Chasing the Red Queen

by Karen Glista

  “No, some bystander must have seen us running and told the police or someone may have gotten your license plate number on the bridge, hell I don’t know why they’re here, but we admit nothing. You got it?”

  “Yes,” Donja hesitated, “I think,” she breathed, her heart pounding.

  “Let’s hope so. All our lives depend on this performance.”

  Rebellion

  Seated side by side on the antiquated sofa in the living room, Donja and Makayla listened as Carson and one of the two Michigan Soo Police officers made small talk.

  Eventually, one of the officers moseyed over and identified himself as Don Blackfoot. He dragged one of the antique chairs, which perfectly matched the sofa, and sat down facing them. The chair creaked miserably as he leaned forward with both hands gripping his knees. He cast his blue eyes to Donja then back to Makayla, sizing them up. He smiled and though it was meant to set them at ease, it only intensified their anxiety. “The two of you were at Observers over in Ontario on Saturday night.”

  “Yes,” Makayla breathed.

  “I’m told by some of the attendants at the club that on the night in question, the two of you made a hasty exit around midnight. We have a couple of reports that outside the club, the two of you were running. Can you tell me what you were running from?”

  “An ugly man who kept wanting me to dance,” Donja blurted with a flat demeanor.

  The officer tilted his head with a suspicious stare. “An ugly man?”

  “Yes,” Donja retorted, “with a mole on his face.”

  Damn, why did I say that? Donja thought.

  “A mole? Hmm. Did you get a name?”

  “No, we ran.” She said, trying to keep it short.

  “Did you notice anything unusual outside the club when you,” he paused searching their faces, “ran from this alleged, ugly man?”

  “Yeah,” Makayla said. “I think there was some sort of brawl between a few drunks further down the street. We decided to get out of there fast. We didn’t want to get caught up in anything like that.”

  “Did you recognize any of the drunks involved in the brawl?”

  “No.” Makayla answered as she met his look of inquiry.

  “Where did you go when you left the club?”

  “Home,” they both chimed simultaneously.

  “Do you know a young woman named Becky?”

  “They have already answered those questions, officer,” a deep masculine voice echoed through the room. Surprised, everyone rose to their feet and all eyes fell upon Torin and Gage, standing at the living room door. Torin, dressed in tight black slacks and a white shirt with a black, button down vest which emphasized his perfect physique, took a step forward. He removed his shades, his dark eyes shimmering.

  My God, he cut his hair and he looks so much younger, Donja thought.

  “How did you get in?” Carson asked.

  “Forgive the intrusion,” Torin said with a disarming smile, “but the front door was ajar, and seeing the police, I took the liberty. My apologies, but I was concerned for Donja.”

  “And you are?” Officer Blackfoot asked.

  “Torin Mancini, lead detective for the Ontario Soo.” He whipped out his badge from inside his vest. “As I said, we have already interrogated the ladies,” Torin said, smiling. It was in the moment that Donja noticed the bouquet of flowers in his hand.

  “Well, I apologize,” Blackfoot replied, “I wasn’t aware.”

  “My fault,” Torin answered, “I haven’t turned in my report, but it will be on your desk by nine a.m. tomorrow.”

  “Very well, “Mr. Mancini. Tell me, your voice. Do I detect an Italian accent?”

  “You’re very observant, officer,” Torin replied, with a voice as smooth as honey. “I’m originally from Italy,” he smiled proudly. “I’ve been here five years now after accepting a position with the Ontario Justice Department,” he continued with an aura that would charm bees. “It’s a magnificent area and I love it more every day,” he said, eyes locked on Donja.

  Donja felt her cheeks flame and she didn’t fail to notice the concern in her mother’s eyes.

  Officer Blackfoot turned back to Donja and Makayla. “Thank you, ladies,” he said as he and the other officer took their leave.

  The room succumbed to an eerie silence. Finally, Carson spoke up. “Sorry, he said as he extended his hand. Torin took it and they shook firmly. “I’m Carson, Donja’s stepfather. Won’t you sit down,” he said as he turned and shook hands with Gage. “How are you, Gage?”

