Текст книги "Provoke"

Автор книги: Missy Johnson

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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 11 страниц)

Chapter Six

Leeta

Little Marcus meowed wildly at my feet as I poured his biscuits into a bowl. It was official: I was in love with two boys. My tough, rough guy and my little, furry softy. I’ll let you figure out who is who.

“Here you go,” I said, placing the bowl on the floor. He began to purr, licking up mouthfuls of kibble like he’d never been fed before. I laughed. “Someone’s a greedy guts.” I stroked his fur and then stood up. I had so much work to do that day it wasn’t funny.

After the fastest shower in the world—twenty seconds—I put in a load of laundry and then settled down at my laptop. I turned it on and waited. Nothing happened. No way. I’d just charged the battery the day before. Sighing, I stood up and went in search of the charger, which I had a feeling was still in the bedroom.

Yep, there we are. I yanked it out of the wall and waltzed back into the living room. After plugging it in, I sat down. And…nothing.

What the hell is going on? Stupid fucking computer.

I slammed the laptop shut and pushed it away from me, frustrated.

Fuck!

I had an opening argument the next morning and I needed to get this finished. But now my piece-of-shit laptop had decided to be temperamental, and I had no idea what I was going to do.

I reached for my phone and called Mace. No answer. It was three o’clock; he was probably at work. I weighed up my options. The local library was closed of a Wednesday afternoon, so that was out. I could go into work and risk being stuck there half the night, but then I’d have to explain why I had called in sick today.

Somehow I didn’t think turning up for the last hour was going to look good to my bosses.

So I could sit here and panic . . . or I could go to Mace’s.

I stared at my keys, and in particular, the key to his house. Surely the fact that he had given me a key meant I could let myself in? Especially in an emergency. And it didn’t get much more urgent than this.

I grabbed my keys and my files and rushed out the door. I didn’t want to think too hard about what relationship lines I was about to cross. We had been dating for a while now, but we hadn’t really had the ‘what’s mine is yours’ talk. This felt creepy. Like I was invading his privacy. You’re about to hack into his computer, Leeta. It should feel creepy.

What I needed to do was stop overanalysing. He would want me to get this finished.

#

I pulled into his driveway and let myself in through the garage.

So this was how he lived when I wasn’t around. I glanced around the living room, a smirk on my face. What a mess. Fast food wrappers were tossed everywhere, piles of clothes sat all over the furniture. I giggled. At least I know he makes an effort when he’s aware I’m coming over.

I can’t handle this. The neat freak inside of me was going mental. I grabbed a basket from the laundry and filled it with dirty towels and clothes. Carrying it to the washing machine, I dumped it all in, along with some powder, and pressed on.

Next, I tackled the kitchen, loading the dishwasher, and cleaning out his disgusting fridge. How can anyone live like this?

Finally, I was done. Well, as done as I was going to be. I wasn’t here to be his freaking maid. I had work to do. Work that if I didn’t finish could possibly end up getting me fired. I walked over to his laptop and opened it up.

Fuck. Password.

I racked my brain for possibilities. I’d ruled out the obvious choices: Leeta, his birthday, and my birthday.

“Okay, think. What would you have as your password, Mace?” I muttered, rubbing my head. I was just about to call Tim and beg for help when something hit me. His sister: Anna. I hit the keys and pressed enter, holding my breath as it processed my entry.

“Yeah!” I fist-pumped the air as Windows began to load.

Navigating my way to Word, I rewrote my entire argument from start to finish. It took me more than an hour, but at least it was done. I loaded the file onto the USB I’d brought with me.

Then I deleted the file. I wasn’t exactly sure why, but I didn’t want him to know I’d been there using his computer. There was something about it that felt really weird. He wasn’t stupid—he would know I’d been over. I’ll just say I came over for a shirt I’d left here.

With my plan decided, I had just pushed back my chair when a picture of a pretty young girl filled the screen. I sat there staring at her. She was smiling, her thighs pulled up to her chest and her arms wrapped around her knees. Her long dark hair flowed in thick curls around her face.

