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Entwined: (A Dark Romance Kidnap Thriller) (The Dark Necessities Trilogy Book 3)

Page 23

by Felicity Brandon


  Molly shook her head, “I don’t know,” she whispered. “I thought it would help, but now that we’re on our way, I’m not so sure.”

  “It will help,” he insisted, his tone curt as he glowered at her in the shadows. “Lydia deserves this, and it will be the start of some absolution for me.”

  Absolution.

  Molly stared into his eyes as she considered that one. Could Connor truly be absolved for what he had done? Was there any coming back from the abyss he’d created? And yet, she already knew that there was. He was not the monster she’d once known, and while she knew that part of him still lurked inside, she also knew he was working hard to cage it. He was doing that, not Molly. So, Connor had the inclination, and clearly, he had the conscience, however much he might have protested the point in the past. The man she loved was there to be redeemed, he just needed guidance to take the right path.

  “The start of the absolution?” she murmured, reaching to stroke the top of the hand which imprisoned hers. “What else did you have in mind?”

  “We’ll see,” he told her. “Let’s get through this morning first.”

  Molly sighed, but she nodded in agreement, watching the road bend in the headlights as the car began to slow. “We’re here?”

  “Yes.”

  She pulled away from his body, pressing her face against the glass again. This was it, they were back in the woods again. The same woods he’d taken her to that God-awful night last summer, and the same woods she’d fled into the next morning. So consumed in her memories was she, that Molly didn’t notice him exit the car. All of a sudden, Connor was there, opening her door and allowing the cold air to meet her face.

  “Come, kitten,” he murmured. “We need to get moving.”

  Taking his hand, she allowed him to lead her back into the woods. There were already two other dark cars parked, evidence of the Syndicate members who had arrived before them, but Molly couldn’t hear anyone else around.

  “Will the others meet us there?” she mumbled as they hiked through the trees. Only the light of his flashlight gave her any sense of where they were going.

  “Yes,” he told her. “They know where to go. At least two of them helped to bury her in the first place.”

  Molly shuddered at his response, an instinctive reflex she supposed, when your lover spoke so candidly about how he disposed of his last girlfriend. “I remember the last time you brought me here,” she whispered.

  His palm squeezed her hand gently. “So do I,” he purred. “In the carrier.”

  She nodded, although she doubted he would be able to see the gesture. “I remember thinking how ominous this place was as you carried me through it, and that nothing good would happen to a woman out here.”

  “You were right,” he replied thoughtfully. “These woods have always been a dark place for me.”

  “But I did better than Lydia,” she said in a barely audible voice.

  Connor stopped, his abrupt halt drawing Molly to her own rapid pause. Gripping her hand, he drew her body back toward him in the darkness, and she felt his arms snaking around her coat.

  “Please, don’t do that.” His tone was soft, yet insistent, and Molly raised her chin to follow the sound of it.

  “What, Master?” she asked, responding reflexively to the authoritative timbre of his voice.

  “That,” he replied. “Don’t compare yourself to Lydia. You have never been like her. We have never been anything like the way I was with her.”

  Molly swallowed into the shirt at his chest. He had refused to wear anything more, despite her repeated pleas to the contrary. This wasn’t the first time Connor had told her this, in fact, he had inferred the ideas many times before.

  “I just meant that you brought us both here, but Lydia never left.” Her voice sounded tiny in the mass of blackness, and the thought triggered a memory of the hours she’d spent alone in these woods, desperate, hurt and scared.

  “Lydia never came here alive,” he reminded her. “This was always going to be her final resting place, kitten, but it was never going to be yours.”

  He sighed, the sound stretching out around her body. “I fucked up with Lydia. I was only the monster then, and rarely ever the man. She was only a commodity to me; it’s not an excuse, but it’s the truth. That was how I saw her. I wish I could make you understand.”

  “I’m trying,” she replied breathlessly.

