Torment (Carter Kids #4)

by Chloe Walsh

  "She's in recovery," the doctor added. "We had to sedate her earlier. When she came around, she was understandably…distressed. She's awake now, but she's very groggy."

  "Mr. Messina?" Another person called my name and I couldn’t take it. I couldn’t fucking handle another black face. Another fucking word.

  Bracing myself, I managed to turn around and glare. "What?"

  "I'm so very sorry to trouble you at this time, but my name is detective Meyers," the plain clothed, bald headed cop told me as he stepped closer. He gestured to the short woman beside him. "This is detective Taylor. We're fronting the investigation on your wife's attempted murder." They moved closer to me. "We wanted to personally let you know that Roy Dennis was arrested and officially charged tonight."

  My heart stopped dead in my chest.

  "My wife's…" I shook my head and blinked back the tears. "What the fuck are you talking about?" I gaped around, scanning the people in the room. They all looked as confused as I felt. "She was hit by a car." I ran my hand through my hair and exhaled brokenly. "It was an accident." I looked around helplessly. "Right?"

  "What the hell are you trying to say here, officer?" Kyle demanded, coming to stand beside me, and I was thankful. I didn’t think I could do this on my own. Not this. "Are you telling us that someone purposefully ran Teagan over?"

  The officers looked at each other for a long moment before turning back to my brother. "We believe that Mrs. Messina was targeted by a member of the same criminal gang that are responsible for carrying out the murder of Tommy Moyet."

  "If you believe this then why the fuck haven't you arrested them?" Kyle demanded, furious, as he wrapped an arm around my shoulder. "The Dennis family have put my brother through hell and back. He served his sentence. He's done his goddamn time. Why aren’t they?"

  "It's not as simple as going off and arresting them," Officer Meyers told my brother. "These men are smart. They leave nothing behind them. No tracks. No evidence."

  "Bullshit," Kyle snarled, raging. "His daughter is dead. His wife is in intensive care and you're telling me it's complicated?"

  "We've been tracking these men for ten years," the officer told us. "We have one in custody and please… believe us when we tell you, he's going down for a long time. We are a hair's evidence away from burying these men." He looked at me, and then Kyle. "We just wanted to let you know that we have it under control." The officer turned to me. "No need to take the law into your own hands."

  He was warning me.

  And I didn’t care.

  My baby was dead.

  What the fuck good was the law now?

  "So what?" Kyle roared. "Sit back and wait for them to take another crack?" He shook his head and snarled. "You're the fucking law. Implement it, goddammit!"

  A huge sob racked through me as I took a step away from my brother and the officers. They could say what they wanted. I was done.

  Turning to the doctor, I whispered, "Take me to my family."

  ****

  Teagan

  "Mama."

  "Come on, Mama, you're going to miss it."

  "I'm coming, sweetheart," I called out as I ran blindly through the mist and the fog, chasing after a raven haired girl.

  I wasn't sure where I was.

  Only that I felt light and gooey – like a marshmallow.

  "This is fun," I added, as I caught up with the little girl I had never met yet had somehow always loved.

  "What about Daddy, Mama?" she asked me, placing her small hand in mine.

  "Daddy?" Her question confused me. I didn't understand. Everything was so bright. So enticing. "Who are you talking about?"

  "Don't you want to wait for Daddy?" The raven haired child turned and asked. She looked up at me with huge brown eyes. "Daddy will be sad if we both go without him."

  "I want to go with you," I told her happily, moving closer to the light, feeling the warmth and serenity on my skin. "I don't care about anything else." The urge inside me to follow this little girl was stronger than anything I'd ever felt. I knew nothing but her. It was as if I had been born in this moment and only knew this child.

  "Daddy will be sad if you go," the little girl repeated, concern on her face. She tugged harder on my hand. "Don't leave him, Mama."

  "But I don't remember," I replied honestly. "I only know you." I smiled brightly. "I only love you."

