by Mia Moore
“Tara. I’m glad you called. I wanted to speak with you.” He takes a seat across from me. The waiter appears to take our order for drinks.
“I’ll have a glass of tonic, thanks.” I speak to the waiter, ignoring Breton.
“Same.” He lifts the napkin from his place setting and puts it on his lap. “I can never make it up to you, the damage I caused. Please believe me, when I say I’m sorry.” Once more, the concern for my well being oozes out of him like pus from a pimple.
“Look Carl, it hasn’t been easy…for either of us. You served your time and I served mine.” I force myself to look into his eyes.
“But you keep serving, while I’m free. Tara, I wish you’d accept the money. It can’t bring your life back but it will make it easier for you. That’s the very least I can do.” He leans over the table, hands resting close to the cutlery.
“I can see how important this is to you…as a way of making amends. Perhaps I will accept your offer. God knows, it would sure help. I live like a shut in.” I have every intention of breaking this guy, financially and physically. I set my hands on the table and fold them together in front of me.
My skin threatens to crawl off my body when he reaches over and places his hand over mine. “Thank you. From the bottom of my heart I thank you for allowing me to make amends.” He sits back, removes his hand from mine and now his finger slides along the serrated edge of the knife. “Are you seeing anyone?”
The waiter appears with our drinks and asks if we are ready to place our dinner order. Breton flashes a fleeting smile and asks for a few minutes.
“Not really.” I raise my eyebrows and bite my lower lip before the plastic, shy smile appears. “I mean, nothing serious, just some…” I pause for effect, “casual encounters...” I risk a glance into his eyes when he leans closer. Yes, the subject of sex has his interest, but he’s clever enough to remain silent.
“My dating ways are definitely different these days.” I rub my finger along the rim of the glass of tonic, keeping my gaze there in an expression, I hope looks wistful. “I’m not really interested in any sort of relationship with anyone. I’m more into casual and anonymous.” If that doesn’t grab his interest, I’ll shoot him right here and now. The gun’s in my purse.
“I’m not sure what you mean…but I GET that it’s difficult. You’re talking to a guy that been in prison for four years.” His head tilts to the side and a slow smile appears on his face.
I laugh softly. “Sometimes I feel like a vampire, only going out at night. But instead of sucking blood, well let’s just say that there are plenty of guys in parks who don’t see or care about my face.” I don’t dare look at him but I sense his interest growing by the second.
“Oh God, Tara. That’s what it’s come to?” He lifts his drink and takes a long haul.
“Hey, don’t knock it till you’ve tried it. It’s actually pretty good. They call it dogging. Have you heard of it?” This time, I DO look at him, smile and take a sip of my drink.
The waiter appears once more and I glance up. “I’ll have the sirloin, rare.” I hold the glass of tonic, rubbing my thumb on the smooth surface and look down at the table. Breton murmurs he’ll have the same and the waiter disappears.
“Tara…”
I raise my head and look at him, waiting.
“It sounds dangerous. I mean, a woman going alone to a park at night? Surely there are—“
“Not where I go. Well, maybe a little scary but that makes it even hotter if you know what I mean.” It’s all I can do to keep smiling when I’d like to smash the glass into his face. Yeah, he’d know scary, wouldn’t he? Go on, ASK!
“Hey, this is a big city, where could you go that you wouldn’t risk getting mugged or killed even?” He leans forward again and touches my hand.
“I’ve found a park, not far from where I live. I’ve been there many times and never had a worry.” I shake my head and grin when his eyebrows pull together, questioning me silently. “Belle Park. It’s small but there’s a lot that happens there, let me tell you. Actually that’s why I ordered dinner so soon. Tonight’s a popular night.” I take a sip of tonic and peer at him over the rim of the glass. His eyes are wide and his lips part, watching me. I think he’s taken the bait.
Chapter 29
It’s close to midnight and the night is chilly and damp, waiting beyond the circle of light the lamp post sheds. My hands are thrust deep in the pockets of my trench coat and I grip the .25 caliber firmly in my palm. He’ll be here soon; I feel it in my bones. My gaze flits from the path to the trees bordering the clearing and then to the park bench.
Soft footsteps become louder and a dark shape appears, standing in the light, peering out in the darkness. He carries a small satchel or laptop case. He shifts and the light reveals his face—Breton.
“You came. I knew you would.” My hand gripping the gun, slowly pulls up as I stand, rooted to the spot in shadow.
“Tara?” He steps beyond the glare of the light, his head thrust forward, scanning the clearing.
I hold the gun in front of me, point it at his heart and take a step toward him. From about ten feet we face each other. My teeth are clenched and my breath hisses between parted lips.
His eyes grow wide and his hands raise, extended to the side. “Tara, no! You don’t want to do this.”
