Secrets In Our Scars

by Rebecca Trogner

  “What?”

  “Nothing. How long will it take to get there?”

  “It’s a four-hour flight.” Finally, he gives me a quick glance. “You look tired, baby.”

  “I didn’t sleep last night, what with…you know.”

  “Gavin filled me in. I should have taken care of him myself before I left.”

  “He’s a killer, but you’ve always known, haven’t you? What did you call him?” Charlie laughs. “Mr. Lethal.”

  I close my eyes and try to force Charlie from my thoughts.

  “Lean back, baby. Rest your eyes; we’ll be there soon.”

  I watch the landscape as my mind ricochets around in my memories. I’m surprised when we pass the Aldie Store and know it won’t be long before we reach Dulles Airport.

  “We’re still going to…?” My face instantly turns red. “You know.”

  “After we talk and if you still want me.”

  “Why are you trying to scare me? I don’t want to discuss this now. I’ve missed you so much. It’s been horrible without you, and I don’t want anything to ruin how happy I am.”

  “Only if you let it.” Again, his tone is sad. “I’ve thought of nothing but you and us and our future. We have to get this out in the open or…” He shakes his head and leans back in the driver’s seat. “You have to know.”

  Can it be so bad, what he has to tell me, so horrible I wouldn’t care for him or want him in my life anymore? No, not this man who’s protected me and cared for me and awakened my body in ways I never thought possible.

  He parks inside what looks like an empty warehouse except for the plane, black and sleek, parked a few feet away. “Miss Aldridge.” Roy opens my door and takes my hand.

  “What about my aunts?”

  “I told them you’d call once we arrived.”

  I roll my lips together to keep from smiling. “Always so sure of yourself.”

  “Never with you. Let’s get aboard this tin can so I can see you in a bikini.”

  I slap his back and follow him up the stairs and into the ultra-modern-looking interior of the plane. “I’ve never flown before.”

  His hand slides like silk to the nape of my neck, and he whispers in my ear. “Back there is a bathroom with a shower.” He gently propels me. “And through those doors is a bedroom.”

  “Is this yours?” I try to turn, but he urges me forward.

  “It’s a corporate jet. Technically, my company owns it.”

  “Sir, are you ready to proceed to the runway?”

  I look around, realizing there must be a speaker system or something.

  In the doorway to the bedroom, Roy punches a button. “Yes. Get us out of here.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Cokes are in the fridge.” He points to the corner. “If you want to shower and change, I’ve brought some clothes for you over there.”

  “Always so prepared,” I mutter.

  “Hmm.”

  I expected a snappy retort, not for him to slip out of his shoes and kick back on the king-sized bed.

  He pats the bed. “I need you next to me. We’ve both had a hard go of it apart.”

  What happened, wherever he was? How many nightmare memories of war plague him in his quiet moments? Or is he hardened to the grim reality he finds in such places?

  The jet is moving, and I steady myself by placing my hand on the bed and crawl in to sit next to him.

  “We’ll be taking off in a second or two.”

  “Should we buckle up or something?”

  “My plane, my rules.” His arm slides around me. “I’ve got you.”

  “Oh.” I grab hold of his arm as the force of takeoff presses our backs to the headboard.

  “Jacob will steady us out.”

  When the plane levels, I turn to face him while still in his arms. It’s obvious to me now he’s bone-tired. He has dark circles and creases around his eyes. Wanting to provide comfort, I run my hand up his chest and neck and let my fingers run through his beard. It’s quite impressive how much it’s grown in only a week. I blush, thinking of how the soft bristles will feel against my inner thighs.

  “I can see what you’re thinking.” His thumb glides across my traitorous cheeks. “Make the most of it tonight. In the morning I’ll be shaving it off.”

  “Why?” My voice is breathy.

  “Because, my little aphrodisiac, we’ll be out on the boat tomorrow and I want my whole face to tan.”

  I smile as he gives me a playful wink. “Sun…tan…I don’t tan.”

