Nightmare of Vengeance

by Lizbeth Dusseau

  Ten o’clock, the night almost gone, and what would the man be thinking now? On any other occasion I might have stewed remorsefully about this nasty quirk of fate until I cried myself to sleep. Instead I walked the room, pacing back and forth, restless and impatient. How could I possibly serve the man his cheese omelet the next morning after having stood him up the night before?

  I pulled from my closet a pair of dress slacks and a pale blue shirt that would certainly do for what I had in mind. Most importantly, they’d cover up any telltale signs of my last few hours. I ran a brush through my dirty locks, managing to comb out the twigs and leaves, then after adding a light coat of gloss to my lips, I dashed off with the directions to Lawton Brady’s fancy ranch house clutched inside my fist.

  The long and twisted drive went off without a hitch, although the closer the Jeep took me to Lawton’s mountaintop home, the more anxious I became. At one point, in a sudden panic, I was about to turn back, but the road was so damn narrow that there was no place to turn around. When finally I reached the open gate to the estate, I stopped long enough to reconsider what I was doing. If I’d been able to see the ranch house from the impressive fieldstone gateway, it might have triggered another panic attack. But by then, my curiosity had been heightened. Sure, I could have given up, knowing how silly this rash escapade really was, but it seemed as though something bigger than my fears propelled me forward.

  By the time I rounded the last bend and the house came into view, I was startled by the brilliant lights shining from inside, as well as several outside lights that put the structure’s beautiful exterior into high relief. The long, low, single-story ranch was made of stucco, the roof of red tile. Mexican hacienda? Cowboy ranch? Both, I think. The styles blended well into an impressive façade flanked by eucalyptus and olive trees, and a stand of tall pines to the back and left side. The strong scent of roses greeted me – I imagined that under better circumstances Lawton and I might have enjoyed a stroll through his gardens.

  Once I pulled into a small area reserved for parking, I saw that one car was pulling out and another three people were saying their goodbyes to Lawton at the ranch house door. I would not have been the only guest that night.

  Quietly exiting the Jeep, I made myself as innocuous as possible, while waiting for the commotion to die down. When Lawton finally spotted me hovering in the shadows like a frightened mouse, his troubled look was hardly inviting. He waited as I approached, only to turn away when I was just a few feet off. As he re-entered the house, he left the door wide open, which I took to mean that I was welcome to follow him inside.

  Gone were the jeans and cowboy shirts Lawton usually wore, replaced with a pair of khaki slacks and a loose-fitting silk shirt that draped his torso and tucked in at the waist. He wore boots, yes, but a dressier pair than any I’d seen him wear. The house was nothing like his modest cabin in the canyon where we’d spent so many nights. I knew I was stepping into wealth as soon as my feet hit the slate floor entry and I followed Lawton into an enormous great room, much of which I was too dazed to see when I had to concentrate on other, more pressing matters. A stone fireplace at one end, the casual elegance of leather and heavy woods, the scents and smells of the filthy rich gave me a significant shudder – though miles apart from Ryder’s fancy family estate, there seemed to be a strange similarity amongst the rich; not something that could be seen with the eye, but rather felt on a more primal level.

  The world of rancher Lawton Brady shifted dramatically in my mind. In all the time we’d spent together, there’d only been rare signs of his wealth. He seemed like such a normal guy. But this: this was the rest of his life. Our already rocky relationship seemed to be resting on the shifting sands of a completely different place and time. It was enough to have me wondering if I’d once again stumbled into a world where I had no right to be. However, of more immediate concern at that moment was seeing that Lawton and I were not alone. A well-dressed couple sat on one of the leather couches by the fireplace and stared at me, waiting for their curiosity to be satisfied. Meanwhile, Lawton had taken a spot by the fireplace, with one booted foot resting on the raised hearth and a cool but inquisitive look on his grim face.

  I wanted desperately to conduct our business in private, but was too scared to suggest that. What if he refused my request? I had nothing left to do but state my case.

