Lies & Lullabies

by Courtney Lane

  I plodded down the hall and took the steps several at a time to visit the kitchen for a cup of coffee before heading off to work.

  “Sam…are you cooking?” I hung my nose in the air, the scent of burnt food permeated my nose. “You know you can’t cook. Don’t burn my kitchen down again.” Sam only knew how to cook one dish, and not very well: eggs.

  “It smells more like you’re burning—” I froze in place, staring at the scene in the kitchen. Sam was naked and secured to a chair, facing the doorway, tethered to it by his arms and legs with duct tape.

  An angry red burn print was set into his bare chest, matching the pattern of the burner ring from the range. His face was wet with tears. He began to plead through quiet moans for his life. The moment he rested his eyes on me, his gaze pointed toward the back of the house and to me repeatedly, sending me a message. He returned to pleading for his life, the intoning volume echoed off the vaulted ceilings and the wide space. It was a scene I’d witnessed before and never thought I’d have to witness again.

  The man standing next to him was Michael’s best and most loyal soldier, Tyler. He ripped a fresh piece of tape from the roll and secured it across Sam’s mouth on the heels of Sam screaming at me, “Run!”

  I glanced back to another man, his large stature blocked the entire doorframe, leading to the back of the house. The person in front of me was the last person I wanted to see—Michael, and he wasn’t happy.

  “What the fuck is the matter with you?” Michael barked at me, my body jumped in reaction to his wall-shuddering volume. “When we had this conversation, two months ago, you said we wouldn’t have it again. Why the fuck am I back here to say the same thing? I warned your ass not to do it again when I caught you at that party wearing another fucker’s dinner jacket. Now I hear…you’re fighting women who look like they’ve been beaten with a bag of bricks. For what? Che cozz’?”

  The thumping beat of my heart spread its rhythm throughout my body. My limbs began to shake in time. The involuntary action of swallowing became difficult. A heat rushed over my skin. Pent-up anger over years of wishing Michael was never responsible for my life boiled to the surface.

  I wanted to question how he knew. I was so careful this time. I swore to be that way so no one else would lose their life because of Michael. There wasn’t much in the way of options on what to say or do to get Michael to back down.

  He wouldn’t claim me in public or privately to any of his associates. If anyone asked questions, he said I was his bitch. He kept me a secret. I was his illegitimate child, who he threw money at as though I was his expensive stock, and he expected to see a return on his investment—to own and control.

  No one alive but him, Deana, and myself knew he was my father, a man I called my sperm donor, or simply Michael because he was never a father to me. I had a real father, my stepdad, Jasper.

  Michael had been married to the same woman for over thirty years and had three kids with her. I met Deana by accident, and it was only because Deana sought me out. She was following her father because she thought he was cheating on her mother after promising he would remain faithful. When I opened the door, and she saw we shared features, our relation was undeniable. I looked like a darker version of her. We embraced immediately and spent all night together. The only girl to Michael’s two sons, she wanted a sister just as badly as I wanted a family.

  Deana told me as far as she knew, I was Michael’s only illegitimate child, and I always believed it. Michael was a cruel man; I wouldn’t have been shocked if he forced his mistresses to endure abortions when they became pregnant.

  Whatever secrets my mother held, she carried them to her grave; she died when I was sixteen. Michael found me shortly after my mother passed away and brought me to California. He set me up with a place to live and a nanny I was too old to have. My life changed drastically. While I was given the opportunity to attend a local university, anytime I tried to have a social life, a man who didn’t belong wherever I was popped up to watch me and ruin it.

  Boyfriends or friends of any kind weren’t allowed. Every time I attempted to make connections, they either sent me a rattled voice message or a text informing me they couldn’t see me any longer.

  Michael flew into a rage when he found out Deana and I had become best friends. He tried to break us apart the night of a costume party back in August. We managed to maintain our friendship through phone calls until recently.

