Destroy Me

by Laura Bailey

  She had seeped into his soul, broken through his defences, but she could only lead to his destruction; a heartbreaking tormentor with the face of an angel and eyes of fire.

  Damien had demons inside of him, he knew that. Competing with his obsessive desire for her, was his need to keep her safe, to not let her become one more of the dead bodies who haunted his nights; of those he had been unable to save in his life in the Special Forces.

  His background had taken him to parts of the world where bombs and mass shootings were a daily occurrence, where people died in front of him. He had been unable to save them all.

  He could not let her close for he could not afford to loose her. It would destroy him.

  She had cut through his defences; yet he had instigated it from the first moment. He had led her to do so, provoking her. He blamed himself. In his bid for revenge he had forced her to play his game, and though she had done so willingly, goading him, tempting him further to transgress, the careful boundaries he had erected had quickly crumbled.

  It had started from that first encounter with her and she had become his co-conspirator.

  He couldn’t sleep in this room. He chose another bedroom; he had many, all seldom used. He stripped his clothes off, black pants and a t-shirt. He had burnt the clothes he had been wearing earlier. He had needed to; he couldn’t leave any trace of himself. The authorities would not find Marc Chambers. He had been disposed of; but he didn’t need DNA evidence lying around just in case they came to question him. Only he, Brenton and Todd knew what had happened, and he trusted them implicitly.

  He felt no remorse for his actions. Chambers would have killed Tara without a thought; he had already killed innocent people before now.

  He fell asleep quickly, exhaustion claiming him.

  The next morning he rose around 6am, showered and quickly headed out. The vehicle they had used last night was gone. He took his Ferrari and headed to the gym, wanting a work-out before going into the office to catch up on what new jobs had come in for them. He wanted in on those jobs; he needed to stay busy.

  Inside the office, it was business as usual. He got the team together briefly, and then went into his private office, needing to check his emails from clients.

  He had account managers who handled the day to day business, all highly experienced. He was hands-on when he wanted to be but it wasn’t a necessity. The millions he had made ensured he would never need to work again, if he chose, but in truth, he wouldn’t have known what to do with himself. This was what he did; what he’d always done. In his late ‘30’s now, he could see himself doing it until he no longer could physically, and that was many years away.

  He was purposefully ignoring one particular email that he had seen. He didn’t open it. It was no longer relevant to him. She was gone. He did not wish to resurrect her.

  He picked up his cell phone, and dialled one of his contacts. They spoke very briefly, arranging to meet at the Club. He would be going to Pakistan in the next twenty four hours to facilitate a job.

  He left his office and found Brenton and Todd.

  Brenton was more like Damien in looks; dark haired, though his eyes were light blue to Damien’s startling green ones. Todd was lighter, his hair a dirty blonde, and his height greater than both Damien and Brenton’s. He stood at least six four. In comparison to them, Todd looked like a giant, though he was the calmest of the trio in temperament.

  Together they drove the short distance to the Club, where they were to meet their contact and discuss the operation in confidentiality. Conversation in the car was minimal between them; having known each other for years, they were comfortable in silence.

  As soon as they entered the Club, memories came back to Damien; inevitable, unstoppable recollections of the times he had spent with Tara here, of dragging her off to the Library and spanking her hard for her treachery; of performing the sweetest, most depraved acts on her body upstairs in one of the bedrooms; licentious debauchery that had turned rapidly into mutual devotions to each other.

  He should have never brought her here.

  Chapter Twenty

  Tara arrived at work that Monday, after a weekend spent burying herself in books, trying to escape the thoughts of sadness and anger inside her. She had received no reply from the email she had sent Damien.

  Dressed in one of the outfits she had worn before when she had worked there, she wished now that she had spent some of Damien’s money and gone shopping to revamp her wardrobe at least, but she hadn’t wanted to go out.

  It felt now like she was stepping back in time, as though none of the last few weeks had happened.

  She felt hurt and humiliated, though no-one at her old company knew about her involvement with Damien. She knew she could have lived off Damien’s money, but it didn’t feel right to do so, given the way it had been given to her, and she had already contacted Joseph asking for her job back before he had given her the money. Besides which, she would go crazy with nothing to do. She needed some kind of routine, some kind of purpose, and the easiest way to get that was to return, as she had planned.

  As she walked into the office near Victoria, she felt overwhelmed as she was reunited with her old colleagues, passing them one by one at their desks. Whilst she was happy to see them all, she had an urge to lock herself in the bathroom, hating the attention and wanting to slot back in as inconspicuously as she could.

  She headed to her old desk, thankful that it was empty and no new- comer was sitting there in her place.

  Putting down her handbag, she went to the staff kitchen to get a cup of tea.

  Joseph, her CEO, was in there making fresh coffee. In his early sixties, he was still very much involved in his company. Grey haired now and though only about Tara’s height, he was not to be underestimated for his business acumen.