“Oh, but I do. You sack of shit. What’s it like to be on the other side? Weak and defenseless. How’s it feel, pig? What’s in your hand? Drop it.” I take another step closer, both hands holding the gun.
The leather satchel drops to the ground and he takes a step towards me. “I understand…you think you need to do this. God knows, I deserve it. Tara…walk away. Killing me will give you some satisfaction—I admit that. But you’ll be throwing your life away in the process. Think hard.” His eyes plead with me, even as he opens his arms wider, steps closer becoming more of a target.
Throwing my life away? The same words Mike said to me a few days ago.
“You’ll be no better than me if you do this. But kill me if that’s what you need to do. Maybe it’s the only way that I’ll be free of the guilt I carry.” He steps even closer. “Kill me.”
My hands tremble for a moment. It’s true. I will be no better than the pig facing me if I kill him.
But he ruined my life. He deserves to die.
He didn’t ruin your life. He changed it. If you do this, he’ll have won. Your life and any chance of happiness with Mike will be gone. Mike. Do I want to risk that?
I step closer and see the alarm and fear on his face. It’s probably the only time I’ll get that snippet of satisfaction.
“Go. Get out of my sight. Keep your fucking money and stay away from me. I swear, if I ever see you come around me again, I WILL kill you.” I lower the gun, so that it points at his groin.
“God bless you, Tara.” He takes a step closer and I lift the gun once more.
He picks up the satchel and hurries away. My eyes fill with tears as I stand silent, the gun still in my hand. I could have killed him so easily. I left the restaurant and took a cab home, chatted with the cabbie so he’d remember me. I had an alibi and could have gotten away with it. Maybe.
I’d dreamed of killing him for years and when it came down to it, I couldn’t. I really would have been reduced to his level. And he’s paid for his sin, his obsession with me. Let it go.
I put the gun back into my pocket and walk out of the clearing and down the path to the street. My feet move fast, almost running to my home. I’m light, floating in the cool night air. Dad was right. There is freedom in forgiveness. Well, that’s not quite right. I don’t forgive Breton but I’m happy to be free of him.
It’s over. I’ll live without the need for revenge, free at last. Free to choose peace and happiness…with Mike. I let myself into the building and pause at the stairwell. Should I go down and tell him everything? The gun. No. I’ll put it away and get a good night’s sleep, see Mike first thing tomorrow morning.
<
br /> Chapter 30
For the first time in years, I actually pray, thank God for unanswered prayers. I didn’t kill Breton and it’s over. Also for the first time in years I’m able to fall asleep immediately. A deep sleep.
***
A hand pressing my mouth and he’s there! Oh fuck, Breton. He smiles, sits on the bed next to me.
“You should have killed me Tara, when you had the chance. But we both know you don’t have that in you. Not like me.” His voice is soft, his eyes narrow, a smirk on his lips, still holding his hand tight on my mouth.
I glance to the side, see the curtain blow in the breeze where he’s entered. Oh my God, he’s going to kill me. Why? My heart thunders in my chest.
“You were the one who got away. Sure, I let one live because she begged perfectly. The others, not so much.” He pulls something round out of his pocket with his other hand.
He let one live… begged…maybe I’ve got a chance.
“I’m going to place this gag on you. If you scream, I will kill you—no chance to survive. Are you going to scream?” His face is close to mine. I can smell garlic on his breath.
I shake my head no. Oh God, the surveillance cameras that Mike had—they’re gone. I’m on my own here. He removes his hand and shoves a spongy ball against my lips.
“Open your mouth and bite down.”
I do as he says and he flips the elastic that’s attached on each side of the ball, over my head.
“Lift your hands in front of you like you’re praying.”
I pull my hands from under the sheets, place them on my chest, palms together. He jerks them up, so that my elbows rest on my chest, takes a strap from his pocket and wraps it around and around, securing my arms and hands.
“There. You’re all set to beg, like a good girl. Unlike the one in Texas who fought me like a wildcat. Well she found out pretty quick, she didn’t have nine lives.” He turns and sets the leather satchel on his lap, slips the leather flaps through ancient brass buckles to open it.
Holy Fuck! Inside, neatly arranged in order of size are knives, scalpels, razors. He stands and selects a stiletto, presses a button and the deadly blade flicks out. He grins and bends towards me, places the point of it under my eye.
“You see, or rather you soon won’t.” He chuckles and the hair on the back of my neck tingles. “You were my unlucky seven, the one I didn’t finish. Lucky for you the cop came along when he did, or maybe unlucky. It would have been quicker that night. Now, it won’t be.” The knife presses deeper into my skin. I see his eyes narrow and open wide again.
“I’ve had years to plan this. I’ll expect nothing short of perfection when you beg for your life. Like the girl in Nashville. She was so good, I added a tune to her words. I used to hum it before I went to sleep. My own lullaby, inspired by the Grand old Oprey.”
