Текст книги "Provoke"

Автор книги: Missy Johnson

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Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 11 страниц)

Chapter Nine

Leeta

For the tenth time since I’d gotten home I was over the toilet bowl, heaving my guts up. It was a vicious circle: I’d throw up, feel sick, and re-watch the videos, convinced I’d missed some vital piece of information that cleared Mace. Then, when that didn’t come, I’d throw up again.

This had been going on since the day before. I had no freaking idea how I’d made it through work that day. I’d honestly thought the distraction would do me well.

I had to stop this; I was driving myself mad. Pull yourself together. You’re helping nobody like this.

I needed a plan. I couldn’t avoid him forever, and crying wasn’t going to make it go away. If he was really messed up in . . . whatever the fuck that was, then I needed to do something. I couldn’t just sit back and let it happen.

Okay, Leeta, you’re a god-dammed prosecutor. Put your fucking skills to use.

The first step was to sit through both videos again and pick up anything that I could use—anything that looked familiar. If I did take this to the cops, I needed to be sure I had some hard evidence.

Who could I trust down at the precinct? Lewis had always been nice to me—a little too friendly at times, but nice, all the same. Did I trust him to look at this fairly though?

No, probably not.

He would enjoy getting Mace out of the picture. No doubt he thought Mace belonged in jail with the rest of his family. A shiver ran through me. Maybe he did.

Unwrapping my brand new laptop, courtesy of Target, I set it open on the coffee table. My phone was vibrating again, but I ignored it. He had tried calling ten times already. That worried me. Had I left something open? Some kind of hint as to what I’d seen?

God, what if I was next?

What if this was some sick, twisted game to him? Maybe that’s why he had been so quick to approach me that day when we’d met. I jumped up and raced toward the door. I knew it was locked, but I needed to double-check. Unzipping my jacket, I threw it over the back of a chair. I then abruptly smashed my knee into the back of it.

“Shit,” I cried, clutching my leg. Fuck, I was completely losing the plot. I couldn’t even keep my thoughts straight. Next I’d be seeing little pink elephants dance around the room. I limped back over to the couch and sat down.

Gripping the laptop with both hands, I brought it onto my thighs. My breathing was shallow, as though my body knew what it was about to be put through and wanted no part of it.

The first video was already on the screen, ready to play. I had to block out the emotional response. Watch it as though it is someone else. I was a god-dammed lawyer. If I couldn’t sit through this without judgment, then I was in the wrong field.

Subjective thoughts, Leet. You can do this.

I watched both videos from start to finish—all thirty-seven minutes and fifteen seconds of them—while Marcus sat beside me, oblivious to everything.

By the end, I was damn proud of myself. No breakdowns, no tears, but still no closer to anything concrete. When were the videos taken? Was it before we got together? Did that even matter?

But it did matter. Because regardless of how disgusting these videos were, I was looking for a reason to forgive him.

Slamming the laptop shut, I threw it on the floor and stretched out on the couch, my arms curled around my stomach. My eyes stared into nothingness as I struggled to hold back another rush of tears. No. No more. I refused to waste any more tears. It was time I toughened up and dealt with this like a fucking adult. I had to deal with it myself or call the cops, but for God’s sake, I had to stop dragging it out.

Did I trust him enough to consider the slightest possibility of an explanation?

#

I opened my eyes and groaned, reaching for my neck, which felt like it had been folded in half and packed into a briefcase. I sat up and stretched, my hand fumbling for the lamp on the side table behind me. I switched it on, and—

“Holy fucking shit!” I literally screamed—a high-pitched, old lady scream.

Mace was sitting in the armchair opposite the couch, his leg crossed over his knee. He looked tired, as though he hadn’t slept for days. Yeah, because he was too busy fucking unconscious women.

Stop it, I commanded myself.

I sat forward, struggling to get back my composure as my heart pounded. My eyes darted to my laptop, which sat strewn on the floor where I’d left it. Thank God I’d closed it.

