BUFF (34 page)

She’s angry. Good. This is for the best.

“All those times we were together…” Her voice slips lower, moving under his skin like a warm current. His steel reserve hardens on the outside. "I know what I felt. I know what
you
felt when you made love to me till neither of us could separate an inch without wanting each other! I know you want this—"

“I don’t." The clutter in his reply gathers and releases.

“Liar,” she spits out, tears dripping from the sides of her eyes, down her cheeks, like blood.

“I'm not lying.” He looks away, resting his gaze away from her. His eyes flutter shut again, squeezing just as his jawline convulses under the skin, tortured.

“No, you're just the biggest chicken-shit I've ever met,” she says, wiping the wet under her nose. “You're just going to walk away, leave—never look back? Pretend I don’t exist?"

“I’ve a job to do. A life waiting for me.” His whole body coils and tightens. If he moves, he'll break. He knows it. "One you can never be a part of, Becky."

“What life?” she murmurs, wiping the tears.

There’s no reply from Colt. He doesn’t know the answer to her question. He just looks at her, taking her in for the last time.

“I want you to be happy.” His plea breaks the tense quiet that has fallen. “I can’t give you what you deserve.”

She shakes her head and sighs. “Do something for me.” She gulps down the remainder of her tears, wipes the ones that stay on her skin.

“Becky...” The string of tolerance he’s holding on to tips over. His hands come up from his side, his blue ice glaciers unrepentantly staring at her.

She falters a small second and her eyes skid down to his lips, his dropping to hers. It's difficult to believe that they’re the same lips that he’s kissed, given and taken pleasure from him, ceaselessly. Their secretive time together will forever be engraved in him.

“Kiss me,” she says, drawing closer, her nails dragging a trail over his jaw. “One last time... Please."

She doesn’t give him an ounce, his rigid position never failing. On tip-toes, her lips graze him as she peers up with a doe-like seduction that clings to his bones. And then she kisses him, a gentle breeze of a touch that falls and waves back rapt with hunger. Inexperienced at being the aggressor, Becky's hand fists in his hair, her nose flattening into his cheek as her mouth traps his.

She is sucking the last of his strength with every move. She rubs her lips against his, knowing damn well he fucking loves that, traces his mouth with hers as he feels the staccato quiver of her breathing melt the last of his restraint.

He uses his hands to scoop her head in his hold and bring her closer, quickly dominating the kiss. His tongue plunders through her shaky actions and she instantly finds the rhythm his need is directing him toward.

Her generous mouth opens up against his and he devours her, his lips suckling on the plump flesh, famished as his tongue works hers at a fevered pace. He nips her bottom lip, likes what he tastes so bad his skin grows hot under him and he nips harder, growing desperate for the feel of her.

And then he realizes suddenly where he is and what he’s doing. The desperation wakes him, the rampaging necessity her kiss alters in him, shifting his priorities so effortlessly, it makes his head spin to think about how easily his enemies can use her against him.

Her hands tremble as she tries to touch his face again, but he darts away, wiping his mouth. “Tell me that didn't mean anything,” she dares.

He glares at her. "You trying to hurt yourself on purpose?"

“Tell me!"

“It's over. You understand—over!” he tears out, internally struggling as he grapples for a stronghold that had dissolved the second her lips touched his. Feeling bled out to his bones he orders under his breath, “Don’t do this. It’s over. You know we can’t be together." Her head is already shaking. “Becky."

“Thank you.” When he can’t find the words to express his confusion she continues, “For everything. I don't think I can ever repay the debt I owe you for what you've done for me and my family—"

“Don't. I'm the one that owes you," he cuts in, struggling with what he has to say to her. "You saved my life."

“I guess we evened out somewhere along the way."

“It's over. That's all that matters."

“Over, yes...” she concludes, with a softness that resounds lost in memory. A lone tear streaks down her face and she wipes it away immediately, but it's too slow for him not to see. “We can both finally go back to a normal life. Whatever that is now.” She laughs miserably.

