Tryst

by Arie Lane

  “How are you feeling Miss Celeste?” he asks, with concern. “I have to apologize for the ordeal you went through, but I assure you we only did what was necessary. As I’m sure you’re aware, your mother hired a couple men to abduct and murder you. While it’s not exactly clear why she would want you dead, we have learned some troubling things concerning your past. I am truly sorry for the suffering you’ve had to deal with at your mother’s hands. As I was saying, the men she hired are actually undercover agents. Since she went as far as to bring you across state lines, it became federal jurisdiction. Your mother is currently in custody on several charges, including kidnapping, conspiracy to commit murder, and assault. Well, you get the picture. We have enough evidence to lock her away for a long time.”

  I look at him with confusion, “I don’t understand how this happened, if you knew she was going to do this why didn’t you stop her before? Why did I have to go through all of this?” I ask, my voice weary and tired from the ordeal.

  “I am truly sorry, Miss, but the only way we could have been able to charge her was for her to actually complete the transaction. Once she made a cash exchange, we were able to arrest her. I know this must be very difficult for you, but believe me if there was another way for this to have transpired we would have done it. I have to say though, you should be very proud of yourself. You put up one hell of a fight. If you weren’t up against a trained professional, chances are you would have escaped, as it is you broke Logan’s nose,” he utters, with amusement.

  I want so badly to go home, to crawl into my bed and lock myself away. Apparently, I suffered several bruises and scrapes to my body and face during transport and while unconscious. I am informed my mother took a few cheap shots in those moments, but none of that matter now. The doctor says I’ll be released some time tomorrow after they run a few more tests and confirm there isn’t any swelling. I ask the nurse to refuse all visitors. I don’t think I can handle it. I’m already hurting, and to see the looks of pity and sympathy would just add to my misery.

  The nurse comes in a short while later, making small talk and checking up on me. After giving me another dose of pain medication and threatening me with bad disco music, she convinces me to eat. I feel bad because eating isn’t really the problem, it’s the holding it down part that doesn’t seem to stick. I have three cracked ribs and two others are bruised, making it even more painful when I puke up the small amounts I’ve eaten. It isn’t until after I successfully hold down a few mouthfuls of chicken broth, that she leaves, and I decide to try and get some sleep.

  Tristan

  Stepping up to the nurse’s station I ask for Bentley’s room. The woman looks up and tells me she’s not accepting visitors. After informing her and several others there must be some mistake, the doctor overseeing her care comes out to fill me in on what’s going on.

  “I’m very sorry, Mr.- ?”

  “Reece, Tristan Reece. My girl is in one of these rooms but these ladies here,” I say, nodding to the girls at the desk, “won’t let me see her. They said she’s refusing to see anyone, but that’s bullshit. No way would she not be willing to see me,” I reply, frantically.

  “I apologize, Mr. Reece, but Miss Celeste has requested no visitors. She’s been through quite an ordeal and I honestly think it’s in her best interest that she be given time to come to terms with what happened to her. She will be released tomorrow, but otherwise, I’m afraid I can’t let you see her.”

  I slam the door as I get back in the car, fuming at the shit that just went down. How the fuck could she not want to see me? For a minute I wonder if she knows that it was Cage and I that set the whole thing up, granted that shit didn’t go down like it was supposed to. Bentley was never meant to get hurt, and she sure as hell wasn’t supposed to end up in the hospital with a concussion. Cage’s boy told us it took longer than expected for her mother to bring the funds. Since they weren’t willing to compromise the case and risk the bitch hiring someone else, they kept Bentley in that fucking basement. She stayed down there for thirty-six fucking hours freezing, with no food or water.

  It makes my fucking stomach churn knowing it’s my fault. If I hadn’t insisted on ending this shit, Bentley wouldn’t be in the hospital right now. The doctor mentioned several bruised ribs as well as sores all over her body from being kicked while she was unconscious. By the time the deal was done, Bentley was bordering on hypothermic and drenched in piss, which clearly wasn’t all hers. There was mention of someone pissing or throwing piss on her while she was passed out. Hearing shit like that happened to her, it sent me into a blind rage.

