Page 60 of Blood & Kisses

Pressing my ear against the thick steel door, I tentatively listen to a sign that my boys are still alive and well—all three of them. I need them to survive this. Naturally, I can’t hear a damn thing, which is the point of an insulated saferoom. I hold my Glock in my hand and wonder if this is a sign that they need more manpower; although it’ll be womanpower, really, an extra gun would be handy.

I’m tempted to unlock the door and step out again, but Gabe’s voice in my head warns against it. He built the saferoom for me to stay alive, and he wouldn’t be happy if I risked my life and played the hero. But I will go mad if I spend another hour in this windowless room.

Another hour passes, and I’ve thrown back a second can of Coke, finished the rest of the chocolate bar, and am currently eyeing up the packet of Oreos. There are packets of noodles, cans of casseroles, and vegetables, but I notice there are no saucepans to cook them in, so if I had to stay in here for days, I’d be eating them cold. Actually, there’s no can opener or utensils here either.

Jeez, Gabe, do you want me to starve? Oreos and chocolate bars will have to sustain me for the next however long I have to stay in hell.

I relax in the armchair again, wishing I had my laptop to work on assignment while I have so much time to spend here. I stare again at the air conditioning grate as cool air floats in, and my eyes close. My mind wanders onto my boys, and the times we’ve spent together. It started with Blake selling me a gun, and now I’m in a safe room under the stairs of Gabe’s house.

A smile stretches across my face when I reminisce about the good times with the sullen Cormac, who scolded me for being a dick in the swimming pool. That’s how we met, oblivious that we had a strong link– Gabe, the detective, and his father. A mere coincidence? I doubt it.

I can still feel Gabe between my legs. Blake was there only a few hours before, and then there was lovely Cormac, who held me in his arms at night and whispered how much he liked me. So cute.

With these pleasing thoughts filling my head, I drift off to a light sleep, aware of my environment but venturing into another realm in my brain into the future. Where will this relationship take us? Do we have a future? The thought of another woman putting their hands on my man leaves me cold. But am I being selfish, wanting three men to be completely loyal and exclusive with me? I refuse to share them with another girl, but I’m expecting them to get used to me being shared among the three of them. Does it make a hypocrite?

So many thoughts circle obsessively in my mind. But what if they die at the hands of Blackadder? My body tense at the thought of it. If Blackadder kills them, I promise to hunt him down and make him pay for his crimes. I had a plan before the boy came into my life, and I will continue to pursue it to the bloody end.

I snap my eyes open at the sound of someone entering the code into the keypad on the other side of the door. With my gun in my hand, I rise to my feet to meet my fate.

The door clicks open, and I point the gun at the face covered in a ski mask as their eyes smile at me. “Rae, it’s me, Cormac,” he says, removing the mask.

“Oh my gosh,” I lunge toward him for a hug, but he holds his palm out to stop me.

“We bought you a special visitor,” he says proudly, stepping back to allow someone else behind him to step forward.

Blackadder.

The one and only. Blood spots on his white collar, streaming from his nose,

Gabe and Blake have him by his scruff, arms wrenched behind his back and forced to step toward me. I look into the eyes of the man who made my life hell, who ran a grooming gang, filmed the rapes, and on the edge of death, he’s smirking at me like he still has a hold over me.

“Who was she?” I ask the question that has been bothering me for a while. Who was holding the camera filming my rapes and her face finally appeared to me, and I needed to know. “Who was that woman who filmed my rape?”

He rolls his eyes as blood spills from his mouth, splattering onto his shirt as he tries to wrestle with Gabe and Blake, who have him in a hold. “The stupid bitch is dead.”

“What’s her name?” I drill, using every ounce of courage to look him unflinchingly in the eyes that hold pure evil. He hesitates, so I raise my voice. “Name?”

He rolls his eyes as if he’s in control, king of the world, arrogance personified. This creep thinks he is so untouchable that even on death’s door, he believes that we don’t dare to kill him.

I lean forward so my face is only an inch away from his, and strangely, I feel nothing being this close to him. I have often imagined this moment a thousand times and expected to be intimidated or shaky. Instead, I’m numb.

“I enjoyed killing your rapist friends,” I say in a casual tone. “Shooting Johann Strang, line back in the Crows was my greatest buzz and accomplishment.” I bat my eyelashes. “It was a work of art the way his head exploded like watermelon…boom.”

The simmering expression on his face is remarkably satisfying as he sucks in his mouth, grinding his teeth before firing out a hunk of bloody spit that lands on my face and dribbles down my cheek as he laughs evilly. That laugh rings in my ears. I’ve heard it before when they held me down and placed hands around my throat while demanding that I enjoy what they have planned for me.

Something stirs inside of me. Blackadder is the last name on my list, and it all ends now.

“Fuck you!” I shrill, raise my gun to his forehead, and squeeze the trigger.

30

One Year Later

The sun beats down as I cut the diseased wood from the rhododendron and place it in my bucket on the grass. The flowers are soft pink, like tissue paper, and when they fall to the ground, they become a sea of cotton candy.

My phone beeps, and I take it from my back pocket to read Cormac's message.

Cormac: Heading your way. Briefcase. Grey suit.

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