Page 31 of Bed of Thorns

She’d even tossed her cell phone, committed to not being hassled by anyone. At some point, I’d encourage her to talk with her mother, maybe try to convince the very nice woman to leave the barbarian forever.

Did I feel any guilt for taking her away from her life? For demanding that she go with me?

In truth, what little I could feel was tempered with lust. I’d taken her again in the shower, turning the ten-minute event into an hour. Then I’d acted as if time wasn’t on our side. Even the fact that she’d called into work, pretending like she was sick, didn’t give me any comfort. My father had a sixth sense about him, an ability I used to call evil. He’d known the second I’d done something wrong or stayed out partying too late.

His forms of punishment were almost as wretched as a few I’d received in prison. Exhaling, I gripped the steering wheel with enough force that my knuckles were white. I remained angry, furious inside, incapable of seeing anything but the color red in my eyes.

“Where are we going, Edmond?”

Her question was barely audible, her tone entirely different than I’d heard before. She didn’t look at me, continuing to stare out the windshield. I didn’t know what to tell her but as soon as I made the next turn, she would know exactly where I was headed.

“The cemetery?”

I nodded, glancing into the rearview mirror to make certain we hadn’t been followed.

“Why?” As soon as she asked the question she leaned forward. “You want to say goodbye to your mother. Right?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“What does that mean?”

As I headed down the gravel path leading to my mother’s gravesite, the old familiar tightness pooled in my chest. I’d always blamed my father for her death. I knew he managed to kill her. Somehow. Some way. It was one of the things I would prove. “You’ll see.”

“Don’t do that, Edmond. We’re supposed to be a team now.”

A team. She had no way of knowing how important those words meant. “We are a team.” Just the way my name flowed off her sweet lips was enough to create more hunger furrowing into my system. I pulled to a stop, sliding the gear into park. After cutting the engine, for some reason I found it difficult to open the door or crawl out.

Mercedes placed her hand on my arm, the slight action sending shudders into my core. “She loves you and she’s always watching out for you. It will never matter how far away you are from this site; she’ll always find you. Always.”

Her words were comforting for a few seconds, but my continued despair would never allow me to find any peace. At least not until my father had taken his own life or was spending the rest of his life behind bars.

I jumped out, moving to the camper shell and grabbing a shovel. I didn’t wait for her to follow, although I knew she would. Maybe she wouldn’t understand what I was doing, but she’d soon learn the whole truth. How she reacted still troubled me, but the wheels had been set in motion. There was no turning back.

As I stood in front of my mother’s pauper-like gravestone, another wave of rage slowly crawled up from my legs to my chest, making it difficult to breathe. I knelt, running my fingers across her name, realizing just how far away her grave was from others. She’d been treated like a second-class citizen all her life, including at her damn funeral.

If only I’d thought about buying flowers. Her favorite had been roses, pale pink in color. My thoughts drifted to Mercedes and her preferred choice. Was it coincidental? No. Nothing in life was coincidental. I also didn’t believe in karma, even though I’d like that to be true. No, the future and everything that happened was because of actions and words. I was now in control and would never, ever let it slip from my fingers again.

“What is the shovel for?” she asked, her voice sounding distant.

I tipped my head, realizing she was waiting by one of the few trees located near my mother’s gravesite. “I left something here.”

She sighed, as if in relief. Maybe she’d thought I was crazy enough to dig up my mother’s remains. Maybe I was, but not today. Not until I had a real home.

I closed my eyes, trying to offer a small unsaid prayer, but nothing came to mind. The only thing I thought about was that she no longer had to endure the pain of her body withering away and the emotional abuse she’d received from my father. The single time he’d hit her had been the first time I’d exploded, allowing the rage to take over. Using him as a punching bag had felt damn good, but the moment I’d released the demons buried deep inside, there’d been no way to recapture them. From that day on, my father had never looked at me the same way again.

At least he’d also never attempted to touch her in an aggressive manner either.

Small wins, but at the time, they meant more to me than anything else.

I pressed my fingers against my lips, then to the small heart I’d chiseled into the thick concrete. It had been my way of saying goodbye. When I stood, I took a deep breath, studying the desolate area. Then I growled, the sound coming from deep within my system. More than one person would pay for this atrocity.

As I moved around to the back of the stone, I felt her eyes remaining on me, watching everything I did. How could she understand what I was doing or the reason why? She’d wanted the truth. This was the only corroborating evidence I had that proved my innocence.

And not one person, not a single member of law enforcement or even my attorney had bothered to dig up what I’d hidden two days before my arrest. Not one. There’d been no amount of pleading or explaining the circumstance that had mattered. My father had been and remained a powerful force in town, buddies with the father of the prosecutor. The fact that he was blackmailing several influential leaders had provided him with the ability to keep the truth hidden.

As I started to dig, I felt a small sense of relief, even though I continued to scan the area. If my father or any member of his scheming clan attempted to stop me, I’d purchase a weapon in order to exact my revenge. I’d be breaking the terms of my release, but I no longer gave a shit. With the seed money Adam had provided, I’d been able to purchase a few items under the table, including the pistol.

Eventually, I’d meet with the man who handled Adam’s accounts for him. Whatever Adam had planned for my new existence outside the prison walls, the orders he’d provided a man he trusted I’d yet to learn. That would come after my arrival on the island. What I did with that money would change not only my life but that of Mercedes as well. I had plans. Big plans. And nothing was going to get in my way.

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