  "You love Daddy," she replied eagerly. Pulling me to a stop, she reached up and cupped my face. "You remember Daddy."

  Shaking my head in confusion, I reached up and covered her hands with mine. Only then did I notice the black ink etched on the fourth finger on my left hand.

  Startled and drawn to the marking, I held my hand out in front of my face.

  The little girl beamed up at me.

  "See," she giggled serenely, taking several steps away from me. "I knew you loved Daddy."

  The moment the words came out of her mouth, I was bombarded with a thousand memories.

  Images of two teenagers evolving in front of my eyes.

  The voice of a boy – no, a man. He was a man now.

  And I loved him.

  I couldn't remember him but I knew I loved him.

  My body grew warm as images of a tattooed boy filled my mind.

  My heart seemed to expand inside in my chest.

  Thorny roses filled my vision.

  A hungry little boy, frightened and cowering in a closet.

  Gun smoke and fire.

  A consuming feeling of love.

  And then I was falling backwards.

  Moving at the speed of light.

  Further away from the little girl.

  Falling into darkness, comforted only by the images of this boy.

  His face.

  His voice.

  His smell.

  His words.

  His touch.

  My body arched upwards as I felt the ground close in on me.

  Only one word fell from my mouth when I hit the bottom.

  Noah.

  ****

  Teagan

  The worst day of my life was the day I came around to find that it had all been for nothing.

  The hoping, the praying.

  All the sacrifices and all the pain.

  It was for nothing.

  She was dead.

  I had lost her before I ever had a chance to know her.

  The cruelness and unfairness of it all was crushing my wind pipe, suffocating me.

  I was done with this.

  All of it.

  Blood and pain and death and emptiness.

  I was ruined.

  I didn't care.

  She was gone.

  Just like that.

  I held onto her tiny body for dear life, refusing to allow the sedatives flushing through my veins to take these precious moments away. If this was all the time I would get with my baby, then I wanted to remember it.

  I wanted to cherish it.

  She was beautiful, like I knew she would be, with raven black curls melded to her tiny head. Her eyes were closed, but I knew what I would see if they were open.

  She was my daughter.

  My beautiful baby girl.

  Her raven black hair, porcelain skin, those faintly blue-tinged lips.

  She was so frail.

  Like a tiny little bird.

  I trailed my finger over her lips, praying my touch could somehow breathe life into her.

  "Einín." Pressing a kiss to her tiny forehead, I inhaled the smell of her. I tried to memorize every inch of her skin. "My little Einín."

  Hot, angry tears fell from my eyes, scalding my skin.

  I didn't do my job right.

  I didn't keep her safe.

  And now I had nothing.

  I was nothing.

  I was empty.

  Useless.

  Babies were supposed to cry. That was the way nature worked. You gave birth and you held your baby. You comforted her when she cried and you rocked her t
o sleep.

  My baby would never cry.

  She would never nurse from my breast, or squeeze my thumb in her tiny hand.

  It was too quiet in this room and the silence was killing me. Ripping me open. Making it too easy to think. I didn't want to think. I didn't want to be, period. This was too much for me. It hurt so much. Too much. And all I could think of was, please, no more pain. No more remembering.

  I felt like my soul had died the day they took my baby from me. My will to live had evaporated along with everybody's tears. Everybody's except mine.

  No one was smiling at me. No one told me how beautiful she was. No, those smiles and words of adoration were saved for the women with living babies.

  I wanted to be with her, wherever that was, even if it was nowhere at all.

  I wanted to hold her body in my arms for the rest of my life and keep her safe. Protect and cherish her. Cover her from the darkness. Pray for her.

  I wondered if I held my breath long enough would the lord would take mercy on me and stop my heart from beating?

  Pain enveloped me.

  Tears I knew would never cease poured out of me like a never-ending dam.

  It was too much.

  My heart was closing down.

  My mind.

  I was broken.

  I couldn't keep his baby safe.

