Sin Worth the Penance

by M. J. Schiller

  “Ya know, you’re one stupid bitch, ’cause it ain’t like ya got much of a choice.” He leaned forward, one forearm pressed against the nape of my neck. His free hand again dove into my hair, holding it close to my scalp and grinding my face into the floor. I screamed in pain.

  “Ya better hope they don’t hear ya.” He released my hair, and I turned it to rest a cheek against the floor, wincing at the sting of the abrasions he’d caused. He drew a knife out from under his pant leg. Before I could even think, he had my head lifted again, the blade to my throat. He hissed in my ear. “Ya ruin this for me, Bridey, and so help me, I will gut ya like a fish.”

  I panted, tears now pouring out on a regular basis. He put his cheek next to mine. “Ya got me? Huh? Ya got me?”

  What choice did I have? I sobbed but nodded. He released me, and the knife disappeared. I caught my breath and tried to come up with a plan to get myself out of the predicament I was in. How long had I been gone? Would someone come and look for me?

  His hand came into view again with a bandana wrapped tightly around it. He forced it into my mouth and tied it off. The leather belt zinged through the pant loops and he worked my arms behind me.

  “Stop. I’m cooperating.” Despite the gag my words were clear enough for him to understand.

  “The time for cooperation’s come and passed, Bridey.” He looped the belt around my wrists and tightened until the sides were cutting into my flesh. I twisted, straining my neck and sides, to see what he was doing. With the extra length of belt left, he continued to circle my hands and tucked the end in the coils he’d created. Lying to put his cheek against mine again, he said matter-of-factly, “Now I take what I want.” I squeezed my eyes shut. As he rubbed against my ass, he was hard, totally turned on by controlling me. He was going to rape me, and there was nothing I could do about it.

  Repositioning, he buried a knee in my back and yanked my dress to my waist. When the first wave of pain stabbed me, I opened my eyes in shock. Flynn was watching, a puddle growing on the floor beneath him. His life was ebbing away from him. I needed to give in so Tommy would get this over with before Flynn left this world. So I did what I’d done in the past, separated myself from what was happening to me, stuffing it down deep inside, in that vast emptiness where my pain hid. It was the only way I knew how to survive. Deny what was happening to me. I’d become good at it. I did what I had to do because I really had no other choice. The horror of it all would be dealt with later. When I was strong enough to take it.

  One arm snaked around my waist, lifting my hips while the other arm extended, the palm on my head, pushing my face into the wood. I tasted dirt, and blood, and the salt of my tears. I thought about Killian upstairs, getting ready for our date, and my heart broke.

  Tommy rubbed and kneaded my skin. “Ya always had a fine ass, Bridey.” Flynn’s eyes fluttered closed. I cried out his name. He may have been about to sell me out, but he didn’t deserve this. He was as much Tommy’s victim as I was.

  Please, hold on, Flynn.

  The pain was intense. I focused on Flynn. He had to be alive. The smell of the gas was dizzying. I searched for a weapon, and my gaze lighted on a pile of two by fours at the end of a row of shelves, leftover from some project, no doubt.

  Tommy rose and stood with his back to me, fixing his clothes. “Now, I’m afraid it’s nightie-night, Bridey. It’ll look like a lover’s quarrel. By the time they get around to checking dental records I’ll be long gone in America.”

  He was moving for the shelf holding the gun. I struggled against the belt encircling my wrists and my bindings loosened some. I strained against the leather band more, though it was excruciating. One hand slipped free and I tore the belt off. I stretched but couldn’t reach the wood. I crawled on my elbows, grabbed the end of one plank, rolled over, and smacked Tommy on the side of his head as hard as I could just as he turned with the gun. The pistol flew out of his grip and slid under a shelf. Tommy went down but immediately pushed to his knees, and felt his jaw. Blood trickled from his ear. “Not smart, Bridey.”

  I scrambled to my feet.

  He twisted slowly, holding a lit match. “Bye-bye, love.” He tossed it and set a stream of gas alight. The stream from the can which lay at Flynn’s feet, where he had slid completely to the floor.

