She picked the skin at her cuticles after he called to say he arrived safely. He was well prepared, and leaving to go to THE BUILDING. There was no way to describe that place. It was the macabre setting where Jessie spent her most horrifying and cruel three days; and so grotesque that most people could not even contemplate it. It was flashback of rape and pain and dirt and terror. An ordeal that nearly killed her.
She started scratching her palms. It was easy to imagine Will standing there. And see all those men walking around with their guns. It was also easy to see Will, all alone, and getting caught. Hurt. Tied up. Disappearing from her life forever. Ruining her. Breaking her. Destroying her. He found her, healed her, put her back together, and even fixed her to almost normal; but now, with this one day, he could break her entire soul into a million pieces shattering to the ground, if she ever lost him.
Stupid. She was so damn stupid to let him go back. He would have stopped. She could have made him stop. She didn’t have to sacrifice him on her altar of pain. But she did. Did she want that? Is that why she let him go back there? Did she want revenge for herself? Would that make her feel better?
That was crazy. Revenge could never change what happened to her. How could she let the light of her life enter the dark and evil pit that so often swallowed her? He was never really part of it. How could she let him dive headfirst straight into it?
Was she really that selfish?
Maybe. The thought stopped her frantic pacing. Was she being selfish to want the men hurt? Or dead? She sent her husband after them. Her husband who witnessed it. And witnessed the ensuing years. How could she expect him to keep his cool? Or his control? What man or woman could? If anyone who hurt Will were at her mercy, she’d kill the bastard, wouldn’t she? How could she expect anything less of Will?
She was responsible for this. She set it up. She had to own that. His idea or not. He would not have gone there if she’d given him an ultimatum. He would not have gone if she said he’d lose her over it. He would have backed off, and perhaps, been annoyed and restless for a while, but he’d be home still and alive and safe.
He begged her to stay with Lindsey, and Jessie debated it. She even debated telling Lindsey exactly what Will was doing, but her sister was acting cagey of late. Jessie felt a new distance from her sister, and an estrangement that reminded her of how they used to be years ago. For that reason, she felt like she couldn’t go to Lindsey. Not about this.
Who then? What should she do today? Working was out. Playing with the dogs wasn’t enough. She finally called Bella.
“I’m having a bad day; can I hang with you?”
“Of course, you can. What do you want to do? See a movie?”
A movie. What a stupid thing to do. Her husband was sneaking into a drug compound with the undeclared intent of bringing down the operation single-handedly. Acid gurgled in her stomach and climbed up her throat. A movie. Could she sit through a movie? No. Yes. Did it matter what she did? As long as she did something besides cutting herself or any other crazy thing that would only make her day worse.
“Yes, but it has to be a simple, happy one.”
Bella laughed, “A simple, happy one it is. Want to go to lunch too?”
“Yes. I’m not hungry. But I don’t want to be sitting here.” Or pacing the carpet bare. Or scraping the skin off her arms, or running cold, icy showers that were nearly painful on her skin rather than simply slicing up her legs. They all seemed like the best ideas. But that was not what she spent the past five years trying to channel. She was no longer that girl, the one Will found in Mexico. And she’d be damned if this would send her back there.
“You okay? You want to talk about it?”
“Will’s doing something that could be dangerous. I can’t really say what it is. But I’m worried. No, terrified.”
They deliberately hadn’t told anyone that Will was off active duty yet, knowing his absence could more easily be explained away for military reasons.
Bella inhaled sharply. “Oh my God. Jessie. I’m sorry.”
“Too much information?”
“No. Glad you explained you weren’t just having PMS.”
“No. More than PMS. Hey, Bella?”
“Yes?”
“Thanks for being the friend I can call.”
“Jessie, are you all right?” Bella’s tone changed, becoming lower and deeper.
“Yes,” she said automatically. Then she shook her head, sliding to the floor before tears welled in her eyes and streamed down. She sniffed and snot filled her nose. “No. I’m not, Bella. I really want to do bad things to myself.”
