Deadly Deception: A Dark Romance

by J.C. Valentine

  And the little buzz I heard when I stepped outside the cabin earlier to hand him the cooler teases a devious smile from me.

  Putting on my sandals, I return outside and turn in the direction I thought I’d heard the sound coming from. My assessment proves fruitful. As I slowly canvass the perimeter of the property, the buzzing grows louder and more distinct, until a bee buzzes by my face, followed by another a moment later, and another, until I find a small group hovering around a corner of the backside of the house.

  I step in closer, eying the winged terrorists with interest, puzzling out what they are up to and where they are coming from.

  When one of the bees lands on the siding and crawls inside, I have my answer. There, where the wooden shingles meet a long strip meant to bridge two sides of the house, is a small hole. I can’t be sure if they burrowed it out themselves or if it simply gave way to rot and they took advantage, but the bees are definitely inside the house, beneath the siding.

  And where there is one, there has to be hundreds.

  My thoughts start turning. What would happen if I start pulling that siding away? Will I disturb the nest enough to send them into a frenzy? Will they attack me, or if I can lure him close enough, will they attack Glenn? One sting is all I need, and I’d be home free.

  A vision of my plan forms, and I decide that the bees are just the ticket I’ve been looking for.

  Glenn doesn’t return for a couple of hours, but when he does, he doesn’t find me inside the cabin waiting for him. By design, he has to go looking…and eventually finds me out back with a crowbar in hand and covered in sweat from the noonday heat.

  “What are you doing?” he asks with a ready smile that slowly vanishes as he swats away a bee that flies a touch too close for comfort.

  I grunt as I pry at the boards, bits and pieces breaking off due to age and rot. We are long overdue for new siding. A few more years, and the place will need a major overhaul or risk total demolition.

  “Just checking something.”

  “Checking what?” His voice is closer now. I have to repress the evil grin.

  “I hear a noise.” I pry another board, working the long nails that hold it to the side of the cabin free.

  “What kind of—” Glenn’s question cuts off abruptly, and I know exactly why.

  At that precise moment, the board wrenches free, splintering apart and crumbling to the ground. And revealing a colony of bees clustered against the cabin wall, their honeycombs well-developed and teeming with activity.

  “Oh my…” I turn my head to see Glenn’s shell-shocked expression as if he is looking Death in the eyes. And, of course, he is.

  “Faith…we…sh-should…go,” he stutters and steps back slowly as if any sudden movements might arouse their anger and send the bees on the attack.

  “I can’t believe how many there are, can you?” I ask in genuine amazement. I’ve hit the mother lode. Hundreds of tiny, death delivering stingers, all ready and waiting for a target. And I have the perfect one to give them.

  “Faith…” Glenn’s nervous warning grabs my attention, and I swing around to face him. In the process, the crowbar I’m holding “inadvertently” hits the side of the cabin, scraping across the length of the opening and subsequently the hive, and as Glenn’s eyes grow as wide as saucers and threaten to bulge out of his skull, I hear it.

  The angry buzzing of hundreds of bees.

  Knowing I’m just as much a target for their wrath as Glenn and having no desire to be stung myself, I grab hold of his arm and jerk Glenn’s frozen body into motion, shouting, “Run!” as I blow past him toward the front of the cabin.

  I don’t look back. Not even to the horrified and pain-filled shouts of my husband, too busy watching out for my own ass to bother caring about his. It was my plan, after all. And if asked later why I didn’t stop to help him, I will simply say I had been in flight mode, thinking he was right behind me…until I realized—far too late—that he wasn’t.

  Visions of poor, bloated Glenn covered in red welts, sprawled out in the side yard, dead as a doornail fill my mind as I leap onto the porch and burst through the door, swinging it shut behind me.

  Only it doesn’t shut. Not right away. Turning, I see a frenzied Glenn enter in behind me and drive the door home in seconds. Sagging against it, he sucks air in ragged gasps that sound like a mixture of fear and relief mixed with a few sniffles and tears.

