by Aven Jayce
“I wish you’d show some emotions. Show me that you care for once.”
“Damn it Cove! Someone has to hold it together. The only way to make it through these situations is for me to...”
“Shut up,” he cuts me off.
I ignore his roller coaster of emotions. I’m trying to be the one who gets him through this and I don’t know why the hell he can’t see how much I love him and my family. What the fuck? And what does he want me to do? Change? Yeah, right. There’s no point in even opening my mouth around the guy sometimes. No matter what I say, it’s wrong... so I guess I should just say whatever the fuck I want since it doesn’t seem to make any difference to our relationship anyway.
“I love you... and I’m serious when I say it. Soph and the kids too, although I’m undecided on whether or not I actually like you.”
“Yeah, none of us are very likeable,” he says.
“That’s why it’s important for our family to stick together.”
He checks his watch then runs his hand through his hair.
“But Jules is,” I say faintly. “She’s likeable. She’s laid-back and big-hearted, if you haven’t noticed.”
His head shakes as he speaks. “She’s still young and you’ve brainwashed the poor girl.”
“Far from it. Trust me, she’s got a mind of her own and doesn’t put up with any shit. I like that about her. She’s a strong woman.”
“Then you should set her free before you end up... before she becomes one of us.”
“Too late. Besides, she’s an incredible fuck. I’m not giving that up. Those are hard to find. She likes my toys and my cock... it’s all good.”
He shakes his head again.
“What?” I grin. “You can’t tell me you’d be with someone who didn’t like to play. Seriously. A woman who’s gonna lie in bed like a dead body is worthless to me.”
“Again, that sounds like something your father would’ve said.”
He stares ahead and thankfully doesn’t mention anything sexual about my sister. And I suppose I’m getting off track by discussing Jules and sex instead of thinking about Daxton. I keep hoping one of our cells will ring with a call from my sister that he’s home.
“I’d kill her,” he says out of the blue. “If Mera or anyone else hurt my son, I’d kill that person.”
I sigh, still holding my shirt to my nose. “I can’t see that happening... so we’re back on this subject now?”
“Would you?”
“You know I would. But Dax is in the forest and I bet Mera’s not in town. So unfortunately I won’t get to have any fun.”
He closes the window and taps the armrest. His watch gets checked as he waits impatiently for the sun to appear. He taps... checks the time... sighs... then checks his watch again.
“She’s here,” he says under a soft breath. “She’s not going anywhere until she figures out what happened to her husband. Think about it, would you?”
I shrug.
“Forget it. Maybe you would... so how old were you. I mean, the first time you killed someone. How old?” he asks.
“Hell,” I inhale deeply, “you don’t want to hear about that.”
“Then tell me why you did it.”
He’s as pushy as Jules, only this is her normal personality and Cove... he’s just nervous and confused. He probably doesn’t even know what he’s asking.
“To impress my father.”
“Uh,” he exhales.
I turn into the hotel drive, only to get stuck behind a car that’s moving slower than a sloth, an older couple, no doubt. I hit the horn and they speed ahead, allowing me to turn down the ‘no admittance’ drive to my private garage.
“What is that?” Cove whispers when my headlights shine toward the garage doors. “Tell me you ordered something.”
Oh shit.
“Oh shit,” he repeats my thought. “No.” The word barely escapes his mouth. He tries to open the door, but I pull him back.
“No, stay here.” I put the truck in park. “Stay here!”
He rushes out and I follow, grabbing his shirt and pushing him aside.
“Wait. Just stop! Stand back, Cove. Stand! Back!”
He looks at me and then at the large box in front of my garage.
“Oh, my god.” His hands rest on his knees. He leans forward, staring at the ground, hyperventilating, and then looking at the box once more.
“Open it,” he pleads.
I walk forward and listen, hoping to hear breathing, a cry, a sneeze, a cough, anything.
“Daxton,” I whisper.