  I screamed, though it wouldn’t be heard through the gag, and stumbled forward, having ta dive at the last second to push the can skittering across the floor. I scrubbed furiously at the wood to try to erase the trail of gas as the fire came closer to us. It stopped, and I exhaled.

  “Oh, Bridey,” he sang.

  I looked. Branching off from Tommy’s feet were a half dozen lit trails, all leading to the propane tank. He turned and walked away. I jumped to my feet and retrieved the plank that I’d used to strike Tommy. Setting it across several of the trails, I again tried to snuff them out. I stopped two and was on my way to a third when an arm came around my neck, pressing on my windpipe. He picked me up so I was dangling, my feet off the ground, but as I fought him, he made the mistake of getting me too close to one of the posts supporting the ceiling. I planted my feet against it and pushed with all my might, knocking him off balance. We fell, and his hold went limp. I swung about. Tommy’s head was slumped against the edge of a wooden crate lying on pallets on the floor.

  Spinning back, I noted the trail of fire was slowed by the shelves and support poles, but flames leapt up those, rising nearly to the ceiling. I couldn’t save the restaurant, but maybe I could save Flynn and myself.

  I brought my hands to my mouth and fought the bandana off as I ran to Flynn. I threw it aside as I crouched beside him and shook him.

  “Flynn. Flynn! Wake up!”

  He moaned and opened his eyes.

  “Oh, praise heaven.” I took a breath. “Come on. We have to get out of here.” I helped him to his feet. The smoke was heavy now. To the left an entire shelving unit was engulfed in fire. “Hurry.” But in speaking, I swallowed some of the smoke and it made me cough. Flynn choked on it, too then cried out. The pressure caused by his coughing must have made his wound agonizing. We’d only gotten a few feet farther when one of the petrol cans exploded, and all hell broke loose. A wave of heat radiated from that side of the room, hitting us like a cannonball. Fire ran across the roof setting rafters on fire. Wood snapped and the rush of the flames was so loud I was forced to yell.

  “Come on.”

  I was so focused on making it to the door I didn’t realize the imminent danger of the fire above us. I had about a half second with the warning groan of the wood giving way, and that was enough to get my hands out before a part of a rafter broke free and knocked me off my feet. The contact with the ground, with the force of the rafter’s momentum and weight behind it, made my wrists, elbows, chest, knees…everything, hurt. For a moment, I thought I’d broken a rib again, but I just had the wind knocked out of me. I lifted my gaze. Flynn had escaped further injury and now stopped at the door and looked back. I was about to tell him to keep going, but he spoke first.

  “Sorry, Bridey.” And he disappeared.

  I groaned and laid my head down for a moment. There was a very good chance I would burn alive. I tried to take a deep breath and acknowledge this was probably my fate, but even this was denied me as deep breathing was impossible. Even on the floor, where the air should be clearer, the smoke was enough to make me cough. I twisted around. The weight of the beam was on my right hip, pinning me. If I’d only gotten a step farther, I probably could have squirmed out from under it. But as it was, I could not move from under the weight at all.

  I closed my eyes to concentrate on any possible way out of this. My chest tightened, and every breath I took seemed shallower, never quite filling my lungs. I was dizzy, and tired, and weak. I needed to rest for a moment before I made my final surge.

  My thoughts turned to Killian. We should be walking in the sunshine, holding hands and sampling gourmet dishes made by chefs from all around the world. Instead, I was tr
apped in a burning hell. I cracked my eyes and studied the flames that were coming closer. They were mesmerizing. My vision blurred, and I blinked tears away. I needed to find my way out of this somehow….

  Chapter 20

  Killian

  I realized I was humming some love song while I was getting ready. I was so looking forward to tonight. Working beside Bridey was great, and being with the people we loved on a daily basis made life much brighter. But I relished the time we shared together, just her and me. And she pure took my breath away coming down the steps earlier in that black dress of hers. I imagined her sitting across from me at the table, in the candlelight, and maybe dancing….

