Victoria

by Laura Marie Henion

  She stood by the rock wall on the side of the parking lot that overlooked a large sitting area. Needing to take a breath of fresh air before she headed to her car, she absorbed the numbness she felt. Her heart twisted with desire, regret, a need to succeed, and a weakness to give up.

  What will I do now? How am I going to continue?

  "It's pretty loud in there.” She recognized Steven's voice immediately, nearly jumping in surprise. She turned her head toward him then returned her gaze to the open field of tall grass.

  She hadn't even heard him approach. It was one of his special gifts. Sneaking up on the enemy was probably what must have kept him alive.

  The thought brought chills over her body.

  "I just needed some air. I have to get up early tomorrow.” She kept her gaze forward. Her body filled with emotional conflict. Will he touch me, please touch me? Go back inside and make this easier for me.

  Steven took a step closer. She could feel him as he took in a breath of air. The sensation of his hand taking her left hand as his right hand moved her hair behind her shoulder and away from her face sent shivers and sparks through her body. There was an inner need, combined with an impassionable emotion, so immense it overwhelmed her.

  Instantly, the tears rolled from her eyes, and the deep sob that escaped from her mouth shocked them both.

  Her body felt weak at his touch, and he definitely felt the same way as they moved toward one another.

  There was silence between raspy breathing and entwined fingers.

  "You smell so wonderful. You really do look amazing, Tory."

  Releasing her hands, Steven wrapped his arms around her waist and leaned his cheek against hers.

  The warmth of his skin had her closing her eyes, inwardly visualizing his body on top of hers in a heat of voracious passion. Catching her breath, she cursed the natural reaction to her long lost lover.

  The desire scared her and she knew she couldn't trust herself around him.

  Making an effort to attempt to forget about everything that happened, including the way he left her and dismissed her from his life. A struggle to accept him and soak in every ounce of him, raged through her flesh and bones. There was no way they could start from where they left off, no matter how much her body wanted him.

  Victoria pulled away, turning her face away from him.

  She noted his reaction and he didn't appear surprised.

  "Don't do that, Steven. Please. We can't just start off where we left things."

  Attempting to walk away, she didn't get far before he stopped her by taking her hand and blocking her path with his body.

  A body no woman in her right mind would deny or push away. She thought he looked strong, handsome, and damn it, irresistible, but she fought it, she had to.

  "Don't be angry with me. Please talk to me. I've missed you."

  Glancing away, attempting to avoid his amazing eyes was a battle. She found herself scrounging up any and all tidbits of anger and pure acting skills to throw him off, lead him away and keep her from confessing her true emotions.

  "What did you expect, Steven, that everything would stay the same—that I would be the same person?"

  "No! Yes. Maybe. I don't know, sweetheart. It's just that you still mean everything to me, and I can't not touch you, be attracted to you, and want you.” He reached for her again, and she took two wobbly steps backwards, nearly falling in her attempt to evade his touch.

  "Don't do this, Steven. Please, just go back inside and enjoy the party. I'm glad you're home safely, and you have to understand that I'm ... I'm a different person. I need time to get used to this. I thought you were dead.” She stuttered before beginning to cry again.

  He pulled her against him, into a safety blanket that had the ability and power to take away every fear, every ounce of sadness and pain she ever felt. Holding her tightly, he caressed her hair, making her feel exactly the way he had before he left for the war.

  The urge to spill her guts, confide to the one man who owned her soul and her heart raged through her. She wanted to tell him everything, and she knew if Bret Collins hadn't killed her father, then she would take Steven back right now and start exactly where they left things.

  "You can have all the time you want, sweetheart. I'll wait until you're ready. This, I promise."

  Brushing her fingertips against his forearms made her insides flutter. Every defined muscle from fingers to shoulders was masculine, sexy, and enticing. As long as he kept holding her like this, she couldn't evade recapture anymore.

  Their breathing grew rapid, she could feel his hand caress her lower back then slowly, softly glide over her backside.

  Naturally, she moved her hips against him and laid her cheek against his chest.

