by Lena Bourne
Once I enter the hospice, I lunge into the story I prepared about how I forgot something in her room, and just need a second to get it, but the nurse at the desk just smiles.
“We allow visits around the clock,” she says. “The more, the better. She’ll be happy to see you, I think. She was in the best of spirits after you and your wife left. She even sat up in bed and ate dinner on her own.”
I’m nodding along as she speaks, but the lump in my chest just keeps growing and growing, doesn’t let up, only gets bigger as I climb the stairs to her room. My mom shouldn’t be here. She should be at home. She shouldn’t be sick at all.
“Brett?” she asks as I enter. “Back so soon?”
Her eyes aren’t as alive as they were this afternoon. They’re fuzzy and glassy, and there a fresh stain on her pink and white night gown that looks like blood, but could be from her dinner.
“Yeah,” I say and sit down on the edge of her bed. “I have a favor to ask, please don’t get mad.”
Her eyes narrow like she’s assuming she is going to get mad. “I promise nothing.”
I didn’t think she would, so I just tell her everything, or mostly everything. And ask to borrow her car. And some money.
“Just so I can get to my house, and get my stuff,” I conclude. “And then I’ll come right back.”
She taps my hand, smiling a little. “Why would Ian just leave you with no car and no money? I thought you two were friends?”
“We are,” I say.
“And where’s your bike?” she asks.
“I left it in Mexico,” I’m forced to admit.
“And that pretty girl, she just left too?” The reminder hurts.
“She had no choice,” I say.
Mom nods, then runs her hand down the side of my face. “She’ll be back. And yes, you can take my car. The keys are in my purse in the closet. And there should be some money left in my wallet. Take it all. I don’t need it anymore. I didn’t have the time or the energy to make any arrangements before coming here. But I made a Will, it’s all yours anyway. Well, whatever’s left after paying for this place. The house keys are in my purse too. Your money’s all still where you left it.”
The words feel like a bunch of quick and dirty jabs I have no way of blocking.
“I’m so sorry this happened,” I hear myself say, but it’s not really me speaking, because I haven’t yet come to terms with her being sick. I can’t even acknowledge it yet.
“I’m glad I was able to see you again,” she says. “I’m sorry for not telling you sooner. Give me a hug now.”
And I do, afraid I’ll crush her, but more afraid to let go.
Then I stay for a long time, just talking to her, watching her sleep, until I finally doze off on the armchair by the window.
I don’t leave until after breakfast the next morning, hoping I’ll see her again, but still not able to imagine any other outcome.
Chapter Twenty-Two
SAMANTHA
It’s been three days since I last saw Brett. In two hours, I’m due in court. I haven’t slept at all last night, and I haven’t eaten in almost twenty-four hours. Not since they took me to that gravesite in the desert. There were cars and tents made out of white tarp all over the place, shielding the graves as they excavated them.
We got there at ten AM yesterday morning, the sun was shining bright and hot, burning my skin. But I felt cold anyway. Exactly like that night when I was here last. The desert is a cold place during the night, but that night, with Shade and the rotting corpse, it was glacial.
I confirmed that this was the place he took me to that night. I remembered the abandoned oil wells, and the lights from the Las Vegas Strip flickering in the distance. So close and promising such fun, yet a world away. A couple of kids riding their mountain bikes came across a woman’s hand sticking out of the ground a couple of weeks ago. After what I told them, the FBI agents now think that Shade didn’t properly re-bury the body he dug up to frighten me.
Today, I’m taking the stand at his trial to tell the jury the story of my abduction, my captivity, and mention this one too. Then the prosecutor will put in a motion to include new evidence and the trial will go on a break while they examine it. That’s the plan anyway. But most likely, there will be a new trial at which I will have to tell my story all over again.
I wish Brett was here with me. Then it would all be so much easier.
Tara and Tommy are traveling and won’t be here until tonight at six.
Randy’s waiting for me in the living room. He tried to rekindle what we had at first, but stopped after I told him there was someone else.
I’ve been trying to do my makeup for half an hour now, but I keep messing up with the eyeliner, keep having to start all over.
Where is Brett? Why hasn’t he called yet? I’m getting panicked, and I’m getting sad. Something bad might have happened to him, or maybe he just doesn’t want to call me. I don’t know which possibility would be worse. And I don’t know how much longer I can keep it together.
There’s a knock on my bedroom door just as my phone starts ringing. I lunge for the phone, knocking over my makeup bag in the process, a nail polish bottle shattering on the tiled floor of my bathroom, the blood red liquid splashing all over.
“Yes,” I say into the phone, barely even noticing the mess.
“Samantha, it’s me,” Brett says, just as Randy says, “It’s time to go, Sam”, from outside the door, probably thinking I was talking to him.
“What took you so long to call?” I ask, but breathlessly and excitedly, not confrontationally at all.
He laughs. “I had things to take care of, but that’s all done now. Where are you?”
“At home,” I say, smiling widely. “But I have to go to court now. To testify against Shade.”
He doesn’t say anything, but I can hear him breathing.
“You decided to go through with it?” he finally asks.
I don’t know if he’s pleased or pissed. His tone could mean either of those things. Or both.
