Beyond the Rage (7 page)

13

Kenny steered the car off the A84 at the Kingshouse Hotel and passed an old signpost that looked like it might have guided Queen Victoria herself down this road. In one direction it arrowed the miles for Crianlarich and Oban, in the other it pointed towards ‘Rob Roy’s Grave’.

Alexis squealed from the passenger seat.

‘It’s soooo romantic, Kenny.’ Her head swivelled from side to side as she processed the scenery. ‘It’s gorgeous.’ She squeezed out the word gorgeous as if it hurt her to say it.

It was now three weeks after Alexis had suffered at the hands of her assailant. For the first few of those she had ignored Kenny’s calls. He had persisted and eventually she agreed to meet him. She refused to talk about the incident, however. She insisted she had put it behind her and told Kenny he must too. She also declined to explain why she hadn’t taken any of his calls and he put this down to the fact that he had been with her shortly after. He reasoned that this must have built an association with the rape and that she couldn’t bear to be reminded of it. This logic collapsed when eventually she answered when he rang. Two visits later and he told her they were going away for the weekend and that she would be paid for her time.

‘Isn’t it just beautiful?’ She was leaning forward in her seat. Her eyes were wide, her mouth open. ‘I’ve been in Scotland for six years now and haven’t been out of the city.’ She playfully punched Kenny’s arm. ‘How could you not tell me there was so much beauty out here?’

‘We’re kind of famous for it.’ Kenny gave the shrug of the inured. Which he wasn’t. He always felt a soothing, a loosening of dark energy whenever he was in sight of the Scottish hills.

‘Famous for what?’ Alexis grinned. ‘Not talking?’

‘The beauty of our countryside, of course. As for talking, you’ve been in Glasgow for six years – how can you accuse us of not talking? We’re like the most verbose citizens in the country.’

Kenny looked in the mirror. The small, blue Toyota was still there. He was just being paranoid. No one would be after them. And if they were, they would surely choose something more exciting than a Toyota Yaris.

‘It’s the hills, the colours, the light...’ She stopped as if running out of words. ‘Man, you guys are so lucky.’

The road took them through the village of Balquhidder and past the MacGregor Murray Mausoleum. They caught a glimpse of its dark stone, crow-stepped gables and buttresses as the car passed the road-end. Alexis demanded to know what it was. ‘It’s too small for a church. Not enough windows for a house. What could it be?’

Kenny worked through his memory of his last visit here. He was eleven. His dad was keen to give him lessons about the folk heroes of Scotland and it was never enough to read from a book, he had to bring him to the actual place. First, there had been the Wallace Monument in Stirling and then they came here.

He remembered being curious about this building and his father being anxious to get to the church where Rob Roy himself was buried.

‘The local landowners built this in the early 1820s,’ Kenny said.

‘The wealthy build a tomb like this to honour their dead,’ said Alexis, ‘while the poor peasants probably lived ten to a room in a tiny hovel.’

‘Couldn’t have put it better myself.’

‘They had a good sense of the dramatic,’ Alexis said as she took in the narrow tree-lined avenue and the impressive doors.

The road curved into the village proper and set back from the road on the left was the kirkyard and the ruins of the old church where Rob Roy MacGregor lay with his wife and two of his sons. Standing there with his father was a poignant moment for him now. Then, it was mostly boring, with Kenny suffering through his father’s enthusiasm. His dad explained it in terms of a cowboy and Indian movie. The costumes were different, swap the bow and arrow for a claymore, the locals were the poor, set-upon wild natives and the Duke of Montrose was the baddy.

In the teenage parlance of modern times he might have said,
Yeah, right, whatever
. But nobody talked to Peter O’Neill like that. Not even his son.

The road carried them through the village and then to the three-storey baronial style building that would be their home for the next two nights.

‘They put a hotel way out here?’ asked Alexis, clapping her hands as the gravel crunched under the car tyres.

‘An award-winning hotel,’ said Kenny, examining the view from his wing mirror. No blue Toyota. No more paranoia.

‘Do you bring all your lady friends here?’

‘Only the ones that deserve it,’ said Kenny, who
’d
never passed through its doors before. He
’d
researched the area while wondering how to investigate the truth behind his mother’s death. Running through the reels of his history, most of the events that came to him involved his father. He
’d
remembered the time at Rob Roy’s grave, looked it up in the web and spotted an advert for the Moniack Mhor Hotel, which was perched next to a beautiful loch.

He needed time out. So did Alexis. A phone call later and the weekend was booked.

