Page 22 of Hart of Darkness
8
Maggie
Tap. Ring. Tap. Ring.
My colleagues pounded away on keyboards. Phones rang. Voices peppered the air. The newsroom sounded like a well-played orchestra without its conductor.
I sat in my cubicle, enjoying the hum in the room, which calmed me for some reason. I hated quiet. I hated to dive into my own thoughts and think about my past. But sometimes remembering my screwed-up childhood was the only thing that kept me dedicated to my revenge.
I slipped my hand underneath my chiffon scarf and felt along the raised ridge of my scar. I strived to shield my disfigurement as much as I could.
At times when I didn’t wear a scarf because I forgot, people stared. I would have liked to think they were admiring my nice breasts. They weren’t. Their horrified looks told me otherwise.
Sometimes I had to snap my fingers and say, “Up here.” That usually ended with them getting red cheeks and saying, “Oh, I’m so sorry.” The bold ones asked how I’d gotten the scar. My response was always, “Wrong place. Wrong time.”
That wasn’t a lie. If I hadn’t gotten so pissed off at my foster dad for putting his hands on me, then my life might have been different. Then again, maybe not. I would’ve still been violated by a drunk person, just one who hadn’t had a knife in his hand.
I traced the length of my scar up then down, counting to twenty-five—the number of stitches it had taken to sew me up.
That fuckwad Cory had cut me deep that night and shattered my confidence. He’d given me nightmares to last an eternity.
“I will get you. I will see you in hell,” I whispered to myself.
Damn Dillon thought I was beautiful. I saw myself as deformed.
“Rise up,” Lou had told me. “Stand proud of who you are. Fight. Live. Breathe in air. And plan how you’re going to get revenge.”
Revenge. That word held so much meaning to me. An eye for an eye. Retribution.
Lou had wanted to know who had carved me up like a piece of meat. He’d wanted to hunt Cory down not long after I’d healed. Doing so would have only put Lou behind bars for murder, because as outraged as Lou had been, he wouldn’t have thought twice about putting a bullet into Cory, and I couldn’t let him throw away his life for me. I’d also been too scared to even whisper Cory’s name at the time.
He’d stolen my confidence. He’d made me weak and shy.Thank God for Lou. He had pulled me from the ashes.
And like a phoenix rising, I had emerged a new person. Renewed in my mission. Stronger than before.
Once I’d learned how to really fight, I was ready to face the world, because I wouldn’t be handled by any man like that again.
Oh, I’d planned Cory’s death a million times over as I lay awake at night when sleep escaped me. My nightmares were vivid scenes of how I would make him suffer. At first, I’d thought death would be simple, quick, and the best punishment for him.
But death was too easy. He needed to suffer like I had all these years, and losing his freedom was far more effective. As much as I wanted to see him dead, I wasn’t excited to be surrounded by three walls and bars for my door. I’d seen the inside of a jail cell one too many times, and that was when I realized I had to devise another plan to exact my revenge.
I leaned back in my chair and caught myself before I tipped over.
Someone laughed behind me before Bruce showed me his ugly mug. Well, my editor wasn’t ugly. He was rather handsome, in shape, and a great husband and father to his wife and two girls. I longed for a family like his. I didn’t see marriage and children happening for me, though. Maybe because I’d been on my own since I was born, and the foster homes I’d lived in didn’t have the loving families who doted on their little tikes or spouses. If I were lucky enough to marry and have babies, I would do my best to make sure they came first.
Bruce crossed his arms over his pink golf shirt as he leaned against my desk. “Are you working on that standoff you were at last night at Bleven and Third?”
I rubbed a hand down my face. “There isn’t a story. Ted cut me off. I’m sure you don’t want me to write about how a cop arrested one of the perps.”
“Do you know who they arrested? Is he with the Black Knights?”
I pointed a broken nail at my computer screen. “All I have are those pics.” It wasn’t as if I could type “face piercing, balding head suspect” into a police database to see if he’d been arrested before. I also couldn’t question Ted or Rick. Neither of them would give me info, not because I was cut off from intel, but because I was the media and had no business interfering in a police investigation.
But I kind of did interfere, and I kind of felt guilty that I hadn’t told Ted about Nadine. I was hoping I could convince Nadine to talk to the cops later when I went to visit her. If she wouldn’t budge, I might consider telling Ted the truth, if for no other reason than to help Nadine so she wouldn’t go back to Miguel. Maybe Ted could get her to a safe house protected by cops. Sure, the shelter was considered a safe haven, especially with Dillon and Rafe guarding the home, but cops had secret hiding spots.
Bruce waved his hand. “Mags, are you in there?”
The images of the Latino suspect on my screen sharpened before I met Bruce’s gaze.