“Mace. Shit, you scared me,” I gasped, my breathing still laboured.

He raised his eyebrows, his hand resting on his chin as his gaze burned into me. “I noticed.” He chuckled, his eyes crinkling in amusement. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” I fibbed. Bullshit. I was feeling worse than I had all day.

“You look like shit,” he commented, raising an eyebrow.

“Gee, thanks,” I snapped. “Why are you here? Didn’t you get my message?” I’d told him I was sick.

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” He cocked his head and sat forward, his hands now joined in his lap. “Did you go to my house yesterday?”

Why the hell had I gone all domestic cleaner on him?? I’d done his washing, for fucks sake, and I thought he’d never know I’d been there? Was I insane?

Shit. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I could feel my face heating up as I struggled to keep myself calm, when all I wanted to do was let him have it. I wanted answers. Now I definitely looked as though I was hiding something.

“Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you. I needed to get some work done and my laptop died. I didn’t think you’d mind me using yours. I, uh, didn’t think it would be a problem.”

He stiffened, managing a sharp nod. “No, it’s fine.” His eyes fell on my new laptop lying on the floor. “Here, I’ll have a look at it—”

“No!” I practically screamed, launching myself at the laptop. Fuck, Leeta. Get a grip. “That’s a new one. The old one is in the bin,” I stammered, hugging the Mac to my chest. He nodded slowly. I almost felt the need to race outside and show him I wasn’t lying.

“Well, anyway, I brought you over some food. I thought you might be hungry.” An awkward silence followed. He stared at me, and I avoided eye contact. I couldn’t even look at him. All I could see were the faces of those girls, just lying there.

Please just leave. Please, please, please.

“I might go to bed, try and sleep this off. You don’t mind, do you? I’ll call you later, okay?” For a moment I thought he was going to argue, but then he simply nodded.

We both stood up. He walked over to me and attempted to kiss me. I freaked out and backed away. Way to go, Leets. You’re doing an awesome job at being inconspicuous.

“Leet, what the hell is up with you?” he asked, running a hand through his hair. His forehead creased as he waited for me to answer. He towered over me, his presence enough to make me weak at the knees. The worst thing was I didn’t know if that was lust, or the fact that he might be a rapist.

“Nothing. I just don’t want you catching whatever this is,” I mumbled weakly. God, I was such a bad liar. How was it that I managed to successfully practice law?

“I’ll risk it.” He grabbed my wrist and yanked me toward him until I was flush up against his chest. I froze as his hand cupped my chin. He leaned down, his lips pressing against mine. My body reacted the way it always did when he touched me—with anticipation and want—in complete contrast to the negative thoughts that were racing through my head.

Yet there I stood, kissing him back. It was such an innate response, and left me feeling completely confused. I hated him…didn’t I? Then why was I standing here, kissing him with more passion and lust than I ever had? I couldn’t break myself away and it scared the hell out of me.

I whimpered as his hands wandered under my shirt, the feel of his skin against mine electrifying. Desire consumed me. I wanted him so badly. God, I was so wet . . . What the fuck was wrong with me? He pulled away, staring at me one last time as his thumb tweaked my cheek.

“Go get some rest, Leets. You’re acting really weird.”

#

I’m acting weird . . .

His words rang in my head. The last thing I wanted to do was arouse his suspicion. I wiped a thin film of sweat off the back of my neck. God, it was hot in there. Walking over to the back door, I slid it open and left the security door locked.

I needed a plan. I needed something set out. I worked best when I had things set out in action.

My skills at gathering information from the videos had pretty much exceeded their limits. I needed outside help. And there was only one person that stuck in my mind: the last person I ever wanted to speak to again.

Ben.

It had been two years since we’d last spoken. The man my parents thought was utterly perfect. I laughed. If only they knew. That dude was all kinds of fucked up.