  As a bodyguard, Sam was different. He never boldly stared at my tits or ass like the others. Deana convinced Sam to feed Michael false information and make sure I could live some semblance of a life.

  Today it seemed Michael decided to send more than one man to watch me, and this man couldn’t be broken of his loyalty to Michael.

  “Do you have something to say to me?” Michael’s voice roiled around the room, an angry gruff voice that never had an indoor volume. “A fucking apology, maybe?”

  I shook my head, my eyes burning holes in Michael’s reddening, round, olive-toned face.

  I stepped forward, prepared to ask him to spare Sam’s life. It didn’t matter if I begged, the scowl on Michael’s face indicated Sam’s life wasn’t on the table for negotiation.

  Michael’s hands balled into fists as he stomped toward me. “You owe me a goddamn apology for being an ungrateful, spiteful little shit who has a hard time hearing. You live in a mansion, for shit’s sake, and you’re going to fuck around on the street like you’re some kind of sciaquadell’?” His attention darted to Sam. “After the third time of Tyler pressing the hot plate on the rat’s skin he told me all about where you’ve been spending your weekends. The fucker spilled his guts about the conversations you’ve been having with Deana and what really happened at the party I dragged you out of—said some random boombots broke your virginity. Over my dead fucking carcass will you turn out like your mother.”

  He grabbed me by the neck with one thick, heavy hand and pressed inward. “Respect me, or I’ll make you respect me.”

  Staring up at him with the disrespect he loathed, I remained silent.

  A massive hand clashed with my cheek. The impact sent my body flying to the floor. I felt the burn on my cheek; the pain chattered my teeth. I touched the sensitive skin, sizzling from the impact, and glowered up at Michael. The hatred I had for him ignited flames of anger.

  “Are you fucking crazy? All the money I throw at you to give you a better life and you’re giving me the silent treatment? Be grateful I give an iota of shit about you. Because I could take it all away.”

  “Then fucking do it!” I slapped the floor, spitting my words out and breaking my vow of silence. “I never wanted any of this.”

  He tilted his head toward the man standing behind Sam. “Slit his throat, but do this first…” Michael shot a look of nefarious intent down at me. “…Cut off his dick and shove it down his goddamn throat.”

  I scrambled to get up and stop it. It was too late. Tyler had retrieved a knife from the butcher block and proceeded to carry out Michael’s orders. Sam’s muffled screams sent a shot of bitterness through me.

  I ran to the sink, coughing and wheezing as the stomach acid burned my throat. I stared at the sink, breaking with every sound emitted from the torture unfolding behind me.

  Michael plodded over to me and clutched a large section of my hair, shoving me toward the door. “Go get in the car. Since these digs are too much for you, we’ll see how you like living in a basement for the rest of your life.”

  I stumbled down the hall, hugging my chest. I glanced back at the massive man and shoved an elbow into his gut hard enough to disable him for a minute. I hustled up the stairs and into my bedroom. I moved quickly to barricade the door with my dresser. Struggling through my pain and lack of strength with moving a dresser, I gritted my teeth and tugged it as hard as I could to keep the door from flying open.

  I scanned the window that led to the terrace and overlooked the pool lined with a fence hidden by bushes. It would’ve been
the perfect escape; a main road stood directly behind the enclosure.

  I slid the window open, keeping the noise silent by moving slowly and carefully.

  I swung my legs around until I sat on the edge of the bannister. Spreading my arms out, I vaulted forward, diving into the pool. Water rushed at my body, crushing into parts that were already sore. I endured through the pain and swam to the edge, pulling myself up and over. I pushed my dark hair away from my face to clear my vision. Glancing back at the house, I surveyed the situation through the sliding glass doors.

  Tyler halted his pacing and caught sight of me. He shoved the larger man, directing him forward.

  I ran to the gate enclosing the backyard. My soaked clothes weighed me down and slowed my speed. I shoved myself up and over the fence, and fell hard on the sidewalk below.

