by Charles, Eva
“SOLO files. Lab equipment.” He looks up at me. Terror in his eyes. “You were getting too close.”
“Who set the fires?” Smith demands.
“Tom. Nobody was supposed to die. It was on a timer. He panicked. Didn’t know how to stop it.” He’s sweating like a fucking pig.
“Where’s Tom now?” I ask.
He shrugs, and Smith gets down and grabs him by the throat. “Dead,” Olson whimpers.
I get down on my haunches beside him. “Why did he kill my mother?” When Olson doesn’t answer immediately, I slap his face a few times like he’s a little bitch.
“She—she—Julia was going to blow the whistle on him.”
“For what?” I hiss.
“He was with a girl.”
“Georgina Bressler?” Olson nods. “Were there other girls?” He looks at me and nods. “How many?” He shrugs. “More than ten?” He shrugs, and I grab him by the throat and squeeze until his face begins to turn a purple hue. “I want to know if my sister Sera was one of those girls.”
He shakes his head. I don’t know whether he’s lying or not, but I desperately want to believe him.
Smith shoves my hands away from his throat. “My turn,” he says, pushing two fingers into Olson’s windpipe until he chokes for air. “What did Rofler put on that boat?”
“Nerve agent and antidote,” he gasps.
“Sonofabitch,” Smith sneers. “Where is he now?” Olson shakes his head. “Where is the nerve agent?”
“Not sure,” Olson mumbles. “No one knows.”
“I want to know why DW had that antidote made.” Smith is an intimidating motherfucker and right now he’s in his element. “Was he selling the nerve agent to the resistance in North Africa?” Olson shakes his head. “Then what?” Smith barks.
“Arming. Arming the rebels.”
“Fuckers.” Smith stands up and kicks him in the ribs. Olson screams. “You were going to let them use it on the battlefield on American soldiers to line your pockets with cash?”
“Antidote,” Olson spits out. “Low casualty rate.”
Smith goes for his gun and I lunge forward to stop him. “Don’t. Death is way too good for the bastard. He needs to suffer a long time before he dies.”
I yank him off the ground and drag him back to his jailors. “He’s all yours. But I want him raped every day.” I elbow Olson in the jaw. “Every fucking day. If you can’t find someone who wants to stick their dick in his ass, use a rusty pipe or an empty cerveza bottle. I don’t give a shit. But if it doesn’t happen, you’re not getting a fucking peso from me.”
“Senor,” the oldest man says, his eyes imploring me to be reasonable.
“He hurt little girls,” Smith says in English, and then in Spanish so that all three of them understand. “Nine and ten years old. Babies. They were raped and he threatened to kill them if they told anyone.”
The men nod. The oldest man meets my eyes and then Smith’s. Trato Hecho. Done deal.
Almost. I tell myself as we head back toward the Jeep. “We need to get word to your father about the nerve agent.”
“That boat was intercepted by the good guys in international waters. I just wanted to know what was on it. My father is a cagey bastard. He wouldn’t tell me.”
I smile and toss the keys to Smith. “You drive.”
“Back to the airfield?” he asks. “Or do we have time to stop for a cerveza?”
I shake my head. “Haircuts. We gotta get haircuts.”
37
Julian
One of the first things a president does when he takes office is to plan his funeral. My father had not been president long enough to hammer out many details. His wife Shelby, of course, wanted all the pomp and circumstance she believed was due to her. I, on the other hand, had simpler goals: to stick that sonofabitch into the ground without causing Gabrielle, my brothers, or the country any unnecessary grief. I also wanted to make the general proud.
The Bishop of Washington and I had a brief discussion earlier in the week about how the service would be conducted. Much of it would be based on presidential protocol and church law. He was rather surprised when I told him that I would like an opportunity to speak to the country, but that I would not be eulogizing my father. Apparently, it’s a great honor to eulogize a sitting president. Fuck that.
