The Bad Boys of Eden

by Avery Aster

  Watching him with the waterfall as a back drop, I have that sense of sparkling things in the air. The faint, dancing lights glow around Ryder. It must be the moonlight and the other outdoor lights glinting on moisture droplets from the waterfall.

  I start to move toward him, but he lifts his head. His eyes are dark with pain, and he says, with brutal harshness, “I was abducted by some guy when I was a kid. I was held prisoner and I was fucking raped. Over and over. By some fucking guy, and I was too fucking scared to fight for my life. I wasn’t strong enough to get away…not at first, fuck it. That’s what happened to me. It was back when I was twelve, but I can’t forget it. The memory of it is with me every minute. It makes me sick. It makes me want to rip things apart. Fuck—because I can’t forget it, I can’t be happy and love you and Jakey the way I should.”

  His words stun me. I feel like I’ve taken a blow square in my chest.” “Ryder. Oh God, I had no idea. What happened? Were you found? Did you escape?” Of course he escaped—he’s here with me now. I’m so shocked I’m babbling nonsense at him.

  I’m shaking. I never knew. No one said anything about it.

  I think of Ryder’s family. How they seemed to reject him after he became a fighter. How could they do that to him after what he went through?

  I pushed him to talk about this. Now I feel terrible.

  “Yeah,” he says. “I got out.”

  He stays quiet for several minutes. My stomach is twisting up inside me. He goes to drink from his empty bottle, then grimaces. That is something I can do for him. I run over to the bar and get him another beer. Why did you need this? I ask in my head. What the hell was wrong with you? Couldn’t you have respected him when he told you he couldn’t do this?

  I hand him the beer. “If you don’t want to talk about it, you can stop, Ryder. I’m sorry. I—”

  “No, you were right. You need to know. I don’t want to keep secrets from you.” He takes a sip of his beer, paces in front of me. “The guy brought in this little kid. A little six year old. Cute little boy. The poor kid was terrified. I couldn’t believe it. The asshole had me chained up in his fucking basement and he went out and got this kid. He wanted me to help him abuse the kid. Threatened to kill me if I didn’t do it. I told him to go ahead and fucking shoot me.”

  Oh God.

  Ryder takes another slug from the bottle. “But he wanted to play this sick, perverted game. He kept the kid a prisoner, but not locked up like me. He gave the kid presents, I remember. He’d slap the boy—the boy’s name was Steven—to frighten the kid, then he’d act nice and kind, and would soothe Steven. It was some kind of sick mind game. I knew I had to get both of us out. I didn’t care if I died trying, but I wanted to get the kid out.”

  “You saved Steven?” I want to touch Ryder. Stroke him. Hold him. But he keeps pacing and I know he doesn’t want to be touched.

  “I got him out. But by that point…the poor kid had been sexually assaulted. I don’t know what happened to the kid. I remember I was at the cop shop when Steven’s parents came for him. They loved that little guy so much. I guess they probably took him to psychiatrists and tried to help him get through it. I want to think that he is okay now, that he isn’t tormented by what happened to him.”

  “How did you get away from this monster?”

  “The bastard got careless because he was obsessed with Steven. Decided he had to get rid of me. I overheard him tell Steven that I had to go away and I knew he meant he was going to fucking kill me. But he wanted one more perverted scene with the two of us. He came to unlock me, carrying a knife. I fought him for it. He cut me up, but I got the knife out of his hands. Then he took off. He ran. I don’t know if he was going to get a gun or just taking off like a fucking coward, but I grabbed Steven and I ran for the window. The doors had key locks on the inside, so I chucked a table through the window and jumped out with the kid. I ran like the fucking wind with him.”

  I don’t care that Ryder doesn’t want to be touched. I approach him. “You saved a child’s life, Ryder. You’re a hero.” He saved his own life. And he was only twelve. Dear God, only twelve.

  The realization that Ryder could have been killed—that he would have been cheated out of life, that I would never have met him, that we would never have had Jakey—makes my legs feel like jello. I have to sit down and I sink to one of the flat rocks.

  I hold out my hand to him. But he shakes his head.