  “Lawton, I’m sorry…I intended to be here at six. I was dressed and ready but…” I abruptly stopped, not knowing what else to say. In my race to make amends after a night with Ryder, I’d neglected to come up with a plan for what I’d say – or, for that matter, consider the possibility that I’d be speaking not just to Lawton but what I believed was a formidable audience. As the seconds passed and the silence swept the room with a degree of anxiety, I considered my alternatives.

  The fireplace roared behind the man, its heat soon beating against my face. Though I suppressed the urge to flee, I still had nothing to say.

  Was it my imagination or had Lawton’s cool reserve turned icy cold? Nothing about his mood seemed welcoming now. Was it my failing that caused such a distance between us or was it the place itself – an example of Lawton’s claim about his home being a place ‘where good relationships go to die.’

  I let my gaze wander as I tried to think, but when nothing glib or witty came to mind, I managed simply, “I wish I could take back the last five hours, Lawton. But I obviously can’t. I’m so sorry.”

  “I’m sorry too,” he finally added his two cents.

  For the first time since we’d met, I was on the verge of confessing the truth. I wanted to offer up my body as compensation. Let him punish me; that would have eased my sorry soul. And if he did, he would have seen right off that I’d already been beaten that night, with the marks from Ryder’s bundle of switches impossible to hide. I’d explain then, explain it all. How Ryder had taken me into the woods and abused me; how my life had become a nightmare ruled by the man’s vengeance; how I’d left him at the alter, figuratively slapping his face in defiance, and how I’d fled across the country in fear of his unending reprisal.

  If Lawton’s guests hadn’t been sitting off to the side maybe I would have launched into my whole distasteful story. Oh, but who am I kidding? I was no closer to telling him the truth than I was the first day we met. In a perfect world, I might have acted that nobly, but I was far too ruled by fear – of Ryder, certainly – but even more so of what Lawton Brady would think of me. Holding on to the hope that I could resurrect something from this broken relationship kept me silent when I really should have told the truth.

  Lawton waited and so did I. I suppose we both expected that I’d finally say something more in my defense, but having rejected the only thing that might have meant something; there was really no reason for me to be in Lawton’s house at all. The situation only grew more awkward as I realized I should have never come in the first place.

  “I’ll go now. It’s late and I’m sure you’re tired.” I turned to his guests with an embarrassed smile. “Please excuse me for interrupting your evening.”

  I turned to leave, but Lawton suddenly jumped in before I could begin my retreat.

  “What? That’s it? No explanation?”

  I looked back, very much surprised that he’d even said a word. He’d opened the door to my thoughts and I could have slid smoothly into the truth again. But again, I backed away. Another opportunity missed.

  “Fear, Lawton. I’ve been badly burned in love. Maybe at the heart of it, I’m just not ready to take that chance again.”

  “And that’s it? That’s all you have to say?”

  “That’s all I can say.” I’d given him no more clue to my state of mind than I did when I came back from San Francisco. I knew he was frustrated, and so was I.

  “Fine. That’s just fine, Sam. Now I think you should leave. Come back when you have something meaningful to say.”

  Mine was a long walk to Lawton’s front door, and though he didn’t bother to see me ou
t, with every step of the humiliating retreat I felt Lawton’s eyes push me on my way.

  Chapter Eleven

  I shouldn’t have worried about serving up that cheese omelet the next morning, Lawton was not at Miss Bessie’s.

  “So, whadya do, girl?” Miss Bessie demanded to know in her heavy Southern drawl.

  “Do…what?”

  “Mr. Brady ain’t here this morning. I hear he’s eating breakfast at the coffee shop.”

  “I guess we won’t be seeing much of each other, Miss Bessie. And if you’d rather have him here than me, I certainly understand.”

  She gave me a weird look, as if to say, ‘What the hell are you talkin’ about.’

  “You jus better be good to the rest of my customers, don’t go scaring them away.”

  “Oh, I promise.”