“Don’t say his name! He’s not in there!” Cove’s panic-stricken and unable to move, frozen about ten feet behind me. “Open it!”
The box is large enough to fit a child, sopping wet, and covered in mud like it’s just been unearthed.
I take another step forward.
“Please,” Cove says under quick wheezing breaths. “Tell me that’s not my son.”
With a hand on one of the flaps, I close my eyes, asking whoever the fuck is listening to let this be anything but his kid. My stomach sinks. I know. I feel the dread in my heart.
I just know.
“Fuck.”
PART THREE
OMEN
Dayne warned me not to interrupt my father when he’s busy fucking in his bedroom, but I’ve got a flight to catch and he owes me money. I didn’t just work my dick off for a week to fly home empty-handed.
Besides, Dayne always says the same old shit, and it’s not like my dad hasn’t fucked women in front of me before. Just yesterday...
A sharp crack of lightning rattles the house. Rolling thunder. Rain. All bad signs. A downpour pounds the roof. This is Vegas for fuck’s sake. It doesn’t storm like this here.
I’m nervous.
I’ll just knock and ask him to step into his office where he can write a check then get back to his pussy. Just one minute of his time. One minute.
Smoke from his cigar floats out of the open bedroom door, irritating my nose. I glance inside to see dim lights and the cigar being placed on the nightstand. He doesn’t notice me. I should knock and get this over with, instead of eavesdropping, but I lose my train of thought when he speaks.
“I love you like a son... more than a son... you’re the one person in this house who knows how to satisfy my cock,” my father whispers. “You’re a good little boy.”
Fuckin’ A. He’s talking to Star. It has to be him in that bed. My dad... the sick bastard. Of course he loves this kid more than me. The nineteen-year-old is a wimp and will do whatever the fuck my father wants.
“Mmmph,” I hear a muffled scream and then another. He must be gagged.
I step back and stand on the top step, listening, debating, wanting to kill both of them. I should really do it. Kill them. Just put my father and his boy toy out of their misery. They’d both be better off dead. Yet, I feel sorry for the kid and what he has to go through in this place. It’s not his fault he’s weak.
“I’m taking this tie off from around your mouth.”
“Huh, huh, huh,” Star pants.
“Now you can tell me how good my cock feels in your ass.”
“Yes sir,” he whimpers. “It’s good.”
“Call me Dad.”
Thank fuck he doesn’t.
“Say it.”
There’s a gagging noise.
“I’ve always wanted a boy who looks like me. Someone I could introduce as my son and people would see the resemblance. Someone to play with who looks like a younger version of myself.”
I need to step in. The kid is choking. I can hear my dad strangling him.
“See. Open your eyes. See yourself in that mirror. See my face behind you. You’re me. We look so much alike. Why do you think I love you so much? Why do you think I chose you over all the other boys in my company?” My father groans with desire. “I’m so proud of you for making me so much money. Look at us... oh, I’m fucking myself. I’m fucking myself in
the ass.”
This stops now. I walk down the stairs and pretend I just arrived.
“Paul!” I call out. “I need to talk to you.”
“Jesus Christ!”
I hold my breath, waiting to get my ass kicked. Damn, that was hard on my ears.
He races down the stairs, tying his robe along the way, grabbing my arm then pulling me over to his desk. Furiously, he opens a drawer and slams his checkbook down, scratching out a check for eighty grand.
“That should be more than enough for whatever the fuck you wanted.”
“Down payment on a house. And thanks.” It’s a lot of money. More than I was expecting.
“Yeah.” He slides the check forward, waiting for me to take it from his desk.
“Were you gonna say goodbye?” I ask. “Or you too busy with...” I stare into his beady dark eyes and then up the stairwell toward his bedroom door.
He stands and leans in my face. “I’m not gay,” he whispers, gripping my collar. “I enjoy pussy just like every real man in this world.”
“Does he live here?” I ask with a hard swallow.
“For now, but not forever.”