If anyone knew the how to find out what I needed to know, it would be him. His obsession with porn had become scary. Even scarier was the role-playing he had insisted we act out. Hell, I wouldn’t have been surprised if Ben was into this kind of shit too.

In the beginning, he had been the perfect boyfriend: sweet, caring, and everyone loved him. He won my parents over easily. It seemed like there wasn’t a single thing the guy could do wrong.

About six months into our relationship, he proposed. I said yes. No hesitation. He was perfect for me. We were great together.

Things started unravelling shortly after. He had served in Iraq for a few months, and when he came back he was a totally different person. The loveable, fun guy had been replaced with a dark, empty, spiteful shell.

His paranoia was the worst. He’d been convinced I was cheating on him. On several occasions he went as far as almost physically harming me. I swore to him then that if he laid so much as a finger on me, I’d be gone, and he would never see me again. He promised he’d get help. And he did. Things improved from there.

It took all of a month for shit to get really bad. By that stage, he no longer worked. He spent his days surfing the Internet, watching porn, sleeping, and drinking. Then he began to get really violent. Sexually violent. He would choke me during sex, among other things. He had gone from a gentle, intimate lover to a violent creep who got off on causing me pain.

Telling Mom and Dad that I’d broken things off with their dream boyfriend had been fun. I’d seriously thought Dad was going to start crying. Then the lectures began—about how insensitive I was for breaking up with a man who was obviously suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder.

The thing was, he didn’t want my help. Over and over I tried to help him, but he kept pushing me away. What else was I supposed to do? I was a twenty-year-old girl who was too afraid to sleep in the same bed as her fiancé in case he went too far.

I was living a nightmare, waiting for the day when I’d wake up with his hands around my neck. The fact that I could even think he was capable of that had been a wake up call to get the hell out of that relationship.

So I had. And I vowed never to put myself in that kind of situation again.

I sure knew how to pick them.

#

Now for the fun part.

Tracking Ben down would be no problem: he was a decorated army officer who had worked with my father for years—hence Dad’s love for the guy. Tracking down email addresses of current army officers was surprisingly easy. Which had always struck me as weird, considering the whole protecting-the-nation thing.

I grabbed my laptop and navigated to trusty Google. It took all of five minutes for me to be staring at his email address. Did I really want to do this?

Where Mace was scary and short-tempered, Ben had been the complete opposite. Way too calm and collected. His ‘interests’ had scared the fuck out of me—enough for me to get the hell out of that relationship.

But I didn’t see another way. As much as our relationship had gone downhill   fast, in an odd way, Ben was the only person I felt I could trust—probably because I could ruin his reputation in half a second if I wanted to. Having that kind of power over someone made them a very trustworthy confidante.

Okay, do this before you change your mind, Leets.

Ben,

Long time, huh? Hope you are well. You’re probably wondering why the hell I’m contacting you after so long, and well, I need a favour. A big one. Get back to me. My number is still the same.

Leeta

Short and sweet.

There was no point going into detail without knowing if he was willing to help me or not. Sighing, I closed the laptop and put it on charge. I needed sleep. I was so past tired, it wasn’t even funny.

I changed into my pyjamas and climbed into bed, exhausted. Fumbling through my bedside table, I found my stash of Valium. I rarely used sleeping aids, but I had so much crammed into my head right then that sleep felt impossible without assistance.

I lay there waiting for the tablet to take effect. It didn’t take long for me start to feel woozy. I closed my eyes and tried to force all the negative thoughts out of my head.

All this, I’d deal with tomorrow. Right then, nothing seemed as important as getting some sleep.

Chapter Ten

Mace

She knows.

It all added up. She had to know. She was at my house, my computer had been used, she didn’t want to see me . . . and then when I’d turned up, she couldn’t stand to be touched by me. It all added up to one thing.

She fucking knew. She had to have seen the videos. I hit the steering wheel in frustration. Christ, why hadn’t I deleted them?

This was a nightmare.

A fucking mess.

