“Where can I find M?”
“He’ll find you.”
“That’s not the way it works. I’ll find him, I’ll chop off his balls and dick, and I’ll feed them to him. I’ll then seal up his mouth so he chokes on his own genitals.” I swing the axe around but don’t bring it down on anything. I’m taunting him, now.
“You’ll never do it,” my father retorts. I can tell he’s weakening. His skin is ashen, and each word is agony for him to speak.
“Where is he?” My patience is gone. I want this over. I want rid of this man from my life. He’s nothing more than a sperm donor to me.
“Closer than you think and with a new toy.”
My father’s eyes roll back in his head. I bring the axe down on his other hand, but he doesn’t respond. He doesn’t even move. He’s slipped into unconsciousness. I feel at his neck for a pulse…there’s a faint one. He’ll bleed out in a matter of moments. I could revive him with cold water, but I know I’ll never get anything else out of him. ‘Closer than you think’ means he’s most likely still here in America, possibly even here in New Orleans. An overwhelming urge to get back to Megan hits me.
I pick up my Glock and without any emotion fire off the remaining rounds into my father’s body.
I stand there in silence for a few moments with a quiet prayer on my lips for the girl who died. I should have found her sooner and helped. I was weak back then: confused and scared. But no longer. I won’t rest until I’ve rescued as many of the girls sold by my father as I can.
I pick up his severed hands and place them on a tray. Then taking one final look at the dead body of the man who should have been everything to me but ended up as nothing but dirt under my feet, I leave the room.
Arthur stands outside.
He doesn’t say anything when I emerge and hand him the tray.
“Make sure one of them goes to my mother. It’s about time she knows she’s free of him.”
Arthur nods and opens his mouth to speak to me, but I’m already heading down the corridor and back home, keeping my promise to protect Megan.
Megan
When Gawain returned home last night, he barely spoke two words to me before disappearing into the gym and then going to bed. I didn’t know whether I should follow him or what to expect after he’d given me an orgasm yesterday, so I retired to my own room. I woke in the middle of the night and was surprised to find it wasn’t as a result of a bad dream, but because Gawain was also in the bed with me. He must have got in at some point during the night. I don’t know whether the reason Arthur needed to see him had anything to do with M or not, but maybe this is what he’s like after killing someone. It can’t be an easy thing to do. I’ve never thought about it before, but the man I’m in bed with kills people for a living. Bad people, though, and only those who deserve it. As long as he is saving girls like me, I’ll be at his side. I snuggle back down in the bed, and he wraps his arm around me.
* * *
I wake in the morning, and we’re still lying in the same position.
“Good morning,” I say as I turn in the bed to face him.
“Good morning,” Gawain responds, and there’s a light behind his eyes as if a weight has been lifted.
“Are you ok?” I ask, not really expecting an answer.
But then he surprises me by saying, “Last night, I killed the man who sold you.”
His words shock me, and I sit bolt upright in the bed.
“You found him?”
“Yes. We’ve destroyed the whole smuggling ring. We’re still working on finding all the girls, though.”
“Thank you.”
He doesn’t accept my gratitude. He slides from the bed and walks back to his room.
“Gawain?”
“You shouldn’t thank me.”
“Why? Because you killed him? It means we are closer to finding M now.” I shift to the end of the bed. My baggy pajamas hiding my newly discovered modesty.
Gawain shakes his head and looks toward the floor.
“He was my father.”
“What?” I gasp.
“The man who sold you. He was my father. I knew what he was doing twenty years ago but did nothing to stop it. I was young, scared, and foolish.”
“Little more than a teenager,” I interrupt, confused as to what I’m hearing.
“Sixteen.”
Realization dawns on me.
“You lost your virginity to a purchased girl.” I can’t help but get up from the bed and try to put as much distance between us as possible. Bile rising in my stomach.
He nods.
“You raped someone.”
He nods again.
“My father took me to his office, and a girl was brought in kicking and screaming. I was told to take her. I didn’t move until a gun was pointed at my head, and my pants were pulled down.”
My heart breaks, imagining Gawain as a sixteen-year-old boy being forced to do what he did. He would have been as terrified as I was the first time I was taken. He’s a victim just as much as I am. The next thing I know, I’m flying across the room and wrapping my arms around him.
“No, stop now. You saved me. You killed the man who caused this. What happened to you wasn’t your fault. You were so young. You’ve been making up for it ever since.”
“I’ve been fucking as many women as I can, ever since, to give them pleasure from my dick.”
Tears stream down my face.
“This is your father’s fault. It’s not yours, Gawain. You saved me and countless others. You’re a good man.”
“I can’t find M,” he adds with the look of frustration and disgrace still on his face.
“We’ll find him together.”
“He has another girl.”
My head feels dizzy at the thought of that. I race across to my wardrobe and bring out a baggy t-shirt and pair of leggings.
“Take me back to the house,” I demand as I rip my pajama’s off and pull the clean clothes on. Gawain stands there dumbfounded.
“There has to be a clue there somewhere. We’ll find it together.
