I figure out exactly what it is that we need to do, the first person I am going to pay a not-so-friendly visit to will be Melody.

“What can I do to make you feel better?” the sick bastard asks as we enter my house. My damned house, not his. Mine and Turner’s.

Get the fuck out of here and go get my husband, you sick and twisted fucker, is what I really want to say. Turner would never ask me, ‘what can I do?’ He would just do it because he knows me.

“Nothing,” is what actually comes out. I toss my purse on the counter as I normally do and set off towards the stairs. “I am just going to take a pill and climb into bed.”

“Clove.” His voice startles me as I begin to ascend. “Wait a second, Clove.”

He wraps his arms around me from behind. Thank God he cannot see my face because I feel tears starting to well up in my eyes again.

“I’ll be right down here if you need anything, so just holler, okay?”

He kisses the top of my head and squeezes me just a little tighter before releasing me.

I really have to get my act together or he is going to catch on to the fact that I know he is an impostor. I continue up the stairs and enter my bedroom, softly closing the door. A calmness settles in my heart when I notice my wedding picture sitting on the dresser.

I draw nearer and run my hands over Turner’s face. Tears of both outrage and pain relentlessly fall as I look down at him, blurring my vision. Covering my mouth for fear that Trent will hear me, I just stand there and stare at the man I love, wondering what he must be feeling right now. If he knows what is going on, he must be as scared to death for me as I am for him.

“I am so in love with you, Turner Calloway,” I whisper.

I scrutinize the picture that was taken on the best day of my life and study the features I know so well. It’s remarkable how identical the two of them truly do look. The more I stare, the angrier I become, and the more determined I am to get to the bottom of this nightmare.

Pulling my glance away from the picture, my gaze drifts over to Turner’s closet. With slow steps I enter and I am surrounded by the strong smell of my man.

I fumble my way through all of his clothes, desperate to find the shirt I am looking for. I toss clothes all over the floor until I find the dark blue shirt that we bought for him on our honeymoon. I bring the shirt up to my nose and sniff, triggering my tears again. I slip down to my knees, crying and rocking myself back and forth on his closet floor.

I have never been so scared of anything in all of my life. I need him, and he needs me. We belong together. There is no fucking way I am going to let anyone take him away from me. Sitting on my knees for God knows how long surrounded by all things Turner, I vow to him and to myself that I will find him and bring him home where he belongs.

  Even though it’s the beginning of summer and warm outside, I remove my clothes and change into a pair of sweats and Turner’s t-shirt. Right now the thought of my skin touching his makes my body shudder. I feel as if I am going to suffocate. The information I need to find Turner lies within the man downstairs; it’s only a matter of time before he is going to want to touch me again and I am going to have to let him. If I don’t, I may never see my husband again.

Can I actually do this now that I know the truth? I thought my husband was having an affair; never in my wildest dreams could I ever have imagined the real reason he was acting so differently. More guilt and shame eat away at me for doubting my Turner at all.

I feel somehow disconnected from my mind, body, and soul as I try and separate my old reality from the nightmare happening all around me. Turner is everywhere in this house, in our bedroom, and in this bed. This bed where I have slept with another man. How long am I going to be stuck in this never-ending cycle of deceit?

Curling myself up in a ball, I lay there in the dark and wonder where my husband is. Is he safe? Alive? He has to be alive. I close my eyes and picture my brave man and pray that wherever he is, he knows how much I love him and that everything I have to do is because he’s everything to me.

I believe in soul mates, and Turner is and always will be mine, even if this destroys us. But then I realize that it doesn’t matter what I say or do, now. I am never going to be able to forgive myself, and Turner is never going to look at me the same way again. He is never going to want me, knowing someone else has had me. Our lives are ruined, and for what?

Even though my back is to the bedroom door, I feel Trent standing in the doorway. Staying as still as possible so that he thinks I am sleeping, I lay there and wait for him to climb into bed. When he does, I still don’t move.

Please don’t touch me. Not yet.

But he does. He moves closer to me and wraps his arms around me, tucking himself in close. I don’t want to acknowledge his presence but I can’t risk tipping him off.

“Hey,” I murmur.

“Hey, sweetheart. You feeling better?” he says softly.

“Not really.”