“Don’t ask me to kill him next time I’m here.”
“Why, are you in love with the boy or something?” he laughs. “Find your own fuck buddy. There’re plenty in my company.”
I pull away from his grasp wanting to rip the check in two. Maybe I shouldn’t come back, but fuck, the money... I’d be insane not to. My father’s loaded and his wallet’s always open when I’m in need.
“My private life is none of your concern,” he reminds me. “I don’t say a word about your time being wasted in that marriage or your shitty life back in Philly, so don’t inquire about where I stick my dick.”
“Yeah, but what makes him so special?”
“He’s not.”
“You love him. He’s ‘something’ to you.”
“I don’t love anyone.”
I sigh and look at his bedroom again. “I’m your son,” I whisper.
“I see, you’re jealous. That’s what this is about? You want to join us up there? You feel left out, you whiny baby. You want your father to fuck you?”
“Asshole.”
He laughs and leans back in his chair, placing his hands behind his head like he’s so damn proud of himself.
“That kid up there...”
“Call him Star.”
“I know,” I say irately. “He’s one of the few guys in this company I like. Just don’t dispose of him when you’re finished playing.”
I can tell by his smirk he’s totally amused that I care about this kid. And it’s true; I don’t want him to be tossed away just because my dad’s bored. Sometimes you can’t explain the connection you have with another person; you just know it’s there.
“You’ve been here long enough to see how my company works. I’m not going to have him around when he’s in his thirties. Eventually he’ll have to retire, like you. Out with the old and in with the new keeps this company’s cash flow steady.”
“I won’t kill him for you. Not this one.”
“No?” He rocks in his chair with a euphoric face. “Someone will, and when the time comes you might change your mind. We’ll make it a father-son outing, just the two of us. My friend from upstairs can ride in the trunk of my car. We’ll pack a lunch and I’ll show you how grand it feels to bury a man alive. I’ll even let you do the honors of tying him up, placing him in a cardboard box, and burying him underneath two feet of desert sand.”
Yeah, I can do the honors because my father won’t lift a finger when someone’s about to be killed.
“Then, we’ll sit and listen to him scream until he suffocates, all while eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and drinking a beer. We’ll form a splendid father and son bond when the time comes. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“Jesus, Paul.” I know enough not to call him Dad in this moment. “I’ll stick to killing the fuckers who mess with our family, not innocent men.”
“Well, you have a few years to think about it. You may end up changing your pussy ass mind.” He grins. “I’ve got plenty of cardboard boxes in my garage when the time comes. He’s even been duct taped inside a few already. It’s one of my most enjoyable mindfucks to play on him.”
I inhale and shake head.
“Mug up, pal. Learn from me.” With his hands on his desk, he pulls his chair forward. “If you want complete control over another person... you want to dominate someone’s mind, place him in a fucking box, or a trunk, or a barrel. It’s a cheap, rewarding thrill. The person won’t come back from that type of manipulation. You’ll be worshipped by the poor soul forever. Just make sure he’s in the dark and about to suffocate before you pull him out. Be patient. When the time comes and the light shines in his eyes, smile down on him, he’ll tell you that he loves you. The sensation you get when he says it is incredible.” He reaches for a cigar on his desk and lights the end, puffing, puffing, puffing, exhaling, smiling, giving me a wink, and puffing again. The heavy smoke curls above us and hovers in the air. I think he’s waiting for a response, but I have nothing left to say to the man. Not even see you later. The eighty grand is enough for a while and then I’ll be back.
He points the cigar at my face, totally delighted by his own words. “Get yourself a cardboard box, Marcus. Have a little fun for once.”
DAXTON
I lift a flap on the box and see the legs of a young boy. Muddy jeans and the same sneakers his brother had on last night.
It’s him.
There’s no movement.
I pat his leg, whispering his name, but he doesn’t respond.
