Conor Thames 2

by R. J. Lewis

  And then he sobbed.

  He sobbed, spitting out blood, thinking of the man, of Max, of how far he had to go to save his own life and Max was out there.

  He was out there and Conor had failed him.

  Too weak to move, too cold to even try, Conor passed out.

  The darkness took him.

  When he woke up, he would find himself in the arms of a nearby homesteader who’d arrived to check his fish trap.

  Within hours, he was taken to the hospital, all the while too traumatized to speak of the horrors he’d endured.

  Jem and Dom had not let Conor down.

  They’d ran back to town for help.

  Within no time, the police were dispatched and scouring the outskirts of Blackwater.

  “You played a game of Hide and Seek,” one police officer had said. “Who’s to say the boy didn’t go home? He must have. He would have.”

  “He didn’t,” Dom had argued.

  “But you said he was scared.”

  “He hid.”

  “But you didn’t see which way he went.”

  “I was burying myself in the leaves. I was paying more mind to Jem. Jem was running all over the place.”

  “I was trying to find a spot,” Jem said weakly, staring down at the ground. “It’s my fault.”

  “I think the boy tried to go home,” the officer continued, buried in his own narrative. “I think if something happened, and I very much doubt anything happened, it was likely on his way back.”

  Dominic continued shaking his head. It made no sense. Why would the officer keep saying that? He argued over and over again that it was not true, but the officer had stopped paying him mind. He brushed him aside, called his folks and just like that, the boys were being discarded.

  How was this possible?

  “But there was a man! There was a man we ran into!” Dominic began to shout. “He was wearing a green jacket. Conor went back for him! Conor’s still out there!”

  But Conor was found before the night even crept in.

  The officers said he’d fallen over the cliff, that his memory wasn’t clear, and now he was doped up on painkillers. The fall had broken his arm, and as he’d drifted, he’d hit his mouth on something sharp.

  Conor wasn’t the best witness for now.

  He needed rest.

  The boys needed it too, the police officer had urged.

  Dominic stared up in disbelief at the man – the officer man with the cold smile – and continued shaking his head.

  “It doesn’t make sense!” he argued in vain.

  “No, it makes perfect sense,” the officer returned firmly. “The boy always hides in one spot. He didn’t this time because he had left. He was too scared. The thunder frightened him. Your friend Jem even waved a knife around his face, you said so yourself. To assume he would suddenly hide somewhere you couldn’t find him? That doesn’t make sense.”

  Dom felt helpless.

  That wasn’t what happened.

  It made no sense.

  They had twisted his words.

  He glared at the man and at anyone who would look at him. He tried, he tried to argue, but they didn’t listen.

  He would later learn it would always be like this.

  Blackwater with its cold looking officers, with its green coated men, with its black hearted secrets.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Charlotte

  With a soft sigh, I dreaded my next question. “What are the conditions, Locke?”

  Looking satisfied, he slowly slid his tie off and chucked it on the counter. He didn’t look elsewhere as he started to unbutton his dress shirt. My heart started speeding in my chest and my mind went crazy with wild ideas.

  Surely not.

  He wouldn’t expect anything indecent to happen between us. I wouldn’t allow it, no way.

  He slid the top off and my breath caught in my throat as he slowly filled the gap between us. Stopping in front of me, he demanded, “What I want is your complete and utter compliance. What happens between us stays between us.

  “Starting now.”

  My eyes dropped to his chest, my mouth fell open at the sight before me. All along his chest and stomach were tiny gold bars taped against his skin in neat little rows.

  “What is this?” I whispered in shock.

  “A deal gone bad,” he replied, tilting his chin for me to come closer. “Peel them off.”

  I shot him a wary look. “Locke.”

  His eyes didn’t leave mine. They looked hard, commanding. “Peel them off, Charlotte.”

  I took a hesitant step forward and brought my hands up, hesitating for a moment. I didn’t know where to begin. He watched me intently as I finally settled on a random row and began sliding my nails beneath the white tape. I noticed it didn’t pull away easily. I winced at the horrible red line it left behind when I used a little more force.

  Locke had some hair on his chest, and I noticed some strands getting ripped out as I pulled the tape off. I was sure it wasn’t comfortable, but he didn’t show any emotion. He just watched me. Just…stared as I went, all stoic-like.

  The gold bars were thin with no stamp on the front.

  “These were melted, weren’t they?” I murmured in thought as I gently settled them in a line on the island.

  He nodded slowly. “They were.”

  I eyed him carefully. “You said a deal went wrong.”

  He took a sudden step back and turned around so his back was facing me. I didn’t know what he was doing until I saw his back and my heart dropped. His upper back was covered in giant red marks.

  “They did that to you?” I asked in alarm.

  “They jumped me,” he answered returning his front to me. He looked a little irritated as he reflected. “I should have seen it coming. I got to have the last laugh.”

  “How?”

  His eyes appeared bright. “They took the duffle bag and ran.”

  I pondered that for a moment, putting the pieces together as I watched him. “But you didn’t have anything in the duffle bag.”

  His lips flinched. “A bunch of rocks.”