Was this Anna? Holy shit—she was stunning.

My heart began to pound. What I was about to do was such an invasion of his privacy that I was ashamed of myself. And the fact that I could see that made it even worse. But I needed to see more of her. Seeing her made me feel closer to Mace. He never spoke about her, but I could tell her death still affected him deeply. I navigated my way to his image folder, half expecting to unravel a huge collection of German-midget fisting porn, or some fetish just as disturbing.

Whew. I was relieved when photo after photo of his family filled the screen. Anna appeared in nearly every one. I studied a group shot of him, his dad, and his brother. God, he looks like Cash. They could’ve been twins. The only noticeable differences were the placement and design of their tattoos, and that Cash had a narrower, longer face.

Another one of Anna popped up, this one with Mace. They were both laughing. I’d seen Mace happy, but never like this. Something inside him had died along with his sister. A feeling of sorrow washed through me as I realized I would never be able to make him as happy as she had.

I sighed and rubbed my forehead. Seeing this side of him, a side he was yet to share with me, made me incredibly sad. There were so many things I wanted to ask him, but I couldn’t. Every time I’d attempted to talk about his family he had become very defensive and shut down.

I began closing Windows down, trying to navigate my way back to the display page. In reality, I had no idea what I was doing. That was why I liked Macs: they were simple and straightforward. I was about to close another window that had popped up when something caught my eye.

It was a folder I’d somehow managed to open, which contained two videos. Even from the little I could see in the preview, I could tell they were porn. Why did that bother me? He was a guy. Of course he would have porn on his computer. Hell, I occasionally looked at porn. I tried to shrug off the feeling as I clicked on the icon.

As the video started, I turned up the sound. The woman was lying fully clothed on a bed, wearing a short blue dress and heels. Right away, I could tell something wasn’t right. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up as the camera zoomed in on the girl.

I could hear voices in the background. Or, a voice at least. I strained to listen.

“Take her clothes off.”

A chill ran down my spine as a hooded figure moved into the frame, creeping over to the woman. He unzipped the dress and guided her arms out before tugging it from her body. She hadn’t moved. I bit my lip and swallowed hard. She was either unconscious . . . or dead. Either way, this was clearly not consensual.

What the hell is he doing with this?

By that point, I was freaking the fuck out: my boyfriend was into snuff films. I was watching a snuff film. What the fuck was I doing? I wanted to turn it off and pretend I’d never seen it, but I couldn’t. Something compelled me to sit there and keep staring at that screen.

“Now, tie her arms to the bedhead with that rope.” The voice almost had an echo to it, like the third person wasn’t even in the room. But that might’ve just been the poor-quality speakers. “Yeah. That’s good.”

Okay, this was getting really creepy. The dude’s voice was low and raspy, and it was obvious he was jacking himself off.

The figure on screen began touching the girl, who was now completely naked. I watched as he unzipped his pants. He removed his penis and began to stroke it.

“Fuck her. Give it to her deep. I want to see you fuck the bitch until she can’t walk. Fuckin’ slut.”

I shivered as the hooded man stripped off and straddled her.

I can’t watch this.

I felt sick. Whatever was going on here, I was certain it was a crime. That poor girl was being raped. I blinked back tears as the camera zoomed in on her emotionless face. That poor girl. The film had been edited in such a way that I never saw the guy’s face.

I had to do something. I have to give this to the police. A surge of anger rushed through me. Why the fuck did Mace have this shit? Closing the video, I clicked on the second one, dreading what I was about to see.

Same room. Another girl, only this one was blond. She looked younger—maybe nineteen or twenty—but just like the other girl, she lay motionless on the bed. She was already naked, with both her wrists and ankles tied to the bedposts. The same distant voice relayed orders, and what looked like the same hooded figure assaulted the poor girl.

I couldn’t believe it. What should I do? I was panicking. In all my years of law, nothing had prepared me for this. I sat there, my eyes glued to the screen as he began to fuck her, the camera angle again cutting out the guy’s face. I could see her face perfectly. She was beautiful: porcelain-white skin and long, dark lashes.