“Megan…the memories.”
“Can be overcome if we’re saving others.”
“Ok. I’ll have a few of the guys meet us there.” Gawain pulls out his phone and types out a message.
“I promise you, you’re a good man.” I feel the need to press a kiss to his lips.
“Who just happens to kill people for a living,” he replies.
I screw my nose up and wave a hand dismissively in the air.
“That can be overlooked.”
It doesn’t take us long to get back to the imposing old-fashioned house that was my home for two years. I remember the breathing exercises I was taught to keep me calm the entire way. I’m not as scared as I thought I’d be, though. Knowing what Gawain has been through makes me feel more resilient. We’re here to save others who are suffering as I did.
Gawain helps me from the car and holds tightly to my hand.
“You ok?”
“Yes. Although I’ve always been a bigger fan of modern architecture. Your mansion is much more welcoming.”
“That’s ’cause it matches its owner just like this one does.”
I raise a questioning brow at him.
“I’m sleek and sexy like my home. The owner of this place is freaky.”
I shake my head just as two of Gawain’s colleagues arrive. I recognize them as Seth and Geraint.
“Where do you want to start?” Gawain asks me.
“You’ve been through most of the house already?”
“We’ve pulled his office apart the most. Couldn’t see anything in there, though.”
I shut my eyes to think.
“Hiding in plain sight,” I reply when I open them.
“What do you mean?” Seth asks.
“My room.” I look up at the house to where I know my old room is situated. The windows are still covered over with wooden boards to keep it dark inside.
/>
“Can you guys search there? We’ll take somewhere else,” Gawain orders.
“No. I need to search there,” I tell him, pulling him aside. “I can do this. You don’t need to worry. It’s about facing my past.”
“Ok, but as soon as it gets too much, we’re leaving. There are other ways to find him. It’s what we guys do.”
“Deal.”
Once Seth unlocks the front door, Gawain leads us into the house.
“Are the dead bodies gone?” I ask as we walk past the lounge area. I sniff the air thinking they would smell foul by now.
“It’s all clean and put back together.” Gawain smiles, and I poke my head around the door of the lounge to see it does indeed look ready for a catalogue sale. As long as any potential purchasers aren’t aware of what went on here.
I follow Gawain up the stairs, and we pause outside the room which was mine.
“Still sure?”
“Yes.”
He opens the door, and assaulted by the memories of what happened in here, I stumble backward but take deep breaths to calm myself.
“Megan.”
“A minute.” I manage to get out. Gawain stands behind me and wraps his arms around my waist. I welcome his warmth. It gives me the strength to enter the room. It’s as I remember it. Laying on the table still are the instruments, which he used to torment me. The dirty mattress I used for a bed has been removed, but that is the only difference.
I take a few steps farther into the room and stand in the middle of it. It seems bigger than when I was here a few weeks ago. It felt claustrophobic back then as it clawed into my soul every day—the darkness of the room mixing with the screams the four walls held.
Gawain walks over to the windows and with his bare hands rips the shutters from them. Light floods into the room, and I flinch automatically. Dust flies around the room, and I watch it catch on the sun’s rays. It’s beautiful. Dark to light.
Gawain places the shutter down and proceeds to search through what little there is in the room.
“I might have to get a crowbar in here. See if we can bring up some floorboards.”
I nod at him, the words still stuck in the back of my throat, but the heavy oppressiveness of this room is lifting. The tools M used on me shine brighter in the light. They draw me to them. Taking small footsteps over, I run a hand over them—they are cold to the touch. In fact the whole room is, despite it being a hot day outside. I pick a tool up. It’s one he used inside me. It ripped and tore at delicate flesh until I was in agony. I shut my eyes, expecting flashbacks of the pain, but nothing comes.
“Megan.” Gawain comes up behind me. “You ok?”
“Nothing,” I tell him and his brows furrow in confusion. “I feel nothing. I don’t feel scared.”
He pulls me into his arms and presses a kiss to the top of my head.
“I’m proud of you. You’re healing.”
“I am.”
Gawain cocks his head and looks over my shoulder.
“What’s that?”
I turn around to see what he’s looking at. It’s a picture of a woman M had in the room. He placed it there the day after he’d taken me for the first time, and it stayed there.
“It’s a picture,” I tell Gawain. “I don’t know who she is. M said to me once that she’s the reason he’s the way he is because she was so weak. She looks a similar age to him. Maybe she’s an old girlfriend who did something wrong to him or she died.”
Gawain picks up the picture, and his face pales.
“What’s wrong?” I ask as a cold shiver cascades over my skin.
“She’s not dead.”
“The woman?”
Gawain looks at me and says, “I don’t understand?”
He then turns the picture to face me.
“Megan, this is my mother.”
Gawain
I bring up my mother’s number for the hundredth time since we returned from M’s house. I’ve been sitting on a chair by my swimming pool, watching Megan swim away her thoughts for over an hour, but I’ve not been able to press the call button yet. I’m too scared of the answers I’ll get. We didn’t find anything of any use in the house, and I agreed with Arthur it can finally be claimed and resold. He’s just as concerned as I am that his sister’s picture was in the house. With my father being in charge of the smuggling ring, what happened to Megan is too close to home. M one initial, one name, a name I don’t want to face: Mordred. Why else would there be a picture of my mother in the room? I finally dial.