  “There’s something else you have to know.” His voice is raw. “Something happened. Something I hate myself for. I don’t know how it happened, Tessa. It fucking scared me. I hated having the creep touch me. While he…played with me, I used to close my eyes and think about all the ways I would kill him. But once…God, Tessa, I’m so fucking sorry.” His eyes are wet with unshed tears. “My fucking body betrayed me. I hated his stinking hands on me, but I got…hard. And once—God, once, my damned stupid cock actually got off on it. Like I liked it. He was so fucking happy. Thought he was winning me. He kept saying how it showed I wanted it. I was chained up so I couldn’t rip him apart—”

  Suddenly Ryder is out of control. He slams the beer bottle against his temple. Does it over and over. I jump up, even though my legs feel like rubber. I force my feet to move. I run to him and I grab his forearm with both hands. I can’t stop him.

  Tears stream down my face. “Ryder, don’t do this. It was just a physical reaction. It didn’t mean anything. It didn’t.”

  He roars and slams the bottle against the side of his head. It’s like he’s going to beat himself relentlessly.

  “Don’t. Please. Please. Don’t punish yourself.” I throw myself at him, clinging to his arm. Sobbing and choking.

  Suddenly his arms go around me. I heard the clatter as the bottle falls. I don’t think it broke, but Ryder’s breaking. His chest heaves with sobs he’s holding inside him. I press tight to his chest and hug him close. “It’s not your fault. It doesn’t mean anything.”

  “I was so scared it meant I was a weirdo too. Then, there were my parents, after I got out. They—fuck, I think they blamed me.”

  “How could they have blamed you?”

  “My father wouldn’t speak to me. Wouldn’t even look at me.”

  “That’s not you, that’s him! Maybe he felt as if he’d failed you.” What would his parents have felt? Wouldn’t they have been drowning in guilt and horror?

  I kiss his neck. Standing on tiptoes, I work my way up to kiss his jaw. I press my mouth to his lips and I meet his eyes, since I want him to know I want to look at him.

  But he closes his eyes and hugs me against his chest, trapping me in his embrace so I can’t kiss him anymore.

  How could I not have seen how tormented he must have been when he was a teenager? When I met him, he was living through the residual hell of what had happened. How could he have been as normal as he was? How did he survive without imploding?

  “You are so strong,” I tell him, my cheek against his chest. “So incredibly strong.”

  “I’m not.” His voice cracks. His chest heaves with a raw sob. “Sometimes I remember stuff and I want to be sick. I want to rip my eyes out or drive a knife through my heart. Then I realize I don’t want to die, I want to kill him. But God, I wish I could wipe the memories out of my head. The sound of Steven crying at night. The little guy used to sob for his mom. And I can’t forget the look of tenderness on the asshole’s face when he comforted the kid and all the time his head was actually filled with perverted shit.”

  Ryder’s never sworn so much around me. But I know how intense this is for him. I don’t care. I just wish I could make it better.

  “I remember when the sick fucker gave Steven these matchbox cars and a fire truck to bribe him—”

  “He gave the child a fire truck?” My voice rises to a funny squeak. It couldn’t be…it’s just a coincidence…. I push away from Ryder. He resists at first and I gasp, “Ryder, I have to know—”

  He releases me and steps back, fear
in his eyes. His hands settle on my arms, warm and strong. “Tessa? Hell, I’m sorry, babe. I knew I shouldn’t have told you about this.”

  I feel like I can’t move. Like I can barely think. It isn’t possible. How can it be possible? That was years ago. “Did they catch the guy who did this to you?”

  He shakes his head. “When the police raided the house, he was gone.”

  Cold terror squeezes my heart. “Did you see his face—the face of the man who took you?”

  Ryder looks at me strangely. “What’s wrong?”

  “I think—” I don’t know what to think. I just know, know the horrific truth in my heart, and I’m fighting to deny it. “Ryder, how old was the guy who abducted you. You said he was old…how old was he?” Rob Stanton is sixty-one, like my mom.

  “In his forties, I guess. He seemed old to me. Tessa, what is it?”

  “The fire truck—Rob Stanton gave Jakey a red metal fire truck for his birthday. It wasn’t a new one, it was an old one. One Rob said he had as a kid. And he gave Jakey a box filled with old cars—old Matchbox cars. Jakey told me there was a black one painted with flames. And a bright purple chopper motorcycle.”