  I followed Lawton into the hardware store during a break in my shift and confronted him between the ratchet sets and lawn equipment.

  “Don’t go forgetting Miss Bessie in your attempts to distance yourself from me. She was pretty pissed off this morning when you ate breakfast down the street.”

  “Was she now?”

  “She has radar for trouble.”

  “That she does.” He sighed and scratched his head. “I suppose if she’s so upset about where I eat breakfast, I’ll be back tomorrow.”

  “Thanks, Lawton, thanks.”

  He nodded to me and I left.

  While I did my duty on behalf of Miss Bessie, I put Lawton and myself back in the same place for at least an hour every morning. I’m sure he didn’t linger like he used to, but it was clear that the emotions remained sharp and strained between us.

  “Why don’t you two make up,” Bessie said often enough – though not so Lawton could hear. But of course, neither of us would budge. Miss Bessie just had no clue what kept us so divided.

  The weeks went by and soon the awkward tension in our relationship eased, much as it had before. However, we both went on to other business. I started the first steps toward taking the California bar exam; although I had to be very careful about that, since that little item had not been on the resume of activities that I recited for my friends in Rio Marinas. I figured by the time the exam took place, I’d have concocted a decent story to explain this heretofore unmentioned part of my previous lie. I wanted to get my story straight, but when you lie enough it gets easier every time.

  The next eight months came and went uneventfully, while I studied for the bar exam and kept to myself. It was hard to believe that I’d been in Rio Marinas nearly two years. So far, there’d been no new command performances from my ex, though I remained vigilant. I knew he would return, and this time I didn’t lie to myself. Ryder worked on his own timetable, so I could never be sure when he’d fit me into his busy schedule. So far it hadn’t failed that just when I thought he would be out of my life forever, he showed up. My thinking wasn’t faulty anymore; he would come after me once again…

  And so he did.

  The next time was like a memory from the past sweeping me away. He found me studying for the bar exam in the Rio Marinas library. I could have studied in my room, and I often did, but the library lent a certain kind of mood to my study that inspired more concentration. I was less likely to be distracted by TV, cell phone calls, and curious noises in the boarding house.

  “Samantha.” I heard his voice, not immediately connecting it with Ryder. Though when I finally looked up from the passage I was diligently reading, I jumped six inches in my chair, shocked.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked in a livid whisper.

  “Oh, you thought I’d suddenly disappear?” he whispered back, as he casually sat down next to me so we could talk privately in hushed and heated tones. “I certainly didn’t mean to ever imply that.”

  “No, you never have.”

  He smiled. “If you’d like to pull this off without making a scene, that’s fine with me. I’ll walk out, as if I were just a casual friend stopping by to say hello. Give me sixty seconds, then you pack up your books and leave. I’ll be waiting for you outside. How’s that for unobtrusive?”

  “And if I refuse you?” I asked.

  “You won’t. I know that. But since you asked, perhaps you should know what’s been on my mind, lately. I’ve been contemplating my options with you. You have no idea the possibilities that have presented themselves. So far, I have nothing earth-shattering to report, but I have seriously considered taking you away from all this silly posturing for normalcy, kidnapping you outright and never giving you back to your measly life.”

  I stared at him in horror. “Ryder, no.”

  “Oh, yes. You’d serve as my mistress, slave if you wish to call it that, a literal captive in an underground world where you’ll do more than just help me let off steam. Pretty redheads are fine commodities on the international girl market. You’d have everything you’d need, but practicing law would be pretty much off the table, and you’d have to say goodbye to this lovely town. I’m sure you’d fight me tooth and nail at the start, but you’d eventually come around. There are men, better than I, I might add, who have strong track-records at turning recalcitrant bitches and reluctant subbies into perfectly acquiescent playthings. Their methods can be pretty ruthless, and are no doubt painful, but they do get results. I’ve seen the evidence – and when I did, the thought of Kristen Davies in that role was too thrilling to ignore.”