After much negotiation, we decided I would say a few healing words and lead the congregation in the Lord’s Prayer. Believe me when I say that wasn’t my idea. But the alternative was to remember my father with kind and loving remarks. I had nothing on the Bishop that might persuade him to see things my way. Nothing. You understand my dilemma.
That’s how I ended up where I am now, behind the lectern at the National Cathedral speaking at the funeral of the man who murdered my mother and sister, and left my youngest brother for dead. The man who molested little girls and did his level best to destroy his three oldest sons. The man who videotaped me having sex with my innocent girlfriend and used those tapes to blackmail me. The man who was willing to sacrifice young men and women serving their country honorably in order to fill his pockets with money he didn’t need.
Our Father who art in heaven hallowed be thy name.
For the first time in twenty years, since the day I overhead the conversation between my father and Olson, I can breathe again. The weight is gone and I have a chance at a real life.
I gaze over the sea of mourners until I lock eyes with her. I can never undo the evil that he did, but I can put it behind me, and dedicate myself to being worthy of her love.
Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us and lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil.
Amen.
Epilogue
Part I: Gabrielle
The parking lot at Wildflower is deserted when we pull in. The club is closed which is why Gray agreed to let me throw a little surprise party for two today. It took some convincing since he knows JD still hates the club. It’s one of the few things in our complicated history that he can’t seem to put behind him.
“Are you sure you won’t need a ride back to Sweetgrass?” Gus asks.
“I’m sure. JD’s on his way and I’ll go back with him.” If he’s still speaking to me.
Rafe peers at me in the rearview mirror. “We’ll hang around until he gets here. If he doesn’t have security with him, we’ll be right outside until you’re ready to leave. We’ll follow you back.”
I don’t argue. “That’s fine. But Smith assured me I could have dinner with my husband tonight without security lurking nearby.” Smith snickered when I told him I wanted to surprise JD with dinner at Wildflower. Dinner? he teased, not bothering to hide that he knew I was lying.
As I stroll up the flagstone path, I’m a little uneasy. Not because Rafe and Gus are watching me walk into what we all know is a sex club. And not because of JD. The worst thing that can happen in that regard, is he throws me over his shoulder and carries me out of the club, leaving a trail of curse words behind us. It would be just like him to do it, too.
No, I’m uncomfortable because Gray knows what I have up my sleeve. Not the details, of course. But Wildflower is a sex club, so it’s not like I can pretend we’ll be praying the rosary. Stop Gabrielle. I do need to stop the foolishness. Gray knows JD and I have sex. We have a child. We’re married. Even the most faithful believe it’s acceptable for married people to have sex. It’s a God-given duty. Okay, maybe not in a sex club. I have this conversation with myself all the way to the front door where Gray is waiting to let me inside. He must have seen us pull into the parking lot. “Hi,” I say a little shy.
“Hi,” he responds, with mischief in his eyes that makes my cheeks hot. He places a warm peck on the top of my head. “How’s the smartest baby in all of Charleston?”
“Do you believe she’ll be six months tomorrow?”
He grins. A sincere, beautiful grin that I don’t see often enough from him. “Only because JD couldn’t
stop talking about it at dinner the other night.”
“Yes, JD is fully taken with all her charms. He just can’t say no to his little angel. I’m going to have my work cut out for me, otherwise she’ll be the most spoiled girl in all of South Carolina.”
“Nothing wrong with that,” he says. “Do you want to take a look downstairs before JD gets here?”
“Sure.” I avert his knowing eyes.
“Then let’s go.” I follow him to the back of the club and through a door that requires a code. There are two elevators that also require a code to access. “The security is for safety, and also for privacy. Our clientele requires both.”
I nod. “Hmm.”
“You sure about this?” he asks. “Because you’re awfully nervous. You’ve barely said a word.”
“I’m not nervous, just a little embarrassed that you—well, that you know.” Gray smirks, and I shove his arm while we step into the elevator. “Don’t make this any harder.”