  Was there a way they could make love, stay hidden, and escape to a secret location, a hotel, a car? Damn it! Her libido's ability to entice, crave, and eroticize so deeply over this man, was outrageous. What am I talking about ... a car?

  Outraged by her own suggestion, she thanked the heavens that she didn't actually verbalize such a suggestion.

  Get away from him, Tory!

  The sensation of Steven's rock solid chest beneath her cheek while his hands invaded the walls she fought so hard to build had her holding on tighter. He touched her as if he owned her, had every right to glide hands across her flesh from her backside to her hipbones, then from her ribcage to her breasts.

  "Stop!” Shocked that she fell into his spell—a fantasy that could have caused destruction and failure—had her pushing away from him.

  He didn't give into her denials, her attempt to stop feeling exactly what he appeared to have felt himself.

  "Let me hold you, Tory.... Please?” he begged of her in a whisper, pulling her flush against his body.

  They held one another for a few minutes. She was grateful for his silence because it gave her enough time to rationalize the situation, her emotions, and her mission. He didn't attempt to seduce her again.

  Taking a deep breath, she pulled away.

  "I'm gonna get going. I've had a long week, and I'm going to need all my strength for Sunday. Goodnight, Steven."

  Blocking her path, he held her hand in his own and stared at it a moment. She prayed he would just release it and let her go.

  Instead, he brought the palm of her hand to his lips and kissed her skin. Before letting her go, he locked gazes with her and whispered, “I love you. Goodnight, Victoria."

  * * * *

  Steven watched her as she walked toward her jeep. Her brother and cousins were right. Although he had been out of Victoria's life for a while, she still showed her emotions, no matter how hard she tried not to. Her eyes, her amazing brown eyes gave it all away.

  He continued to stand there long after the blue jeep left the parking lot. Remnants of her exotic perfume lingered on his t-shirt. He could practically feel her cheek against his chest, her hips against his groin. She still wanted him ... still loved him. He walked toward the old rock wall and sat upon it, embracing the silence from the loud music and crowd inside.

  All he wanted to do was be alone with Victoria, to tell her everything that happened and why he had to make the decisions he had made.

  It couldn't be too late. She couldn't possibly be in love with that other guy. Is that why she pushed me away?

  The thought tore his heart wide open and sent a fierce flow of anger and regret through him.

  The connection was alive and well, according to her natural and strong response while he caressed her body.

  There was no way she didn't love him or want to be with him as much as he wanted her.

  "Hey, Steven! Get your rear back inside! This party is for you!” He heard his father yell from the back door and reluctantly, put the thoughts on hold as he headed back inside Phill's.

  * * * *

  Through the binoculars, he watched as Victoria pulled into her driveway. He was careful not be seen, knew he was taking a chance by watching this closely, but he
couldn't resist. He wanted her now, needed to have her, and the decision made. She wasn't part of his plan, but once he'd met her and gotten to know her, he couldn't get her out of his head. She would be difficult at first, but he loved a challenge, and so far, none of his victims had given him any, especially, not the drunken, greedy cop who was out cold in the backseat.

  She, however, would remain alive the longest, and if she cooperated, she could be his until he got bored of her. Either way, the pleasure of getting away with another murder was invigorating. He was on a high right now, unstoppable.

  Observing her every move as she got out of the car, he was certain she was the one. Besides his body's sexual alertness from the sight of her, something else sent a spark of curiosity through his system—the slow motion of her body as she exited the driver's side then closed the door, the slim fitting pants, and the fitted blouse. He could clearly see the cleavage emerge between her abundant breasts.

  His fingers slowly magnified the image, zooming into her close with the binoculars as his breath caught in his throat.

  He re-adjusted his sitting position, focused on her face and her complexion while the anxiety built.

  Red eyes, blotchy chest, deep inhales and exhales of breath, something was wrong. She was upset and had been crying. His first inclination was to run to her, console her, embrace her, feast on his Victoria. Reminding himself it wasn't the time, he studied her instead.