  “I know,” he said, pulling her closer against him. “You’ve been more than understanding. Anyone else would have run screaming and never looked back.”

  “Anyone else would have told the cops and seen you behind bars for good, Master,” she told him.

  “Right,” he snorted, kissing the top of her head. “Nobody else could understand how messed up we both are, yet how perfect we are for each other.”

  She pressed the side of her face against his body, breathing in the smell of him. “Fuck them,” she murmured. “They don’t know us. They don’t know what we’ve been through to get to this.”

  Connor inhaled, and although she couldn’t be sure, she suspected there was emotion in his voice as he answered. “I’m not sure what this devil has done to deserve you, kitten, but I won’t ever stop trying to make you happy.”

  Chapter Forty-Five

  They embraced in the darkness of the woods, and despite the cold, dank air, Connor didn’t think he’d ever been happier than this moment. Or maybe that wasn’t right. Maybe it wasn’t happiness which swelled in his chest, but a strange sense of contentment. Molly was his angel, and he would do whatever he needed to do to make her proud, to make her happy. He’d never wanted to make anyone else happy before; hell, he’d rarely cared about pleasing them. This was a first, and it was quite a realization.

  “We’d better go,” he whispered at length. “They’ll be waiting.”

  Molly nodded, but still neither of them let go. It was as though they knew this was a tipping point, and what was about to take place in the woods was going to change things forever—again. Slowly, he drew away from her clinging limbs, stroking her silky hair before his arm fell to her waist, and Connor guided her through the trees. The light in his left hand showed him where the largest branches were, but in truth, Connor didn’t need it, he had only brought it for Molly. He had done this journey so many times before, that he had no qualms about navigating. Connor knew these woods all too well. In fact, he reckoned there would forever be a fragment of his own soul buried here, along with his ex-girlfriend.

  The two of them walked in silence. He wasn’t sure how long it took, but it was probably close to twenty minutes before he heard the voices. Distant at first, the sounds grew louder until soon they could see the flashlights of the other men darting about the trees ahead. The clearing he’d erected the cabin in came into sight shortly after that. Connor directed the light in its direction, his gaze taking in what was left of the place. Evidently a combination of the weather, and the police investigation had taken its toll on his little creation, and there didn’t seem to be much of it standing anymore.

  “Oh my God,” gasped his kitten. “Is that where you took me?”

  “Yep,” he sighed, unsure if his reticence was actually remorse at the way he had treated Molly there, or its current state of disrepair. He reckoned it was probably both. “We’re nearly there.”

  Connor guided her left, dodging the roots of a particularly ancient oak tree, until he found the place he had left Lydia. As expected, Dalton, Malone and a number of the others were already there.

  “About time, Reilly.” One of them shouted as they approached, and he glanced up to find Michael Malone blocking his path. Dressed in his full religious regalia, Malone looked every inch the Catholic priest, and nothing like the party-hard playboy he’d once known.

  “Shut it, Reverend,” he sneered, but moments later they both broke into laughter.

  Dropping the flashlight, Connor reached for Malone, embracing the man with Molly still clutched at his hip.


  “Good to see you, man,” he told him earnestly. “Thank you for coming.”

  Malone nodded, flashing his own light in the direction of Molly at Connor’s side. “And who is this?” he asked in that gravelly Irish lilt, which had always driven the women wild before Michael had taken his vows.

  “This is Molly,” answered Connor, pressing her small frame even harder against him, as though there could be any doubt about their relationship.

  Malone smiled, his grin lit ominously by the flashlight in his hand, which now threw light toward the night sky. “A pleasure, Molly,” he purred. “I wish it could have been under happier circumstances.”

  She offered him a tentative smile. “Nice to meet you.”

  Connor suppressed the urge to chuckle. If he didn’t know better, he could have sworn his little kitten was becoming anglicized.

  “Shall we?” called Dalton from behind Malone. “It will be light in a few hours and we all need to be out of here before then.”