  What kind of a woman was I?

  Was she frightened? Did she know me? Even a little bit? I couldn't take it. I had never felt pain like this. This bitter, aching, gaping pain. It was unbearable and I wanted no part of it.

  Blood and pain and death and emptiness.

  She was my baby and I had let her die.

  Let me go with my baby….

  The door opened inwards then, disturbing the eerie silence and reluctantly I tore my eyes away from my baby and looked up.

  Noah stood in the doorway of my room and in that moment I was fairly sure I'd never seen a man more broken than him.

  "Thorn." His voice was thick with emotion. He looked incredibly worn down and beat up. Like life had gotten the better of him. He was black and blue all over his face and his arm was strapped, from the fight, I remembered.

  It seemed such a long time ago now…

  "I'm sorry," I choked out. "I didn't mean it."

  "God, baby," he sobbed, rushing towards me. "This isn't your fault." Reaching me, he grabbed my face with his hands. "I love you," he was crying hard. "I'm so sorry, Thorn. So fucking sorry, baby."

  I had never seen Noah cry before.

  But he was crying now.

  "I didn’t keep her safe," I sobbed. "I promised you I would keep her safe"

  "This isn’t your fault." He pressed his forehead to mine. His whole body shaking. "You didn’t do anything wrong."

  "Please bring her back," I whispered.

  Noah gaped at me in horror.

  I knew I was asking for the impossible, but I was desperate.

  "You're here," I added, raving now. "Please." I used my free hand to clutch his jacket. "Make her come back." Tears trickled down my cheeks as I thrust our lifeless daughter into her father's arms for the first and final time.

  "I promise I'll never ask for anything ever again," I told him – I begged. Clenching my eyes shut, I cried uncontrollably. "Just make her stay with me."

  "I can't…" Noah's words broke off, and I heard his breath hitch in his throat. "Please stop, Thorn," he begged as he cradled our daughter in his arms, torn between looking at her and me. "I don't know what to do to fix this." His voice was broken and raw. "I can't fix this."

  ****

  Noah

  Teagan was begging me to bring our daughter back and I couldn't give that to her.

  I had nothing to say.

  I couldn't fix this.

  I couldn't bring our daughter back to life and we both knew this was on me.

  This was my punishment for being a Messina.

  For the life I had lived.

  I wasn't with her. She delivered the baby on her own; my wife went through it all alone, and I wasn't fucking there for her.

  Regret smothered me.

  They had dressed her in white, like the tiny angel she was, and when Teagan placed her in my arms, the pain that coursed through me was almost too much to breathe through.

  I couldn't take my eyes off the child in my arms.

  Raven black hair, skin like porcelain, lips pale blue. She was beautiful. And she would never know me. Or how much I wanted her.

  This was why I was inherently alone in life.

  Everything I touched died.

  Everyone I loved was taken from me.

  This was my fault.

  JD ordered a hit on Teagan and he fucking hit me through the heart. Taking my child.

  Murdering my baby daughter.

  I couldn't fix it. I couldn't bring back the baby. I couldn't do shit. Facts were that I wasn't there when she needed me most. She labored and birthed our dead daughter and I wasn't fucking there by her side. She did it all on her own. How the hell could I fix this for her?

  I'd never felt so hopeless.

  All this time, I'd been so focused on winning that stupid fucking belt, that I hadn't thought about Gonzalez not following through on his word.

  For the first time in my life, I had put my trust in someone.

  And it had cost me my daughter's life.

  ****

  Chapter Fifteen

  Noah

  For the entire night, I cradled my baby to my chest with one hand and held my wife with the other. The doctors had come in earlier and sedated Teagan.

  She was sleeping now, but it was a restless one. She was weeping in her sleep, and every tear that spilled from her unopened eyes broke my heart.

  Regret and anger coursed through me as I stared down at my baby.

  I would never know what color her eyes were, or hear the sound of her voice. I would never hear the word daddy from those tiny, pale blue lips.