There! That would surely make Bella run the opposite way. To avoid crazy, sad, freak-show Jessie. She shut her eyes, and regretted admitting that to her.
“Did you?”
Jessie opened her eyes. “Did I what?”
“Cut yourself? Hurt yourself?”
“No. Not yet.”
Bella laughed a strange, strangled sound. “Not yet? God, Jess, what am I going to do with you? Not ever again. I’ll be right there.”
“Y-you’ll be right here?”
She sighed. “Jesus, hon, you really don’t get the whole friend thing, do you?”
“No. I really don’t. I thought you’d hang up on me and pretend not to know me when we passed in the driveway.”
“Jessie Hendricks! I really can’t believe how little you think of your friends. Start thinking better of me.”
Amazingly, a small, tight smile stretched over Jessie’s lips. How could she smile on the very day that Will could be killed in Mexico? “Okay. I’ll try.”
“I’ll be right over. Just gotta pee and brush my hair.”
She actually laughed at Bella’s “too much information,” and her casual way of interacting and coming over. She thought she was the best friend alive to come over and babysit her, just to keep her from cutting herself.
Will told her to wait a full day before she got worried. He intended to sneak in just like last time. He would observe the lay of things and then figure out his plan. She was not allowed to panic. He liked to move slowly and thoroughly, figuring all the possible elements out. She had to be patient. If he could, she could. So much easier said than done for her. She felt sure her skin had developed hives. It was only a few hours. She had to survive that.
****
“You should thank your lucky stars you didn’t ruin my wife despite how hard you tried to. She is the only reason you’re still alive.” The man’s eyes reflected his confusion. He didn’t have a clue who Will was, or why he was there. He would never know. But Will knew.
He took the man’s wrist and snapped it. The hand that had touched Jessie and caused her so much agony… and so many nightmares. The man screamed in pain, holding his ruined hand against his chest as his body twisted in pain. As he bent down to support his injured hand, Will took his steel-toed boot and kicked his forehead squarely. The ensuing scream was loud and high-pitched.
Will grinned and reached forward, drawing the man’s head back so he was right in his face. The fear was bright and glossy in the man’s eyes. “You’re a fucking pussy, aren’t you? Tying up young girls to torture them is easy, huh? But taking a beating from a man is too much?” Will added softly, “You shouldn’t have hurt my wife. That was a big mistake. A very big mistake.”
The man squealed again as Will kneed him right in the spot where he kicked him. He remembered his promise to Jessie not to kill any of them in cold blood. She never said anything about hurting them though. He lost track of time until his fists started to burn. His knuckles were bloody from the man’s face, and his own skin was broken from the repeated contact. Flesh smacked, bones crushed. Will seemed feral, almost crazy as he pulled a knife from his boot. The man’s hand between Jessie’s legs flashed in his mind. Her helpless screams replaced those of the man.
He was losing it fast, and he half realized it. He was almost completely out of control: seeing Jessie, and hearing Jessie. Watching her cry a
nd suffer and abusing herself. Him. Them. He saw his broken, raped wife, and lost his fucking mind in the flashbacks. He way overestimated his ability to stay clinical.
He held the knife to the man’s throat and saw the tears streaming down the man’s bloody face. He pricked his skin with the tip of his knife. Will’s breathing became sharp and shallow, and his heart felt like it was going to explode from adrenaline. He could finally kill the filth that hurt and tortured Jessie.
“Don’t forget, you promised me.”
He leaned the man’s head back, still holding the knife to his throat before stopping and trying to catch his breath. Jessie’s voice filtered through the manic high he was experiencing by beating the man who raped, tied up, tortured and abused his wife. He heard her words through it all.
He promised her. But she’d never know. He could kill them all and no one, Jessie included, would ever know.
He pushed a millimeter in and the man screamed. His throat vibrated on the knife.
