Tantalizing Maria

by HELEN HARDT

Jeff knew his face was streaked with tears. He badly needed a handkerchief. But he sat next to her anyway and fell into her arms, the sobs coming again.

  Mia held him, smoothed his hair, didn’t mind that he was ruining her blouse. He cried and he cried and he cried. For how long, he didn’t know. Didn’t care. He cried for the years he’d missed with Maria, with Angie, with his niece and nephew. He cried for his grandfather and brother, whom he’d never really known. He cried for the poor boys in prison whose abuse he couldn’t stop.

  And when he thought he was finally done crying, he cried some more.

  Through it all, Maria held him to her breast and rocked gently back and forth, as if he were a child she was comforting.

  He wasn’t sure how much time had elapsed when he pulled himself together. Maria rose without speaking and brought him a box of tissues. He wiped his running nose. She returned to the kitchen, and he heard the microwave running. A few minutes later, she came out holding a steaming mug.

  She handed it to him. “Here. Chamomile tea.”

  “Herbal tea?”

  “It’ll help you relax.”

  “I like regular tea.”

  “You don’t need any caffeine right now. You’re strung up enough as it is. This’ll help.” She patted his hand. “Trust me.”

  He reluctantly took the cup. “I didn’t even know I had chamomile tea.”

  “It was in the cupboard. Angie probably left it when she moved.”

  He couldn’t help but smile. Like mother like daughter.

  “Drink up.”

  He took a sip. Hmm. Not sweet. Not tea. But all in all not bad. Oh, hell, who was he kidding? It tasted like hot water.

  “You ready to talk?” Maria asked.

  He drowned in her dark brown eyes. She was so good. So caring. Had been an amazing mother to those three beautiful kids. Could she handle his demons?

  As if he’d spoken aloud, she took his hand. “I’m here for you. I can deal with anything you had to deal with. I want to. It’s part of you, and I want to know every part of you, Jeff. I always have.”

  “There were horrors there.”

  She visibly swallowed. “I know.”

  “Horrors I never wanted to bother you with.”

  “I’m here. I’m asking you to bother me. I need you to. And you need to do it just as much.”

  He nodded. “I was one of the lucky ones.” He closed his eyes. Black-and-red images clouded his mind, threatened to pull him in. He mentally pushed them away. “I was big enough and strong enough to avoid the…rapists.”

  “Oh, thank God.” Maria let out a breath. “I was afraid—”

  Jeff held out his hand to stop her. “There were nights I wished I hadn’t been so lucky.”

  “What?”

  “You don’t understand. To be witness to that kind of cruelty. The pain they inflicted…” He shook his head. “I tried to stop it once. I got beaten so badly I spent a few weeks in the infirmary. And the poor boy got it twice as violently because of my interference.”

  Maria’s face paled. She swallowed again. She was trying to hold it together for him. He clamped his hand to his mouth, his stomach churning. How could he do this to her?

  “I’m okay,” she said. “Go on.”

  “There was never any quiet. At night, I heard the wails of the smaller boys who were targeted by the rape gangs. It was…” How could he describe this? “They’d scream and scream, all kinds of voices, some high, some deep—but I always knew the exact time they got penetrated. The scream became a cry for help. A pleading. The sound was…different, like an appeal. A prayer. I know that doesn’t make sense. And I can’t describe it any better.”

  She exhaled. “I understand.”

  But she didn’t. She couldn’t.

  “And the fighting. There was one guy. He was called Big Chuck. He was there when I got there, and still there when I left. I watched the man age thirty years, but I swear, he still looked the same to me. He was a big bear of a guy. Pale and silvery blond. He looked Scandinavian. His sidekick, Jamal, was black as coffee. They were polar opposites, but only in looks. They had the same ruthless taste for infliction of pain and humiliation.”

  Maria squeezed his hand harder. He could tell this was hard for her, but she kept nodding, kept saying, “Yes.” So he went on.