  He looks at my neck and lets out a long breath. “I’ve never seen anyone with such beautiful skin. Like a Botticelli’s Venus come to life.”

  I don’t know the painter, but I can tell by his expression he likes what he sees. I shiver when he lightly runs his fingertips over my arm.

  “There’s plenty of sunscreen at the house.”

  “Is it your house?” Who has a house on a tropical island?

  “Could be, if you like it.”

  “Stop teasing me.”

  “I’m not. A client owns it. She’s offered to sell it to me. Now.” He unhooks his arm from behind my back and lays flat on the bed. “Baby, as much as I’d like to talk and…” His eyes flick down to my breasts. “It’s been over forty hours since I’ve had any rest.”

  As tempted as I am to fall asleep in his arms, I know I’m too wired to do so.

  He searches my face and finds his answer without me having to say a word. “Alright, go on into the cabin and Donna will get you whatever you need.”

  I pout, knowing he’s right.

  “A couple hours sleep.” He lifts his eyebrow conspiratorially. “I promise to be fully functional by the time we land.”

  I roll my eyes up to the ceiling, trying to think of something witty. Nothing comes to mind, so I give him a chaste kiss and slide out of bed. Before I shut the door behind me, his eyelids close.

  I leave Sleeping Beauty to his dreams—please let them be peaceful—and make my way to the cabin, where there are four leather seats, all facing forward. It reminds me of the pictures I’ve seen of home theaters. I slip into the soft leather and look out the window, watching the ocean playing peek-a-boo behind the clouds.

  “Miss, may I get you something?”

  This must be Donna. I expected a clone of the real estate agent. Another California woman of tall, thin perfection with well-behaved hair and gleaming, white teeth. Instead, Donna is an attractive fifty-something. Her shape is roundish, though not fat. Her hair is sprinkled with gray and her eyes sparkle like she knows what I’m getting for Christmas and is about to share it with me.

  “Are you Donna?”

  “I am. And you must be Miss Aldridge. Mr. Blackwood gave me specific instructions regarding refreshments for you.”

  He did, did he? “A Coke would be perfect.”

  “Of course. Would you like it served over ice?” Donna rests her hand on the seat in front of me as we hit turbulence. “I also have ice cream, chocolate fudge, and cinnamon rolls.”

  Oh, Roy, you know the way to a girl’s heart is through her sweet tooth. I probably should be worried as the plane buffets, but having someone who looks like they could be my grandmother listing all my favorite desserts makes it seem unthreatening.

  “I’ve kind of overdone the sugar for today. Could I get a sandwich and maybe some pretzels or something?”

  “Turkey with cheddar cheese on French bread?”

  Maybe there’s a fully stocked kitchen somewhere back there. “Perfect.”

  She turns and walks toward the pilot area and disappears behind a door.

  What does Roy want to tell me? Maybe it’s the identity of the gift-giver? About what Proctor thinks I shouldn’t pursue? I have the band pulled tight as a bowstring and look at my wrist. It’s speckled with bruises in various stages of yellow and purple and red.

  Donna pushes a cart down the aisle and parks it beside me. “Let me know if you need anything else.”


  It smells lovely, and the bread has been toasted with the cheese melted on top. “Do you know how much longer till we land in St. John?”

  A furrow forms on her brow. “St. John doesn’t have an airport. We fly into St. Thomas, where a helicopter is on standby to take you to Seclusion.”

  “Where?”

  “Sorry.” She smiles. “Seclusion is name of the villa.” Donna presses a button on the wall, and a screen illuminates our flight path. “We’re about sixty-five minutes out. If you need me, you can press this button.” She points to a green button. “I’ll come back for the tray prior to landing.”

  “Can I text?”

  “Yes, the plane has wi-fi connectivity for all your devices.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Not at all.” And she disappears again behind the door.

  I quickly text Vincent. How are you?

  He responds immediately. Where are you?

  So like him to answer a question with a question. On a plane to St. John with Roy.

  You don’t know.

  Honestly, what is with him? Know what?