Sweat broke out over Will’s forehead. Fuck! Shit! Damn! It would only have taken a tiny amount of more pressure. Blood trickled down his neck, beading into the man’s collar. He whimpered. Will closed his eyes and finally, albeit slowly, lifted his hand off the man. He suddenly hurled the man back so his head smashed into the wall. He would not risk breaking them. He would not betray Jessie. He knew if he did, it would hurt her as much as what these pigs did to her. He came here to find justice for her, not destroy their relationship. He smashed his foot straight down onto his prisoner, hoping he broke his leg. The prisoner howled and cried even harder. Harder than Jessie ever did. His heart swelled with pride. She was tougher, stronger, and better than any of these weak, sadistic fucks.
He stood up and snapped three pictures of the tied-up prisoner before quickly searching the office. There wasn’t much in it. Luckily, he visited downstairs and found some things to add to the pile of shit in there.
Then, he simply walked out.
As he passed the main part of the warehouse, he lit a match and threw it on one of the boxes containing pounds of powdered, fine drugs. It smoldered, caught fire, and the small flame started to lick the package. He lit three more and, satisfied they would burn, walked out the door. He clicked the button on the explosives he already set. Jessie never said he couldn’t blow the fucking place up, along with everything in it, now did she? Of course, she didn’t really know how skilled he was with explosives. It was more of a hobby, and not really his job, per se.
He never thought it would come in as handy as it did now.
He threw his backpack off and stuffed his outer clothes into it until he was in nondescript clothes. He could hear the frantic voices inside. Authorities would most likely respond to the fire and find the men he tied up and left just outside the pig’s office, with the evidence of their crimes stacked around them. That stuff was in the fireproof safe, which he left cracked open for easy access. If the pigs died, at least, he tried; if not, they’d surely be caught. He destroyed their merchandise as well as the cash they stored below the complex, not a hundred feet from the cell where they kept Jessie.
At least, he tried. Short of killing them with his own hands, it was all he could do.
Besides, he beat up their leader pretty bad, enough that he might not fully recover from his wounds. That thought made Will whistle as he casually walked the street, now wearing jeans and a t-shirt, with a baseball cap and sunglasses, the backpack strung over his shoulder. He looked as casual and nonchalant as half the pedestrians strolling around him.
Chapter Sixteen
“It’s done,” Will said the moment he heard Jessie’s soft, feeble, and almost trembling voice on the phone.
“Will? You’re okay?”
He heard her rustling around.
“I’m fine. Great. I’m really, really great, baby. Please, take a breath. It’s all over. Everything. I’m coming home.”
She let out a strangled cry over the phone. “You can’t imagine…”
“I can.” He gripped the phone tightly in his palm. “I really can. I’ll be home tomorrow. I called you the minute I got into the motel room. I swear, I’ll be home.”
“D-did you keep your promise?”
He heard the stark terror and breathy pause in her tone. His shoulders dropped. Holy fuck! He was glad he could tell her the truth. “I did, sweetheart,” he said gently, his tone soothing. “I did.”
“You didn’t—”
“I’ll tell you precisely what I did when I get home. Just not over the phone, okay?”
She let out a breath. “Honest?”
“I have pictures to prove it.”
Pause. “Make sure they don’t get lost or confiscated.”
He snorted. “Give me more credit than that.”
“You can’t imagine what I’ve gone through the last eight hours.”
He rubbed his neck, and regret was thick in his tone. “I can, actually. I knew when I hung up what this day would be like for you. I’m sorry for that. I’m sorry I caused you any grief. I’m sorry I’m not there to hold you now. But tomorrow, and from then forward, I will be.”
She was silent. “You really stopped them?”
“I really did,” he said gently. He pictured her wilting, and sliding to the floor. He could see her fingernails digging into the soft, pale skin of her wrist or palm, or picking sharply at her cuticles. He hoped it wouldn’t result in blood trickling down her body. “I’ll be there tomorrow. Will you be okay until then? Go to Bella and Finn’s. Please, baby. Do that for me. Let me have that peace of mind.”