And it’s the truth.

“I’m sorry. I wish I knew what to do to make you feel better.”

“You know the only thing that makes me feel better when I get these headaches is sleep, Turner,” I sigh.

He lets out a frustrated breath and loosens his hold from around my waist. I can smell the alcohol on his breath and with his arms around me and that smell, my gut starts churning and I actually feel like I could really be sick.

Pushing all those thoughts back and curling into his touch, I close my eyes knowing that I won’t feel better until I have my husband’s arms around me, not the arms of a stranger. A stranger who scares me, a man I have a feeling will kill my husband and me if he ever finds out what I know.

Chapter Six

There’s a strange feeling of weight on my chest when I wake up. Some is from the arm draped across me, pinning me to Trent’s side. The biggest weight comes from that of regret, hurt, anger, and sadness.

It’s Saturday, and knowing I have to spend the next two days alone with this man repulses me. Needing to get up and use the bathroom, I gently lift his arm off of me. I don’t really want to wake him; he may want me to come back to bed with him and I am just not ready to play the part of his doting wife yet.

Tiptoeing into the bathroom and locking the door, I turn on the shower as hot as I can. After using the toilet I shimmy out of my clothes, and as I lift the shirt over my head and it glides over my face, I am assaulted with the smell of Turner. His fresh, clean sent reminds me of what lies ahead.

I inhale deeply one last time before I pull it the rest of the way over my head and drop it to the floor. I step under the hot spray; picking up the soap, I scrub my body from head to toe trying to erase the smell of the sick asshole who is lying in my bed.

I don’t even realize how hard I am actually scrubbing until a sharp sting on my arm causes me to look down and notice that my arm is turning the brightest shade of red. I immediately stop, letting the soap slip out of my grasp.

I place my hands over my face as I lean my head back, turning my attention to my hair. I give it the same treatment, using more shampoo than necessary and washing, rinsing, and repeating three damn times. I turn and let the hot spray pound on my chest as if to wash away all the pain of my bleeding and tortured heart.

The minute I step out of the shower and start to dry myself off, though, I realize that I forgot to grab clothes to put on. I curse under my breath.

Having to walk into the bedroom to collect my clothes means having to walk out with just my towel wrapped around me. I stand and stare at the handle of the door for several minutes and hope like hell that Trent is still sleeping. I can do this. I have to do this– there isn’t any other way around it.

Opening the door as quietly as I can and not looking at the bed, I tiptoe over to my closet and grab the first pair of shorts and shirt that I can find. Making my way over to my dresser, I do the same thing with my bra and panties.

“If I could wake up every morning and see my beautiful wife standing there looking sexy as hell, I would be one hell of a lucky man.”

I flinch as I look over my shoulder and see Trent lying down with his hands behind his head and an ‘I want to fuck you’ look on his face.

“Sorry if I woke you.”

Abruptly he is off the bed and standing directly in from of me.

“You didn’t. Is your headache gone?”

His tone is caring, which I know is all a damn lie.

“It is,” I lie too.

“Good, because I missed you last night.” Bringing his mouth down, he kisses right above the top of my towel where it’s wrapped tightly over my breasts. “Next time wake me up so we can shower together.”

Not on your motherfucking life will I wake you up and let you EVER touch me in that shower. He lifts his head and runs his hands down my arms, causing chills of horror to ripple all over my body.

“I would love that.” I smile and lean in to give him a soft peck on his lips. “What do you have planned today?” I ask as I turn from him and enter the bathroom, shedding the towel in record time and quickly getting dressed.

“Not quite sure. You?” he asks through the closed door.

“Krista called me yesterday and wants to meet for coffee. She’s been dying to have some now that Nolan is here. Would you like to come with?”

Please say no. 

“Nah, I’m good. I do want to go out tonight, though.”

I grab my brush and pull it through my wet hair and gather it up in a ponytail.

“Sure. Do you want to go to the club like we planned last night?” I ask, turning and walking back into the bedroom. I pray like hell he is dressed.

“Let’s do that,” I hear him call out from the closet.

I let out the breath I was holding, which damn near made me pass out, and start to make the bed. I want to keep my daily morning routine the same so as not to throw him off. He reappears out of the closet fully dressed in my husband’s clothes.