“Now your turn to sing, Tara.” He plucks the ball from my mouth and pulls it to my forehead.
My breath hitches in my throat. That sound. Was it the floor board in front of the door? I glance over Breton’s shoulder at movement behind him. Mike!
Breton scowls, his arm reaches across his body, to the side and he turns, gun in hand. Shots fire.
“NO! MIKE!” I scream, watching Mike fly at Breton. Another two shots and Mike starts to fall.
I roll to the side and pull the drawer open, grab the gun in my two hands, lift it. I scramble to my feet.
Breton stands on the other side of the bed, gun cocked and aimed at my head. “Drop it.” He’s not smiling anymore.
Mike is in a heap on the floor, blood seeping through his fingers where he holds his stomach.
“Fuck you.” I’m going to kill this son of a bitch if it’s the last thing I do. He’ll never cut me again.
There’s a click, then another, then surprise on Breton’s face when he looks at the gun. He drops it and scrambles to the window.
A deafening blast and a splotch of red below his shoulder. He’s still moving to the window. My hands lower and I take aim once more. I squeeze the trigger and the bullet catches him in the arm. He was half way out the window but the shot propels him against the rusty railing of the fire escape.
I hear his scream, see the railing give way and he’s gone. I run to Mike and hold his head in my arms. A light touch on my thigh and his eyes open. The sound of sirens outside barely register as I look through my tears into his eyes. “I thought he’d killed you. Oh Mike. How’d—“
“On your feet! Move away!” I look up at the deep voice, see a black cop with a gun pointed at me.
“He’s been shot! Call an ambulance!” There’s no way I’m letting go of Mike.
“They’re with the guy outside.” He moves to the window and shouts. “Another one, up here on three!”
“Please tell them to hurry! Leave the guy out there! He tried to kill us! They need to treat Mike!” I look down at Mike just as his eyes close.
Chapter 31
Two months later, in our apartment…
I hang the phone up and turn to Mike. “They’re going to try him in Dallas. Texas has the death penalty and that’s where the strongest evidence is. If he gets the chair, it’ll almost be a shame.” I take a seat on the sofa next to him.
He puts his arm around me and pulls me close. “Yeah, a long life tethered to a wheel chair would be a better punishment, but it’s not up to us.” He strokes my hair and lifts my chin to kiss me softly.
“You’re sure you want to go through with this? I mean it’s not too late. We could cancel the trip and only lose some of the money. This is going to be long and painful for both of us, if it even works.”
I sit up straight and push his chest back with both of my hands.
“Ow!” His hand goes to his side and he grimaces. “It’s still healing you know. A gunshot isn’t like a blister or boil.”
“Sorry. It’s just that, if any good can come from all of this, I want to do it. There’s plenty of money from the settlement--thank God I cashed the check while he was in a coma. And from what I’ve read, the innovations in skin treatments using stem cells, artificial skin that happens in this clinic, we’ve got a really good shot at looking normal again.” I stroke his face, looking at the smooth scars that cover half of it.
“I just don’t want you to be disappointed if it doesn’t work. Shit, we’ve both been through enough already. I shudder to think of what may have happened that night…how close to losing you I came.” He takes my hand and kisses the tips of my fingers.
“It’s a second chance. Thank God there was a camera I didn’t know about and you came. My hero.” I lean forward and kiss his cheek before continuing my case for the trip to Costa Rica.
“Well at the very least, it’s two months away from a New York winter. Besides, we’re all packed, Sarge and Flamer are quite content to be with Claire and we’re going—end of story.” I snuggle into him and whisper into his neck. “But, even if it doesn’t work, and we only recover some of how we once looked, I will always love you, you know that, right?”
“What if it works so well, that you become a model again? With all kinds of men after you, I might not stand a chance.” He pulls me away and looks in my eyes.
“I could look as beautiful as Jennifer Lopez and never be attracted to anyone but you. You’re beautiful inside and out…” My fingers slide along his body and stop at the crotch of his pants. “And, no one has ever satisfied me the way you can.”
I pick up the remote control and click the button, turning the computer monitors on. I face him again and slide the zipper of his pants down. “It’ll be two months before we’re able to watch again…”
THE END
Mia’s Readers Club!
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About the Author and Other Books by Mia Moore
About Mia Moore
In a lot of ways, I have been living the dream well before I published my first book. I’m married to a strong, intelligent and great looking man whose number one priority is to have my back. He rocks my world, and I love rocking his.
We’ve had some pretty hot adventures together, which were the inspiration for my first books.
Why do I write? I write for the same reason I love to read. Something happens and I’m swept away by the story. It didn’t happen right away when I began my first story, but it happened pretty quickly. It’s hard to describe… yes, I know, that’s a bad thing for an author to say but it’s true.
I write, because I can’t not write. And I love it!