  Zooming in closer as she leaned her head back against the car, clutched the purse against her chest, he could see the droplets of tears clinging to her long, dark eyelashes.

  What or who had caused this sadness?

  His breathing grew deeper the longer he watched her. The sight of her, so feminine and needy, caused his insides to heat, his manhood to throb, and his lustful stare to intensify.

  As if she sensed his presence, Victoria pushed away from the car, glanced around appearing panicked then quickly headed for the front door. Dropping her keys on the landing, glancing over her shoulder directly toward where he watched her, she finally managed to unlock the door and enter.

  He knew she couldn't see him, yet he felt she sensed his presence. It was a sure sign that they are destined to be together.

  Disappointment filled him the moment she disappeared behind the closed door. Soon, they would be together with no interruptions. Very soon.

  * * * *

  Victoria got undressed and took a long hot bath. She had five messages on her answering machine and knew that at least one of them would be Celina. Victoria had seen Celina's cousin, Margaret, bartending at Phill's tonight.

  Bret had called to say hello and ask about the ceremony on Sunday. That would be the next time she would see him and she was certain Steven would be there as well.

  Just as she got into the hot bath, the phone rang, and she was glad to have a cordless phone as she answered it.

  "It's me, baby. Are you all right? Do you want to talk about it? I can't even imagine what you're feeling right now.” Her mom's voice came softly through the receiver. Victoria lay in the tub with the phone by her ear, and she began to cry.

  "Do you want me to come over? I can get dressed and be there in fifteen minutes?"

  "No, Mom, it's all right. Everything is going to be fine. I can handle this."

  "Well, what about Bret Collins? You're not serious about him, are you?"

  "No, Mom, we've just started dating."

  "I don't want to sound old-fashioned, Tory, but he's too old for you and his fear of commitment along with his reputation aren't encouraging. You're young, intelligent, beautiful. Don't sell yourself short, sweetie. I didn't,” Sherry said.

  Victoria stayed silent. It was obvious Uncle Patrick hadn't told her mother about the latest angle in Dad's case.

  "Listen, Mom, I'm fine and I really need to go. I'll see you on Sunday."

  Victoria hung up, and once again, her head pounded and her heart ached. Thousands of images ran through her mind. Including the image she would never forget, her father's crime scene pictures. It was torture to look at them, but it kept her motivated to put the killer or killers behind bars.

  Then visions of Steven emerged. He was alive, in the flesh, and she couldn't fully acknowledge it or show her relief and emotions.

  The migraine made her stomach churn. The pain came on so suddenly and violently that she had to rush out of the tub. Slipping and nearly falling as her wet feet hit the tile floor en route to the toilet, she almost didn't make it in time. Pushing up the lid, but not having enough time to push up the seat, all at once, she threw up until there was nothing left but the dry heaves.

  * * * *

  After cleaning up the bathroom and brushing her teeth, Victoria collapsed on the bed in a state of exhaustion.

  Through the night, she dreamed such wild scenes, horrible visions, and acts of murder—a dirt pit filled with souls screaming. Bodies with no faces, gurgling for help. In the center was her father, beaten, bloodied, eyes full of fear.

  She tried to reach out to him, she wanted to help, needed to help him, but something or someone held her back. Then suddenly, she heard a laugh, an evil cry of pleasure and amusement. Then ropes lay around her body, holding her arms, her legs together. She had lost all her power and control.

  Victoria tried to break the restraints. She needed to save her father. Fear engulfed her body as she looked him in the eye, his disappointment plain as day and her heart broke into a thousand pieces.

  The shadow in the darkness breathed down her neck, long hard breaths. She couldn't see his face, but she knew he smiled, amused at the scene, at Victoria's defeat. She turned her head to look at him, and she completely lost her breath.

  The killer had no face, but every part of her knew who he was, and she woke up screaming.

  Victoria, startled at hearing Uncle Jack's voice echo through her room, abruptly opened her eyes. It wasn't until she heard the message on her answering machine that she jumped up and interrupted her uncle.