There was no way to put a positive spin on this. No matter which way you swung it, what I was involved in was unforgivable. Of course, what she was thinking was a thousand times worse than the actual reality, but the reality was still pretty bad. I wanted to tell her, but what would I say?

Hey, it’s okay. I wasn’t raping them. I was just fucking them.

I laughed. I was a stupid idiot for getting involved with her in the first place. The smart thing to do would’ve been to build a friendship until all this blew over. But friendship with Leet was never going to work. How could I be friends with someone I couldn’t stop thinking about?

I felt bad for betraying her, but I couldn’t feel bad about what I was doing. This was so much bigger than her and me, and I wasn’t going to apologize for that. The thought of hurting her in any way tore me up inside, but I wasn’t going to back down on this.

I couldn’t.

There was only one way to resolve this: I had to stop her talking. I had to make her calm down and listen to me, however long that took.

I revved the engine and took off.

#

Four in the morning, and I was back out the front of her unit. I scanned the dark street, looking for signs of life, but there were none. It was dead quiet. My heart pounded as I reached for the gloves, sliding them over my shaking hands. I took a deep breath and grabbed the bag. This was the only way.

I walked up the three steps to the front door of her flat, clutching the key in my hand. Slowly, I inserted it into the lock and turned it. It wasn’t breaking and entering if I had a key, right? Somehow, I wasn’t sure the cops would agree.

I turned the handle, well aware that she was probably on full alert. The slightest noise was bound to wake her up. What if she wasn’t even asleep? Hell, if I were in her shoes, I’d be fucking wired.

I swiftly pushed open the door, praying it wouldn’t creak. Once I was safely inside, I let myself relax. I was doing the right thing. If I was right about all this, then I could only imagine what was going through her head.

She must hate me right now. No, hate would be too weak a word for what she’d be feeling. Hate didn’t run deep enough. That was why I was doing this: if she wanted to hate me once she knew everything, then fine; but I was fucked if I was going to let her base her opinion of me on the little she thought she knew.

With each step I took down her hallway, my determination wavered.

Think about Anna. I was doing this for her. I hoped Leeta would forgive me for this eventually, but everything I was doing was for my sister, and for every other woman those fuckers had violated.

I walked into her bedroom. Leet lay sprawled out on her stomach on the bed. I sighed, my cock twitching as I took in her bare legs and perky ass. She wore only a thin white tank and a tiny pair of pyjama shorts that were riding halfway up her ass. For half a second I forgot I was there to kidnap her, and wanted to climb in next to her and squeeze those plump little cheeks until they glowed nice and red. God, I was hard as fuck just thinking about that.

Fuck, Mace, think with your head and not your dick.

That was always going to be a hard task. When it came to Leet, I always thought with my cock. It wasn’t my fault she was so irresistible.

I took a breath and reached into my bag for the bottle and rag. Unscrewing the top, I poured enough of the clear liquid onto the rag until it was soaked through. Approaching the bed, I winced, thinking about how pissed off she was going to be when she came to. I’d seen Leet angry, but something told me I hadn’t seen anything compared to what was coming.

Kneeling down in front of her, I pressed the rag over her mouth and nose. Her eyes flew open. She gasped, breathing in as her hands flew up to fight the pressure of my hand over her mouth.

“I’m sorry, baby, just relax. I’m not going to hurt you,” I whispered softly in her ear. Her resistance began to weaken as the chloroform took effect. Within a minute, she was limp in my arms. Carefully, I wrapped her in a blanket and carried her outside, laying her down on the back seat. I was so high on adrenaline I felt like my veins were going to explode.

Honestly? I had no fucking idea what I was doing. I mean, kidnapping? I groaned and started the car. Leeta could do so much better than me. All I had to offer her was my love, and I’d managed to screw that up with all of this.

Did I expect her to forgive me? No, but if I could do over the past few months, I couldn’t see another way. I’d do it all over again, for Anna.

If that made me an asshole, then I’d live with it. Yet I still hoped like hell she would somehow find a way to understand that there was no choice here.