  Connor nodded, meeting Malone’s gaze as he moved to greet his brother, and the others. “Thank you all for coming,” he muttered. “I’ll hand this over to Michael.”

  Malone inhaled, his eyes closing briefly before he gestured for everyone to gather around him. “Is this where Lydia went back to the earth?”

  Connor glanced down at the damp soil below his feet. “Yes, just next to this tree,” he admitted. “She’s below us.”

  His kitten jumped at that, her small gasp filling the air until he reached for her hand again.

  “Then we should begin,” continued Malone, blowing his brown locks out of his eyes as he reached into dark robes. Pulling a small bottle of clear liquid from his pocket, he handed his flashlight to Molly.

  “Would you mind holding this for me, my dear?” he asked her in an irritatingly seductive tone.

  Molly nodded, taking the torch wordlessly, before shining it in Malone’s direction.

  “Thank you,” he cooed. “We all know the grievous circumstances which cause us to be here this morning. We have come to lay Lydia to rest in the respectful way she deserves, and, in doing so, we hope to help Connor atone for his sins.”

  Connor swallowed at Malone’s words. He had been expecting this much; it was always the same religious bullshit with Malone, but Connor didn’t counter him. Michael had flown over to be here, to do this, to help him. What Connor needed to do now was keep quiet and at least look repentant.

  “Step forward please, Connor.”

  The sound of Malone’s voice jarred him from his private thoughts, and with a deep breath, Connor wriggled free of Molly’s hand, and stepped forward. He glanced back at his pet, momentarily wondering if bringing her along had been a good idea, but, it was too late now. And anyhow, this was what she had wanted. Molly had a right to be there.

  “Connor.” The vibration of Malone’s timbre drew his attention back to the priest in front of him. “Confession is normally a private forum between a minister and the sinner. Do you agree to waive the right to this privacy?”

  Connor blinked at him in the half-light created by the interconnecting flashlight beams. “I agree,” he said with a nod.

  Malone pursed his lips. “Then tell me, Connor. What do you want to confess?”

  There was silence around them, the trees eerily lit in the dead of the forest. Connor steeled himself. He was prepared for this part, having spent much of his childhood in church before his parents had died. The words of the prayers had always stayed with him, even though he had never believed in them, and somehow, the sacrament of confession was particularly burned into his memory. Falling to his knees, he lowered his head toward the earth. Beneath his body, submerged and rotting in the very soil he now knelt upon was the body of his old lover. An innocent caught up in his dark desire.

  “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.” The initial words were hard work, but once he began, Connor found they simply fell from his lips. “It has been decades since my last confession, and I have a lot to tell you.”

  “Too bloody right,” snorted Dalton from behind him.

  Connor bit his lip, fighting the urge to grin at his brother’s snipe.

  “Thank you, Dalton,” admonished Malone. “Please continue, Connor.”

  “It is true,” he began. “I did kill Lydia, and she neither willed, nor deserved it. I’m a monster, and I took her life just because I could.”

  The silence around his kneeling body seemed to bloom at that moment, pressing down on him somehow, as though it wanted to bury him right there, with his victim.

  “And are you sorry, Connor?” asked Malone. “Do you repent?”

  The words hung in the air between them, and for a moment Connor said nothing. He didn’t know what to say, because honestly, he didn’t know. Was he sorry? Did he regret the thing he had done? Of course, he knew it was wrong to kill, he had always known that. Somehow, at the time he couldn’t bring himself to care, either about his own demons, or the agony the deed must have caused Lydia’s family. But now; now his conscience had stirred, and there was no doubt in Connor’s mind why that was. Molly had pricked his morality, and made him examine himself. For the first time in his life, he had met someone who could do that, someone who meant something, someone he didn’t want to let down again.

  “I am, Father,” he told Malone, though his head remained bowed in the direction of the earth.

  “We shall conclude your penance another time, Connor,” Malone told him, “and based on our prior conversations, I know you will be sorry then, even if you are not clear on this point now.”