“What time will you be back?”

My anger climbs out of control as I see him standing there as if he owns the place. Keeping my murderous thoughts to myself, I rein in my anger and replace it with a bogus smile.

“Not too long.” I go back to finishing up making the bed. “I do need to stop at the grocery store, though. Is there anything you would like me to pick up?”

He grins and stealthily makes his way over to me, putting his arms around me and guiding me slowly down onto my perfectly made bed.

“Just bring yourself back,” he whispers hoarsely.

Within seconds his mouth is on mine. Even though the sight of him lying on top of me is nauseating, I submit to his kiss, lightly stroking my tongue against his. With persistent urgency, he plunges his tongue into my mouth and doesn’t miss a beat as he swirls his tongue forcefully against mine.

Now that I know who this man really is, he definitely kisses so much differently than Turner. Turner’s kisses are sweet and comforting and Trent’s are demanding and full of temptation. A temptation that I am finding myself eagerly surrendering to.

My mind is telling me that it is wrong, oh so wrong, to enjoy the way he is kissing me, but my body has a mind of its own and at this very moment it’s winning as I feel his steely erection press into my core. I’m weak and I need to stop, and yet somehow I can’t. I clutch desperately at him, drawing him as close to me as I can.

I hate you. I hate you, I repeat over and over in my head.

“Holy shit, baby. If we don’t stop now, you will never make it over to Krista’s.”

His voice is raspy and full of desire as he mouths his words against my lips. I blink several times as I realize what I have just done.

“You’re right.” Bracing my hands on his chest to gently coax him off of me. “I’ll call you when I leave the store.”

He takes my hands and pulls me up off the bed.

“Sounds good. Tell everyone I’ll be over soon.”

Lifting my phone off the dresser, I kiss him one last time on the cheek and with shaky legs, I descend the stairs in a blurry haze. I manage to grab my purse and make it out to my car before losing myself in a fit of tears. A lump forms in my throat as I pull out of my driveway. I slam my hands against the steering wheel as I speed down the road toward the coffee shop as all the guilt pours out of me at once and my heart sags into an empty pit of darkness.

************

I survey the parking lot of the coffee shop for Zack’s truck. This is where we’ve decided to meet to try and come up with a plan, since we didn’t have much time to figure things out when he broke this news to me yesterday. I will never forget the look of pain on my brother’s face when he told me. Not seeing his truck anywhere in sight, I pull down my visor and look into the mirror.

“Jesus Christ, Clove. You’re a fucking mess.”

Reaching over and opening the glove box, I yank out a handful of Kleenex and wipe my eyes, trying to clean up my face as best as I can before my brother gets here and sees what a mess I am.

Oh, who am I trying to kid? I toss the dirty Kleenex onto the floor. He’s my brother, for God’s sake. He knows how much I love Turner, so he knows I am going to be a mess. As if on cue he pulls in right next to me, dashing out of his truck and whipping my car door open.

“Fuck. Clove. Come here.”

He helps me get out of the car and I am engulfed in the best brotherly hug that I have ever had, one that is so very much needed.

“Shh. Come on. Let’s get in the truck.”

Zack extracts himself from my clingy body and opens his truck door for me to climb in. After shutting the door, he dashes to his side and steps up.

“Here,” he says, handing me some Kleenex. “I can’t imagine what you must be going through, Clove. It’s okay to let out how you feel. I can’t tell you what you need to do at home, sis, but I can tell you that I am doing everything humanly possible to try and find Turner. I need you away from that sick fuck like yesterday.”

He places his hand on my shoulder and gives me a light squeeze. I know he still wants me to leave. I just can’t. I have come to terms with the fact I have to stay; it’s just a lot harder than I imagined.

“Does everyone at the station know about this?”

I turn my head and look out the window. I can’t bear to look at my brother right now. I feel so deceitful. If I make it through this without killing either Trent or myself it will be a damn miracle. The guilt is eating me alive that in spite of knowing right from wrong, I still let myself succumb to Trent this morning.

“Martinez and the chief know, Clove. There are a few others as well, others that work for us. We’re having Trent followed. We know his every move outside of the house. But . . .” He pauses and my head snaps around to look at him.