  "I'm here, Uncle Jack, what's wrong?"

  He explained about her mother's reaction to the news about her father being involved with Linda Delaney.

  "I'll be right over. I have to get dressed, and I'll be right there.” This was exactly what she'd feared.

  The lack of peaceful sleep laid a toll on her body. Exhausted, nauseous, and feeling faint, she grabbed a roll, just to get something in her stomach. It was after eleven in the morning.

  Twenty minutes later, Victoria arrived at her mom's house. Everyone was there. Her uncles, her aunts, cousins, and brother, Peter, sat in the kitchen and living room waiting for her to arrive.

  Family support was never lacking in the Mardullo and Malley families.

  "Where's Mom?” Victoria asked.

  "She locked herself in her bedroom. She wants us all to leave her alone,” Aunt Jane said.

  "So why don't you?"

  "That's not what she needs. She shouldn't be alone,” Aunt Sarah, Uncle Jack's wife, responded.

  "Let me try and talk to her.” Victoria headed upstairs.

  * * * *

  "Is she going to drop Bret now that Steven is back in town?” Jane asked her husband.

  "It doesn't look that way.” Patrick took a sip of water.

  "She's acting pretty funny, definitely not herself. You should have seen her last night at Phill's. She loves Steven. It was obvious,” Peter added.

  "Well, tomorrow is the anniversary of Danny's death. Maybe that's where it stems from?” Jane added thoughtfully.

  * * * *

  Victoria knocked on her mother's door.

  "Leave me alone. You're all a bunch of pains in the asses.” she yelled, and Victoria laughed.

  "I know what you mean, Mom. They've done it to me too."

  Her mother apologized and unlocked the door.

  When Victoria entered the bedroom, she closed the door and locked it.

  Her mom had the window open and smoked a cigarette.

  "What are you doing with th
at? That shit is so bad for you, Mom."

  "Ah, I found it in your father's top drawer. It was his cheating pack. Only eight are left.” She held onto the pack for dear life.

  "So you heard the news about your father? It's not true, you know that, right, baby?"

  "I know that, Mom, and I'm rather surprised that you're reacting this way. Who cares what anyone thinks. He was your husband, your partner and lover. Plus, he would never cheat on you."

  Her mom was silent as she stared out the window.

  "Why is that, Victoria?"

  It was obvious to Victoria her mother felt a little insecure and needed some reassurance. She cautiously looked toward Victoria, seemingly needing to hear a positive answer.

  "Because he knew that if you found out, you would chop off his you know what and serve it to him for dinner.” Victoria took the pack from her mom who was now laughing, and she lit a Marlboro Light for herself.

  "You're right about that.” Her mom looked at the wedding picture that sat on the nightstand.

  "I'm sure, not a day goes by, Mom that you don't think of him. He was a part of you, still is, and you need to look at those feelings, those memories, and the strength and power of the love you two had, still have. There's no way Daddy would have been involved with another woman. You already know that."

  "I wish he was here right now, holding me, telling me in his own special way how foolish I'm acting. Neither of us were ever the jealous type, you know? I'll love him forever."

  Victoria's eyes filled with tears, and her mom allowed her own tears to fall.

  Victoria couldn't help but think of Steven. She took an enormous chance right now. She could lose him forever.

  On the other hand, hadn't he chosen the war over her?

  She loved her father and needed to find out the truth, to put his killer behind bars.

  Her mom embraced her as the tears fell.

  "Now what we really need is a bottle of some hard stuff and we'll be good to go,” Victoria said.

  Her mother got off the bed and went into the closet.

  Inside, on the top shelf was a nice crystal bottle of brandy along with matching crystal goblets.

  "Mom, you're shocking me."

  "I've had this for years.” She smiled as she held the bottle in her hands and appeared lost in some wonderful memory. “Your father and I would lay here late at night after, you know, and we'd have a drink with our fancy crystal goblets and expensive brandy. Only a little bit, though, because of the price of the stuff.” Sherry filled the two glasses.