  Ryder is staring at me. “That’s what that the bastard gave Steven.”

  But wouldn’t Ryder have recognized Rob? Surely he saw Rob when he came to get Jakey. No wait…my mother wanted Rob to meet Ryder a few weeks ago, but Rob had an excuse, and he had to leave. Rob has never been at our place, or outside his own house, whenever Ryder’s been there.

  Ryder’s hands are on my shoulder. “Rob Stanton? Your neighbor?”

  “This sounds crazy, but I—I think he is the man who abducted you. He used the same toys to make Jakey trust and like him. He must be planning to abduct Jakey. Oh God, maybe he’s already done it—”

  Ryder says, “Wait here. I’ll go up to the castle and call the mainland. I’ll warn your mother, call the cops.”

  “It’s too late,” I sob.

  “It can’t be. If he’d done anything before now, you would know. Your mom would have called.”

  “But how long would it take Mom to tell us if—?” God, I’m wasting time. “Go!” I scream it at him. “Go and call!” I sound hysterical. I feel like my brain is going to implode.

  But as he starts to run toward the all-terrain vehicle, I chase him. I have to be there with him. I have to know.

  I stumble in the sand, my ankle almost collapsing underneath me. I cry out. Suddenly Ryder scoops me into his arms—he came back for me—and he carries me to the vehicle. Our driver is already sitting in the driver seat. Ryder’s face is pale and his green-and-purple bruises look stark and vicious against his white skin.

  “Get us to the castle,” Ryder commands. “Now.”

  * * *

  Our driver must have radioed. We are met at the castle doors and taken into a private room. Dimly, I am aware of dark paneling, low lighting, a large desk. A man in an elegant suit meets us in there. He puts the call through to my mom.

  Ryder speaks to Mom. He doesn’t even get to ‘hello’ before his face changes. I can hear my mother’s raised voice. Her panic. Ryder doesn’t even need to speak. I know what’s happened as pure, raw horror washes over his face.

  I clutch his arm, fingers digging into his hard forearm. My heart pounds and it feels ready to burst. “Oh God, we’re too late.”

  Chapter Eight

  Jakey

  Oh God. I need to run. I need to run to Jakey as fast as I can. I try to drag Ryder with me. But he hugs me to him and he won’t let me move.

  Why is he holding me so tight like this? Has something already happened? Does he already know—?

  No. No. No. NO!

  Dimly, I realize he’s talking to me. “Tessa, we don’t know anything’s wrong yet. Your mom thought Jakey was asleep in his room, but when she went in, he was gone. She’s searching the house.”

  Jakey isn’t in his room when he should be? I look up, weak with fear, searching his turquoise eyes. “He’s not in the house? Oh no, no—”

  “Your mom insisted she locked all the doors. There weren’t any windows open. Stanton can’t be in the house, and he doesn’t have a key. Jakey is probably just hiding.”

  I shake my head. “If Rob Stanton has been abducting kids for years, he must have had a plan. Maybe he copied Mom’s keys. Maybe he found a spare one in the house. Maybe he can just pick locks. Maybe he lured Jakey out to him. He could have bribed Jakey to sneak out—”

  “Shh, Tessa. Stop.”

  “Jakey could be in danger!”

  “I know,” Ryder says.

  I realize he is thinking the same things but he’s trying not to freak out. Then I sense motion behind Ryder. The staff member from Eden is holding the phone. He must be waiting for my mom to return. But another man is also standing in the shadows in the back corner of the room. He has a phone to his ear.

  I can’t see the man, but I can tell he is holding out the phone to Ryder, as he says, in an elegant, accented voice, “Your local police are on the line. I suggest you speak with them immediately, Mr. King. It sounds as if you have grounds for concern, which means time is of the essence.”

  From the voice, I realize this must be Theodosius Vardalos. The island’s Master.

  Ryder goes to him and takes the phone. I hear Ryder spilling out the whole story to the police, including his past with the sicko we now think is Rob Stanton.