  Jason’s dead. His lawyer got him out of jail and flew him back to L.A. The tattooed man…was disemboweled and left in the middle of Route 50 at the turnoff to Weather Mountain.

  Holy Fuck! We drove right by there on the way to the airport. My mind spirals. Is this what Roy wants to talk about? Did he have them killed? Did he take care of it himself?

  I read Vincent’s next text. Jason overdosed. Guess he couldn’t deal with losing his career and going to jail.

  Or someone did it for him. Any idea about the tattooed man?

  Gang activity. What the news says.

  I grab hold of the text like it’s a gift from God. It’s plausible, and it makes more sense than Roy masterminding it.

  So, Roy’s whisking you away to break that cherry?

  Only Vincent would include murder and sex in the same text conversation. None of your business.

  Quit crushing the man’s balls and give it up, Baby Girl.

  Not going there. Would you check in on the aunts while I’m gone?

  Of course. Got a hot date myself. I might even tell you about it. Bye, love.

  Doesn’t he always have a hot date? XOXO.

  I’m sure the Internet is going crazy over Jason’s death. He was a huge star. I can’t bring myself to read any of it now. I place my phone next to the plate. The once-tempting sandwich makes me want to barf. The Coke is left untouched. I sit in my seat, staring out the plane window.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “You ordered a sandwich.”

  “Jesus, Roy, you’ve got to stop sneaking up on me.”

  He holds up his hands and takes the seat on the other side of the plane. “And you didn’t eat it.”

  “No.” Should I tell him? Does he already know? If he did it, he does. “Have you heard?” I wait for a reaction. Nothing. “Jason’s dead,” I announce and observe his face.

  He’s still, unnaturally so, and his eyes turn cold. “How?”

  “They’re saying it was an overdose.”

  His eyes move to the side like he’s thinking. “He doesn’t have the personality to kill himself. With his money, he could have gotten off with home incarceration.” To my way of thinking, it’s not how a guilty person would respond. “And the other man?” he asks.

  I can’t bring myself to say the word disemboweled. “Found on Route 50 near the road to Stoke Castle.”

  “Inconspicuous.”

  “You didn’t, did you?”

  “No.”

  “I didn’t think so, but…” What? “I needed to hear you say it.” I reach for his hand. “Is it wrong I’m relieved?”

  He pulls me onto his lap. “No. Jason played with fire. He was always going to get burned in the end.”

  “So this isn’t what you were going to tell me?” My heart sinks a little when he shakes his head.

  Donna appears. “Please prepare for landing.” She whisks the cart away and disappears.

  Roy places me back in my seat and secures the seat belt around me.

  “Why do we need these now?” I liked it better when we were in bed.

  “The landing’s tricky here.”

  “Wow,” I exclaim at the spectacular view of the islands. “It doesn’t look real.”

  “Wait till you see the house.”

  “You said this was a female client’s?”

  “Correct.”

  It’s like we’re being shaken in the air by a giant hand. “She wasn’t…you know…I mean…” I’m floundering, trying to find the correct term.

  He reaches across and takes my hand. “No. I do not have sex with my clients.”

  Our joined hands bounce all over the place as the plane wheels touch down and fly back up and touch down again. The sound of the engines nulls all others until, mercifully, the plane slows, turns, and stops.

  Before I can do it for myself, he has me unbuckled, in his arms, and walking down the stairs. The breeze and moist air wrap around me like a comforting blanket. In front of us is a helicopter.

  “Last bit before we’re at our destination.”

  I don’t have to ask if this is his, as emblazoned on the side in big letters is his company name, Titan. The outside of the helicopter seems large, but once inside it’s small.

  “Okay? The landing wasn’t too much for you?”

  I’m glad he’s concerned, but what’s there to do about it? Maybe he’s afraid I’ll be sick. Wouldn’t that be romantic? “Good.” I nod, thinking he needs double confirmation on my status.

  Roy dons a headset and nods for me to do the same. He places his finger over his lips.

  “Slow and steady.” I hear Roy’s voice in the headset. “We’ve got a virgin on board.”