“Turn her over. She needs to take it up the ass.”

The guy immediately stopped and pulled out of her, then unfastened the restraints. He flipped her over onto her stomach, her limbs hanging like dead weights.

“Push her knees up under her. Give it to her like the dog she is.”

I choked back tears as I watched him struggle to position her. So many things were racing through my mind . . . but most of all, why was he into this? I’d never thought the day would come when I wished my boyfriend was into midget-fisting porn.

Then I saw it.

Something that would change my life forever.

It was only for a split second when he turned to face the camera, but it was unmistakable: a small, millimetre-in-length scar above the guy’s nipple, near his collarbone; and the snake tattoo that curled around his left bicep. I replayed that moment over and over and over again.

This guy is Mace.

My boyfriend was a rapist.

Chapter Seven

Leeta

With no idea what I was doing, I copied the files onto a USB, closed all the applications and shut off the computer. My heart was pounding in my chest. What the fuck was going on? How could I not know this? I felt like a neighbour being interviewed on a news program after a murderer is arrested. “He seemed so normal.”

I was a fucking idiot. How could I not know I was dating a psychopath? What the hell was wrong with me?

Grabbing my bag, I got the hell out of his house, terrified he was going to come home and catch me. I couldn’t talk to him. What would I say?

I sat in my car outside Target. All I wanted to do was get home, but first I needed a new computer. In spite of all this, I still needed to finish the deposition for work.

I was in and out in five minutes. Thank god for self-checkouts. I couldn’t face talking to anyone right now, especially a nosey checkout chick who’d have wanted to make small talk. Back in my car, I started it up and maneuvered my way out of the parking lot.

Hell, I’m shaking. My hands were trembling so badly it was sending me all over the road. The people around me probably thought I was drunk. God I wish I were. If I were drunk then all this would go away. Calm down, Leet. Just focus on driving. Get home, and then panic. Okay, I can do that.

Ten minutes later I was sitting in my garage, in the midst of a panic attack. What should I do? I had no freaking idea of what to do with this information. All I knew was thinking about it made me want to hurl.

I have to watch them again. I have to get as much as I can from those videos before I decide what to do. The problem was, I didn’t know how much of sitting there and watching my boyfriend fuck another woman I could handle.

I got out of the car with my new computer and went inside. While I waited for it to set up, I made myself a cup of tea. God I was so angry. How the fuck could he have done this? The cheating was bad enough, but this…whatever it was?

Okay. Sit down and watch them. Pretend it’s not him. Pretend you’re doing this for a case. Nodding to myself, I plugged in the USB and waited. I clicked on the first video, determined to do this.

Marcus jumped up into my lap, marching himself into a little ball of fluff. In a weird way, having him there relaxed me. It was like he could sense I was stressed and wanted to help. I listened to his purring, intermittently looking up and studying the screen.

Out of the thirty-seven minutes the videos ran for, I’d managed to actually watch about half. Pretty good considering a few hours earlier I’d been so angry I was ready to cut his balls off. Not that I’d put the knife down yet, but my anger had evolved into something…deeper. Anger could be resolved easily. What I was feeling now was a on a whole other level of emotions. Finally, I’d had enough. I needed to get away from this and get my mind on something else. I still had my stupid work to get done too.

Snatching the USB from the socket, I stalked over to my desk and shoved it in the drawer, slamming it shut. Then I went back over to the couch and curled up with Marcus on my lap, and the computer resting on the armrest. I chuckled as Marcus rolled onto his back and stretched out. So long as he was comfortable.

Shocking even myself, I finished the deposition and emailed it through to work.

Then I went to bed. I’d had enough and just wanted the day to just be over. I had every intention on going to work tomorrow, because frankly, I needed the distraction.

Carrying my phone and Marcus, I curled up under the covers trying to figure out my plan. But that was just it…I had no plan.