  Now my mouth quirked up. “Not sure if having this stuff taped to you is brilliant or stupid, Locke.”

  He chuckled. “I’m still new to this, Charlotte.”

  “New to the crime world, you mean?”

  “No,” he replied swiftly, his voice soft. “Crime is easy, but some things I want to do alone.”

  “You have others helping you?”

  He didn’t respond, but I could tell the answer was yes.

  “Blackwater’s a dirty place,” he reflected, eyes deep in thought. “Building capital, brushing against the underbelly of this beast of a place, is unpredictable. This town has so many secrets…”

  “I’m not sure we want to go digging around for those secrets.”

  “I have to,” he said, resolutely. “I have to know. I have to.”

  “And building capital – having the money – will do that?”

  “I’m building capital to buy out this shithole of a place. So much power comes from owning the walls of every money-making business. It draws people in. It’ll draw the right ones to me.”

  I stared hard at the bars, trying to understand what he was saying.

  What sort of people was he searching for?

  “I’m going to be coming back to you, Charlotte, and it’ll be messier than this,” he said now, staring hard at me.

  I paused to look up at him. “Messier how?”

  “Messier…because I’m going to be doing things on the side. Dirty things…” He swallowed hard, a strange look in his eye. “I spent my entire life searching for answers…and I’m close. I’m so close. I just need someone I can trust. Someone that’ll be there when I turn on myself because…I need to be strong. I need to do it so I can finally be at peace.”

  Focusing his gaze back to mine, he added, “I’ll need you. Do you understand?”

  I was frightened.
/>
  I recognized a man with demons – Conor had so many of them.

  Locke was ready to reveal his to me.

  “I understand,” I finally said.

  A week later, he showed up, weak, bruised, and bleeding on my front porch.

  I idled the car in my parking spot in front of the firm. I’d dropped Penny off and was due to be back at home, but…my head was warring with thoughts.

  I sipped my coffee too soon, burning my tongue in the process. It didn’t matter. That burn was everywhere, anyway. Conor’s face this morning haunted me. He looked like a stranger. Like he was capable of very bad things.

  “He lied.”

  Those two words broke me. I gripped the steering wheel and cried for him. I trusted Locke all this time. It seemed unfathomable that he would lie to me. For what purpose? He gave me his word Conor would be okay. If it was a lie, he would have known the truth would come to light, and it wasn’t Locke’s style to just lie without reason, without logic.

  But he lied.

  He lied.

  I’d always defended Locke. I couldn’t bear to hear a bad word uttered about him. The pangs in my chest worsened. I felt so confused, so conflicted. I rubbed at my heart, looking out the windshield.

  After everything Locke did for me, it felt like a huge insult to think badly about him. And if he lied to me about keeping Conor safe in prison, I wanted to hear it from him.

  At the same time, Locke frightened me, too. He was capable of abhorrent things, and while I understood his motive some of the time, other times they made little sense to me.

  Locke enjoyed destruction.

  He enjoyed watching people fall. He fucked with someone’s emotions because he was fascinated by the way they fell apart. He was a villain through and through. And here I was trying to see the best in him still. If he were here, watching me, he would smile. He would enjoy my reluctance to bring him down.

  Had I been manipulated by him this whole time? The thought unsettled me. I felt genuinely disturbed, though I couldn’t fathom it. When he needed me, I’d been there. He trusted me.

  But Conor would never lie to me, either. My heart wrenched for him. The second I saw him again I knew he was hurting. I knew he was hiding his vulnerability from me. I knew he couldn’t touch me while I watched for fear I’d see him come undone.

  What horrors had Conor faced?

  I needed his walls down to help him.

  Locke’s car was parked beside mine. He was in the office, and I was trying to talk myself out of confronting him, but the more I thought about it, the more betrayed I felt.

  At some point, I’d had enough. I threw the coffee cup down and undid my seatbelt. I clamoured out of the car and slammed it shut hard. Then I stormed into the firm, a ball of fury. I wasn’t dressed to impress today. I knew it took everyone by surprise as I ignored their greetings and stomped in the opposite direction.

  The blinds were down in his office. I couldn’t see in, but I didn’t care. I threw the door open and thundered in.

  Locke was seated at his desk, phone to his ear. He glanced up at me. In that single second, I saw his eyes scan me, saw his face twist with annoyance. He could read me so well. He knew I was about to blow because he hung up the phone straightaway as I stopped in front of him, pointing a seething finger in his direction.

  “You lied to me,” I fumed, my voice hardly above a whisper. “You promised he’d be okay.”

  “You have to be more specific than that,” he replied inertly.

  “Conor,” I clarified with a hiss. “You said he would be okay in prison.”

  “I kept to my word.”

  “You didn’t.”

  Now he just stared at me, watching me as I shook through his betrayal.

  “He got hurt in there,” I went on, my voice low and angry. “He’s not telling me what he had to do, but he is haunted. How could you lie to me, Locke? I trusted you.” Hot tears ran down my cheeks as I waited for his response. He remained mute, nothing escaping him as he continued to watch me.

  I wiped my tears away, feeling angrier by the second. “If I had known Conor would be left in there to fend for himself all these years, I would never have accepted your offer. I would never have been there for you when you needed me. I will never be there for you again, do you hear?”