  I didn’t make it through the conversation before Cage was pulling me off the fucker who had done it. I wanted to beat the son of a bitch to death. If Cage hadn’t got in the way, I probably would have. As it is, I broke his jaw and three ribs. I also dislocated the cocksucker’s shoulder. Even that doesn’t ease the pain I know I caused her. I pray to fucking God she never finds out we did this, because I’m not sure she could ever forgive either of us. I’m not sure I could forgive myself for the shit she went through.

  I haven’t even told Dante yet. He had a family emergency he needed to fly back home for. It was perfect timing since I don’t think I would have been able to fool him, and I’m pretty sure I’d be in a body bag right now if he knew this was my fault. The only saving grace making any of this cluster fuck worth it is that the cunt is sitting behind bars, and it doesn’t look like she’ll be getting out in Bentley’s lifetime.

  Chapter 17

  Bentley

  I sit in the media room of the courthouse watching my mother’s arraignment from a small screen. She doesn’t even flinch as the charges against her are read. She simply stands there and smiles, like she has no care in the world. I’m surprised to see my father sitting in the seat behind her. I have to wonder what he thinks of this whole mess. I hang on every word as the hearing proceeds. When her attorney asks for bail, my breath hitches. She’s accused of conspiracy to commit murder, so how could anyone in their right mind grant this woman bail? Yet, as I sit there listening, the judge does just that. He orders her bail set at half a million dollars.

  Did they not take this woman’s financials into account? My mother will have that by tonight, assuming my father doesn’t drop a check right there. My father’s family was very wealthy and when they passed away, the majority of it went to my father, with college funds being set up for both Cora and me. Having gotten through on scholarships, I invested the majority of my money, and now have a nice chunk of change, should I ever need it.

  Leaving the courthouse, I’m bombarded by a small horde of reporters asking what I think of the judge’s decision. How do I feel about what my mother did, and several other questions I have no desire to answer. I try to duck away, but come face to face with the two people I never wished to see again.

  “Bentley,” my mother sneered, “how wonderful to see you fully recovered. Tell me, darling, how is that hot little toy of yours? Has he grown tired of you yet?” she chided. “Oh wait, of course he has,” she cackled, before continuing, “didn’t you ever wonder just how I knew where you’d be? Stupid girl, your own boyfriend told me.”

  I take a step back from her, feeling like I’ve been punched in the gut. I want so badly to call her a liar, but my mother was nothing if not brutally honest. Especially when she knows the truth will be so much more painful.

  By the time I reach my home I am physically ill. I stop twice to puke up anything that remained in my stomach. I know what is waiting there for me. Nothing. Everything is gone. She has stolen every bit of happiness I’ve ever known. What did it matter if I was dead or alive when the only difference was moving from day to day? My heart is broken into pieces. I had fallen in love with a man who actively sought to hurt me. Pissed off at him, but more pissed at myself for being stupid enough to fall for him, I storm through the house and to my office.

  I haven’t set foot in this room in what feels like ages. The will to write just ha
sn’t been there. While I’m cleaning through the papers and trying to organize the mess I last left in here, my voice recorder falls to the floor, my trusted companion. Whenever I can’t put my words to paper, I speak it out then later write it the way I feel it needs to be told. Clicking rewind on the recorder for a few seconds just to hear the last thing I had said to myself, my heart sinks. It isn’t my voice at all, it’s Tristan, and he’s talking to Cage about me.

  My heart breaks as I listen to the man I thought I loved tell his best friend he needs him to hire someone for my mother to abduct me. I hold the recorder closer to my ear and try to make out each word, but my attempt is in vain as the recording snaps off indicating the end of the tape.

  Feeling like my world is crashing down around me, I panic. He really was a part of it this whole time. I trusted him. I confided all of the terrible shit she’d done, and he was probably laughing inside at how pathetic I sounded. I wonder to myself how long ago she had hired him. Was my signing back home was his way in? I even mulled over whether Ele knew. No one could be trusted. Just like always, everyone in my life has betrayed me.