  “They were both huge. Chuck was a little bigger. Maybe that’s why he was the leader. Hell if I know. He was also a little meaner. Though Jamal was one mean motherfucker.” He looked up. “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay. I have heard those words before.” She gave him a tentative smile. “Do you think they were gay?”

  He shook his head. “Nah. I suppose it’s possible, but I doubt it. Wouldn’t have mattered anyway. This wasn’t about relationships or orientation. It was about humiliation, violence. Besides, to be gay or straight you have to be human first. These two were animals. The other big fellas either stayed the hell away from them, like I did, or joined in, depending on how evil they were. The smaller fellas didn’t stand a chance. They either allied with one of the larger guys in exchange for protection, or they tried to remain invisible. Some of them were better at that than others.

  “I remember this one boy. I don’t even know his name. He was small, with feminine features. A beautiful kid. He could have been one of those androgynous Calvin Klein models. He was that pretty. He had blond hair and blue eyes, couldn’t have been more than eighteen or nineteen.

  “I never even knew his name or what he was in for. They never left him alone. He died within a few months from the abuse.”

  Maria clasped her hand to her mouth but quickly removed it. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. It’s terrible. You should be reacting that way. You wouldn’t be human otherwise.”

  She gazed into his eyes, her own eyes moistening. “He was the one you tried to save.”

  Jeff nodded, his throat constricting. He cleared it and went on.

  “There were others too, of course. Usually the younger, smaller boys, but sometimes the gang would target a bigger one.”

  “But you…”

  He shook his head. “I was one of the lucky ones. I was big enough and masculine enough…and I made the right friends quickly. That was key.”

  A tear slid down Maria’s cheek. “I’m glad.”

  Jeff looked at the ceiling. “Glad?”

  “Of course. I’m glad you didn’t have to…go through that.”

  “You’re not understanding, Mia. I did go through it. Every night. And the only thing that kept me from trying to stop it again was knowing they’d be all the harder on their victim if I interfered. Trust me, I would have landed back in that infirmary every time if I’d thought I could have made it even a little easier on those kids.”

  “Oh my God, Jeff.” Maria had a far-off look in her eyes, as if knowledge had dawned on her.

  “What?”

  “You’re punishing yourself, aren’t you? You’re punishing yourself because you couldn’t help those men. And because you were spared.”

  Jesus Christ, the tears again. He’d thought none were left. He dropped his face into his hands.

  She understood.

  The soothing touch of her hands on his back was a little comfort. But not much. How could he bring her into this hell he lived every day? She deserved better.

  She deserved a whole man.

  “Shh,” she soothed. “Everything will be all right.”

  How he wanted to believe her—to take her in his arms and lose himself in her lovely body. He’d nearly done so last night.

  Instead, he cried in her arms…and relived every stupid decision he’d made in his godforsaken life and every foul day he’d spent in that godforsaken place.

  * * *

  Thirty-Three Years Earlier

  Jeff stared at a big man he didn’t know. His grandpa didn’t have house servants on the premises after five p.m. Who was this guy?

  The air thickened around him like an invisible ca
ge. His skin tightened and he held back, quivering. Whoever the guy was, he had a gun pointed right at Jeff.

  Jeff held up his hands. “Hey, man, we don’t want any trouble. I’m Jeff Bay. Norman’s grandson.”

  “Yeah? And I’m Doris Day.”

  Trey let out a nervous chuckle. “Funny.”

  “Shut up,” Jeff said, his hand shaking as he reached into his pocket. “I really am. I can show you ID. I visited Grandpa at the hospital today and he wanted me to…uh…get some stuff from his office for him.”

  “Yeah,” Max said. “We’re here for the old man.”

  “Mr. Bay didn’t say anything to me.”

  “Of course he didn’t,” Max said. “He’s in the hospital.”

  Jeff regarded Max. This was coming really easy to him. Too easy. The lies slid from his mouth like slime oozing from a gangrenous limb. His voice didn’t crack once.

  Friend? No. Max was not Jeff’s friend.

  The man shifted, still pointing his gun at Jeff. “I mean Mr. Wayne Bay.”