“Hello,” my mum answers, and I can tell she’s been crying. “G-Gawain,” she stutters into the phone.
“Hi, Mum,” I finally reply.
“How are you?” she asks, and I immediately know she’s been presented with one of my father’s hands and the knowledge that I was the one who killed him.
“Good.”
“I’m glad, son”
The line falls quiet. Neither of us wanting to talk further about the man who destroyed both our lives.
“Why did Mordred leave?” I finally ask.
My mother lets out a sob. It’s long and drawn out as though her heart is breaking.
“He…he…” she struggles to speak and breaks down.
“Our father?” My hands are shaking as I ask my questions.
“Yes.”
“He did the same to Mordred as he did to me.” I’d found out a few years later my mother had known what my father would do to me on my sixteenth birthday, but she’d been powerless to stop it. It was the reason she didn’t wildly protest when I came to the Cavalieri Della Morte. I was safe here in her eyes.
“He changed that day. He wasn’t my little boy any more. I tried to focus all my attention on him to stop it, but the day he left, he turned around to me and said, ‘a woman’s body is for my pleasure until the day they die’.”
My father’s words and those spoken to Megan. It’s the proof we finally need that my little brother is M.
“I have to go, Mum. I’ll come see you Sunday.”
“Please.”
The line goes dead. I pull up my messages and click to send one to Arthur.
M is Mordred.
I don’t need to say anything else. Those three words are enough. Arthur will find him and kill him.
“Gawain.” Megan’s voice invades my tired brain. I put my phone down and look up to see her standing in front of me with a towel wrapped around her. “It’s your brother isn’t it?…M.”
“Yes.” I can’t look her in the eye. Pushing to my feet, I go to push past her. “I’ll arrange for one of the guys to come and get you and take you to Arthur’s mansion.”
She grabs my shirt and pulls me to a halt.
“Why?” Her question is full of concern.
“You don’t want to be here with me.” I shrug.
“Why?” she asks the same query again.
“He is my brother.” I feel the disgust and guilt churning in my gut.
“Yes. Your brother, not you.”
“But...”
“No.” She presses a finger to my lips. “You aren’t that man. You’ll never be him. Your brother made a choice, and it was the wrong one. He needs help.”
I bring her into my arms and rest her head on my chest.
“I don’t deserve you.”
“You’ve got me.”
“What is this between us?” I ask, pressing a kiss to her lips.
“I don’t know, but right now, I want you to take me to your bedroom, so we can explore it further.” The words come off her lips without any hesitance. As I drop my hand, she entwines her tiny fingers within mine, and I lead us back through the house and into my bedroom. Megan steps back from me and drops her towel. She’s naked beneath it.
“Are you sure?”
“Right at this moment, yes. But, if I say stop?”
“I’ll stop straight away.” I know I will. She won’t need to tell me twice. I want to scoop the beauty before me up in my arms and worsh
ip her until the end of days. Those strange pains I’ve been having in my chest since the first time I saw her, I realize what they are now. I’ve been slowly falling in love with her.
As I prowl toward the bed, I pull off my t-shirt and pants, feeling the instant heat of her gaze on my chest and lower. The spiderweb cuff on my arm has interested her since the first time she saw it. I’ve wanted to tattoo my other arm for a while now, and I think in Megan, I’ll have a lot of inspiration for the future.
“Come here,” I order. She swallows deeply but moves to stand before me and then kneels down. She lowers her head, but I instantly place my hand under her chin and lift her face, so her eyes meet mine. “I don’t really know how to be anything other than bossy in the bedroom, but I promise I won’t hurt you…unless it’s consensual. You must never lower your head when you kneel for me, though. I want your eyes always on me. You are my equal, but your needs will always come first.”
“I like the part about coming first.” She sticks her little pink tongue out between her teeth, and I can’t help the laugh that cascades through my body.
I raise her from her knees a little, so our mouths can meet. There is nothing chaste about this kiss. It’s forceful with the passion flowing between us. I tease the edges of her lips with my tongue, and she opens her mouth and our tongues entwine. I savor the pure taste of her. Her beauty and strength seeps into my pores, giving me redemption with every kiss.
With little effort, I pick up her slight frame and lay her out on the bed before me. A vision of perfection…no longer broken.
“I want to get some tattoos and maybe a few piercings.”
I still in my tracks not expecting her to say those words. Usually, when I’m with a woman they are waxing lyrical about the size of my dick by now.
“Sorry.”
“Tattoos, piercings.” She tilts her head toward my dick, and I suddenly feel a bit self-conscious. “I bet that one hurts.”
I look down and see she’s referring to my Prince Albert.
“You want your clit pierced?”
“I’ve got a high pain threshold.”
Redemption: Cavalieri Della Morte Page 8