She laughed softly. “You deserve peace? Do you have any idea what you’ve done to me?”
He closed his eyes and sat down on the bed, glancing around, her voice still fresh in his head. It looked so much like the motel room he took her to. He could picture her sitting before him. Shell-shocked. So freaking in shock she didn’t know what to do. She was dirty and smelled bad and had scabby, dry skin and dried blood still caked on her. Big, sad, haunted brown eyes begged him to explain what the fuck she was supposed to do with her life, or whatever you called what she was left with. He did not know. He had no clue of what to say to her back then. He was not in love with her then.
Not like he was now. “Yes. I do.” His tone sounded nearly strangled.
She sighed into the phone. “I know you do. Okay, I’ll go there. I was with her all day. She knows I’m wigged out, to say the least.”
“I’m coming home, Jess. I mean it.”
She didn’t answer for a long while. “And then we get it all?”
He finally felt a smile tugging one side of his mouth up. He flopped back on the bed. Blood still smeared his knuckles and he needed to shower. “We get it all.”
She let out a shuddered breath. “Okay, soldier. Tomorrow. You’d better fucking be here,” she grumbled.
He grinned fully. “I’ll fucking be there. I love you, baby. You know that, right?”
“If you think I ever doubted it, I think you just about proved it. I mean the vigilante justice? A little more than I needed to be convinced.”
His heart lifted. She was sarcastic. Tongue-lashing him, and not in the fun way. She was okay. Jessie was still in her head. Present. And coping. Not crazy. Not cutting.
****
He wasn’t fully honest with Jessie. He lied… but by omission. He had another phase to his plans, but it didn’t include anything dangerous on his end. Just things designed to humiliate and maybe even ruin the men her father more or less sold her to. He had the list. Five names. Five men. Five fucks who abused a sixteen-year-old girl before she was ready to even date. He didn’t forget about them. No, they weren’t as graphic, or as violent perhaps, but they did just as much damage to Jessie as Mexico did. And no way did he forget about them.
A long time ago, he threatened one of the senators with a photo he didn’t actually possess with no intent to ever pursue it. But the longer he stewed about it, the more it seemed that it wasn’t really fair
to punish one rapist and not another. He decided his original bluff to the senator was actually a really good idea.
Mexico’s mission relied on anonymity. Lord willing, no one would ever know he returned. That provided the cover he needed back home. A Mexican warehouse fire, although suspicious in nature, with drug dealers tied up like sausages wasn’t the kind of breaking news that was likely to ever reach North Carolina.
The general’s friends were all prominent men. Two senators. A former general. A governor. And a former vice president. Jesus, the sheer un-believability of who hurt Jessie was a little overwhelming. Was it any wonder then why sixteen- seventeen- and eighteen-year-old Jessie never told anyone?
The men were all her father’s age. Two were in their sixties, one in his seventies and the others in their late fifties. Ten years ago, however, they were all a little younger, a little more powerful and little more influential.
Will had money to work with now so he used the general’s funds to start a discreet probe into all of the men. He hired a private investigator to dig up dirt on each one. It took nearly six months, but he had his evidence.
He hoped Jessie wouldn’t be mad at him, rationalizing that the end justifies the means and all that. But he wasn’t sure how far that would fly. He had to believe it would please her, since there was no death involved. No danger. No backlash to them. Finally, they had to pay the price where none did before.
The funny thing was: the fucks were so similar, he only had to tweak the plan a little to fit each of them. All were married for thirty-plus years. All with kids. All with prestigious jobs, or retired from high-ranking positions, and all valued their reputations, which was, perhaps, his biggest and best weapon.
He had enough dirt on all the bastards to take them down, and hoped, when he told Jessie, she’d let him. He intended to allow her to make this decision. She let him tie up the loose ends in Mexico, and he hoped she wanted to do the next phase.
The Years Between (Sister Series, 1.5) Page 19