by Vi Carter
The navy bed sheets are tangled around her naked body. Having her every night in my bed and exploring her body slowly allows me to really enjoy the perfection that makes her up. She stirs, and I remain still until her breathing evens out and she falls back into a deep sleep.
Taking my suit jacket off the back of the vanity chair, I leave the room. Closing the door, the peace she had given me seconds ago dissolves with each step I take down the stairs.
Another week has passed since the meeting with Shay, since Jack’s persistent ringing, since my sister had messaged me wanting to talk. Everyone wants to talk. I don’t think anyone listened. I am not leaving the house to talk to them. I will soon, but first I have to do something else.
I have to kill Leonard. Letting him breathe air is a sin. A sin that I will eradicate in the next coming hours.
Downstairs I search for Davy, but no one seems to know where he is. I’ve been avoiding him. Maybe now he’s avoiding me.
I know if he doesn’t show soon, I will have to track him down, and I don’t like having to track anyone down, especially not my fucking staff.
“Marcus, if Davy returns, tell him to call me straight away.” I pause beside Marcus.
“No problem.”
I don’t walk away from Marcus immediately. He’s close to Davy, as close as Eamon once was. “If you know of his whereabouts, I advise you to speak up now. You don’t want to end up like Eamon, do you?”
“I don’t know where Davy is.”
I hold Marcus’s stare. The truth of his words shines in his eyes, and I release him with a nod of my head before leaving the house.
***
The asylum rises in front of me, and I hope it’s the last time I have to make an appearance here. This time when I enter, they know I’m coming. The arrangements I made before arriving cost me a decent penny, but no price is too great to end Leonard’s life. Killing him is no longer about me. Killing him is for Claire. I’m thinking of something slow and extremely painful.
I’ll enjoy this. I enter the reception and double-check that the cameras are dead. The lights are off, and when I push the door to the left of the empty reception desk, it opens. The lock that keeps the door sealed has been disabled.
My footfalls bounce around the empty corridors, and I like to think if anyone sees me that they’ll scurry away, knowing I mean business. Room two hundred and twenty is the room number I’m looking for. That’s where he is locked up. I’m ready to take a left down a corridor when a camera blinks to life. I keep walking and try to check out the other cameras subtly. They all appear to be switched off. Room two hundred and ten appears, and I count the room numbers as I continue to walk. I’m at room number two hundred and eighteen when I notice another camera is on. I pause outside Leonard’s door. Why am I being watched? Who is watching me? I reach for the door handle, the code box devoid of light telling me it has been disabled. I open the door, and the empty room is like a laugh in the face or a fucking kick in the teeth. I step back on high alert. The gun in the waistband of my trousers I don’t extract, but the heaviness of the gun against my shirt gives me a calm that I shouldn’t be feeling right now.
I take a step back from the door and turn fully to the camera over my shoulder. I wait a few beats for something to happen, but nothing does. Leaving the hallway, I hear the buzz of electricity as all systems return. I make it to the door that leads into the reception area. The palm of my hand burns from the impact that makes no difference as the door remains closed.
I’m trapped.
The fear starts to grow along with my anger, and this time I take my gun out and raise it toward the camera over my head.
“Open the fucking door.” I keep the gun pointed at the camera, and whoever is watching me better open the door. The pause is too long, and hope dwindles fast. I will claw my way out of this place. I will take down every one of them before I’m placed in a glass room again.
The door buzzes, and I reach out and grip the handle, opening the door. I take one final look at the camera. With the door half-open, I know it’s my way out. I know I can leave. I’m no longer trapped, but I can’t leave without spilling Leonard’s blood.
“Where is he?” I speak toward the camera again. Nothing happens, and I wait a few beats. Footsteps are ahead of me, and I drag the door open wider.
“He escaped.” The director speaks.
I keep my hand on the door while raising my gun toward the director.
“Bullshit,” I say straight away and step into the reception area where he stands, alone and unarmed. It doesn’t make me lower the gun. The director being alone doesn’t ease my uncertainty about this situation.
“You’ll get your money back.” The Director says.
The door creaks behind me before it closes. I’m looking left and right as I walk towards him. I’m waiting for an ambush. These are slimy fuckers, ones that I don’t trust. “I don’t want my money. I want Leonard.”
The director keeps his hands raised. “Richard, he isn’t here. He escaped.”
I walk to him and press the barrel of the gun in between his eyes. “That’s not possible. I’ve tried. There is no way out of this place. Do you think I’m a fucking moron?” I push the gun harder against his head. “Do you think I won’t pull this fucking trigger?”
Panic shows on his old wrinkly face for the first time. “He had help. But I swear I knew nothing of it.”
“Help from whom?” I ask.
“I don’t know, Richard. Please take the gun away from my head.”
His gaze is drawn to the gun that I keep pressed to his head. “You will find out who helped him and give me their names.”
He’s shaking his head. “I can’t do that.”
I pull the gun back before slamming it into his temple. His knees give way under the force, and he cries out on the ground. I keep the gun pointed at his head. Blood trickles down the side of his face as he looks up at me. “I’ll find out.”