“Stay away from Wentworth Creek. People might get suspicious and start asking questions.”

"I'll let my father know,” she complies, without argue. That’s a first. A first he doesn’t particularly like, because when she’s like that, it means she is letting herself get beaten by whatever she's feeling. He hates it when she does that. Tiny prickles scurry through him, itching to eradicate the mess he’s just made.

Instead, he curls his fists at his side and with his chest tight, his tone tighter he says, “Take care of yourself."

She bites her lower lip, the small flesh skipping under her teeth. “You too."

“If there's any kind of trouble that involves—”

“I'll let my father know,” she interrupts, backing away, looking at her family whom are waiting in the car. “I don't want to burden you more than I already have.”

He holds her there. “That's not how it is and you know it."

“Be safe.” Her dull eyes are lifeless as they teeter between his. “I know Mr. Kulich has a lot of enemies."

“I'll be fine."

Her mouth clenches down. “You always say that."

“Because it's true. I can take care of myself."

“I know you don't like people caring about you,” she says, remembering with a soft laugh that doesn’t reach her eyes.

“It doesn't bother me as much anymore,” he reveals, in an aching whisper, not breaking connection with her. “Promise me you'll be safe,” he asks again, softer.

“Colt, I'm… you know I'm going to be fine. I wouldn't be—”

“Promise me." He locks her in place with his commanding stare.

”I promise, Colt. I promise,” she whispers, drawing farther away when the car horn honks behind them. “Goodbye, Colt.” Her hand comes up in a short wave. Her nose is as red as her eyes and she smiles, but it ends in sorrow as her face falls.

He doesn’t know where it comes from and why he needs to do it, but in that moment, nothing can stop him.

He takes several long strides toward her, leans in, brushes his mouth against her ear and whisper soft he reveals everything.

The part he’s kept hidden from the world. Even from himself.

“I love you, Rebecca Appleton.”

He only sees the sterling burnish of her green eyes widen for a second before he steps back and turns to walk away from the only woman he has ever loved. Will ever love.

She doesn’t call out to him, doesn’t beg for him to come back to her. She understands. And he loved her even more for that.

He can taste a tear on his lip. Something he's never tasted before. And here he thought he’s a man who can do anything, execute any mission with preciseness and perfection. There is no job too dirty, no plan too impossible that he can’t undertake without breaking a sweat.

He was wrong.

Yes he did what he set out to do, but he takes no pleasure in the success. The only thing that brings him any sort of peace is knowing she’s safe and that no-one—including him—will ever hurt her again.

And he did that for her. Because of her. Because her life—precious with so much left to accomplish—is more important than anything else. Because her happiness matters more to him than his own. Because, in the end she is going to survive this and be okay and that knowledge alone allows him to go on.

Because—Colt closes his eyes—he is in love with her. And if he loves her half as much as his heart is screaming to him that he does, he'll keep her protected. Which means away from him.

Even at the cost of his own life.

RAIN WILL KILL HER
if he ever finds out.

But she has to risk coming back here. She must have it. How can she risk allowing herself to forget the man who broke into her hiding place and changed her world forever? She can’t. She won’t. She needs something of him to carry with her till the day she dies.

To have something to hold on to when the darkness returns.

She steps into her attic and almost feels like she’s warped back through time. Into the past. Her and Colt, alone, in her place. She remembers how scared she had been back then, but now, now all she feels for Colt is love.

She looks across over to the windowsill. It shines like a beacon, almost the same twinkle, the same glint she would see in those pools of blue heaven.

She pads over to the windowsill. Her whole body tingles when she reaches it. How can something so small evoke so much emotion inside of her? But nothing about Colt had been small. And this object is the only link to her past. A link to Colt.

His silver cross.

She binds the cross around her neck and vows to never take it off. Never. She grips it hard between her fingers, caressing it, as though it will magically bring him back to her.