  Taking the tape from the recorder, I slip it into an envelope and seal it shut. Bringing myself to face him in this moment is something I can’t bear. I know I should just get it over with, end it like it never began, and walk away. The thing is, I don’t tend to walk, I run, and this is my home. So right now running simply isn’t an option. As I slip the envelope in his mailbox, I do the only thing I can. I pick up the battered remains of my self-respect.

  Tristan

  I wanted to go to the court with Bentley this morning, but she was adamant she go alone, some bullshit about facing down her demons. I don’t think she wanted me to see her if she cracked. I know this past week has been hard on her. Even with her mother being locked up, it’s been of little consolation. The bitch somehow got ahold of Bentley’s cell phone, and has people leaving her threatening messages. Since none of the calls are collect, we know they aren’t coming from the jail where Darla was held. That’s not exactly comforting, to know she’s recruited some kind of help in torturing Bentley. Although, Cage said he’d have a name and number by the end of the day.

  Getting home from the gym, I grab my mail and head straight for the shower. I want to get cleaned up before I go ask Bentley how the hearing went. As I drop the mail on the counter something in it thuds. Sorting through it, I find an envelope with a little tape in it. Dread washes over me as I consider what could be on this tape, and worse yet, who sent it.

  After a quick shower, I detour from Bentley’s to the electronics store. I need to know what’s on this tape, because for some reason it’s eating at me. As I slip the batteries into the back of the device, I hear a voice coming through the speaker. I listen for a while longer, and when the voice cuts out, two more pick up. It’s Cage and me. I listen as the two of us discuss hiring someone to abduct Bentley, and my heart sinks. The tape is from Bentley. She knows… she knows we set her up. She knows I’m the one who slipped Darla the info about the signing, and she knows it’s my fault she was hurt.

  Driving way faster than the speed limits, I pull into her drive and make a rush for her door. Trying the knob, I find it locked. After several minutes of pounding on the door I try my key, but it no longer fits. She had the locks changed. I don’t know if she’s locking me out, or locking herself away, but neither one is something I can allow. Knowing she will be royally pissed, I pop the screen on one of her back windows and jimmy it. Pulling myself through the small window is no easy feat.

  I don’t find Bentley in any of the downstairs rooms, so I head up the steps praying wherever she is that she’s okay. I heard the news on my way back here. Her mother had been given bail. I don’t know what the fuck the judge was thinking. If he had any idea just how crazy that bitch is, he’d never let her see the light of day again. Searching each room one by one I come to her bedroom, which is slightly ajar. Pushing the door open and walking through, my head is met with the blunt end of the vase where she kept my flowers.

  Dropping my head into my hands, I try to maneuver away from her, but she must have expected that. My baby could be a punter for NFL. Hauling off, she kicks me so hard in the balls I swear I can feel the fuckers in my throat. I’m certain there are little stars dancing around my head as they count me out. As I drop to my knees she swings her foot again. This time I catch it and twist, sending her to the ground where she fights like hell to get back up.

  Pinning her under me, my heart breaks as I watch the tears pool in her eyes. Before I can even get a word in, she lets off an ear piercing scream that could wake the damn dead. I slap my hand over her mouth to try and muffle it, and she uses the opportunity to sink her teeth into the side of my palm, biting down as hard as she can. Pulling it away, I glance down to the see the blood rushing out from the broken skin outlined by her teeth marks. I try to shift my weight so I’m not crushing her, but as soon as I shift, her knee breaks free and nails in my the stomach. Grunting in pain as I roll away from her, I grasp at her ankle as she takes off for the door. She makes it to the end of the hall, but before she can hit the first step I have her in a bear hug securing her as tightly as possible. She’s thrashing like a wild animal in my arms, screaming at me.

  “Put me down you mother fucker. I swear to God, if she doesn’t fucking kill you first I will. Let me fucking go, I hate you. You son of a bitch, you were with her the whole fucking time. I should have known better than to ever fucking trust anyone. I fucking swear, Tristan, if you don’t let me go I’ll put your ass in the intensive care unit. Get the fuck off of me, you cock sucking, ass munching, son of a pig-fucking bastard!”