  A car pulled up along the sidewalk where I had landed. I was ready to scream for help until the door swung open. Catch leaned over, grabbing a gun with a very illegal silencer. His eyes were trained beyond me to the full-figured man struggling to push himself over the fence. Catch held his hand out to the right. A hollow sound settled the man’s struggles. He dropped to the ground with a thud, likely dead.

  Catch turned his attention to me. “Get in.”

  I scrambled to stand. “Would you stop…killing people?” I snapped, jamming my hands into my wet curls.

  “It was necessary,” he said with frigidness that touched my skin.

  “Are you a friend or foe? Answer truthfully this time.”

  His forehead scrunched up in confusion. “You have the worst timing for skepticism, Sugar. I understand you’re scared, but now would be the best time to recall what occurred only seconds ago. Would it make sense for me to do that if I didn’t mean you well?”

  His face was lethal and sold me a lie: he had a heart buried underneath the madness to match the kindness in his face. “How did you know I’d be here?”

  “I took a chance with what I heard occur inside the house that you would act on your impulsive nature and run. The back was the only smart way to exit.”

  “Creepy,” I muttered.

  “Agreed. If you’re running away, don’t you think I’m your best chance to get away?”

  “Answer my question!”

  “The most invaluable friend you’ll ever have in the world.”

  With no time for deliberation, I slipped into the passenger seat of his car.

  * * * * * *

  Catch drove east of Los Angeles. Feeling less than talkative, he simply focused on traffic or smoked his e-cigarette while making sure my seat was heated and the heat vents blew on me to keep my wet body warm. The best topics of conversation to engage him eluded me. Too much had happened in the past few days and my mind decided it was time for a vacation.

  An hour and a half into our ride, he exited the freeway ramp in the middle of a suburban residential neighborhood. He pulled into a gated development and drove up to a two-story stucco house.

  “What’s…going on? Why are we stopping here?” I kept my questions cool and collected, while darting my eyes toward specific parts of his body in case I needed to get away. A punch to the throat seemed the most viable option.

  He placed an index finger to his lips and tilted his head toward the house.

  An excited little boy in a school uniform and a graying woman exited the house. She retracted the gate of the garage, revealing a brand new crossover vehicle.

  A broad smile wormed its way onto my face. I knew them both. Darren was the recipient of the earnings from my matches.

  “Darren,” I mumbled. “Did you do this for them? Why? You don’t know me. You don’t know them. How—”

  “I returned to your motel room while you were passed out to make sure the last of Temple’s men were gone,” he smoothly cut into my incessant prattling, “and no one would bother going forward with a plan for revenge. The woman—Mrs. Johnson—was waiting for you. She wasn’t forthcoming with any information about you. I didn’t need her to be. Through deduction I figured out the nature of her dealings with you, and it encouraged her to open up to me.” He sucked on the thin black stick and exhaled an O-shaped vapor. “I did this because I believed in what you were doing, and I want you to trust me.”

  As I watched Darren and his grandmother drive away, my smile faded. “Thank you for this, but asking me to trust you…that’s a lot to ask of me.”

  “Who’s Michael to you, Sugar?” He posed the question almost out of pure boredom as he stared ahead.

  The mention of my sperm donor’s name set me on a path to exit. With one hand on the seatbelt release button and another balled and ready to hit a sensitive part of Catch, I delayed. “Just so happened to be following me and found me, huh?”

  He flipped the tiny switch of the e-cigarette and placed it inside the center console. His eyes landed on me without a single stitch of his body moving to regard me. “Your exit wasn’t as clandestine as you thought it was. I followed you here, and watched the house until I heard Michael’s…words to you.” His hoarse voice deepened on the term “words,” signaling a smidgen of dissatisfaction. “While I know who he is, it would be wrong to assume I’m on a friendly basis with Michael.”

  “Did he do something to you?”

  “You seem to know him really well. Do you really need to pose that question to me?” His answer-slash-question was curtly stated. “I need you to agree to the offer you have an issue with accepting.”