  “Gage, dressed in a white shirt with a tan corduroy overcoat and trousers, nodded with a thin smile. “Good, sir, and you?”

  “I’m well, thank you, but I’m still waiting on that golf game you promised.”

  “It’s hard, Mr. Hampton,” Gage replied. “I work odd hours.”

  Torin made a beeline for Donja and much to her amazement kissed her cheek. “These are for you,” he whispered, extending the bouquet of flowers.

  She felt herself all but swoon. He was close, lips to her cheek close and he didn’t flinch or tremble, he wasn’t nervous, and he had flowers. She eyed them with a kiss that still tingled on her cheek. They were beautiful. She raised them to her nose, unsure of the feelings welling in her chest. They were her first. “Thank you,” she blushed with a fleeting glance which revealed the shock in her mother’s eyes.

  Torin turned to Lisa. “You must be Lisa, Donja has told me so much about you.”

  How does he know her name? Donja wondered.

  Lisa’s eyes fluttered her distress as Carson sat down beside her and put his arm around her.

  “Torin,” Lisa blurted, her voice edgy. “I don’t mean to be blunt, but how old are you?”

  “Twenty-six just yesterday, he said, “though I must admit, I still get scanned every time I buy a drink.”

  Gage and Makayla laughed, but it fell on empty ears.

  “And you realize Donja is sixteen.”

  “Seventeen, Mom,” Donja corrected her.

  “Seventeen, yes, excuse me, but still, that’s almost a ten-year difference? I don’t know about Italy, but in this country, that’s illegal.”

  “I’m aware, I’m in law enforcement,” he smiled.

  “Well I don’t give a damn what you’re in, Mr. Mancini, but if you think you’re going out on a date with my underage daughter, you’ve got another thing coming!”

  “Mom!” Donja shrieked. “Would you stop, you’re being rude!”

  “That’s my job,” Lisa glowered, “I’m your mother.”

  Donja tightened her lip, striding across the antique rug into the foyer. “Mom,” she called out, “would you please come and help me find a vase for the flowers.”

  Lisa followed and Donja took a deep breath, dreading the showdown. The minute they got to the kitchen, Donja grabbed a vase then spun on her heels. “Mom, you need to stop.”

  “I will not, you’re a child.”

  “Look at me. I’m not a child. Now don’t make me fight you because I will.” Donja glowered, watching the blood drain from her mom’s face.

  “What did you say?” Lisa raised her voice.

  “Don’t make me fight you. I have feelings for him and for the record, I don’t care if he’s fifty.”

  Lisa’s gaze hardened as she raised a tremulous hand to her brow. “I won’t stand back and watch some foreign Romeo ruin your life. There’s a name for men like him, men who prey on young girls. Now I don’t know who you think you’re talking to, but it’s me,” she said with a hand to her chest, “your mother, and believe me, little girl, it’s not gonna happen.”

  Donja, who in her spiked heels, stood eye to eye with her mom felt empowered. She stepped forward and they faced off. “Would that be ruining my life like my father ruined yours?” she asked sarcastically. “I know the truth,” she scoffed, suddenly less confident as she turned and made her way to the sink. She stuffed the flowers into the vase, her heart pounding. She fired a cursory glance. “
I looked at your marriage certificate which occurred five months before I was born. You were seventeen and my dad was twenty-three, so don’t give me your holier than thou attitude.”

  Lisa slapped her. “How dare you!”

  “How dare us both,” Donja said holding her cheek. “I want this man.”

  Lisa’s mouth dropped.

  “Don’t mess this up for me,” Donja warned with more authority than any seventeen-year-old should possess.

  Lisa grasped the island for support, swooning.

  “Please,” Donja said, filling the vase with water, all the while hoping her tremors had gone unnoticed, “just trust me.”

  “Everything okay in here?” Carson said as he gripped the door jamb, leaning toward them with a look of concern.

  Lisa spun to Carson. “Do you allow Makayla to date that older man?”

  Carson just stared. “He’s twenty-four and it bothers me but there’s more to it than you know.”