  “Tara, welcome back. Lovely to see you. How are you my dear?”

  He came forward, giving her a hug, and she realised she had missed his paternal presence.

  “You too Joseph. I’m fine thank you.”

  “Well, there’s a pile of files for you to get cracking with. Have a chat with Gregg; he’ll get you up to speed.”

  “Ok, thank you.”

  Gregg, a retired British Army Officer, was her departmental ‘Boss.’ A man of few words but highly competent.

  Her job centred around the personnel side of the business; any new employee the company hired to do security assignments had to be thoroughly security checked, and the necessary documentation obtained. The nature of their business, providing highly confidential private security, necessitating it.

  She had no military background herself and had fallen into the job, starting as a temporary receptionist there straight out of University. Fortunately they’d kept her on and she had been there ever since, progressing to the Personnel department. Having studied English Literature at University, she had wanted to go straight on to do a PhD, but the cost was too prohibitive and she’d had no idea what to do as a Career. She had fallen into this one.

  As she got to work with the familiar tasks, the day passed quickly. The job had always been demanding and busy, with the need to ensure new contractors were vetted as quickly as possible, and for that she was glad. It gave her little time to think and the days ahead would not drag.

  She went out for a late lunch, realising she hadn’t eaten a thing all day. Walking to the cafe in the shopping mall around the corner, she sat in a window seat. As she watched other professionals pass by, she was unable to ignore how surreal her life felt to be back, as though nothing had happened, and her thoughts went to Damien, wondering what he was doing, if he was at his office or at the Club, picturing him so clearly, his presence such an instantaneous force in her mind.

  She ate faster, wanting to get back to the office to bury herself in files and shut him out of her mind as the ache for him got worse, like a form of home-sickness.

  She was constantly battling the urge to return to D.C. and confront him. She considered, again
, booking a flight and going over there to tell him what she thought of him. To tell him that he was wrong; resolute in her intention to make him want her. But her hesitation came when she told herself that she couldn’t force someone to love her. He had never given her any indication that he wanted her around for the long term. Despite the rare moments of extreme tenderness he had shown her during their sexual encounters, moments that had reached into her soul, he had never offered her permanency.

  Chapter Twenty One

  Soon, almost a week had passed. She didn’t hear from Damien in that time. He ignored the two phone calls she had made to him. If he had answered, she would have given him a piece of her mind and demanded his bank details to return his money, but her calls remained unanswered.

  She went to work, and went home, her emotions veering between anger and disbelief at her situation.

  A couple of times that week she went for drinks after work with some of the team. One night she found herself dancing on a table at two am with several of the others from the office, drinking shots and caring about nothing but enjoying herself.

  The next day her head pounded when she went to get up and she wished she hadn’t done it. She hadn’t given Damien a thought, until she had been returning alone in the Cab to her apartment, and wished he would be there waiting for her.

  She knew that one of the men from the office had been trying to flirt with her all night in the Bar. She had even felt tempted to take him back to her apartment, take him to bed, and exorcise the memories of Damien. He was a fit, handsome and charming man, and any other time she would have been attracted to him, but now, she just couldn’t bring herself to do it. Her heart hadn’t repaired itself yet.

  Damien had gone to Pakistan. It had been a tough trip. The conditions in which they found themselves were uncomfortable, unpleasant and very dangerous. Their safe house was basic. They spent most of their time laying low in the daytime, the very purpose of them being there to stay out of sight, until the moment to strike came.

  He’d done this many times. It was the downside to the job. It was about having patience and discipline until the time arrived for fast and forceful action, but time passed excruciatingly slowly, and inevitably much of the time his mind was consumed with Tara and the things he had done to her, the way she had fulfilled his every desire, as though her body had been made just for him; the way in which they completed each other sexually; but more than that, the kindness, compassion and gentleness he had seen behind her wildness, drew him to her even more strongly.

  He had thought that distance would be the answer, staying busy and putting himself in danger, but none of it had served to lesson his obsession with her.

  His team had been supplied with accurate intelligence, and from their surveillance they knew their target was where they expected him to been when the moment came for them to grab him. Finally it was time and the extraction was succinct and successfully executed.

  They made their way back to the airbase and caught the private flight back to Virginia.

  From the airport he drove back to his country home. Though he had the money, he wondered now why the hell he had bought the huge mausoleum of a house; it was always empty. He spent most of his time at the Special Forces club, and his apartment in town, but this had been a shorter drive from the airport and he needed sleep.

  In the silence of the house, he went upstairs to his room, took off his clothes, and showered quickly.

  As he got in bed, exhausted from the last few days, he realised his housekeeper had put fresh sheets on the bed; he no longer had Tara’s scent and he suddenly wished he still had the sheets in which she had slept. Angry with himself, he cursed her.

  He fell asleep within seconds, exhaustion claiming him, but as he awoke around dawn he realised achingly that he had been dreaming of her presence.