  I straightened my gray tweed vest, adjusted the tie a fraction, and debated on whether to roll the sleeves of my blue shirt, or leave them as is. I wanted to appear fit to be with Bridey, but I finally gave up and acknowledged she was out of my class. She was slumming for some reason, and I would never be worthy of her. The thought cheered rather than discouraged me. Snatching my hat from the newel post as I passed, I then skipped down the stairs, eager to be with my date for the evening.

  Upon stepping out, I got a reception the likes of Bridey’s. Cat calls, whistles…the guys at the bar were a bunch of morons, but they were our morons, and we loved ’em. A twinge of disappointment hit me when Bridey wasn’t on her stool, but I laughed at myself. So I’d have to wait five minutes. I could deal with it. Sitting on a stool besides hers, I drummed my fingers on the counter checking my watch and staring at the ladies’ room door. When she didn’t come out after a spell, I got restless. I ambled over to Rory and Ryan.

  “Will ya tell Bridey, if she comes out, I went to bring the car around, and I’ll be right back in?”

  “Aye. Sure. Get on now.”

  The night was ideal, and the setting sun had changed the sky to liquid fire. I stopped, leaning on the hood of the car, my hands in my pockets, admiring it. The sunwarmed metal of the car and the heat of the last rays of the day relaxed me. I was a lucky man. Lucky and unworthy. I’d been blessed with two wonderful women to love in my lifetime. Who deserved that? I sighed with contentment and my mind began to turn to what fabulous things we might be eating in Kinsale.

  If Bridey ever gets her hindend out here.

  Then I remembered I was supposed to bring the car around. I pushed off the hood and stretched, taking a breath and recognizing the smell of smoke when I inhaled.

  Ahh, the smells of autumn. Who didn’t love a good leaf burning?

  Then a loud cracking noise drew my gaze to Murphey’s. I jumped. The whole place was on fire. As I turned to move closer, something exploded. I broke into a run. When I circled the corner, folks were standing about, coughing and staring at the building. I searched the crowd.

  I finally spotted Deir’ and Paddy with Tag and Bre. I hustled in their direction.

  “Yous all right?” I called to them.

  “Aye.”

  “Praise the Lord,” Deirdre added.

  I glanced about. “Where’s Bridey?”

  Tag shrugged. “I thought she was with you.”

  Paddy nodded.

  Bre scanned the people gathered on the street. “I-I don’t know. She was right behind me.”

  “Nay. I was behind ya,” Aunt Deirdre countered.

  “Oh.” Bre’s eyes grew wide. “Wait…we heard the cat meow.”

  My heart beat faster and harder. “I swear by all that’s holy, if that girl gets herself killed because of that damned cat, I’ll wring her little neck.” Some part of my brain knew that didn’t make a lick of sense, but it couldn’t be heard above the alarm bells buzzing inside. I took off at a run.

  They shouted at me, but I paid them no mind.

  As I hit the first hazy wall of smoke, someone stumbled out of the interior.

  “Bridey?”

  The figure coughed, and as it came closer, I realized it was Flynn, his hand wrapped around his middle. The bottom of his shirt was soaked in blood. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “In there.” He coughed again and winced, tottering forward into the fresh air.

  I kept making my way to the building but wondered about Flynn’s state.

  What the hell happened to him? Did he fall in his hurry to get out and impale himself on something?

  That was as much effort as I would expend thinking on it. I reached the door, stepped inside, and blinked at the stinging smoke. “Bridey?” I shouted.

  Where the hell would she be?

  I scolded myself for not taking the time to ask Bre for more information.

  Mew. Mew.

  The cat! Its cry was faint, but I was pretty sure it was coming from the back of the building where the kitchen, our big storeroom, and Paddy and Deirdre’s bedroom were. I hurried to the bar and didn’t bother to walk around it. Once close, I put on a burst of speed, planted my hands on the top, and attempted to vault over it like a gymnast. However, since I was without the convenience of a springboard, I couldn’t get enough height as I swung my legs to clear it and caught my hip on the edge.

  Damn. That looks easier on the telly.