  God. That stupid name coming to bite him in the ass again. “Mr. Wayne Bay is my brother.” Unlike Max’s, Jeff’s voice cracked. He cleared his throat. “Why don’t you give him a call?”

  “I didn’t know Mr. Bay had a brother.”

  Grandpa and Wayne had never even mentioned him? Figured. “Well, here I am. And you can see the family resemblance, I’m sure.” Why hadn’t they worn ski masks? This was the biggest fuck up ever. And he thought he’d crossed all his Ts on this one. He’d gotten lazy. Lazy and stupid. He should have known Grandpa had hired some kind of night security.

  He glanced at Trey. The flashlight was still lit and in his hand, illuminating the floor. An idea sparked in the back of his mind. He motioned his head ever so slightly and then glanced at Max. The three of them had been working together a long time. They hadn’t yet faced gunpoint, but they’d gotten out of a lot of bad scrapes by working as a unit. Once the two men were on board, he nodded.

  Quick as a flash, Trey raised his arm and shone the flashlight in the security man’s eyes. Caught off guard, the man blinked at the light. Before he could respond, Max had karate chopped his arm and the gun spun to the floor.

  As it was closest to Max, he rushed to grab it. Things were good, until—

  “What the heck is going on in here?”

  Taken by surprise, Max picked up the gun and waved it in the direction of the new voice and fired.

  At Wayne.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Maria wept with Jeff. If only she could take his pain away, she’d gladly bear it all herself. He had finally calmed down. His handsome face and eyes were swollen and red from crying. She’d never imagined Jeff crying. He’d always been so strong.

  But he was human. And he’d been to hell and back.

  She understood now. She understood that he’d felt every ounce of pain those poor men had gone through, to the point where he’d wished it were him going through it, because that might be preferable to witnessing it. She understood all too well.

  Any mother understood. Thank the good Lord, her children hadn’t suffered anything so horrible, but every time they had gone through a difficult time, Maria had nearly died watching their pain and would have gladly borne it to save them the suffering.

  She knew she’d never truly understand the horrors Jeff had witnessed and experienced, but she finally understood where his head was.

  Could she help him?

  She didn’t know. But she could be here for him, and that’s what she intended to do.

  She nudged him. “Come on. You need a bath.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t take baths.”

  She stood and pulled at his arm. “Today you do. It’ll relax you.”

  His sunken eyes seemed to look right through her, until they softened. “Okay, Mia. Whatever you say.”

  She led him to the master bathroom and started the water. “I don’t suppose you have any essential oils?”

  That got a little smile out of him. “Fresh out.”

  She nosed through the cupboards. “Maybe Angie left something.” But no, nothing. Plain water would have to suffice. Didn’t matter anyway. He only needed the warmth and the steam to relax his body and mind.

  She tested the water and plugged the drain. She wanted it hot but not too hot. “Splash some cold water on your face a few times,” she said to Jeff.

  “Mia…”

  “Did I give you a choice? Go on now.” She inhaled. She was starting to sound like a mother here. She definitely didn’t want to be his mother. “Sorry. But it’ll help. I promise.”

  He obeyed her and then turned toward her, droplets of water hanging from his unruly hair. Even in the state he was currently in, he still took her breath away. He was the handsomest man she’d ever seen.

  “Go ahead and take off your pants,” she said. “The water’s about ready.”

  Again he obeyed her and stepped into the tub.

  “I’ll be right back.” She hurried to the kitchen and grabbed a large cup. When she returned, he was leaning back in the tub, his eyes closed.

  “Before you get too relaxed, let’s take care of your hair.”

  He sat up, saying nothing. Clearly, he’d decided to go along. She poured cupfuls of water over his head to wet his hair and then massaged a liberal amount of herbal shampoo onto his scalp. She washed gently, massaging, trying to help him relax. A low groan told her she was succeeding. When she’d finished, she rinsed, again with the cup, and dried his eyes with a soft towel.