  I could not mask my horror as I listened to his plan. I briefly stared around, wondering if anyone was listening. Thankfully no. Finished with the threat, he waited a moment before adding: “I’d suggest, my dear, that you put a sunny expression on that pretty face and follow me out of here in sixty seconds. I won’t keep you long tonight. You have nothing to fear on that score.”

  That said, he got up and left the library.

  I’m sure it was far longer than sixty seconds before my heart slowed down its panicked beating to something normal, and I could manage to put away my law books. There was no doubt, however, about what I’d do. Already, Ryder’s powerful aura held me in its grasp – not just with the awful threat he’d leveled at me, but with the promise of the raw and nasty sex that would fill my next hour.

  That seedy motel I planned to stay in when I first arrived in Rio Marinas…? The one that Miss Bessie steered me from – with the bums and druggies?

  Ryder pulled his SUV into a space in front of that motel’s room #10, at the far end of the long building. From rooms closer to the motel office you could hear the sound of Mexican music drifting into the night, and smell the pungent scent of Mexican food – although my mouth was hardly watering.

  The motel made no apologies for being a dive. Once I stepped into the room, my shoulders hunched UP to my ears as a squeamish feeling came over me. Everything about the place, the peeling paint, the tattered drapes, the worn chenille bedspread, made me think of bedbugs.

  “Tacky, isn’t it?” Ryder commented.

  “I think I’d rather you fuck me in the bushes.”

  “Don’t worry. Like I said, this won’t take long. Take of your clothes and we’ll get started.”

  Ryder then sat on the bed and watched the slow process of my mind in its feeble efforts to proceed with what he ordered. I stared around. I stared at him. My entire body trembled. All I wanted to do was split, and yet I knew that would be impossible. His formidably virile body could quickly overtake me and what had been civil so far could get ugly. Shaking before him, I waited for my fears to settle, which eventually they did. The titillation that another scene with Ryder always brought out in me, finally emerged and I began to remove my clothes. My pussy was so wet by the time I was naked that I could smell my feral juices wafting up from my crotch. Any time I looked at Ryder, which wasn’t often, I could feel his lust.

  Stripped of my clothes, I waited, still shivering, still aroused, while a pleased smile broke out across his face. He finally rose and moved my way. I turned my head aside when he tried to kiss me – his lips still see
med foreign and distasteful – but he pulled my chin back with his hand and demanded the kiss, his mouth opening on mine, his tongue forcing its way beyond my lips.

  Then he pulled back and began to slap my pussy with his one hand, while reaching around to assault my asshole with his other. No more than a few seconds passed and I was leaning into him, body spasming with a long stream of orgasms I could not stop.

  “That’s it, slut. That’s it,” he urged. “Come on my hand.”

  I hated his control, but gave in nonetheless. Would it ever be any different between us? Was I doomed the very first time I laid eyes on him in the bar?

  When he thrust me to the bed, I was so ready to be penetrated that I didn’t balk.

  But suddenly, there was a knock on the door and a big burly Latino walked in. My head turned his way, then tucked back underneath me as I realized what was about to happen.

  His large hands were fierce and commanding, like Ryder’s, but even rougher. Ryder abandoned my upturned ass and climbed on the bed, moving toward my head with his cock already free and aimed directly at my mouth. Along with my first taste of his salty head, I felt the stranger plunge his organ into my pussy. I shrieked and pulled back – the guy was huge! Certain I’d be torn apart, I struggled, until Ryder slapped my face for balking, and the Mexican’s two big hands captured my ass cheeks and pried them far apart.

  “Get used to it, slut!” Ryder said, “Or I’ll give you to all the boys down the hall. I’m sure they’d be happy to join their friend.”

  “No, please!” I managed, before Ryder’s cock was in my mouth and effectively silencing any protest.

  As I was getting used to Ryder in my mouth, the man behind me thrust his way back in my cunt and was banging hard.

  “Ah, sí,” I heard him moan. More guttural grunting followed. Then I felt something pressed against my anus, a finger maybe scouting out that taut entrance.