I’d had to do this.

Chapter Eleven

Leeta

Fuck, my head. I forced open an eyelid, and nearly vomited as the light from a passing streetlight shot through me. I felt . . . weird. Where the hell was I? I felt beside me, my fingers brushing past soft leather and the strap of a seatbelt.

I lifted my head, Mace slowly coming into focus in the driver’s seat. He looked tense, his fingers curled so tightly around the wheel that his knuckles were white. I struggled to sit up. Why was I in the back? And why did I feel like I’d just sculled a whole bottle of vodka?

Next to me on the seat lay a rag. Picking it up, I screwed up my nose at the filthy strip of what I thought used to be a bedsheet. Then I saw the bottle lying next to it. I reached for it, sure my eyes were playing tricks on me.

"Did you really just chloroform me?" I yelled, smashing my fists against the side window. I tried opening the door. Nothing. Damn childproof locks.

"I had to do something. You wouldn’t listen," he replied quietly, not taking his eyes off the road.

"So you chloroformed me?" I gasped, incredulous.

"You're taking this way out of proportion, Leets. Calm the fuck down."

“Stop the car right now, Mace, or I swear to God . . .” My voice trailed off. I wouldn’t do shit, and he knew it.

“What? What are you gonna do—call the police?” He laughed, his dark eyes levelling on me through the rear-vision mirror. “You’re not going anywhere. Not yet. Not until you hear me out.”

What do I do now? I could force my way into the front and risk us having an accident, or I could let him do whatever the hell it was he had planned. He wouldn’t hurt me . . . would he?

My heart pounded as the videos ran through my head. Who knows what he was capable of? I could kid myself all I liked that it wasn’t him. But it all matched. The tattoos along his arm and above the nipple. God, even the tiny scar below his neck.

“You can’t make me listen to you,” I muttered, scowling out of the window into the darkness.

He snorted. “You’re right, but I can keep you until you give in. Who do you think is going to win that, huh?”

“You’re an asshole.”

He sighed. “I will explain everything, Leets, I promise. I just need to make sure you’re going to hear me out.”

Hear him out? And the best way he could see to achieve that was to drug and kidnap me? Way to go, Mace, you top the class on the bright idea stakes.

I slumped back down in the seat, determined not to respond. Yes, I was being childish, but I was so pissed off and I wanted him to know it. I'd defended him to my family and taken shit from my friends. Now, for the first time in our relationship I was wondering if they had been right all along.

Nobody’s perfect, but some things just can't be forgiven . . . can they?

#

“So, what’s your plan?” I asked, my voice cool. “Keep me tied up here forever?”

I tried again to free myself from the constraints holding me to the chair I was sitting on. I glanced around. We were in a motel, that much was obvious.

Where? I had no fucking idea.

He shot me a look and then squeezed his eyes shut, his hands clasped behind his head. It was like he had no fucking idea what to say or do. And it was a good thing, too, because I wasn’t in the mood to hear his bullshit.

He finally stopped pacing and crouched down in front of me. I winced as he placed his hands on my knees. I jumped, for the first time not sure what he was capable of. Flashbacks of my relationship with Ben filled my head.

“Are you scared of me?” He looked crestfallen as he stared at me, his eyes red. Defeated. He slouched back on his shoes, his shoulders slumped forward.

I felt sorry for him. For the tiniest moment, I really did.

He had kidnapped me after cheating on me, and I felt sorry for him? What the hell was my problem?

It’s those eyes.

Those damn eyes, full of so much emotion; I couldn’t look at them and not feel something. The betrayal hurt me more than anything else at the moment, which was ridiculous. He was a rapist, and I was upset because he’d cheated on me? But I couldn’t help it. I’d thought we had something.

I just couldn’t understand where this had come from. I ran over things in my mind—times when we’d been together. Had there been things I should’ve been looking out for? Could I have somehow prevented this? Was it something I’d done . . . or not done that had made him want to go elsewhere?