  She squeezed some shower gel on a shower pouf and washed his body, being careful to keep it as nonsexual as she could. He needed comfort right now, not sex. And after witnessing his breakdown and learning what he’d been through, she wasn’t much in the mood either.

  When she’d cleaned him as best she could, she stood.

  He opened his eyes. “Where are you going?”

  “Just out to the bedroom. You relax. Enjoy the water. Take as long as you want. Get out when you start looking like a prune.”

  “Will you stay in here with me?”

  She looked around. Only one seat in the house. She sighed and sat down on the closed toilet. “Of course I’ll stay. Do you feel like eating though? I could heat up the breakfast I brought.”

  He shook his head. “Maybe in a little while. For now, just stay. Please.”

  The toilet was too far away for her to hold his hand, so she got up and sat down on the floor by the tub. He grabbed her hand before she could take his.

  He closed his eyes, leaning back. He didn’t play with her fingers, just held her hand and breathed in and out—sometimes deeply, sometimes more shallow so she thought he had fallen asleep. But then he’d take a deep breath again.

  She had no idea how long they sat there. When he finally moved to get out, she stood, handed him a towel, and then left the bathroom.

  When he emerged, naked, he said, “Would you lie down with me for a little while?”

  She nodded. She lay down on the bed, hoping she could offer more comfort.

  He lay beside her, spooned up against her. Soon his breathing indicated he had fallen asleep.

  Finally, she let herself go and wept.

  * * *

  Thirty-Three Years Earlier

  Wayne dropped to the floor, clutching at his upper arm and moaning.

  “Christ, Max, what have you done?” Jeff lunged toward his friend, grabbing for the gun.

  Max dropped it to the floor and Wayne crawled toward it. The security guard ran from the room.

  “God, Wayne, are you okay?” Jeff knelt next to his brother, who gripped the gun with a bloody hand.

  “No, I’m not okay, you asshole. I’ve just been shot. What the hell are you trying to pull here?”

  Jeff didn’t answer. It ought to be clear enough. “Who’s that other guy?”

  “Regan. Our nighttime security.”

  “Since when?”

  “Since none of your business, Jeff
. What are you trying to do, rob us?”

  Max walked toward them. “Give me that gun, Bay.”

  Jeff tried to get a look at Wayne’s arm. “Get out of here, Max. Can’t you see he’s hurt?”

  “Tell him to quit being a baby. I just grazed him. It was an accident.”

  “Let me take a look at it,” Jeff said.

  His upper arm was bleeding pretty good, but it did seem to just be a nick. “I think you’ll live.”

  “Of course he’ll live,” Max said. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

  Jeff looked around. “Where’s Trey?”

  Max shuffled. “Didn’t you see him? He ran like a chicken shit right after big brother here showed up and got himself shot.”

  “Shut up. God.” Jeff turned to his brother. “Wayne, you’re going to have to give me the gun so I can wrap up your arm.”

  “Oh, hell, no.”

  “Look. I need to get your bleeding stopped, and then we’ll call the ambulance, okay?”

  “Ambulance.” Max widened his eyes. “Have you gone mental?”

  “My brother needs medical attention, you moron.”

  Max stalked forward. “Give me the fucking gun, Bay.”

  Wayne, arm shaking, raised the gun, and shot. Max went down yelling, clutching at his calf.

  “Jesus,” Jeff said, “what did you do that for?”

  “I didn’t hurt him,” Wayne said. “I’m a better shot than that. But he needed to be stopped.”

  Footsteps trampled down the hallway.

  “Shit,” Jeff said under his breath.

  Within seconds, Regan stood in the doorway, a new gun in his hand. “The police are on their way, assholes.”

  Before Jeff could stop him, Max had lunged forward on the floor, grabbed the gun from Wayne, and shot Regan.

  Dead.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Maria woke to the smell of ham and eggs. She patted the bed beside her. Jeff had gotten up. He came into the room, smiling and holding the tray she had brought…how many hours earlier? She felt like she’d aged a few years since this morning.

  His eyes were still swollen, but all in all, he looked good. The major difference was his demeanor. He looked happy.