  Ryder has to keep reliving the horror of his past—and maybe Jakey is going through the same thing. I want to scream. Scream and scream forever—

  A strong hand settles on my arm. I turn and I’m looking at Vardalos. He’s scarred. Terribly scarred.

  “I sense your concern, but please stay calm, Ms. Tate,” he says. “Speak with your mother first. As soon as Mr. King is finished on that call, I will place one of my own. To a private investigation and security firm I know.”

  “To search for Jakey?” I whisper. “That’s my son’s name. Jakey.” I swallow hard, trying to cool down. Theodosius Vardalos exudes power. Just his touch has brought me back from the brink of hysteria. He is reputed to be incredibly wealthy and I realize he intends to help us. “Th—thank you,” I stutter.

  The young Eden employee holds out the other phone to me. “Mrs. Tate is back on the line,” he says softly. “I told her I would pass her at once to her daughter.”

  The softness in his eyes tells me all I need to know. I take the phone. “Mom?”

  My mother cries, “Tessa, is that you? I can’t find Jakey! I’ve looked everywhere in the house! Where could he have gone?”

  “Mom, we think Jakey has been abducted.”

  “Tessa, surely not. He must have gone outside. I’m going to go out now and try to find him. Maybe he snuck out to look at the stars. I will go by the houses of the other little boys he plays with. Maybe he’s gone there.”

  Not at ten o’clock at night. He wouldn’t do that.

  “Mom, Ryder and I think Rob Stanton took him.”

  “Took him? You mean he’s at Rob’s house?”

  “I don’t know. Don’t go over there, Mom!” I shout that into the phone. “Just don’t go near there, Mom. It’s dangerous.”

  “Dangerous? What do you mean? Rob wouldn’t hurt Jakey.”

  “Rob has fooled us all,” I say bitterly. “We think Rob is the man who abducted Ryder and other young boys over fifteen years ago.”

  Dead silence.

  “Mom? Mom, did you hear me? Are you okay?”

  “Are you—how do you know?”

  “From things Ryder told me.” Did Rob Stanton actually buy the house next door to us because he was targeting Jakey, who is Ryder’s son? The child of the boy who got away from him, and who rescued another little boy.

  “What should I do?”

  “I don’t know,” I whisper.

  “I’m going over there,” she says.

  “No!” She can’t go to Rob’s house. That wouldn’t help Jakey. It might put Mom in danger.

>   The phone is lifted from my hand. Smoothly, Eden’s Master says, “Mrs. Tate, I am Theodosius Vardalos, the owner of the Eden Resort. You must trust that we are in contact with the police, and with a group of private security personnel. For your own safety, remain in your home. Allow us to deal with this.”

  I can hear mom’s voice through the phone. “No. I have to look for Jakey. I have to. Maybe you’re wrong about Rob. Maybe Jakey is just outside playing.”

  Then there’s just the dial tone.

  Mom, Mom, what are you doing?

  My heart is as hard and cold as an ice block, but hot bile sits in my throat, threatening to spew out. Ryder hangs up, then Vardalos makes another call. His instructions are spoken in a low voice and I can’t make them out. He instructs Ryder to speak to them.

  As Ryder returns the phone to Vardalos, I move to Ryder’s side. “Was that the team of investigators?”

  He nods. “I’ve heard of them. They are made up of ex-military, ex-mercenaries, and former cops. They are going to get into Stanton’s house. They’ll do it quick and quiet.”

  “Won’t the police arrest Stanton?” I’m sick with fear. Would that be worse? If he hears police sirens won’t he hurt Jakey?

  “Not yet. I think the cops will check out Stanton but unless they have concrete evidence Jakey’s in there, they can’t burst in. The private investigative team will do it. Covertly.” Ryder leads me to a large chair and forces me to sit down. “You need something for shock.”

  The Master calmly instructs his employee to bring me something.

  “I don’t want any kind of sedative. We have to get back home. We have to get home now—how fast can we do it? It’s going to take hours.”

  “I will orchestrate what I can from here, Ms. Tate, Mr. King,” Vardolas says. “I pray you will find your son safe.” His dark eyes glisten and I think he might be fighting a tear in his eye. “Raphael, please escort Mr. King and Ms. Tate down to the plane at once. The puddle jumper will have you back on the mainland as soon as possible.”