  Listening to the shit coming out of her mouth, I bit my tongue trying hard not to laugh and piss her off even more. It’s another half hour of her twisting and thrashing in my arms before she’s finally worn herself out. Sitting her down on the hall floor, I wrap my legs Indian-style over hers and keep my arms across her chest so she can’t run again. I sit there rocking her lightly as the mental and physical exhaustion sets in and the tears start running down her cheeks. I try to turn her face towards mine to wipe them away, but she flinches away from my touch.

  Hanging her head down I barely catch the words she speaks as she says them in a whisper, “I don’t get it. If you hate me so much, why are you here?” I listen as her voice grows angrier with each word. “What, did she offer you double if you finished the job yourself? Triple if you could make me fall in love with you first?” The sarcasm is dripping from each word as she tears my world apart. “I should have known from the beginning this was all bullshit. I bet this was just one big fucking game to you. You probably gave that bitch weekly progress reports showing just how pathetically gullible I was, and how easily I fell for your act.” She spits the words at me like they are venom.

  I’m sitting here holding her, listening to her and as much as her words are killing me, as much as my fucking world feels like it’s crumbling, the only part of any of it that registered was she had fallen in love with me. This is one of those moments where everything should be right in the world, and yet I’m sitting here losing the only thing that matters. I know I fucked this up. I never should have tempted fate, but at the very least, she needs to know why I did it.

  With a false sense of calm, I try to curb the rage that wants to pour out of my words. How the fuck could she really believe I would have anything to do with that vile bitch? How could she even sit here and convince herself that everything we’d been through, everything we shared, was nothing more than a lie? That fucking twisted my guts more than anything else. She can spew hatred at me all day long, she can curse me out from sun up to sun down, but I’m not going to sit here and let her fucking ruin the memory of the one good thing I have.

  “Shut the fuck up, Bentley. You don’t know what you’re talking about, so just shut the fuck up. You really think I’m sitting here holding you in my arms right now because I want to hurt you? You actually believe I’m so
me sick fuck who would go out of his way to show you how fucking great I think you are, just to tear you the fuck apart? That’s some sick fucking shit you have going on in that head of yours, baby. What I did, didn’t have shit to do with your mother. Yeah, I let it slip you would be at the signing, but baby, that’s as far as it went. Just hold up before you start screaming at me again,” I say, while cutting her off from speaking. “This was never about her, baby. This was about trying to give you some peace of mind.”

  I watch as she reacts to my confession. I hoped my words would bring her some measure of comfort, that knowing I did what I felt I needed to be done to protect her would ease the pain she is feeling, but it isn’t. No matter what, I betrayed her, whether it was for my own selfish reasons or not. To her I might as well have been working with Darla, and that’s eating me fucking alive. She’s barely even breathing as I continue to explain myself.

  “Yeah, I asked Cage to get a hold of some of his buddies in the private sector, because word had already spread that Darla was looking for you. She was looking to hire someone to do some really fucked up shit. Cage had his boys pick up the contract and set everything into place, but, baby, I swear you were never meant to get hurt. It was supposed to be a couple hours, nothing more, and then you were supposed to be back in my arms. I kicked the shit out of the fucker that hit you in the head, and I won’t even get into the ass whooping the cock sucker who… never mind you don’t need to know that shit. The point is, the fucker’s hurting real bad right about now. I swear on my fucking life, Bentley, this was meant to be for you. If I had known there was even the slightest chance you would have gotten hurt, I would have pulled the plug. Knowing that psycho cunt was out there searching for you, and the shit she wanted done- that shit tore me the fuck up. We figured the quicker the bitch was locked away, the sooner you could stop looking over your shoulder. I’m not fucking blind, Bentley, I see you watching the corners. It’s like you’re just going through life waiting for her to end it. I couldn’t fucking watch that anymore. I wanted to see you live. I needed to see you happy even if it fucking killed me,” I can hear the panic in my own voice, not knowing if she will believe me, or worse if she’s capable of forgiving me.