“Yes,” I say. “Was that wrong? I wanted him out of the way so you can be safe too.”
The door opens and Randy pokes his head in. “Samantha, we have to go.”
I nod and wave him away, still waiting for Brett’s answer.
“Well?” I ask, since he’s still not giving it.
“Of course, it’s not wrong,” he says. “I’ll meet you at the courthouse.”
I gasp, my heart starting to race. “But…but…”
“Unless you don’t want me to,” he says.
There’s no one I want there more than Brett. No one in the world. “What about your, you know…your problem.” I probably shouldn’t be talking about this on the phone.
“Turns out there’s no problem anymore,” he says and I can hear the smile in his voice. “I’ve been cleared of all those charges.”
“How?” I ask.
“A gift from a friend,” he says. “Though it’s more like payback, since I wouldn’t be in that mess if it weren’t for him.”
“Samantha!” Randy calls through the door. “Let’s go.”
“Sounds like you should go,” he says. “I’ll meet you there.”
Then we say goodbye and suddenly even the prospect of getting up on the stand and telling my whole story isn’t as nauseating anymore.
Until I realize Brett will now hear all about what I went through. What if he doesn’t want me anymore after that? It’s one thing to know about a thing vaguely, but I will be asked for details today, sordid, vivid, graphic details of my life as a whore.
I almost call him back and ask him not to come more than once on the drive to the courthouse. But I don’t, because I need him there like I’ve never needed anyone.
BRETT
Sam’s nowhere in sight when I get to the courthouse, but within ten minutes two white SUVs arrive, six huge guys spilling out. They scan the surroundings then get in formation along the courthouse stairs and th
e pavement leading up to it. One of them sees me, his eyes narrowing as he walks up and bodily blocks my path to the stairs. They’re bodyguards. I recognize the type. Probably ex-military by the way they’re moving.
Only after they’re all in position, do they open the back door of one of the cars and Sam steps out. She has her pretty light green flowery dress buttoned up to her throat. With her thin pink cardigan draped over her shoulders and her hair pinned back into a bun at the back of her head, she looks ready for the confessional. She sure cleans up good, but I can’t wait to get the wild bad girl underneath all that in a room alone.
But that tantalizing thought is doused as I realize just how tiny and pale, lost and worried, she looks next to the two guys flanking her. Her eyes are feverish, darting this way and that. She’s looking for me, and I shouldn’t keep her waiting any longer. I’ve done enough of that already. But I only got her number from Tommy this morning, since they were travelling all night and had no phone reception. Before then I spent almost two days making absolutely sure all the charges against me really were dropped.
“Over here, Samantha!” I call out, not moving from my spot since I don’t want to cause a full blown incident. As it is the bodyguard blocking me turns sharply and glares at me, his hand darting under his jacket for his concealed gun.
But I hardly notice that, because Sam’s whole face lights up, making her more beautiful that any sunset, or sunrise, or anything really, I’ve ever seen. Her blue eyes are sparkling as she breaks away from the two guys flanking her and runs to me, dodging the guy in front of me to jump into my arms. I catch her, the cardigan floating to the pavement as I lift her up, messing up her fancy outfit and then her lipstick as I kiss her. She wraps her arms around my neck, her legs around my hips, and she’s holding onto me so tightly I’m thinking she’ll never let go. And I don’t want her to. Don’t want this kiss to ever stop, don’t ever want to not be holding her.
One of the bodyguards clears his throat, and says, “We are needed inside now. Set her down.”
And I want to punch him for interrupting. Judging by the edgy tone in his voice, he wouldn’t mind a go at me either. This must be that boyfriend Ian was going on about. But all that’s just a faint realization. She’s in my arms, kissing me, and nothing from her past can spoil that. I set her down, and release her.
She’s looking up at me with wide, sparkling eyes. “I’m gonna have to tell them everything inside,” she says quietly. “All the things I did…things that happened to me…are you sure you want to hear it?”
She looks so lonely, so scared, so ashamed right now. I’m having trouble finding the words to let her know I’ll always be there for her, no matter what. “Yes,” I finally utter since too much time has passed, and she’s still waiting for an answer. But it’s so lacking. It’s not enough.
“I mean no, not really, but I want to be there for you, even for this,” I correct myself.
She smiles sadly, her eyes still searching mine. “I don’t want this to change anything between us.”
“They’re calling you in, Samantha,” the blond bodyguard says, and now I do almost punch him. But an angry look is enough to get him to take a step back.
I turn back to her, cupping her cheeks in my hands. “Truth is, Samantha, I can already imagine. And it won’t change a damn thing between us. I know you find talking about all that hard, but I want to be there for you when you do.”
The smile she gives me is very thankful. She nods, squares her shoulders and grips my hand very tightly. “Let’s do this then.”
She doesn’t let go of my hand until we’re at the entrance to the courtroom, but she has to go in one way, and I another. The door they show me in through opens onto a set of stairs that lead up to a balcony overlooking the courtroom. The balcony is empty, save for a couple of reporters, and an old woman knitting.