I don’t threaten him any further. Instead, I take one final sweep of the area before leaving through the front door.
I don’t feel settled as I drive to the Lough Leigh mountains, where Jack and Shay want to meet. Once again, the fact I’m being dragged to a place that my father and his brothers have a stake in isn't lost on me. My father and his brothers bought a lot of land and property in the Kingscourt area in their youth.
I glance down at my phone that’s resting in its portal and ring Davy. His phone rings out, and I curse him again for not answering. I need him to find out Leonard’s whereabouts. I didn’t fear for Claire. Leonard had no idea where I lived, and even if he somehow got that information, he wouldn’t get past the front gates.
The road grows rocky, and I start to feel the bumps as I drive up toward the side of the mountain. Shay’s green Range Rover is here, but I don’t see Jack’s black one, and no other vehicles are around. My BMW is low to the ground, and I curse each pothole in the so-called car park.
So far, I can’t see anyone. I get out of my car and take off my suit jacket, throwing it on the passenger seat. I untuck my shirt, so it covers the gun in the waistband of my trousers, and lock the car. I walk up the side of the mountain, following the marked path. Small bushes are sporadically placed on either side of the barren landscape.
I can smell the smoke before Shay comes into view. He’s sitting on the edge of a large rock that’s embedded in the side of the mountain. How easy it would be to stand behind him and push him off the edge. I climb up to the rock and look over the drop. Yeah, the fall would kill you.
“I wonder how many bodies are down there.” Shay muses.
It’s like he knows my thoughts. Like he can see I want to push him over the side of the mountain. That is if he has betrayed me. I focus on him and not on the edge. “I don’t see any.”
He looks at me through a cloud of smoke and grins. “That’s because our Da’s buried them good and deep.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard this area was their own personal du
mping ground.” My father and his brothers were no strangers to killing people and making them disappear forever. It is a gift I think all O’ Reagan’s possess. One day someone would find their mass graves. I’m sure my father and his brothers will be long gone by the time that happens.
“Did you know my granda had another son?” Shay asks and flicks the cigarette over the edge.
I glance back down the mountain, watching for Jack. He should be here by now. “No.”
“Yeah. He had my da with your nan. When your nan died, he had another son.”
I look at Shay. His father, Connor, is my father’s half-brother. That’s why my father hates Connor. He is less in my father’s eyes and not just that. My grandmother had really played the field with both brothers. So add another family into the mix, and that shit is fit for some soap opera.
“His name was Bernard, and he’s buried down there.” Shay gets up and points over the drop.
He has my attention.
“Shane and some other guy killed him. Bernard would have been the leader of the RA today,” Shay says.
“Shane killed your father’s brother, who would have led the Republican Army?” I ask. Making sure we are on the same page.
Shay nods. “My da told me this. He was trying to explain how dangerous it was up here for us Northerners.”
“I didn’t know,” I say honestly.
Shay nods. “No one knows about it. They buried the truth along with Bernard’s body.” Shay steps off the rock and joins me on safer ground. “The pub we met up in, Shane owns it. He bought it after he killed Bernard there.”
The blow of his words, I hope, doesn’t show on my face. “Why meet me there, then? You know that word will get back to Shane.”
Shay nods again. “Exactly. I want Shane to know that Connor and Liam’s sons are meeting.”
I take a step toward Shay. “I don’t.”
“I don’t care, Richard.” He points over the edge again. “All I care about is taking down Lucian Sheahan, and your father, for killing my brother. And the way to do that is at the bottom of this mountain.”
“You want us to dig up a fucking body that’s been rotting away for what, thirty-odd years?”
Shay grins. “That’s exactly what we do. Can you imagine the panic when the body of a RA leader comes to light?” Shay’s eyes shine. He’s almost giddy. “Can you imagine the fear in Shane’s heart? Can you imagine the war that Lucian will unleash on the west?”
I hear each word Shay is saying, but I don’t feel the giddiness he feels. Frankly, I think Bernard should be left in the ground. That secret should die here.
“I hate to poke holes in your future plans, but taking down Shane has never been part of this, and that’s all it would achieve.”
“Your da will kill Lucian before he allows him to kill Shane. It solves our problem with Lucian, and the RA will take care of your da.”
I’m looking into a set of wild eyes, and for the first time, I wonder how unhinged Shay really is. Yet, he’s right. My father always protects Shane, no matter the cost.
“So we dig up a body, call it in, and sit back?” I say to Shay.
He claps his hand like he’s reached the end of the race or the joke. “Those cunts won’t know what’s hit them.”
I’m grinning now because it’s pretty perfect, and also, it tells me that Shay never betrayed me. This could really work.
I hear the crunch of the stones and turn as Jack appears around the corner. All my earlier excitement dwindles away. I want Jack beside us, so he isn’t in the path of all this destruction. I just hope he will come over to the winning side.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CLAIRE
I woke up this morning, the mattress beside me cold. The fear that clutches my throat isn’t because Richard is no longer in our bed. It isn’t all the things that should stir fear in my heart. It isn’t the idea that I was kidnapped; it isn’t because I witnessed someone dying. Fear tightens its fingers around my throat because, for one tiny second, I thought I was back in my own bed. I thought I was back in my own apartment. I thought I was back in my old life.