  “Really, what is there to know Carson? She’s seventeen.”

  “I’ll explain it all later, but I allow it because he’s saved Makayla’s life.”

  Donja moved to Lisa who was stolid and kissed her cheek. “I have my phone in case you need to reach me.”

  Lisa gripped the island. “Donja, I forbid this!”

  Donja hesitated briefly. “Do you have no trust in me at all?”

  Lisa met her gaze.

  “I’m going to dinner with another couple. I could have done this behind your back, but I didn’t because I respect you…I love you. Can’t you just trust me?”

  Lisa didn’t answer, but her lips were quivering.

  Donja, with her heart painfully thumping her chest headed for the door. At the jamb, she paused. “We’re going to leave now. I love you,” she called out.

  Lisa didn’t turn, she stood there, gripping the island.

  Donja forced herself to walk away, the pain in her mother’s eyes all but unbearable, so much so that she forgot that an Iridescent predator was out there, lurking.

  In the foyer, Donja met Torin, Makayla and Gage. Torin opened the door and as Donja, who was still reeling from the unpleasant encounter with her mother cast a stealthy glance behind, she saw Frankie with Carson, standing near the kitchen door watching their departure.

  “You look beautiful,” Torin said as Donja exited the house. She ignored him and followed Makayla and Gage down the steps. She spied a shiny black Mercedes, surprised for she was expecting the black Charger. Finding the cobblestone walk, with her spiked heels echoing, the world faded as pain like a sword to the midsection impaled her heart. She fought her tears, the misery witnessed in her mother’s eyes, devastating.

  Torin followed behind and as she rounded the car, he darted in and opened her door. She slid inside while he circled the front of the car. Makayla and Gage got in the back seat and slammed the door. Torin fired the engine which purred like a cat, buckled his seat belt then leaned across the console, his scent which was…strange, settling upon her. “You are so beautiful,” he whispered, his seductive voice by no will of her own, luring her unto him. She slowly turned her head. They deadlocked and in that moment her body all but betrayed her, for she was instantly weakened by his dark, mysterious eyes. She lowered her gaze to his lips, so thick and inviting. Her heart skipped a beat, her dark lashes fluttering. A pent-up breath escaped her and though part of her wanted to tell him that he was the most gorgeous man she had ever known, she couldn’t, the pain in her mother’s face was too fresh. She turned away bound in silence and though she knew, as well as the back of her hand that hurting her mother was the only way to save her life, as well as her own, it didn’t lessen the pain. Not a damn bit.

  She shivered and as he slid the stick into reverse, a hasty glance from beneath her lowered lashes revealed that he was less tremulous than their last encounter. She recalled that he even kissed her cheek when he gave her the flowers. Confused by this sudden change, she again glanced his way and he was stolid, his jaw held tightly, his eyes narrowed. “You’re hurting,” he whispered, so softly that she tilted her head, unsure if it was real or imagined. She watched him in silence, unable to find her voice.

  “I’m sorry that it has to be this way,” he said with a prolonged glance and his serious eyes…so damn handsome.

  The car lunged forward but not before she saw her mother in the window, watching their departure. Donja felt herself crumble. A solitary tear streaked her cheek, but before it could fall, Torin caught it with his finger.

  “Please don’t cry,” he whispered.

  “I hurt her,” Donja sobbed, shocked by her own quivering voice. “I didn’t want to, but I had no choice, thanks to you, Scarface and your precious Council.”

  His demeanor hardened, his eyes like pits of boiling tar. “It would be best if you don’t speak of such,” he said, eyeing her intently before returning his eyes to the road. “Words said in haste could have dire consequences for us all.”

  She swallowed past the lump in her throat, painfully aware that he was right. The consequential rules of this new life were dangerous at best. She dropped her head as Makayla’s warning that neither of them might return from this date alive, rang in her head.

  Would he kill me, my entire family, to protect his way of life? Would he even have a choice? Do it or die himself.

  Something cold crept up her spine.

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  He didn’t answer.

  “This is all so new to me, so different.”