“I still don’t entirely get why you chose Wildflower to surprise JD. He hates this place, especially the lower floors.”
I stand tall and stare at the seam between the elevator doors. “I’m here because someone took something from me—and from JD—a long time ago. I want it back.” Gray doesn’t say anything, but his posture is rigid, and the air is suddenly chilly.
The elevator stops and the doors open to a long, wide hall with soaring ceilings. Like the rest of the club, it’s handsomely decorated in dark woods and rich jewel tones. It looks exactly the part—a private men’s club frequented by the wealthy and powerful.
“There are rooms up and down this hall and around the corner on either side,” Gray says, pointing down the ornately decorated passage. “The doors are all open. Take your pick.”
“Will you be upstairs?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t want to think about you and my brother down here, any more than you want me thinking about it. Probably less. Besides, it’s better if I leave before JD arrives. He has a key. Stay as long as you like. Remind him to lock up on his way out. And tell him the security cameras have all been turned off. I double checked. He should turn them back on when you leave.”
Cameras. I hadn’t given any thought to cameras. Maybe this was a mistake. “Is there anything else I should know?” It comes out sounding like such a naïve question, but I’ve never been inside this place. Not downstairs anyway.
He shakes his head. “JD knows the ropes.” I see his smug little smile and roll my eyes.
Gray steps inside the elevator, and then quickly steps back out, holding the door open with a broad shoulder. “Did he touch you? My father.” There is so much pain in his face that my heart hurts.
I shake my head. “Only with his eyes.”
He blows out a large, noisy breath. “I’m so sorry, Gabby. So sorry. I hope you find whatever you’re looking for here. For you, and for JD.”
“You don’t need to apologize for your father. None of it—not a single thing—had anything to do with you.” I squeeze his arm and reach up to give him a small kiss. “Thank you for letting me use the club tonight. And since you’ve done me a big favor, let me do something for you. Call Delilah.”
He glares at me. “Why would I want to talk to a liar?”
“Because she made you smile. A lot.”
“I’m not like JD. I smile all the time.”
“Not the way you smiled when you were around her. Those smiles came straight from your heart. The kind you reserve for your brothers, and for your niece.”
“Good luck tonight,” he says curtly, stepping into the elevator and letting the door close between us.
Oh, Gray. I’m going to force you to talk to her yet. But I can’t think about it now. I have another Wilder man to set right first.
It’s so quiet here. My heels clicking against the black and white checked floor are the only sound as I wander down the hall, peeking into one room after another. Each doorway has a beautifully framed sign hung on the wall, just to the right of the door: The Sultan’s Palace, The Classroom, The Boardroom, The Stable, The Circus, The Zoo, The Dentist’s Office, The Doctor’s Office, on and on. A place to indulge almost any fantasy.
I turn left at the end of the hall to find The Attic, The Cellar, and The Dungeon—the darkest room of all. It’s like something right out of The Inquisition, with stocks, a wooden cross, and a stainless-steel table that appears tailor-made for torture. The stone walls and floor add to the medieval vibe. It’s immaculate, everything polished to a high gloss, but it’s menacing just the same.
I move slowly around the space taking it all in, before going to a bank of drawers at the edge of the room, each one with a carefully applied label identifying its contents. I open a few to see exactly what they hold. In the first drawer, there are nipple clamps in assorted shapes and sizes, some with sparkling gems that mask their purpose, others that look like painful pinchers one would do best to avoid. Everything is packaged in plastic and arranged neatly. In another drawer, there are dozens of tubes and jars of lube, something for everyone.
When I’ve satisfied my curiosity, I go to the back, to an arched doorway leading to what looks like a high-end hotel room, and a connected bathroom outfitted with a spacious shower, fluffy towels, a hairdryer, lotions, toothbrushes, and everything else one might need before returning to the real world. Everything is packaged in sample sizes and it’s all of high quality. The cost to join the club must be prohibitive.