  I roll my eyes and pound down the surge of anger simmering in my gut. How could he…be alive?

  “Oh my God, Glenn!” I shout, flipping on the concerned wife routine I’ve grown so accustomed to. “Are you okay? You didn’t get stung, did you?” I race over, patting him down in a rushed examination, hoping for any signs of swelling on his skin, listening for wheezing or coughing, anything to indicate he’s dying.

  Nothing.

  I can’t find a damn thing.

  “No, no,” he pants. “I don’t think they got me. Whew! That was a close one!” He laughs and slaps his knee, then combs his fingers through sweaty hair and makes a sound of relief. “Jesus, can you believe that? A whole colony? In the walls? We’re going to have to call someone out to take care of that right away.”

  I have no choice but to play the cards dealt. “Yeah, no kidding. You could have died!”

  Glenn meets my eyes, and for a brief moment, I think he sees right through me. But then, instead of accusing me of the worst, he grabs the back of my neck and pulls me in for a brief but impassioned kiss.

  “But I didn’t,” he says as he pulls away and heads for the hallway and into the bathroom. “I’ll be damned if a couple of little bees take me out,” he calls back. “When I die, it’s going to be epic and memorable, not by some sissy bee sting. Skydiving or something.”

  Skydiving. Now, why hadn’t I thought of that? Probably because you’re afraid of heights, dummy.

  But a question comes to me that I can’t dismiss. Am I doing Glenn a disservice by killing him with something simple, something that isn’t memorable? Clearly, he wants to be remembered, and doesn’t everyone have that right? But that brings me back to the fact that I really can’t stand my husband, and he isn’t a very good one anyway, and if I did it his way, I would be tossed in jail for the rest of my life. So I really can’t afford to be considerate of his last wishes, could I?

  Beggars can’t be choosers.

  Besides, if I do it right, Glenn will never know what hit him. He’ll die not knowing it could have been different. No fear and no regrets. Just lights out, Gracie. And isn’t that a pretty nice death, all things considered?

  “Damn.” Glenn emerges from the bathroom a short while later, his hair wet as if he’s run it under the faucet, and his cheeks a normal shade of pink. “I left the fish outside. Do you think the bees are gone yet?”

  I know from watching nature programs that bees can be relentless once threatened. I’ve even heard that if they chase someone under water, they’ll wait for them to surface to attack. The person would drown before ever getting help.

  “I’d say it’s a safe bet,” I encourage.

  “Good because I’m starving.”

  I afford him a strained smile. When isn’t Glenn hungry? At this point, it's a foregone conclusion. “You clean the fish, and I’ll get started on the sides.”

  “Teamwork. I like it.” Glenn grins and then heads for the front door. I watch closely, waiting for the horrified screams and the inevitable to come.

  But it never does.

  To my surprise, dismay, and utter disappointment, there’s no swarm awaiting him when he steps outside. It’s just a typical sunny day with hardly a cloud in the sky.

  Once again, Glenn had a brush with death and survived.

  What will it take to kill this guy?

  Seventeen

  ~Declan~

  They are enjoying a nice dinner by a campfire that Brenda built. I’m as impressed by her survival skills as I am annoyed that she seems to have to do all the heavy lifting in the re
lationship. Glenn isn’t making a very good case for himself on why he should get a reprieve.

  Not that I had ever intended to give him one.

  It was a nice thought, considering doing something so kind for a stranger. Maybe the big guy upstairs will take that into account when it comes time for my card to be punched. But as the saying does, the road to Hell was paved with good intentions.

  And I never intended to actually follow through with any of those nice thoughts, so I am well and truly damned, aren’t I?

  While the wife keeps watch over the fire, turning the fish every couple of minutes so it won’t burn, the husband chows down on several helpings of what appears to be homemade potato salad and even manages to polish off a couple of beers along the way.

  I smile at that. If I can somehow get him out onto a trail, near the edge of a steep cliff that drops straight down into the water and a mound of rocks that serve as a natural breaker wall, then I could give good old Glenn a nice push and down he’d go, never to be heard from again.