“But what?” My voice cracks. His empathetic look is confirmation of what I am dreading the most.

“You have to play your part in this, Clove. You have to be his wife.”

“I– I don’t know how to do that, Zack.”

God, it’s so hard talking to my brother about this. Zack places his hand over the top of mine.

“Look. I know how much you love Turner and want him home safe. That love is all you’re going to need to get yourself through this.”

My tears have turned into uncontrollable sobs now. I want my husband home and safe, and to feel his arms wrapped tightly around me. I am so ashamed of myself for the way I acted this morning when Trent kissed me. There is no way in hell I can tell my brother that, though. He’ll think poorly of me. I start shaking.

“Clove, what is it?”

“Oh my God, Zack. Do you know what it’s going to do to Turner when he finds out that I’ve slept with another man? This is going to destroy my marriage. He is so proud of the fact that he was my one and only. What if he can’t get past that?”

I’m so frightened. And I don’t like the look that my brother is giving me, either. I don’t want his pity.

“Turner is a smart man, and he loves you just as much as you love him. I won’t lie to you and say that any of this is going to be easy, because it’s not. But Clove, you have to try and put all of that aside and focus on just being the sweet, loving wife you have always been. Something tells me this guy has done his homework and knows more about you and your daily routines than we think. The smallest thing could set him off.”

“You’re not telling me anything I don’t already know, but Zack, I’m frightened.”

“I know you are, Clove, but you’re so strong and brave, and I will always be there for you. If at any time you feel threatened, you call me and I will be there to put his ass behind bars where he belongs.”

“You can’t arrest him or we will never find Turner!”

“Turner would put your life before his own, Clove. You know he would want you safe.”

Hearing those words suddenly gives me strength. I know I will need a lot more of it by the time I get back home. Somehow, some way, I have to try and push all of this to the back of my mind.

“I don’t want to talk about me anymore. I want to talk about how you’re going to find Turner and bring him home.”

He turns away from me as if he can’t bear to look me in the eyes.

“We have a private investigator at the hotel where he was staying.”

“Zack,” I say apprehensively.

Sighing, he finally looks back at me.

“Look, Clove. I am not going to lie to you about this. It’s going to be very hard to find him for the simple reason that those two look so much alike, and between the time that Turner left here and the time that he returned, we have no clue when he was abducted.”

I feel like someone is stabbing me repeatedly with needles in my chest as I start to hyperventilate. It’s suddenly too warm in my brother’s air-conditioned truck. I suck in air as I try to breathe. Opening the door and climbing out, I bend over and try to catch my breath as my mind goes in a tortuous scramble of visions of my husband being bound and gagged and beaten, or worse, lying dead somewhere and never to be found.

“Breathe, Clove,” Zack says soothingly in my ear.

“I– I don’t know what to do Zack! I’m just so scared.”

“I know you are. Come here, sis.”

I stand up and my brother puts his arms around me.

“There is one more thing I need to tell you and then you have got to dig deep inside and pull all of your love for Turner to the surface. Can you do that?” he implores.

“I have to,” I whimper. “I just don’t know how.”

“Love. Love for Turner will show you how.”

And hearing the word ‘love,’ it feels like I can hear Turner’s soothing voice calling out to me. I straighten my spine and dry my tears with the back of my hand as I listen to my brother tell me the plan that he has to find Turner. For the first time in more than twenty-four hours, I manage a smile. It’s a small one, but then again I haven’t smiled at any time whatsoever in days.

“I had to tell Krista about this. I hope you don’t mind?” Zack tells me after we dump our empty coffee cups in the garbage on our way out the door from the coffee shop.

“Not at all. I suspected you would. I just don’t want her worrying so much after just having a baby. It’s bad enough that you have to be dragged away from the two of them like this.”

“I’m only going to be gone for the day while I drive over to Turner’s mother’s house. I don’t want you worrying about Krista or me. If anything at all happens while I am gone, you pick up the phone and call Martinez, you hear me?” he says sternly.

“I will,” I reply back meekly.

Zack kisses the top of my head. I climb into my car and pull out with him directly behind me. I take a deep breath and let it back out as I head to the store, praying that the information we are so desperately looking for begins with Melody’s answer as to why in the hell she has kept Trent’s existence a secret for all of these years.