  She glanced to the back seat and Makayla as well as Gage, were stolid. She turned back and watched Torin’s face, his jaw tight. She swallowed hard. “It’s painful to hurt someone you love,” she whispered, “to inflict misery.”

  “I know,” he whispered without looking. “I’ve been there, but it’s just a moment in time. Embrace it, and let it go.” He leaned upon the console, so strong and steady, so in control and in that moment, she analyzed his transformation which was dramatic. He no longer shivered nor trembled in her presence. He was at ease, all powerful and though she didn’t understand nor have the foggiest clue as to why, she realized she loved it.

  “Your heart’s fluttering,” he said, gripping the wheel. He licked his lips. “It’s really fluttering,” he whispered, “and it’s not fear, it’s…” his words trailed as he grinned, “something else.”

  Donja looked away and that was the first time she felt a submissive desire to give of herself. A rush of heat rose from her chest to warm her cheeks and she closed her eyes, wondering how he would taste.

  She felt him lean across the console and turned to face him, his lips so close that she shuddered.

  His eyes caressed her, seductively. She turned away.

  My God his eyes, what is that?

  He turned on the music, eyes back on the road, steady as if nothing had happened between them.

  She eyed him with curiosity.

  What power do you have over me, hate you one minute, willing to die for your touch the next.

  She exhaled, eyes back to her window, her heart on fire.

  As I Am

  Just inside the city limits of the Michigan Soo, Torin pulled into the parking lot of ‘The English Inn,’ an award-winning restaurant and pub. He parked, got out and came around to open Donja’s door, which caught her off guard. No boy, or man for that matter, had ever opened her door and though it seemed foreign, it felt amazing. She stepped out and joined Makayla and Gage.

  “Are you hungry?” Torin asked, towering over her.

  “No, not really,” she said tilting her chin to view his face. Winds whipped her hair and she smoothed her dress, her heart strumming.

  He scanned her body, he didn’t even try to hide it, his dark eyes reflecting the street lamps. “Very well, he said. He tossed the keys to Gage. “You guys take the Mercedes. We’ll meet you back here,” he said, glancing at his gold jubilee Rolex, “about midnight.”

  He took Donja’s hand as if it were second nature l
eading her across the parking lot. She followed, shocked by the feel of his skin which was warm…too warm to be human. He led her toward a black Ferrari.

  “Where’s the Charger?”

  “That’s a work car. This is mine,” he said, and then he spoke forcefully. “Open.” The Ferrari beeped. He opened her door and she slid into the red leather seat. He circled and got in, then spoke to the car and the engine purred.

  Donja buckled up as he revved the motor. “You have voice control over your car?”

  “I like voice control on all things with the exception being my woman. For her, I prefer eye control.” He gave her a serious look and for a moment she could only stare for he was so damn handsome that it took all her willpower not to dive into him. “Donja,” he asked with smoldering eyes, drawing her from fantasy. “How would you feel about that?”

  “About what?” she blushed.

  He smiled with thick lips beneath his thin mustache, curling. “You’re blushing, and I love that it’s because of me.”

  “What did you ask?” she mumbled.

  “I said I like eye control and I asked how you would feel about that.” He leaned closer. “A simple glance from your eyes to mine, your needs displayed like an open book.”

  A wave of heat surged within, an instant yearning the likes of which she had never felt.

  “Come now, don’t be shy,” he said as his lips parted. She fixated on his pearly white teeth contrasted by his deep olive complexion. “Wouldn’t you want that kind of control over a man?” he whispered.

  She met his powerful gaze. “Well, I…maybe.”

  “And could you reciprocate?” he asked as he blinked with thick lashes over smoldering eyes. “Could you give it back, drop him to his knees and shackle him with a simple look.”

  Donja swallowed hard, but the fire building within, mixed with an intense fear of the unknown, silenced her tongue. She glanced to her hands which she held tightly in her lap.

  “You’re trembling,” he said.

  She bit at her lip, something building within.

  “Your body temperature has increased,” he said, his voice deepening as he leaned closer, so close in fact that she shivered. “You’re wet,” he whispered, “and it’s about the most beautiful thing I have ever smelled.”