  My mouth opens in shock.

  “Roger.” The pilot confirms. “She won’t even know we’re off the ground. Have you there in ten.”

  Roy gives me a wink and takes my hand.

  I wish I could say I enjoy the ride. I don’t. I squeeze Roy’s hand when we finally hover over an area and the landing skids touch down on earth.

  “Braid your hair,” Roy instructs.

  I look at him like he’s sprung another head. Aren’t we supposed to be getting off this contraption? He points toward the rotors. Oh, I see. Don’t want to be an Isadora Duncan. Instead of death by a scarf, it would be death by long, curly hair.

  He slides the door open and waits for me. Though he stands tall and walks regularly, I’m hunched over and fast-walking past him to escape the deafening roar of the rotors. When well past the blade’s reach we turn and watch the copter ascend back into the sky.

  I turn around, the dense jungle all around us. “Is this it?”

  “Up there.” Roy points to a peak. “We have to take the Jeep.”

  Maybe staying in Middleburg would have been better. We’ve taken a jet, a helicopter, and now a ride through the jungle to get to this place. I expect Tarzan to swing by.

  “Trust me; it will be worth it when you see it.”

  The road is more of what Aunt Stella would call a goat path, overrun by plants whose leaves and fronds find their way into the Jeep until I lean against Roy to keep from getting slapped in the face. While my nose is a tad out of joint about all this, Roy is refreshed and happy. If only I could look so good after two hours’ sleep.

  I’m sure at any moment we’ll tip over backward from the steepness of the climb and have a death grip on Roy’s arm until we pop out of the jungle onto a cleared plateau. The goat path turns into a crushed stone drive leading up to a white structure with no windows. If I didn’t know better, I’d think it was some sort of penitentiary hidden away on the island.

  “It’s nothing to look at from this side. Wait till you see the view.”

  This is not the stern and controlled Roy I’ve grown accustomed. This is a happy, almost carefree version. He grabs two bags from the back of the Jeep and takes my hand to lead me to the mausol
eum-looking front door, swinging it open and dramatically sweeping his hand for me to go through.

  Inside, it’s a modern confection of floor-to-ceiling windows and open spaces with sleek furniture. What’s outside has me mesmerized. It’s like being in a treehouse with the sky right there like you could walk out onto a cloud. Forgetting the difficult trip, I walk through the house and out onto the patio surrounding the pool. There is no wall of separation between the two. The pool flows right to the edge of the property—for we are truly on a cliff—and beyond is the ocean.

  “It’s something, isn’t it?”

  I don’t possess the words to express how stunningly beautiful and quiet it is except for the distant surf and the sounds of the breeze rustling through the leaves.

  “We’re the only ones on this side of the island. It’s a nature preserve.”

  “Why would anyone want to sell this place?”

  “She’s in her nineties and doesn’t have any lawful heirs.”

  How sad. This home should be passed to future generations. “If it’s a nature preserve—”

  “How was the house built here?” He finishes the question for me. “Her family deeded it over to the National Park Service with the stipulation they would retain rights to build and live in the house, along with the acreage to the beach.”

  “If she sells, won't it null the agreement?”

  “Not if I’m the bastard grandson.” He wraps me in his arms and whispers in my ear. “Why don’t we take a swim? Have dinner, and you can hear me out.”

  “Grandmother?” What the hell? “I thought you didn’t have a family.”

  “That’s a story for another time. Come on.” Roy leads me into the bedroom. As with all the other rooms, it’s dominated by a wall of windows. There is no division between the bedroom and the shower and bath. It’s all one large space. I don’t see a toilet, so I have hopes it’s tucked away behind a door. He drops the two bags on the bed and kicks off his shoes. “I brought you some bathing suit options.” He points to the canvas and leather bag. “Though, if you don’t mind, I prefer to go without.”

  I can’t meet his eyes, which I’m sure are waiting for me to blush a scarlet red.

  “Well, Daisy, if it bothers you, I’ll put something on.”

  “No problem,” I squeak, and try to cover it with a cough.