Page 60 of For Love & Torture
Part Four
Chapter 27
Grant
As the sun leaves the sky, I sit on one of the patios in the back of my home and watch the blue and pink hues while I think about Isabel and what’s happening to her at this very moment.
Is she being beaten? Or fucked against her will?
Or does she like it?
Bart is dark, but she’s accustomed to dark men. I haven’t exactly been a bright light in her life. I’ve given her more grief than any man ever has, I’m sure.
The only thing that keeps me sane is knowing that she’s had a lot of experience with all the different types of play. Her threshold for pain is phenomenal. And her ability to turn pain into pleasure is up there with the best of them.
But that was with me. And only me. Never has another man’s hands touched her in that way. Only mine.
Is she in pain? Is she afraid? Is she wishing she was safe here in my arms?
I have so many questions, and none of them can be answered until I see her again. When will that be?
My cell rings and I hurry to grab it off the table. It’s Jenny. “Hi, sis.”
“Hi, big brother. Were you able to get anything accomplished today?”
“A lot, actually. Mother’s body is already at the coroner’s office, and I paid to have a special investigator sent in. He was able to procure the knife that was used to inflict the wound from the evidence room of the police station where it’s been stored.” I stop to pick up my water bottle and take a drink, letting what I’ve told her soak in.
“Oh, my. You have accomplished a lot today. I didn’t think you’d get that done so quickly.”
“Yeah, well I have even more news for you. Are you sitting down?” I wait to be sure she is.
“I am now. What is it?”
“I went to see Dad and not only did he talk to me but he also told me Mom cut her own wrist.”
“God. I can’t believe it.” There’s a space of silence, and then I hear her crying. “God, Grant. Was she sick?”
“Cancer. Dad said female cancer, so I’m guessing ovarian or cervical. The autopsy will tell us that. Knowing Mom, she didn’t want to die a long slow death and decided to end her life on her own terms. Typical Mom.” I take another drink of the water and think about telling Jenny that Bell is missing, but decide not to. My siblings don’t have a clue what I’m into, and I want to keep it that way.
After she blows her nose, she says, “And Dad took the blame for it. Most likely because he didn’t want to live alone without her. Better to be in a real prison than one he made up in his head. Is he okay, Grant? Do you think we’ll ever get the old Dad back?”
“With time and a lot of mental help, we will have our father back. Maybe not the exact man we had before, but he’ll come around. I’ll make sure of that. I told him he’s going to live with me. He kind of freaked when he thought about going to his and Mom’s place.” I tap the table and think about how I’d be if I were in his shoes. I’d probably feel the same.
I’m having a hard time being inside my own house right now because Bell isn’t there and I don’t know where she is.
“I’m glad you’re taking him in. When he’s better, he can stay with me some too. I’m sure Jake and Becca will want him to spend some quality time with them as well. How long before you can get him set free?”
“I talked to a lawyer today who’s in good with a judge. He thinks it might be as soon as the end of the week.” My chest swells with pride at the fact that I’m actually doing great things for once.
If only Bell were at my side, cheering me on the way she surely would be if she were here.
“Mind if I tell the other two about this great news, Grant?”
“Be my guest. I’ll talk to you tomorrow and let you know if there’s any news. Bye now.” I end the call and get up to go inside as the sun has completely left and it’s dark and growing colder.
As I step into the house, I notice an odd smell and follow it to the kitchen. Freezing in place, I see that the slut from the club last night—the one who caused this all to happen—is cooking something on my stove. “Hungry?” she asks as if she’s not trespassing at all.
I’m about to grab her, tie her ass up and call the cops. But then I remember that I believe she’s in cahoots with Bart and decide to play along. For a while, anyway. “Fancy seeing you here. What’s cooking?”