Snap out of it, Leeta. You will not blame yourself because he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants.

“Yes, I’m scared of you, Mace. What do you expect?”

He knew I knew. There was no point pretending. Tears stung my eyes. I closed them, refusing to display my devastation in front of him. He didn’t deserve my tears.

“Leet, you gotta know, the last thing I wanted to do was hurt you.”

“Right, so you thought fucking other women was a great way to show me that? Flowers would’ve been a better way to go,” I shot back. “Were they even aware you were fucking them? Because they looked pretty knocked out to me.”

He cursed and stood up, walking over to the armchair. I jumped as he kicked it, repeatedly. This side of him—this anger—was so new to me. It scared me.

“No matter what I say, it’s just not going to be good enough, is it?”

“Excuse me?” I bellowed. The nerve of him! “You think you have a plausible explanation for this? You think I’m being unreasonable—this from the guy who kidnapped me?” I shook my head, my eyes narrowing at him. “You have no idea what the word even means.”

He groaned and sat forward, placing his head in his hands. “I don’t know what I can say to you without getting you involved in this mess, so right now, I’m going to say nothing.” He cursed again and stood up. “I’ll be back soon.”

Huh? I watched, open-mouthed, as he headed for the door. He was leaving me here, just like that?

“Mace Jordan, if you don’t get back here and untie me I am going to slice your balls off and feed them to my neighbour’s dog,” I growled, wrestling with myself in my chair as the ropes burned into my skin.

Storming back over to me, he grabbed me by the shoulders, forcing me to look at him.

“You hate me right now, and I get that, but please, Leeta, if the last few months meant anything to you, give me the chance to explain things when I know it’s safe. Can you give me that?”

I shut my mouth.

The urgency in his voice, the aggressiveness in his eyes told me to just shut up. I had no reason to believe him, but something inside me refused to let go of the tiny glimmer of hope I was clinging to.

That somehow this was all a misunderstanding.

“Please, Leeta. I need to hear you say it. If you still want to hate me, then fine, but you’re going to know the whole fucking truth before you make up your mind.”

“Fine. It’s not like I can go anywhere, is it?” I spat back. He cringed at my sarcasm.

Where was he going? I watched him head for the door, this time leaving me alone in the tiny motel suite. Where was I? The drive hadn’t looked familiar at all, though by the time I’d regained consciousness we were almost at his destination.

The images of him with those other women were running constantly through my head. It was like there was nothing I could do to shut it off. It was complete torture.

How had my sweet guy gotten mixed up in something like that?

I wasn’t an idiot. There was something creepy and disgusting about those videos. This wasn’t just about him being unfaithful. Those women had been so out of it. And that voice giving Mace instructions . . . I wasn’t exactly sure what I’d stumbled upon, but it wasn’t good.

I guess what made the whole thing worse was that it wasn’t the first time a serious boyfriend of mine had turned out to be some kind of sexual sadist. Except with Ben, he was much more full-on—to the point of wanting me to participate in things I couldn’t even mention. I felt sorry for any woman he ended up wooing into his bed.

God, I sounded like such a prude, and I wasn’t. Far from it—I loved sex, and considered myself very experimental, but some things just went too far.

Thinking about Ben made me wonder if he had responded to my email. A thought hit me that made me feel sick: what if Mace had checked my emails? Mace knew about Ben, but not the full story behind our demise.

Part of me hoped he wouldn’t reply. While I had no feelings for him anymore, the thought of seeing him again made me sick. God, even speaking to him. I’d been such a different person back then. I was so much stronger now—though right now I didn’t feel it.

Tears pricked my eyes as I tried not to think about how fucked up this was. What if he was actually planning on hurting me? I didn’t know him at all. That’s what scared me the most. I was so in love with whom I thought was the perfect guy for me, and he turned out to be a psycho. It couldn’t be a coincidence that it had happened again.

What was it with me that attracted these guys?