  It would be clean and efficient, and at worst, the authorities would rule it an accident. Everyone would win, and then I could officially retire and start my journey to see and explore the world without any strings or worries, leaving Brenda to do something similar.

  What will she do with her freedom? Will she run off to start a new life, or continue her current one, with a few changes to make it healthier and happier? Will she find a new man right away, or will she stay single for a while?

  As I watch her tend the fire and the food, I find myself hoping she’ll stay single. I don’t like the idea of her with another man. Or any man, for that matter. She needs someone who is willing and able to take care of her the way she deserves, with kind words and a firm hand for anyone who thinks to take advantage of her good and kind nature.

  I just want to see the woman happy, and even though I know it won’t be with me, I can’t prevent the fantasy from poking its way into my gray matter now and then. Flights of fancy are all they are. Just a tease that I know will never and could never happen.

  No one could ever love a man like me. A killer. A loner. Someone who doesn’t know the first thing about relationships or how to share his life. I’ve been down that road once before, and I quickly learned that it just wasn’t for me.

  I am destined to be alone.

  But that doesn’t stop my service to others. In my sick and twisted way, I’m just trying to make the world a better place, but I have no delusions that I’m a good and decent person. Good and decent people don’t murder others in a form of vigilante justice, and they sure as hell don’t get a thrill out of it either.

  Truth is, I enjoy killing. Enjoy the high, the rush of adrenaline. It is as much a part of me as the hands that carry out the acts, and I know without a doubt that once I hang it up for good, it’s going to haunt me all the rest of my days.

  I feel the itch in my throat first, my fingers tingling with the need to feel something between them. It’s the campfire. The smoke is in the air, and that delicious char of it makes me want something I rarely give a passing thought to anymore: cigarette.

  Just like my addiction to smoking, even though I fully plan to break my killing habit, I know it will come back again and again and in the least likely of places and most inopportune times.

  Resistance will be difficult but necessary.

  Just this last one, and then never again.

  The couple in front of me sit down on giant logs from long-ago fallen trees that have been arranged around the fire in a semi-circle that reminds me of something I’d expect to see in a Boy Scouts camp, and Brenda dishes up a whole but headless fish on two paper plates that Glenn dutifully holds out.

  As they sit together to enjoy their meal, my stomach growls, reminding me that I haven’t eaten in…a long time. I can’t actually recall when the last time was. I’d been so eager to get back on the job, I hadn’t given any thought to food, and then they’d hit the road, and I’d been driving ever since, not stopping for anything when they did so I wouldn’t lose track of them.

  This job isn’t always the healthiest, for the mind or the body, but it’s all I have, and the rewards far outweigh anything a normal nine-to-five could provide.

  My phone rings and my hand immediately clamps down over my back pants pocket, grateful that I always kept it on vibrate. Still, as quiet as I’m being, the muted noise startles me and has me watching for any signs that Brenda or Glenn have somehow picked up on it too.

  It’s impossible, of course, but I’m relieved to find they continue eating without pause.

  Carefully and slowly, I back out of the tree line I’ve been maintaining watch in, and, deliberately stepping away, I make a path through the forest brush and back to my car with hardly a sound.

  The phone stops ringing by then, but the caller ID displays Tony’s name on the screen. I consider not calling back. I don’t want whatever they were trying to sell, but I’m also curious, and I know to ignore the Costellos is impossible. And if Tony is calling me instead of his brother or one of his other men, then it must be important.

  I am just about to call back when the screen lights up again with an incoming call from Tony. This time, I answer.

  “I’m on a job.”

  “Glad to hear you’re still working,” Tony grunts. “That makes me more hopeful that this call wasn’t for nothin’.”

  I can feel the request before it’s issued. “What do you need, Tony?”

  “What, no hi, how ya doin’? Just jump straight to business?” He chuckles, while I remain mute, unmoved by the attempt to lighten the mood. Tony, unfazed, continues on and gets right down to business. “Listen, I don’t want to take up too much of your time. We have a situation here.”