Colt... I miss you…

She let’s the tear that flows down her face drop to the floor. He had told her that he loved her. Only yesterday… but it feels like a lifetime ago. A lifetime without Colt.

‘I love you, Rebecca Appleton…’

Why didn’t she beg for him to turn around, to come back to her? Why didn’t she shout to him that she loved him also? She remembers shock locking her voice away, but she should have tried harder.

But it’s too late now. She will never see him again. It's over. They had their chance.

The truth in her heart will always remain hidden.

She cried herself to sleep last night knowing she will never see him again. But it was the right thing to do. Wasn’t it? Their lives are so very different and being with a man in the mob will only put her family’s life in danger. She couldn’t be that selfish. Not again. She just wants Colt to be happy, to be safe.

She wishes to stay here all night, reminiscing on every moment she’d spent with Colt, here in the attic, but her family are waiting for her at the edge of town. Her father has arranged for them to stay with her mother’s aunt for a short while until they sort themselves out as a family. He’s insisting Becky still attend Stanford to become a doctor. But she doesn’t know what she wants to do—

What’s that noise?

She hears a loud
thump
coming from beneath her...

Trembling, she descends the stairs one step at a time. The noises get louder. Why would someone be in her home—her bedroom? A small part of her hopes it's Colt but the thought dies instantly.

She needs to leave. Now. Leave without alerting her presence. Whoever it is her instinct screams it isn’t someone she wants to find her here. If they’d seen her come in, wouldn’t they have confronted her by now? Maybe she can just slip away…

But the thick scent of cologne is too familiar to her and terror grips her in place.

No... No it can’t be…

Her bedroom door is open and the back of the intruder is in plain sight. He stands tall, still facing away from her when he says, “I know you’re watching me.”

“You…” she says. “What do you want? Why’re you here?”

When he turns around he smiles the cruelest smile she’ll ever see. Becky makes a run for it down the stairs. But he’s faster. He yanks her by the hair and pulls her up a step and shoves her into her old bedroom.

A single noise. A single noise changes her world in less than a second.

The lock clunks shut.

His cologne seems to intensify. She scampers to the window, hoping to scream for help but like a cobra he strikes, lunging for her face with something white and toxic.

Chloroform.

The last thing Becky remembers, looking out of the window, is her neighbor walking down the street morphing into a tiny black dot.

But, by then, it’s too late for anyone to hear her scream.

*     *     *

BECKY WAKES FROM A START.
Her head feels like a jackhammer has been bouncing around inside her skull.

Where am I? What happened?

Becky’s eyes dart around the room. Candlelight casts menacing shadows all over her surroundings. They seem to be tumbling or... is it her head spinning? She feels sick, disorientated, not remembering what happened or where she is. But it only takes a few seconds for reality to come crashing down on her.

The attic.

Where is he?

She can hear thunder in the distance, it echoes off the walls and into her beating heart. There is a faint smell persistent in the air around her, a smell that she can’t quite place.

She tries to raise her hand to soothe her pounding skull but it doesn’t comply. She goes to stand but can’t and she doesn’t immediately understand why until she realizes she can’t move her arms or her legs. She’s been tied to a chair. The corners of her lips feel weird and rubbery. She’s been gagged too.

She looks around, searching for something to help her, some way to get out of her restraints. It’s mostly dark but there are a few scattered patches of light from the candles to see she has been stripped down to just her panties.

Becky closes her eyes tightly, trying to drive away the tears that threaten to escape. Colt’s face fills her mind as she tries to fight back the nausea.

He had undressed her... His fingers, his hands, they would have brushed against her breasts, her legs, her whole body…

He’s going to rape me.

And Colt won't be coming to save her this time. He doesn’t even know she’s in Wentworth Creek let alone back in her attic with a psychotic rapist.

This has to be a bad dream. Panic grips inside her and she begins to thrash about, moaning through the gag. The chair starts rocking, harder and harder—then it falls, sideways, taking her with it and smacking her head on the floor.