  Now his eyes left mine. He looked deep in thought, and just when I thought he’d respond, he proved otherwise by remaining mute in that chair.

  Oh, God, it was true then. All of it.

  “Please tell me I’m wrong,” I whispered just then, searching his face.

  But he didn’t.

  He didn’t say anything.

  “You left him in there to rot.” I sounded shocked. I couldn’t believe it. “I thought you cared for him. I thought Conor was different, Locke. You bastard.”

  I hated how quiet he was.

  I expected him to growl at me, to tell me to watch my words.

  “I defended you, did you know that?” I went on, unable to hold back now. “Every time someone said anything about you, I defended you. To Megan, to Ember, to Jem –”

  “Jem,” he repeated, flaring his nostrils, a surge of emotion flaring through him now.

  “Yes, Jem,” I said evenly. “And to anyone else who would listen. I shouldn’t have. I should have let everyone talk shit. Even Reid warned me about you just the other day.”

  His eyes returned to mine. “Reid.”

  “He told me to warn you to back off his territory. You guys were at peace, working together, and then you go around and mess with him. Which doesn’t surprise me because that’s what you do, Locke, you just fuck with everyone’s shit. I was just a prop, wasn’t I? Just something you could control. Somebody you could use every time you needed me.”

  “You needed me too, Charlotte,” he simply replied, his voice flat. “You’ve lived very well under my thumb.”

  “Are you using me?” I asked right then, my vulnerability slipping. “Are you going to fuck me over, Locke?”

  He raised a brow. “Is that what you believe I’ll do?”

  “I don’t know what to believe anymore,” I expressed, feeling exhausted. “You lied to me so well about Conor, you could be lying to me about everything else.”

  “If you think that’s what I am – a liar – then you can leave, Charlotte. You can go and I’ll never bother you again.”

  “Just admit it.”

  “Admit what?”

  “That you did it. That you lied about him. That you left him in there to fend for himself, that you led me to believe he would be okay! Just admit it!”

  But Locke didn’t say a word. He lips pressed shut as he watched me shake now.

  I wasn’t getting through to him. I’d sort of hoped he’d lash out at my rage, maybe acknowledge his lies in the heat of the moment.

  I should have known Locke was too in control of himself to do that.

  Being here was futile. I took a step back, aware I was going to fly off on him if I just stood around. I had so many toxic things I wanted to say, but I knew I would never forgive myself if I said them.

  Instead, I muttered heatedly, “Everyone was right. You don’t give a shit about anyone but yourself, Locke.”

  He didn’t even look at me as I delivered my final words. His eyes were downcast, staring thoughtfully at a spot on the desk. I turned away and stormed out. I didn’t even bother slamming the door for effect. He wouldn’t care.

  I returned to the car instead, watched my fingers shake as I clutched the steering wheel and waited for the heat in me to die down.

  I waited a very long time.

  When I returned to the house, I was shocked to find the garage door open and Conor standing inside it. His arms were crossed over his – oh my god, he’d found work overalls to wear. My chest seized at the sight of them on him. Filthy fucking overalls, grey and tight across his chest, sleeves rolled up to the elbows. I could have had a heart attack right there in the car. He was staring in concentration in
front of him, a hand rubbing at his mouth as he stared down at…

  I raised a brow.

  There was a sad looking car parked inside the garage. I didn’t know the make or model. Cars weren’t my thing. But holy shit, it looked sad as hell.

  I parked the car in the driveway and stepped out. I felt my heart climb my throat as I slowly approached him. I didn’t know where we stood. This morning was tense and he looked wounded and angered, and they weren’t emotions I liked seeing on him.

  “What’s this?” I asked timidly, my voice tiny. I stopped next to him, feeling unsure. My eyes scanned the sad looking car. Its grey paintjob from centuries ago was chipped and ugly. There was so much dust on the windows, I could hardly see inside the car, and what I could see was gross and worn.

  “Jem delivered this just now,” he replied quietly.

  I glanced around us and to the street, searching. “What, now?”

  “He left just fifteen minutes before you came. Said he’d be back any minute with breakfast.”

  “Are you meant to salvage this piece of crap?”

  His lips quirked to one side, a half-smile that made my insides tighten. “Yeah, dove. I guess so.”

  “Is it even salvageable?”

  “It is. I can turn it into something nice. It won’t make a whole lot, but it’s a classic Camaro. It’ll make something.”

  I nodded, pretending to be a whole lot interested in this stuff. Before he went to prison, he had spent countless time yammering away about cars, going over the restoration process to me in agonizing detail. I never soaked a word of it in because I was too busy staring at him. I’d been enthralled by his passion for it. The way he came alive. The way his fingers shook with the urge to race back out to the shed he’d had and get working.

  I nodded again, to myself this time, aware of Jem’s intentions. He would have seen how edgy Conor was over dinner all that time ago. He was trying to bring him back to us by making him remember what he loved the most about freedom. I felt so thankful right then to have Jem in our corner.

  Turning to Conor now, I let out a slow and steady breath before finally uttering, “Conor, about this morning –”