  I no longer understood the point in accepting his offer. If I agreed, Michael would somehow find me and kill Catch. "You betrayed Michael by helping me escape. Loyalty is a big deal to him.” I tossed out with a shake of my head, “The fucking hypocrite.”

  “You know nothing of my capabilities, and you know less about what occurred between him and me.” Firmly clutching the steering wheel with one hand, he leaned closer to me. “Who are you to him?”

  “I’m his mistress,” I chirped a lie I was trained to tell.

  He ran a finger across the cheek Michael had assaulted. “Does he…fuck you?” His lilt was alarmingly gentle, but a storm was brewing between those eyes.

  If I said the wrong thing, it was clear the storm he held back would unleash a torrential downpour. I shrank away and shrugged at him. “I’m no one special to Michael.”

  He exhaled and lolled back in his seat while one hand fingered the e-cig placed in the center console cup holder. “The man who was chasing you didn’t look poised to kill you. If my assumption is true, you’re very special to Michael. I want to know why.”

  “That’s utter bullshit." I stifled a laugh. "If he thinks I’m special, he has a dysfunctional way of showing it.”

  When Catch turned his head toward me, his eyes were colder than they ever had been. “Doubtful that it’s bullshit. I agree it’s dysfunctional.”

  I held my hand to my slightly swollen cheek and sunk in the leather seat. “Do you have a point to this?”

  Reaching across, he grabbed my chin, forcing my head to angle in his direction. “A woman who lives with means, protected by a universally feared man, spends her weekends on the streets as though she doesn’t have the life she does. Don’t you understand? I want to help you.”

  And after several minutes of dead air passing between us during the staring contest, I was sure he wouldn’t move unless I gave him what he wanted; acceptance of his weird offer.

  “Is there anyone else waiting in the wings who will protect you from Michael?”

  Blinking rapidly, I tried to make sense of the proverbial sting he threw into my eyes. The resounding answer was no. “You didn’t answer my question when I asked you what you wanted me to do—not really. What do you really want me to do for you?”

  “That’s not the right question. The question is how’s it going to change you?”

  No one gave without expectation. There was no one in my past who would’ve acted as a fairy godmother or godfather and sent Catch in my path. I had too many enemies thanks to Michael.


  The answer to the question of what he wanted scared me more than knowing what he claimed he didn’t want. I had one other option: go to the police about what I knew about Michael and live under protective custody for the rest of my life.

  I’d only trade one prison for another, and there was no guarantee I would remain safe at all times. The syndicate was ruled by a powerful commission. Deana once informed me about murmurings, stressing that very powerful men made up the governing body.

  I jerked my head up to glare at Catch, threatening him before the words slipped my lips. “You will never be or act like my pimp. I want everything you want from me and everything you’re going to give to me to be in writing and legally binding. I’ll sign it once you get it together.” I had to make one more thing clear. “My body is mine. If I don’t want to fuck you, I won’t.”

  A dark grin draped his face and doubled as scary and alluring. “Your thighs were spread, boldly showing your pussy to me, and I never fully acted on it.”

  “No, you finger fucked me dizzy.” I relaxed a little. “Why didn’t you? What’s wrong with you?”

  He arched a dark, dense brow. “There’s something wrong with me because I didn't tear into you at the hotel? I question the kind of men you’ve been around, Sugar. I’m assuming they were animals.”

  “Never mind any of that,” I shot him down. “What if whatever you do want me to do, I don’t want any of it?”

  “It wouldn’t exactly make this work if you resisted what was asked of you. I won’t physically make you do anything you're against doing. Sugar…” He rolled his tongue, expressing his distaste for the name I branded myself with. “The second you decide to be with me, no one else will have the opportunity to fuck you. Are we clear on that?”

  He didn’t desire me, but didn’t want anyone else to have me? If I tried to wrap my mind around it, I’d wind up attempting to fasten a two-feet string around an infinite number of galaxies.