Opening the other flap, I see his upper body wrapped securely in an army blanket... even his head. Half of his body is exposed and the other half looks mummified in green wool. His hands are tied behind his back, hanging out from underneath the bottom of the blanket. His chest isn’t moving. Breathe, Daxton, breathe.
Never in my life have I had such a sickening feeling bind my body to the point where I can’t catch a breath. Air won’t enter my lungs.
I step back.
Oh fuck.
Turning to Cove, he senses immediately that his worst fear is inside the box.
“No.” He shakes his head. “No,” he says with a flood of tears. “It’s not him, Mark! It’s not!”
He stumbles forward, only to be encased in my arms. I need to protect him from the sight.
“Shh, shh. Don’t go over there. Don’t. You’ll never get the image out of your head. Don’t look.”
My hand rests on the back of his head but he fights to be released then collapses to the ground in a grief so savage, I swear I can hear his heart fracture inside his chest.
“Bring him to me. I want my son!” he cries. “Let me see him!” His voice echoes into the woods. “I want...” His hands cover his tear-laden face. “No! He’s not dead!”
Careening forward, he gasps for air when he sees him inside the box. With one knee on the ground, he whispers, “please Dax... please move. God, don’t do this! Don’t take my son!” he yells, while lifting him out.
I walk over and touch Dax’s ankle. Cold. Limp. Still no movement.
“Let me remove the blanket,” I whisper. “Give him to me, Cove. Don’t look until I see what his face... I want to make sure you can handle this.”
“Why,” he sobs. “How could this happen!”
I open my garage door and place Daxton on the concrete, eerily reminded that Dayne was on this very floor not too long ago.
A suffering man weeps behind me as I unwrap his son. This is the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life. My nephew... he’s ten for fuck’s sake. I’m going to kill that bitch. I’ll hunt her down and gut her. Take out her intestines and stuff ‘em in her mouth so she can eat her own shit.
“Mark,” Cove whispers. “Bring him back.”
I’m unsure if that means he needs to hold him again, or if he wants
me to breathe the life back into him. I don’t think I can do either.
His lifeless eyes stare into mine. Get up, kid. Laugh, cry, crap in my pool if you want, just...
A blink.
He blinked.
“Cove!” I set him on the concrete and check his neck, feeling a strong pulse. “Thank fuck, you little shit, you’re alive! Cove! Get over here!”
“What? Daxton!” Cove rushes over. “Dax, talk to me. Are you okay? Dax!”
He pulls him up by his shoulders and witnesses his son’s eyes blinking while his face grimaces from the light.
“Oh thank fuck.”
An exuberant smile and tearful laughter encompasses my brother-in-law as he hugs his son.
“Dax?” His hands frame his son’s face, wiping the hair from the boy’s eyes. “Talk to me.”
“Let me cut him free,” I whisper, his frozen fingers and arms flopping down upon release.
“I think the twine cut off his circulation, his hands are purple. And who knows how long she’s had him outside. Damn, he’s cold. Let’s get him inside.”
Cove carries him upstairs as I lock my truck and make a quick observation of the area. The sun’s coming up which means a team of cops will be back on the scene. We’ve got a lot of work to do.
Lowering the garage door, I run up the stairs and let Cove and Dax into my living room.
“Put him on the sofa,” I say, taking a fleece blanket from my hall closet. “Here, try to get his extremities warmed while I call Soph.”
“Thanks.” He covers his son and blows warm air onto his fingers. “What happened? Are you hurt?” Cove asks. “Please talk to me, I want to hear your voice.”
My sister picks up her cell as I’m preparing to light a fire. “Mark?”
“We found him. We’re in my suite. He’s...” The call ends before I even have a chance to let her know he’s okay.
“She’s on her way,” I say, placing kindling under the logs in the fireplace. “I’ll get a bowl of warm water for his hands and feet after I get this lit.”
“Why isn’t he talking?”
“I’m sure he’s in shock. Give him a few minutes.”
“Something’s wrong,” Cove says worriedly. “Dax, look at me.”