  Teagan called her Einín – little bird in Irish.

  She was so little and frail, but I held onto her like she was the only thing keeping me on the ground.

  This was my flesh and blood, lifeless in my arms.

  My baby girl.

  I deserved this.

  This was my punishment.

  Tears fell from my eyes, landing on her tiny face, and I sniffed before wiping my cheek off on my shoulder. I didn’t cry. I couldn't remember ever crying. But this was my daughter.

  My baby...

  Pain was fucking scorching through me. I felt dizzy. Like something had cracked clean open inside of me.

  Her hair was black as night. She looked like her mother, but she had my hair.

  Oh god, this was too fucking painful and I had no idea how I was supposed to hand this tiny person over to them.

  I knew they would come soon.

  The nurses had told me as much.

  But I couldn’t hand her over.

  I couldn’t do that.

  How the hell was I supposed to do that?

  I realized I'd run out of time to think about it when the hospital social worker walked into the room. The men that followed her into the room, dressed in suits, fucking wrecked me. They were undertakers and they were here to take our baby.

  "She's not ready," I hissed, praying Teagan wouldn’t wake up and see what I'd been desperately trying to delay for the last twelve hours or so.

  "Mr. Messina," the social worker said, eyes full of sympathy. "You've refused a post mortem. We've delayed this as long as we possibly can." She took a step towards me and I found myself tightening my hold on my child. "Please," she encouraged. "It will only get harder."

  A nurse appeared then, the kind one who'd spent the night checking on Teagan, and I looked up at her. "Please," I whispered to the nurse. "I've never fucking begged for a thing in my life, but she needs more time with her." I need more time with her.

  "I'm so sorry," the nurse replied with tears in her eyes. "It's hospital policy."
>
  "Then don’t wake her," I choked out hoarsely. "Give her that mercy at the very least."

  "Your wife deserves a chance to say goodbye," the nurse told me as she walked to my wife's bedside and shook her arm gently. "Teagan," she said softly. "Teagan, it's time, sweetheart."

  The moment Teagan opened her eyes, she began to fight. "No!" Reaching for Einín, she pulled her into her arms and held her protectively. "Don’t let them take her from us," she sobbed, crying hard. "I know what they're going to do, Noah. They're going to take her from us and put her in the ground. All on her own. It's dark, Noah. It's dark and she's only a baby. I don’t want her down there. Not on her own."

  I didn't know what to do.

  I had no fucking clue.

  My heart was ripping and watching my wife fall apart like this made me want to set myself on fire. "We have to, Thorn."

  "Please," she begged, clutching onto the small little bundle as the nurse stepped closer, "Please, don't let them take my baby." Frantic, she looked at me and said, "You're a fighter. Stop them. Fight them. Don’t let them take her."

  "Teagan," I choked out. Twisting my body, I threw my arms around my wife and held onto her as the nurse took our baby from her arms. The scream that tore from my wife's throat was one I would take with me to my deathbed.

  "Shh," I urged, wrapping my arms around her, holding onto to her frail little body as she scrambled against me, desperate to get to the baby.

  "Why?" she screamed, clutching onto my shirt. "Why us?"

  "I'm so sorry," I repeated over and over again as I held her. How was I supposed to comfort my wife when we both knew I was the reason our daughter wasn't in her arms?

  She didn't want my touch but I wasn't letting go.

  I couldn't.

  I needed her touch.

  I needed to feel her alive and breathing in my arms.

  I held onto her body with my eyes clenched shut until the sound of a door closing assured me it was over. She was gone.

  "I'm broken, Noah," Teagan wailed, clawing at her face.

  "Then be fucking broken," I roared, pulling her hands away from her face. "But dammit, be broken with me. You have me." Sniffling, I pressed my forehead to hers, feeling worse than I'd ever felt in my life. "I know you don't want to hear it, but you have me, Thorn. I will never leave you."