Shade’s eyes are shooting pure venom as he watches Sam walk down the middle of the courtroom to take the witness stand. They swear her in and then her eyes find mine. Shade follows her gaze, sees me, and proceeds to glare at me with palpable anger. But I don’t break eye contact with him, wait for him to do it first.
I used to respect this man. Considered him my brother. Followed his orders gladly and with no questions asked. I would’ve put my life on the line for him as the club president. But now, as I listen to Sam recount the night of her abduction—how she was drugged, thrown in the back of a van, how she woke up in a dark, dirty, windowless room, how she was raped and beaten, sold to men so they could tie her up and torture her—all that fades until it’s nothing more than a shadow of a memory. Shade’s out of my reach, but I’ll track down all the other MC members who did that to her, and I’ll make them very sorry for it.
Her voice gets shakier and quieter with each new question she’s asked, until finally she’s whispering. I start to hate the prosecutor for making her relive all that almost as much as I hate Shade for putting her through it. Can’t that old bitch just get on with it?
Sam’s eyes were locked on mine when her testimony started, but after a couple of questions she averted her eyes and hasn’t looked up at me since. She’s looking at her hands right now, and her voice is so faint that sometimes they ask her to repeat stuff. This is pure torture for her. I can feel it.
“And when you tried to escape, what did the defendant threaten you with?” the prosecutor asks.
Sam looks up from her hands, some fire back in her eyes. “He took me to a spot in the desert overlooking the strip and dug up a woman’s body from a shallow grave. Told me he killed her and that I would end up just like her, if I ever tried to run away again. Told me he’s killed plenty of insubordinate women before me, and that he’d enjoy killing me too.”
Her statement causes a whoosh of whispering voices to erupt in the courtroom. Cleary this is something they haven’t heard yet. Shade’s lawyer is whispering in his ear frantically, and Shade looks angrier than I’ve ever seen him. He’s not even paying attention to his lawyer, just glaring at Sam. And she’s glaring right back at him. That’s my girl.
The judge calls both lawyers to him, and they talk for awhile before he bangs his hammer against the desk and says the trial will resume tomorrow.
I get up and run back down the stairs to wait for Sam. She comes out and falls into my arms, but she’s still shaking.
I have no idea what to say. All I really want her to know is that I’ll kill Shade with my bare hands, if I’m ever again close enough to him to do so. Tommy did the right thing getting rid of him. I still wish he’d found a better way, but I have no doubt left that he did the right thing.
“Take me away from here,” Sam says, and I wrap my arm around her shoulders, shielding her with my body as I lead her out into the sunshine.
“Where are you going, Samantha?” the blond bodyguard asks, running up to us.
“I’m safe with Brett, you don’t have to worry about me anymore, Randy,” she tells him in a soft, apologetic sort of voice.
“But your father—“ he protests
“I’ll talk to him,” she says. “Goodbye, Randy.”
There’s a lot of feeling in the way she says it. Enough to make me jealous. But that all melts away as she leans into me and smiles up into my face.
“Where to now?” she asks.
I can’t help smiling too. “Wherever you want.”
She nods. “I want to be alone with you right now. But I need to eat something first. So how about the nearest hotel? We’ll get room service, kill two birds with one stone.”
She’s smiling even wider after she finishes laying out her plan, her eyes full of desire, none of that panicked fear from before left. It’s a great plan, the best I ever heard. And lucky for us, there’s no shortage of hotels in downtown LA.
SAMANTHA
“Alright, so room service,” Brett says as he closes the hotel room door behind us. But his eyes are swallowing me up like I’m the only food he needs.
I’m still shaky from tha
t testimony, and hungry, since I haven’t eaten in more than a day now, but all that’s of a decidedly secondary importance right now.
I want to get naked with him, feel his kisses all over my body. All else can wait.
I walk into the room and turn, undoing the bun at the back of my head and letting my hair cascade down around my shoulders as I do. “I’m hungry for something else right now.”
It’s amazing how fast he can move, given his size. But he’s next to me in a flash. He grabs me and lifts me again, kissing me hard and wet, as I wrap my legs around his hips tangle my fingers into his hair like I’ve yearned to do for years it feels like.
He sets me down too soon. Then he’s ripping open my dress, buttons flying everywhere, but I don’t care, hardly even notice, because I’m too busy pulling his t-shirt up over his head with one hand and tugging on his belt with the other, because I need him naked too.
There’s no awkwardness in his touch, not a shred of evidence that knowing all the nasty details about my past has diminished any of his passion for me. And passion is all there is right now. Pure, undiluted desire. The kind that can only be felt by two people who can’t get enough of each other, but were force to spend time apart.
And so I stop thinking, stop worrying, just let the passion in the form of his kisses, nips and bites, pinches and squeezes, as his lips and hands get reacquainted with my body, wash over me.
He lifts me again and tosses me shrieking onto the bed. Then he kneels before me and his lips find my clit, kissing, licking, biting that too, his tongue entering me, giving me just a taste of what’s to come, but no more, just a preview. My whole body’s writhing on the bed, my very soul spiraling up towards what I know will be a blinding, consciousness-erasing orgasm. My hands are fist in his hair, urging on his talented skilled tongue, even as I fight the orgasm to make this ecstasy last.