Captive Beauty

“Five months and two weeks. It’s a boy.”

I hear the pride in his tone. And even though I know this isn’t his first kid, I pretend like it is. “Congratulations. Pass that on to Gia, will you?”

“I will. Let me know when you talk to Ben.”

“Will do.”

After we hang up, I finish my coffee and get up. It’s early, but I head to the club. I need to bury myself in work today. I need to do it to forget. I leave word with Helen that one of the boys should drive Cilla to the club tonight.

13

Cilla

A knock on my door rouses me from sleep. I sit up and rub my eyes, confused for a moment. Memories of the night before come flooding back. The knock comes again and I know it can’t be Kill. He wouldn’t knock.

“Cilla?” It’s Helen.

“Come in.” I glance at the clock. It’s noon.

She opens the door and looks at me. She’s carrying a tray of coffee and some food that she sets down. “Are you not feeling well?”

No, not really, but not in the way she thinks. “Just a little stomach ache,” I lie.

“Do you want me to open the curtains?”

“No, thanks. I’ll just sleep a little while.” I don’t want to run into Kill so I plan on hiding out in here as long as possible.

“I brought some toast,” she starts.

“Thank you. Maybe later. Um…is Kill here?” I heard a car earlier and I’m hoping it was him leaving.

“No, he went to work. He said he’d send a driver to pick you up at nine o’clock this evening to take you into the city. You’ll have dinner at the club.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, dear.”

“So he’ll be gone all day?”

“Yes.”

“Helen, can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“How often does he come here? To the house I mean? Does he spend weekends here or…” I trail off because I have a suspicion.

She looks straight at me. “It’s his first time since his sister’s death.” I’m surprised at her honesty. And I guessed right.

“What time do I need to be ready to go?” I remember what she said, I’m just thinking.

“Nine o’clock.”

“Okay. I’ll just sleep a little longer and I’ll be down later.”

“All right.” She pauses, sighs before she speaks. “He’s not a bad person. He just comes off…”

“Like one.”

She sucks in her lips. “I’ll check in on you later,” she says.

“No, I’m a light sleeper so probably best not to.”

She studies me for a minute, then nods, turns and leaves. I wait until I hear her go downstairs before I throw the covers back and get up.

I have a feeling I know where Kill was last night. There’s only one place he could have gone to. He’d been shaken up. Drunk too, but it wasn’t that. He’d mentioned ghosts. Twice. Said they were angry.

I go into the closet and get dressed, choosing a pair of jeans, a sweater and flat boots. It’s raining again, I can hear it on the window, so I anticipate mud.

I know what I’m going to do is wrong, but he didn’t leave me a choice last night. It’s like every time he touches me, he strips me bare. He reads me, sees me in a way I don’t like being seen.

He knows I’m damaged. But he doesn’t know why, because even if he digs, there’s nothing to be found. No files, no charges, no accusations. Judge Callahan, the man who took Jones and I in, made sure of that. Just like he made sure neither of us would talk by promising my freedom when Jones turned eighteen if he kept his end of the bargain. A devil’s bargain.

“A different sort of devil than Kill.” I mutter the words aloud but I realize it’s not true. Kill isn’t like the judge. Not even close, even considering everything.

But that doesn’t matter. I need to have leverage, something I can use to lay Kill bare, like he does me. I need to break him before he breaks me because what he said is true. He is greedy. And he won’t be satisfied with just having my body. If this was ever about sex, that’s changed. It’s about owning me, body and soul. Hell, sex he can get anywhere. All he probably has to do is snap his fingers. What he’s doing to me is something else, and I need to take back some control. To do that, I need to have something to hurt him with. And I know exactly what that something is.

Finding a raincoat, I slip it on and step out into the hallway. I noticed last night that the sliding glass door Kill came inside through doesn’t use a key to lock it. Not from the inside at least. I creep down the stairs, keeping an eye out for Helen, but the coast is clear and I move quickly through the living room and to the glass doors. They’re not even locked and I slide one open, step out, then close it behind me. A cold, fall wind gives me a chill as I glance around. It’s creepy here, with the leaves of the half bare trees rotting on the damp earth, the furniture covered over, and the torn tarp over the pool constantly, unceasingly whipped by the wind. I hug my arms to myself, rub them for warmth, then sprint as quickly as I can into the woods. If I remember correctly, the barn is at the farthest point and it’s an almost straight shot.