  He rose quickly, packing his gym clothes and heading out of the house in minutes.

  As he walked into the office later, he immediately spotted several anxious glances from those at their desks.

  As he reached his private office, he was greeted by the sight of two men standing at the door, waiting for him.

  “Damien Lawson?”

  “Yes, and you are?”

  “Washington P.D. Detectives Banner and Cruz.”

  “Would you like to come into my office?”

  Damien held a poker face that was expressionless, though his mind automatically thought of Marc Chambers.

  “Please take a seat.”

  Damien gestured to the couch, having only one chair in front of his desk.

  “We’re ok, thanks.”

  They remained standing.

  Damien took the seat behind his desk, appearing relaxed.

  “How can I help you?”

  “Do you know Marc Chambers?”

  “Yes.”

  “How well would you say you know him?”

  “He’s a member of the Special Forces Club, as am I. We also served together in the Military.”

  “So you know him pretty good?” The shorter of the two detectives, Cruz, was asking the questions; just under six foot, with a wide berth, about forty Damien guessed, with a dark complexion and a moustache. His side-kick was easily six two and thinner, blonde, in his early thirties Damien guessed, in good condition physically; possibly an ex-Marine or Army man from his appearance and stance.

  “I don’t socialise with him, but yes.”

  “Why not?”

  “What?”

  “Why don’t you socialise with him?”

  What a stupid question, Damien thought.

  “Is there any reason why I would, particularly?”

  “Well, you drink at the same club.”

  Damien didn’t respond.

  The detective merely shrugged at him.

  The blonde man took over the questioning.

  “When did you last see him?”

  “Why are you asking me about Marc Chambers?”

  “He’s been missing for about a week. When did you last see him?”

  “I can’t recall specifically. Probably one evening at the Club I should imagine.”

  He thought of suggesting to them that Chambers, like Damien, ran a large international security business, and that he often travelled overseas on Business, but he also realised that the less he said the better.

  The detectives looked at each other, and then both turned to leave.

  “Well, thanks for your time.”

  With that, they walked out of the office.

  Damien sat for a few minutes in contemplation after they had left. They would probably know he had been evasive with them. By now, if Chambers had been reported missing shortly after his demise, the Detectives had the advantage of the last week to carry out their initial investigation. They may have possibly discovered by now that Tara and Damien had a run in with him in a very public place, and whilst onlookers would not have made much of it at the time, there were many witnesses to it in the middle of a popular coffee shop, in the business district of a town where Chambers was a very well known figure.

  The detectives would also have made their rounds at the Club, and witnesses may have seen Chambers harass Tara there, and follow her.

  He knew this outcome had been a possibility. They would not find Chambers’ body, but that wouldn’t stop them trying to pin the murder on Damien if they could get enough circumstantial evidence against him.

  He thought of Tara, now safe in London, and a huge realisation struck him; the US had an extradition treaty with the UK. Suddenly she didn’t seem quite so safe.

  Whilst she had absolutely noting to do with the murder, she knew about it, and so by implication, she was concealing knowledge of it. She could easily be indicted for perverting the course of justice, or even worse, as an accessory to murder; both considered to be extremely serious crimes, and the US had a far less liberal sentencing system than did the UK. She could go down for years. Not only that, if they dragged her back to the States, she would end
up taking him with her. All she had to do was say the wrong thing. And the mood she must be in, having been sent back to London without him even saying goodbye to her, she had every right to want to see him go down for this.

  He didn’t in his heart really think she would do that to him. She should be too scared of him and his background to even think of trying to do something like that to him, but more than that, he didn’t think she was evil. He had done it for her, had had no choice, even though Chambers only targeted her to get to him; but he held no illusions, when Chambers issued that threat, he had intended to see it through.

  Tara had no experience with law enforcement, as far as he knew, and he didn’t want her exposed to it on her own, in London, without a good lawyer. He didn’t want her speaking to anyone without his knowledge or guidance.

  He could supply the best Lawyer London had, but he needed her closer than London; to protect her, and to protect himself. He was not going to prison and he would not let that happen to her.

  Just when he thought he could get on with trying to forget her, bury his memories of her, and try to get past the nights when he woke up drenched in a hot sweat from dreams of making love to her, trouble had reared it’s head again.

  He paced his office, running things through in his mind, cursing at the development, and at lunchtime he went to find Brenton and Todd at their desks.

  “Let’s grab some lunch.”

  He didn’t want to talk in the office. Though they had state of the art anti-bugging equipment installed, due to the nature of their work and the need for the strictest confidentiality, he wanted the place thoroughly swept again before he would feel comfortable discussing anything related to Chambers.

  The three of them left the office building and headed to a sports bar around the corner.

  “Was that what I think it was?” Brenton said.

  “Yes.”

  He knew he could trust them both implicitly. They had risked their lives for each other many times. He had no doubts about their loyalty to him. They knew this had been a possibility but there had been no other option.