  The smoke was definitely thicker as I entered the hall behind the bar. It tickled my throat and I coughed, then covered my mouth and nose with the bottom of my shirt, occasionally removing it to call out her name. I strained my ears as I sprinted down the hall. The closeness of the walls gathered the smoke and made it impossible to see.

  Damn cat chooses now to be quiet?

  As soon as I thought it, the thing meowed again. Strangely, no flames greeted me as I crossed into the kitchen, although the heat was intense.

  “Bridey?”

  Answer me, damn it.

  I made it to the opening of the hall leading to the storeroom. I could make out the sound of wood cracking and the building groaning in response. It dawned on me that Flynn made it out, why didn’t Bridey? And what of the blood? I assumed it was his, as he looked like he was in pain, but could it have been Bridey’s?

  I reached the door to the storeroom and grasped the handle without thinking, then howled and jerked back. It was like grabbing the hot end of a poker. I bent and used the bottom of my shirt as an oven mitt, but, since it was thin, it was meager protection for my skin. My gaze darted around for something to use as a hot pad, but seeing nothing, I whipped my shirt off and wrapped it about my hand several times before gripping the scorching metal. The door opened a few inches, but stopped, as a fallen beam was blocking its path.

  “Shite.”

  The room beyond it fairly glowed with the light of the fire. If Bridey was in there, would I be able to make it to her before it was too late? The cat yowled again, sounding panicked. I raised my foot and kicked out with my heel, throwing my weight backward to get more power behind it. To my surprise, the door moved a few inches, and after another mighty blow, it was wide enough for me to squeeze through. I held my arm up and squinted, now not because of the smoke—although there was plenty of it—but to block the brightness of the fire. Ducking my head, I made out movement to my left and fought to make progress in that direction. The earlier explosion knocked items from their shelves, and I almost went down stepping on a can which rolled beneath my foot.

  “Bridey?” My voice contained some of the desperation I felt. I didn’t have much time before the whole place went up. I waved at the smoke, trying to clear a path for my vision. Then I remembered smoke rises and the cleaner air would be near the floor, so I crouched. I spotted them. The cat was in front of her, pacing like a panther at the zoo. But behind it, Bridey lay prone, and she wasn’t moving. A large beam had fallen from the ceiling and pinned her to the floor on her stomach, crossing from her right hip to her left thigh on the diagonal. The cat sprinted away, disappearing into the smoke. I don’t know if it felt its duties were over, having alerted someone to his mistress’ distress, or if it simply sensed my anger.

  Who goes into a burning building to rescue a feline?

  Squatting, I slid my hands under the beam and used my legs
to lift an end off her. I sidestepped to swing it into a clear area by her feet and drop it. I worried about moving her, but if I didn’t, we’d both go down in this fire. Gently, I flipped her onto her back then scooped her into my arms. But as I rose, she stirred and lifted her head, muttering. “Put me down.” I breathed a sigh of relief. She was all right. I searched for the safest path to exit the building. “Be still. I’m getting ya out of here.”

  “No. No.” She took a deep breath, coughed, and opened her eyes. “Put me down, Killian.”

  I shuffled my feet as I crossed the room, not wanting to trip and potentially drop her. “You might be injured.”

  She beat against my chest. “I’m fine. Set me down.”

  With a sigh, I set her gently on her feet. “Why do ya always hit me?”

  She frowned. “Why do ya always do things to make me want to hit ya?” She turned. “We have to get Flynn. He’s hurt.”

  “Flynn is already outside.”

  She spun around. “He is?” She blinked. “Then let’s get out of here.”

  Unbelievable. “Great idea. I wish I’d thought of it myself.” Another part of a beam fell from the ceiling near the rear of the room and sparks flew up. I took her hand, and we crossed to the shelving area.

  “Wait.” She looked into my face. “Tommy’s in here.”

  “Tommy? Your dead husband, Tommy?”

  “Aye. Only he’s not so dead.” She took a step toward the left, and another beam fell directly in front of her. I yanked her back.

  “We have to get out of here.”

  Her gaze darted about the rear of the building and she bit her bottom lip.

  I tugged on her arm. “Come on. We’re both going to die if we don’t get out of here right now.”