I open a tiny jar of cream and work a small dollop into my hands before returning to the play area for another quick look around.
Yes, this is it.
You were a sonofabitch DW, and every day I hope you’re getting exactly what you deserve, but regardless, you will not cause your son another moment of regret or any more pain. It ends here, right where it began.
I reach into my bag and take out the note I wrote last night, rereading each word before taping the cream paper to the door.
***
Julian
I use my key to let myself inside Wildflower, and take the elevator downstairs. My eyes are trained in front of me, I don’t spare the room even a small glance. I hate this fucking place.
I received a text from Gabrielle. She claimed to be helping Gray with something in one of the rooms downstairs when she twisted her ankle. She’s not answering my calls, and neither is Gray. I have the distinct feeling they’re playing me. Or at least, that Gabrielle concocted some bullshit story to lure me here.
The elevator doors open, but there’s no sign of anyone. I slide my hand into my jacket pocket and palm my gun. “Gabrielle,” I call. “Gray.” There’s no response. I look into each room as I make my way down the hall. No sign of either of them, anywhere. When I reach the end, I consider calling Gabrielle’s security who were parked right outside the building when I entered. But then I see it. Something pinned to the door at the end of the hall.
My heart rate has picked up and I’m starting to sweat. I hate this fucking place. Can’t say it enough. As I approach the dungeon, it becomes clear that the paper taped to the door is a note—for me.
Dear Julian,
Tonight, I want to make memories so incendiary they will eviscerate all the ugly memories about this place that torture your soul. Tonight, it’s you and me, Julian and Elle, exploring fantasy in the way that we both love to do. Tonight, I’m yours to play with, to do with as you like. Don’t you dare hold a single thing back.
All my love forever,
Elle
After staring at the note for some time, I rip it off the door and crumble it into a ball and shove it into my pocket. This is her gift to me. An attempt to free my soul. Oh, Gabrielle. You have no idea. You don’t want this. And even if you do, I’m not sure I can give you what you’re asking for. Or even if I should.
When I push open the door, she’s kneeling in the center of the room, head bowed, palms flat on her thighs in a submissive posture that isn’t part of any scene we normally expl
ore. She’s wearing nothing but flimsy black lace and a mask. My dick is rock hard before the door clicks shut behind me.
I go directly to Gabrielle, my heavy footsteps echoing loudly. When I reach her, I yank off the mask and toss it aside. I want to see her face. Without a single kind word, I curl a finger under her chin, forcing her to meet my eyes. There are no answers there, only the glimmer of arousal. “Are you sure?”
She wets her lips. Her tongue glistens in the dim light. “Yes.” She nods.
“What’s your safeword?”
“Wilderness.” My heart clenches when the word tumbles from her lips. But my cock is straining against the zipper, unmoved by sentiment or regret.
I pull Gabrielle to her feet and find her mouth with mine, exploring roughly, delving deeply. My kiss is a message, reminding her how much control I have over her body, letting her know how hard I’m going to use her, and how much she’s going to enjoy it.
She gasps for air when I pull my mouth away. “Take off all this pretty lace.” I run my fingers along the curve of her breast. “I need you stripped bare so that everything I own is on display for my enjoyment.”
She doesn’t bat an eyelash as she takes everything off, putting on a little show for me.
I step closer. “One of these days you’re going to learn to be careful about what you ask for. One of these days,” I murmur, sinking my teeth into a long tendon at the base of her neck.
“Ahhh.” She tips her head back and moans softly, at the small bite of pain.
“Don’t hold anything back. Not a single thing. That’s what you want?” I demand. But before she can answer, I’m already dragging her to the stocks. I lift the wooden arm and push her upper body down gently, until her neck is resting in the padded headpiece, and then I adjust the handpieces so her wrists are bound securely. “Don’t move,” I warn. “Or I’ll bind your ankles.” I step back and admire her gorgeous round ass that’s fully available to me.