I thought by Richard placing me in the glass box that he had placed me in a cage. He hadn’t. He freed me from a cage that had no walls. My life had been filled with nothing but uncertainty and fear. For the first time in my life, I understand freedom.
I take a shower, my body still humming with last night’s escapades. Richard is an unselfish lover, always wanting to please me first before himself. The ache between my legs is subtle, but it still throbs in the background. Turning off the water, I get out and wrap myself in a large white towel. Moving to the mirror, I wipe the steam away. I meet a pair of large blue eyes, blue eyes that are clear for the first time. When I think of Richard, I smile and quickly cut it off with a bite to my lips. I’m falling hard for him. Everything that is wrong about him is what makes him right for me. He’s lethal, and falling for a man like him is dangerous. I look away from the mirror and finish brushing my teeth before getting dressed in a pair of cream linen trousers and a red blouse.
Brushing my hair out, I tidy the room before walking downstairs barefoot. I don’t expect to see anyone in the kitchen apart from Mario, who greets me every morning with a warm smile. This morning there is a much nicer surprise waiting for me in the kitchen.
Richard sits at the breakfast bar. His phone in his hand, his brows drawn as he focuses on the device. A black suit jacket is strewn across the back of a second stool. He isn’t aware of my presence, and I take a moment to appreciate him. The white shirt he wears is stretched across his wide frame.
I’m smiling again. All the sharp angles of his face are defined as he concentrates.
“A cup of tea?” Mario asks, breaking the spell.
Richard doesn’t look up but lowers the phone to the counter, and his brows relax as he picks up his own cup of tea.
“Thank you, Mario.” I smile at him before turning to Richard, who’s watching me. The look in his dark gaze sends shivers down my spine. I want to ask what’s bothering him.
“How did you sleep?” He asks.
My face blazes as I think of last night. I dip my head as I walk to the breakfast counter. Richard pulls out the stool beside him for me to sit on.
“I slept well,” I answer as I slide in. The smell of his cologne circles me. My stomach tightens.
Mario places a cup of tea in front of me. “Thank you.” I take a sip of the tea. “How did you sleep?” I ask Richard, without looking at him.
“Like a baby.” His words are whispered, and when I glance at Richard, his eyes are a soft brown, he’s smiling, and my core tightens.
“Good,” I say as my heart hammers.
His smile dissolves into a grin. “Good.” He repeats.
My heart pitter-patters, and the smile takes over not just my lips, but I feel it like a balm to my soul. My smile turns into laughter. “Good.” I have no idea why I’m saying the word again, but when he continues to smile, I’d say ‘good’ on repeat all day every day just to keep that glorious smile on his face.
“I want to show you something.” He gets up from the breakfast bar. Stretching around, he brushes his hard chest against my back. The warmth circles me as he picks up my cup of tea. The moment he steps away, I feel the loss of his body against mine.
I follow him out of the kitchen and down the hallway that leads to the swimming pool. I wouldn’t object to a swim with him. I’m already picturing his tanned chest, strong, toned legs, and his experienced hands. His shoulders move up and down, the white material almost a sin. He should never cover up. My mind leaves the gutter as he takes a left. The disappointment is short-lived that we aren’t going to the pool, as he pauses outside a room that I’ve never been in. In fact, only a few days ago, I tried to see into this room, but the door was locked.
He turns the handle, and he pushes the door open and stands back, allowing me to go in first. I step into a space that leaves my body light. The white
room has empty frames covering three of the walls, the fourth wall is made of glass overlooking the garden. I step deeper into the room, my throat tightening as I take in everything, including the large easel that holds a blank sheet of paper. It’s to the right of the room, facing the wall of glass.
Richard passes me, and I can’t move. A workstation is filled with every shape and size of papers, brushes, and the more I look, I see every shade of paint in small tubes. The shaggy rug under my feet is the bluest I have ever seen; it complements the white-walled room.
“What is this?” My voice doesn’t sound like my own. I know what I’m looking at. The most exquisite art room I could have ever imagined.
“This is for you.” Richard’s voice is different. I glance at him. He still holds my small cup of tea, that looks tiny in his huge hands.
I want to ask why?
He walks to all the empty frames. “You can fill all these. You might even draw me again.”
My throat and eyes burn, and I turn away from him and face one of the walls filled with empty frames. I don’t want him to see me cry. “That is a lot of frames.” My voice wobbles. I blink, and tears fall, so I wipe them away quickly.
“You have a lot of time.”
Time. “Do I?” Or are my days numbered here? I turn to Richard, who’s standing in front of me.
“I don’t want you to leave,” he says.
A lump in my throat keeps my words down. I don’t want to leave. My hand trembles as I wipe my lip like I can stop the shake that’s started to take over my body. It rattles my soul, and this room is so much more than a kind gesture. This room is a future I’m craving.
Richard towers over me, waiting for me to say something, but I can’t. All the words I should be saying aren’t there. If I bring them to the surface, they will sound as hollow and untruthful as they feel. I should be saying I want to go home. I don’t. I should be saying you’re a monster. He’s not.