  Connor closed his eyes, recalling the discussion to which Malone referred. When he’d contacted his old friend and asked him to come for this, they had also talked about what might constitute a suitable punishment for taking Lydia’s life. There could be no answer from the law—not amongst the group he resided in—so they had to think a little out of the box. He hadn’t spoken to Molly about it yet. In fact, he hadn’t told anyone about his plan except Dalton and Saul, but the thought hung over him like storm cloud.

  “Then for now, hear my words.” There was a pause and for the first time Connor lifted his head to see Malone towering over him. “God the Father of mercies, through the death and resurrection of his son has reconciled the world to himself, and sent the Holy Spirit among us for the forgiveness of sins.” Malone’s voice was intense as it carried the prayer through the clearing. “Through the ministry of the church may God give you pardon and peace, and once you have you suffered for your sins, Connor, I will absolve you from them in the name of the Father, and of the son, and of the holy spirit. Amen.”

  At that moment, right on cue, the heavens opened, and cool spring rain cascaded down over them. Connor shook his head at the act, certain that if there really was a God, then this must his idea of forgiveness. Or partial forgiveness. The real stuff could only be delivered once Connor had truly sacrificed for his sin.

  Malone reached forward, resting his palm against Connor’s shoulder. “You may stand, Connor,” he told him. “Let’s lay Lydia to rest.”

  The rain was pounding as he stood, and within a second, his kitten was back at his side, her presence filling him with unexpected strength in the face of what was to come.

  Malone raised his palms toward the sky. “Forasmuch as it has pleased almighty God of his great mercy to take unto himself the soul of our dear sister, Lydia here departed, we therefore commit her body to the ground, earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust, in sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life through our Lord Jesus Christ.”

  The words projected through the trees, their echo evident even through the sound of the pouring rain.

  “I hope she’ll be at peace now,” whispered Molly, who was clinging onto Connor’s wet shirt.

  Malone paused and glanced over in her direction. “She’s with God now, Molly. That’s as much peace as any of us will know.”

  Chapter Forty-Six

  The ceremony in the woods was al
most ethereal. Molly eyed the man known as Michael with a mixture of awe and suspicion. He certainly sounded like a priest, but given everything he must have known about Connor, and the other men in The Syndicate, could he really be one? How could a priest condone the behavior of this group? How could he reconcile their conduct with his God? And yet as Connor pulled her into his body, she already knew the truth. Michael dealt with it the same way she had. Most likely he didn’t excuse it, perhaps he tried to offer forgiveness where it was sought, but at the end of the day, he accepted the people for what they were. Men. Just men, and all of them sinners. They were as frail as humans came.

  She glanced toward Connor, caught up in the emotion of the moment despite the ungodly weather. Molly had accepted his frailties, alright. She acknowledged the awful wrong he had committed when he stole Lydia’s life, and yet she couldn’t give up on him. She couldn’t let that be the end. Perhaps it was the romance writer in her that made her believe in the impossible; the idea of the happy ever after, but all she knew was she couldn’t let Connor go. Molly hoped that being part of this vigil tonight would be the start of a new chapter for him, for both of them. Lydia finally had the acknowledgement she deserved, the prayers, the ritual, and the respect. Molly had never been one for religion, but she’d imagined what she would have appreciated if she’d been the one cast in the earth. A shudder ran down her spine as she really considered the prospect. She’d want a little recognition for one, and some damn reverence. But, more than that, she’d want justice. In whatever form that came in The Syndicate. Connor hadn’t spoken to her about what he was planning when it came to suffering for his sins, but knowing the man, she had an idea it would be brutal.

  “Let’s get out of the clearing.” Connor’s gravelly tone interrupted her thoughts, and she peered up at his drenched face. Of course, they were all drenched now, the heavens having literally opened on them as the priest concluded. “We can get some shelter.”

  She nodded, allowing him to lead her under one of the giant trees which surrounded the small clearing, and huddled against him.

 

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