I watched Marcus chase his tail next to me on the bed, and sighed. He had the life. His only worry was getting that damn tail. My phone was ringing again, but I didn’t bother checking it. I knew it was Him. Not answering was only going to concern him, but I didn’t know what else to do. I needed time to figure this out, and right now I had no idea how to do that.

Other than to pretend the last few hours hadn’t happened.

Chapter Eight

Mace

I hadn’t heard from Leeta since Tuesday. There had been a missed call from the day before, but whenever I tried calling back, I got no response. That concerned me, but just then I had bigger things to worry about.

The time had passed so slowly all day, but now it seemed to be racing toward seven at full speed. I hadn’t bothered going home; I’d stayed back at work and caught up on some paperwork. With each minute that passed, the anxiety in the pit of my stomach grew. So many things could go wrong, but I needed to do this. There was no backing out now.

At twenty minutes to, I grabbed my keys and left.

Our meeting place was an abandoned house that Cash had arranged for me—a derelict old shack. Looking at it from the outside, you wouldn’t expect inside to house a perfectly set-out room. I walked through the hallway, taking in the peeling wallpaper and rotting wood frames, and entered the room.

One room, right up the back of the house.

It was freshly painted a sterile white. Mirrors lined the walls. The white sheets on the four-poster bed, and the steel table and chairs gave the place a very clinical feel.

Three cameras were positioned around the room to ensure every moment was captured.

It was through these cameras that he would be watching.

The highest bidder, paying some exuberant sum to interact in a live rape that would be streamed through a private webpage to his computer.

And I was the rapist. Only, I couldn’t do that. The thought of putting anyone through that kind of pain made me sick. And angry. So fucking angry.

“Hi, Mace.”

I turned around and smiled at Cassandra. Her long, blond hair hung in waves down her back. Her brown eyes looked unusually large as she peered around the room. She had been here before, but I guess, just like for me, this didn’t get any easier for her.

“Cassandra. How are you?” Probably an awkward thing to say to the woman you were about to pretend to rape on camera, but what could I say? I get awkward when I’m shitting myself.

“Good. Nervous.” She looked down, her hands clutching at her handbag. She wore a pretty green sundress that hung just above her knees.

“You don’t have to do this, you know.” I walked toward her, placing my arm on her shoulder. She relaxed and nodded.

“I know. I’m okay. I want to do this. I want to help.”

From the start, I was very open with the women I employed. They knew my family, and most of them had known Anna personally. Her death had rocked the worlds of many people. These girls supported what I was doing. That, and many of them had done much worse than this for a few dollars.

At least I was compensating them well.

“I’m going to have to tie you to that chair.” I pointed to the white steel chair that sat next to the bed. She nodded and began to undress. I turned around to give her some privacy. Privacy? I was about to fuck her under someone else’s direction, and I was concerned about her privacy? This whole thing was twisted.

The truth was, if there were any other way, I wouldn’t be doing this.

I hated every fucking minute of it. The entire time, my head was filled with thoughts of Leeta. I hated myself for doing this to her, but I’d hate myself even more if I didn’t.

Cassandra sat down in the seat. I began to wind the ropes around her, securing her into place. Fuck—she’s terrified. Her eyes, those eyes show so much fear. I kneeled in front of her, taking her hand in mine.

“I’m here, Cass. No matter what happens, just remember that it’s me, and I’d never hurt you, okay? I’m so sorry I have to do this to you.”

She shook her head. “I’m okay, Mace. I’ll be fine.”

“I . . . you know I can’t stop once I start, right?” I asked her softly, touching her face with my thumb.

 “I know,” she whispered.

#

Seven o’clock. Showtime.

I glanced over at Cass, who was tied up in her chair, blindfold and mouth gag in place. My heart dropped. Was this what Anna had been put through? I clenched my fists beside me as I walked over to switch the cameras on.

After a few minutes of silence, a voice—that voice—boomed through the room. I had no idea how many “buyers” there were, but there were at least two.

“Well, she’s a pretty little one.”

I didn’t answer; I knew to just wait for direction. This was his rape. I had little to do with it. I was simply his means to an end. What kind of depraved person did this? Live-streamed rape to the highest bidder . . . How were there people out there sick enough to do that . . . and to pay for that shit?