Their room was sumptuous. Designed for a lover’s retreat with silks and deep velour, the bed was a giant centrepiece to the room. Alexis touched everything in the room, giving off a series of oohs and aahs and wows.

She stood before Kenny, stretched up and kissed him.

‘I hope you have plenty of energy.’

‘We’ll just need to wait and see,’ said Kenny with a grin.

‘Sit.’ Alexis put a hand on his shoulder and prompted him to sit on the bed. She kneeled before him and, working at his belt and zip, freed him from his trousers.

‘Somebody’s ready,’ Alexis giggled while taking a grip of his shaft. Kenny moaned in anticipation and then lost himself to the throb and pulse of his pleasure.

• • •

Later, Alexis looked down at Kenny stretched out naked on the bed. She ran her hand from his left nipple, past his navel and a feather touch on his thigh. ‘Now that we’ve got that out of the way, I fancy a bath. Care to join me?’

‘Love to.’

She leaped from the bed and skipped over to the en-suite bathroom. She opened the door and squealed. ‘Oh my god, we have twin baths. How cool is that?’ She did the quick clapping thing again and Kenny groaned. When did that action become so popular?

Feeling zoned out, post-orgasmic relaxed, Kenny took the four steps to the bathroom to examine the baths. They sat in the middle of the large, white walled room on their pedestals, side by side. Alexis already had the water running and was pouring scented bath oils into the water.

‘Excellent,’ said Kenny. He turned back into the bedroom, rummaged in his luggage and produced a bottle of red wine. ‘This should add the finishing touch.’ He brandished the bottle at Alexis.

She ran towards him and gave him a hug. ‘What did I do to deserve you?’

‘You cleared my cheques.’

‘Oh, shove off,’ she smiled and swiped at his shoulder. Alexis rarely swore. ‘You know what I mean. Why are you so nice to me?’

‘There is no why, there is only do.’

‘You stole that from Yoda.’

‘And how much better it sounds with the alteration.’

‘Any other
Star Wars
wisdom you
’d
like to impart?’ Alexis asked and sat on the side of the bath, completely unmindful of her nudity. Kenny appreciated her with a smile.

‘Size matters not.’ He opened his arms. ‘Judge me by my size, do you? For the Force is my ally.’

‘Oh and the force stirs within you,’ Alexis laughed as Kenny began to stiffen again. ‘Quick, in the bath. A woman needs a rest.’

Kenny stepped into the bath, turned off the tap and sank in to the perfumed water with a long sigh. He slipped completely under and surfaced. Alexis leaned forward and planted a kiss on his forehead.

‘What was that for?’

‘There is no what, there is only do.’

Kenny made a face. ‘That doesn’t quite work.’

‘Sue me.’ Alexis kissed him again, poured them both a glass of wine and stepped into her own bath after handing Kenny a glass.

They each lay in silence, wary of speech in case it spoiled the moment. Closing his eyes, Kenny gave in to the heat and the caress of the water. His breath slowed, his mind sank and rose and dipped again. He drifted over the last few weeks, Alexis’ assault, the two young men with road-rage, McBain and Harry Fyfe.

The information he received from Harry was replicated when Ray went to visit and Harry was true to his word; nothing was mentioned of Kenny’s visit. Since then Kenny had done nothing more. He knew his next step was to question Uncle Colin and so far the man had been avoiding him. Whenever Kenny called the house he wasn’t in and when he visited he was out.

Monday. He
’d
collar the man on Monday. There was only so long he could allow the man to avoid him. If that was what he was doing.

• • •

After bathtime they dried each other off and then reclined on the bed. A kiss from Alexis led to the inevitable response and they made love again. Then they both slept.

Kenny woke with a start, realising his stomach was grumbling. He stirred Alexis and they both dressed for dinner. Fortunately, Alexis was not one of those women who took an age over getting ready. If anything, Kenny was the slower.

In the dining room, they were the last to be seated and were placed by a window. Being late spring, light remained and painted the tip of the hills opposite a delicate pink. The waters of the loch were motionless, as if covered in a sheet of ice.

Alexis studied the view for a long moment and turned to Kenny. ‘This is good for the soul, no?’

Kenny smiled in answer and studied the menu. The waiter approached after a decent time had elapsed. Kenny ordered the lamb and Alexis the monkfish.

‘Why did you never marry?’ Alexis asked while they waited for the food.

‘I prefer my transactions to be more open,’ Kenny answered. He and Alexis never spoke about these things, and normally he would have backed off from this type of conversation with a smile, but on this evening he was more relaxed than he had been in a long time.