  “I told you I’m retiring. I’m not taking on any new jobs.”

  “It’s not about that. Although I’m bummed you’re bein’ so hardheaded about that. We could use a talented hand like yours on the payroll. But sixteen years and ya haven’t budged, I’ve learned to accept that I’m never gonna get ya onboard.”

  I make a noncommittal noise, uninterested in all the chitchat. Tony needs to get to the point, fast. I’m losing my patience. Brenda is already cleaning up the site, gathering trash and uneaten food to be taken back inside. I need to keep my focus, not have it divided.

  “Anyway, Rudy has some idea about going to marine school or some such nonsense. Says you told him to follow his dreams. That bein’ a lawyer ain’t for everyone. Now, ya know I love ya like a brother, Dec, but tellin’ a man’s kid somethin’ like that?”

  I sigh. I don’t need this kind of drama right now. “I didn’t say that, Tony. I would never. You got your ideas for the kid, and the kid has his own ideas. I just reminded him life is short.”

  “You callin’ my son a liar?”

  I bristle. “Did you hear me call you a liar, Tony?” I’m not one to mince words, and if Tony is going to start throwing around accusations, I’m going to be the first one to stand up and nip it in the bud…however that needs to be done.

  “No, I was askin’ you if ya were. Listen,” he says, switching gears, “I didn’t call to pick a fight. I just wanted to get the truth. You ain’t never lied to me before—that I know of—so I’m gonna take your word for it and chalk all this up to a misunderstanding. Maybe Rudy’s just tryin’ to be a rebel, push back against his old man.”

  “Maybe the kid just isn’t what you want him to be,” I suggest, knowing it’s dangerous to do so but unable to help myself. I like the kid, and I don’t want to see a brilliant mind go to waste when there is a potential to make a difference in the world.

  “That’s not for you to decide,” Tony growls, and I know it’s time to shut up and end the conversation.

  “It was good talking to you, Tony.”

  “Yeah, yeah, you, too, Dec. Get back to work. And if you change your mind about retirement, you know who to call. We could always use an extra set of hands around here.”

  “
Bye, Tony.”

  I end the call. I don’t want to encourage the man. No matter how long we’ve known each other or how many times I’ve carried out a favor, I’m done with that part of my life. The sooner I sever those connections, the better. To make a clean break, it’s necessary.

  Tucking the phone away, I set my attention on the matter at hand. Brenda and Glenn have returned inside, but they’ve left the door open with only the flimsy screen to keep the bugs out while allowing the air in.

  It isn’t quite evening yet, but the sun is getting lower in the sky, and the air is starting to cool again. I’m considering what to do now, whether I should wait until nightfall and sneak inside to smother Glenn with a pillow or wait it out until a better opportunity presents itself when the screen door squeals its protest as the two walk out onto the porch together.

  Brenda has a black strap around her shoulder that wraps around her waist at a diagonal, ending with a purple pouch that holds a water bottle. Glenn carries a similar one, only in turquoise.

  They are in the same clothes they’ve been in all day, and they step down to the ground as one, in perfect synch, and set off toward the hiking trail that I explored last night.

  Opportunity just knocked, and I pop open my car door and set off after them, prepared to answer.

  Eighteen

  ~Faith~

  I’m on another high, but my nerves are making me shaky. This is it, the perfect time to kill Glenn, and I’m nervous. It won’t be easy, and it will likely leave internal, invisible scars on my psyche, but it has to be done. Now that it’s finally here and I know how I want to do it, I feel a bubbling anticipation that rivals anything else I’ve ever experienced in my life.

  This is better than an orgasm, and the feeling will last far longer.

  Dusk is coming soon and coupled with the cool breeze afforded us by the thick canopy of trees, it is the perfect evening for a stroll.

  Despite the attempt at being a happy couple, using this mini vacation as a means to come closer and reconnect with one another, neither Glenn nor I attempt any form of physical contact besides the occasional brush of a shoulder as we walk the barely visible trails side by side.