Page 58 of Bed of Thorns

“How dare you ignore me. All the years I worried about you doesn’t seem to matter any longer. Was I a checkbox on a list and nothing more?” I demanded.

His move so unexpected I yelped, he jerked around to face me, grabbing my wrists and driving me against the wall with a hard thud. The blackness of his eyes shocked me, his body teeming with rage.

“Don’t you understand that you were the reason I survived? Haven’t I tried to show you that, provide you with everything you need?”

“I couldn’t care less about things, Edmond. I need the truth.”

His fingers dug into my skin painfully, but the heartache inside was more damaging than anything he could do to my body.

He lowered his head and I turned mine away, but that didn’t keep him from pressing his lips against my cheek. As always, I tingled all over, fighting the longing and dark abyss that had never left us.

“You don’t know how deep this goes.”

“Then fucking tell me. Haven’t I earned your trust? You dug up a box with something inside. God knows I have no idea what. You’ve had the same vicious nightmares I’ve had yet you refuse to talk about them. You’re suddenly acting as if nothing happened, but I can tell the need for vengeance never left you. How do you expect me to live like this? You traded one prison for another, Edmond, whether you want to believe it or not.”

When he backed away, letting me go, I thought he’d shut down as he always did. The agony in my heart was too much to bear. I grabbed the painting from the floor, tossing it across the room. Then I raked my arm across my table full of paints, gasping for air as the open bottles were flung against the wall, strings of primal colors trickling down the surface, mixing in a violent collision of hues.

When I reached for two more of the paintings, he jerked me away and against his chest, folding his arms over mine to stop my tantrum.

The emotions were too much, the ugly memories and fears colliding together.

“Don’t, baby. Just don’t.”

His whisper in my ear did nothing to calm the frustration. I continued to struggle, bucking against him. “Just let me go. I can’t do this anymore.”

He was far too strong, his firm hold tightening. After a few seconds, the adrenaline was sucked out of me, and I stopped fighting him. Sensations danced through me from every press of his lips against my skin until finally I closed my eyes.

“I don’t remember everything about that fucking night. I wish I did. What I know for certain is that my father was extorting money from several of his clients. He used his real estate agency to handle transactions typically no one pays any attention to. He also inflated prices by using bogus purchasers, pocketing hundreds of thousands if not millions of dollars. I found his special set of books, but it was in the middle of a goddamn workday, and I only managed to grab a few pieces of paper before he returned to the office. I wanted more, an ironclad case against the man. My father was so arrogant that he didn’t bother trying to hide what he’d done very well. I managed one more time, realizing that there was a pattern, grabbing additional items. But he’d seen me that time and confronted me later. He thought I’d go along with his schemes. Such an asshole. I went to the office that night to secure the rest after he’d completed another large deal. I’d had enough of his bullying, lies, and ridiculous promises.”

“Did he threaten you?”

His laugh was bitter, haunted. “Yes. He stood in front of me, his eyes that of a wild man. Then he issued a whispered threat. Not just with the use of his belt or tossing me aside unwanted, but a cold-blooded warning that changed everything. I do know we argued as well on that night. I left in a huff, refusing to back down to him.”

His words were chilling, the ache inside debilitating. “My mother didn’t know.” I managed to push away from him, turning in his arms. My hands remained fisted, pushing against his chest. There were so many emotions driving me into a frenzied state, fear that he’d stop talking and never resume.

“He was a master manipulator, Mercedes. He made certain no one ever heard or saw anything but his fake smile and ingenuine attitude.”

“But I could tell he was not a good man.” I looked away, remembering that night. “I overheard him telling my mother a few things behind closed doors.”

“If he knew you’d listened in, he would have made your life even more miserable.”

“Who says he didn’t,” I whispered, noticing he immediately tensed. “After you were gone, he spent more and more time at the house. I hated it.”

“Bastard. I was determined to turn him into the police. That’s what I’d been taught, my mother the driving force. Good versus evil. I’d thought given the amount of drinking he’d done that he’d be too intoxicated to drive. I’d been wrong.”

“Yes, you were wrong. He left only ten minutes after you did, more enraged than I’d ever seen.”

Hissing, he looked away. “I drove there in the middle of the storm. That much I remember, but he showed up. Then he confronted me a second time, and things got ugly. But we were interrupted.”

“By the man I saw.” I said the words before I realized what I was doing, my throat clenching when I saw the look on his face.

“What do you mean, the man you saw?”

“I…”

Edmond grabbed both my arms, shaking me several times. “Tell me!”

“I was there. Okay? I stole my mother’s car. I had to find out what was going on.”

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