‘If you don’t mind me saying so, Kenny, what you just said is complete b.s.’

Kenny laughed. This woman could say almost anything to him and he
’d
be fine with it.

‘I’ll tell you if you tell me how you came to sell your body,’ Kenny said.

Alexis looked into the distance. ‘I like men. I like sex. I ran out of work. I kind of... slipped into it.’

Kenny wondered how much was being left unsaid. He opened his mouth to speak but a waiter appeared at his side with their food.

While they ate their meals the conversation moved on to safer ground. Kenny talked about his family visit nearby. Kenny talked and Alexis listened. Occasionally he would try to steer the conversation back to her, but she carefully deflected each of his questions with a question of her own.

Once the meal was over Alexis touched each corner of her mouth with her linen napkin and took a sip of wine.

‘Kenny, darling,’ she said ensuring she had his attention.

‘Mmmm?’

‘I have a proposition for you.’

14

Mason Budge liked the small, blue Toyota. It was reliable, barely noticeable and with this version being a 1.4 diesel engine it could go fast enough for most of the driving he needed to do.

It was effectively anonymous, just like him.

He
’d
followed the whore down to this godforsaken part of the country. Hills and heather, he thought, who fucking needs them? Give him the cold, wet, grey city streets and lines of street lamps any day of the week. He looked at the clock on the dashboard of the car, from there to the weakening light in the sky and shuddered at the thought of the darkness to come.

His boss didn’t know where he was. If he did, he would freak, quickly guess at his reasons and then fire him. Mason shrugged. He could get a new boss any time. People with his particular talents were few and far between in a small country like this. A few phone calls and he would be back in work in jig time.

Another thing to like about this country was the cute phrases they came up with. He admired inventiveness with language.

He hadn’t realised that this road was effectively a dead-end and when the car he was following had driven up the road to the hotel he had stopped himself just in time from following them.

The man presented an interesting challenge. Mason watched him as he carried the whore’s overnight bag to the hotel door. He was a handsome man and fit, and he walked with an assurance that could only come from knowing how to look after himself. Mason could recognise a fighter from any distance. Men who were less sure of themselves often worked a swagger; a loud sort of body language that shouted,
Don’t mess with me
. Those kind of guys were easy targets to a man like Budge. No, this fellow had something else, something that only another fighter would recognise. This was a man not to trifle with and for that reason Mason was desperate to have a go. He then spent a very pleasant thirty minutes thinking up ways to hurt them both. Other people daydreamed about winning the lottery, he loved to pass the time thinking up ways to hurt and humiliate. He would tie him up and rape her. No. That was too straightforward. He could tie her up and rape him.

What was this man’s angle with this woman, anyway? He had looks and, judging by the car and clothes, he had money. Why would he need to pay for it? Maybe his wife didn’t understand him; his mother hated him. Maybe he had all the social skills of a shrub.

Everyone had a reason, right?

Except him. He had the loving parents and the two-point-four siblings growing up. His gramps, however, read him like a one-page advert; got it right when he paid him – yes, paid him – twenty thousand bucks to leave town. Surely, his life savings. He looked him in the eye and said, ‘Some people are just born bad, little buddy, and you are one of ’em.’

Born bad. He liked that. The old fella’s way with words had earned him a stay of execution. He had the notion of killing the old fucker there and then and then finishing off the rest of the family. Doing a Columbine on their asses. He could have and often thought he should have. Ducks in a shooting gallery. Fish in a barrel. And it would have taken as much effort but that kind of action was so over and too short on the career trail for his liking. Most of those dumbasses shot themselves once they got the hurting out of their system. He had much more in the way of pain to be doling out.

He thought back to the man with the whore and shrugged a
whatever
. He had given up on trying to understand the motivation men had for the things they did. He had come across many crazies in his time and taking a prostitute out for an overnight at a country hotel ranked pretty low in his weird-o-meter.

They
’d
be up in their room right now screwing their asses off while he was sat in this shitty little car holding his dick. His boss was to blame. He shouldn’t have asked him to ‘punish’ the woman in such a way. Ever since his time with the whore, he couldn’t get her out of his mind. The defiance, the hate, the will to live in her eyes and the feel of her body under him were an intoxicating mix.

He felt his groin stir, closed his eyes, pressed down on his erection with the heel of his hand and replayed the attack in his mind. He grew even harder and groaned. What he would give right now to plunge deep inside her. He gave himself a mental shake, he would have her again. And again. Soon. Some things were better if the anticipation was allowed to build.