Who knew there was such big money in passively participating in a rape? I had no idea how much they paid. I was sure it was a hell of a lot more than I received—not that I kept any of the money. Every last penny of my income from each job went to my ‘victim’. Honestly, I wanted nothing to do with it. The less I could associate myself with all of it, the better.

“Is she still conscious?”

I walked over to her and removed the gag, and tapped her softly on the cheek. She began to cry. I couldn’t tell if the tears were real or just for his benefit, but it ripped my heart out all the same.

“Wonderful. This one we will keep lucid. I want to see the pain in her eyes. I love seeing that fear.” He chuckled, a sound that twisted through my heart, shredding it to pieces. I leaned forward and slipped the blindfold from over her eyes.

My heart pounded as I stared into them, so scared and brimming with fear. This wasn’t acting—she was genuinely terrified. It was one thing to be passed out and not remember anything, but to have no control and no idea what was coming next . . .

“Untie her. I want her on that table.”

I did as I was asked, slowly unravelling her from the chair. Once the ropes were free from her, I grabbed a handful of her long blonde hair and forced her to her feet. The key was to be as forceful as I could without hurting her. She knew me, she trusted me; the last thing I wanted to do was break that trust. I jerked her forward, dragging her over to the table. Lifting her by the hips, I sat her on the edge and pushed her down until her back was flat against the cold metal. She gasped and closed her eyes, blinking back tears.

Her legs were fused tightly together. She was doing so well, as if she were sensing what I needed from her. I needed that fear, that reluctance, because as soon as he caught even the smallest sniff of something being off, he’d be gone.

I had one chance at this.

“Stick your fingers in her pussy. Make her nice and wet.”

I pried her legs apart and slid two fingers inside her. She cried out and tried to push my hand away. I forced them back inside, this time harder.

With the cameras switched off, I shut off my laptop and packed it up, ready to get the fuck out of there. Cassandra sat on the edge of the bed, watching me. I walked over to her and sat down.

“I’m sorry,” I began.

“Don’t be. What you’re doing . . . you need to catch this sick fuck, Mace. He’s not the only one, is he? That was a different guy,” she whispered.

I nodded.

I couldn’t be sure exactly how many there were, but he was the second ‘client’ I’d dealt with. There were women out there going through this for real. For them, it was no act. There was no payment, only torture—and who knows what else. I hadn’t been asked to do anything beyond rape, but I couldn’t help but wonder.

“Did . . . did I hurt you?” I asked, curling my arm around her shoulder. I felt nothing beyond compassion and respect for Cass. It took a strong person to do what she had just done.

“No. I’m fine, Mace. Just promise me you will catch this sicko. I . . . I can’t stop thinking about Anna.” Her voice broke as tears rolled down her cheeks.

“Me too,” I muttered, anger raging through my body.

#

I walked her to her car and waited until she had safely driven away. Once she was out of sight, I got into my car and started the engine. I had no idea what to do next. It felt like I was stuck on the same piece of the puzzle, and I couldn’t quite reach the next step. I was missing something, but what?

I checked my phone. A message from Leeta flashed up, and my stomach dropped.

Sorry babe, not feeling well. Will call you tomorrow xx

“Fuck!” I yelled, slamming my fists against the dashboard.

Why am I so damn angry?

The guilt was eating me up inside. I could wrap it up however I wanted, but when it came down to it, she was never going to forgive me for this. I couldn’t tell her. I’d lose her for sure. And stopping this wasn’t an option, either. Those sick cunts needed to be fucked over for what they did to Anna—what they were still doing to God knows how many innocent women. If it wasn’t for me, those two clients would have paid someone else to rape those women.

I’ve saved three women from rape.

I had to look at it that way. Three women saved from rape, and if I could get to those guys, I could save a hell of a lot more. I couldn’t go to the cops, because they’d never believe me. Not with my family background. Besides, these guys were mine, and they were going to pay.

I was doing this for Anna.