The light in her world goes out again.

When she wakes up she wastes no time in forcing her weight back hard against the chair, straining into a kneeling position, putting as much pressure on her restraints as possible. The pain in her wrists is so extreme that she begins to see spots in front of her eyes. She continues to pull and twist, feeling her wrists begin to slip through the ropes.

She can do this. She’s a survivor. She will escape, run to her neighbors and get to safety. Soon. She just needs to keep going, ignore the wrenching pain that controls her every move.

But then her body stops. Freezes.

She is not alone.

A deep rumbling chuckle erupts from the surrounding darkness. Somehow, it seems to vibrate through her body twice-as-hard than the thunder from outside does.

A shadow flicks in the corner of her eye and forces her body to jerk. The sound of the door creaks open. She hears footsteps coming closer until something looms over her. Her head is throbbing and she thinks she’s going to hurl when he pulls her chair upright, bringing her back to an upright position. He strips off the gag.

Tears fall down her face, uncontrolled and instantly despises her weakness. She mentally scolds herself for breaking. Now is not the time. Becky takes several deep breaths, trying to calm herself down. Because of Colt she is going to fight; she is going to do whatever it takes to stay alive.

She tests the ropes, pulling her hands tight against the burn of the fibers with all her strength. Pain shoots through her wrists, up her arms. She bites her tongue hard to stop from screaming.

“Don’t tell me you’re trying to escape.”

“What're you doing? Why have you tied me up?”

“Because... I know how much you love to be dominated.” His eyes are like flint as they rove up and down her body, examining her like she’s a carcass hanging from a meat-hook. “I knew you’d come back for me, Petal.”

“What? I-I didn’t come back for you, Emmett.”

“Trying hard to get? Huh?” He snorts. “You and I both know you’re begging for any man to fuck you.” He approaches her. Becky shrinks away from him as he bends over her, smirking. “You always did look best in red panties. It’s why I left them on,” he muses, his voice echoing through the attic. The sound seems to come from all around her, completely unnerving Becky. Her tummy lurches and her mind goes into overdrive. She will gouge his eyes out, punch him in the throat, bite him when she’s free from her prison. But then her thoughts are distracted. There’s something in his left hand...

Oh God... A knife.

“You don’t need to be afraid, Rebecca. I’m going to take care of you. After all, we are to be married.” His voice is still disembodied by the darkness. “But you’re scared, aren’t you? Scared because
he
brainwashed you.”

She shudders at his touch. Marriage? He has completely lost it.

How can she escape? He has a knife and her body is still wrecked from the drug in her system. She isn’t getting out of this alive, is she? Becky closes her eyes and tries to focus, pushing her fears aside.

Colt… I need you.

“Let me go, p-please,” she says, trying to stop her voice from wobbling. The attic is so dark she can hardly see his face. She hears shallow breaths and a whisper, a whisper so quiet she can’t quite hear it. “Emmett, I-I can't hear you.”

He takes a step closer. “I said, you're mine.” He comes closer and Becky reminds herself to breathe. “You are so beautiful. Especially in candlelight.”

Her mouth is dry, her tongue feels heavy with salt. She needs to play nice with him. It’s the only chance she has to stay alive. “Why don’t you untie me. My arms really hurt, Emmett.”

He crouches down at her feet. His thick cologne suffocates her and she coughs. Her throat feels like it's on fire.

“That’s exactly what I plan to do, Petal.” His hand molests the inside of her thigh. His palm is like sandpaper and she yanks up her legs, trying to squirm away from him. It’s no use.

Shaking his head he unties the ropes at her feet first and then her wrists. Becky crosses her arms over her exposed breasts, rubbing her upper arms. He reaches across her and she shrinks away, but he grabs hold of her hand and tugs her up to a standing position. Her legs feel like jelly and she has to lean on him for support. A curdling shiver strikes straight into her spine.

Becky looks over at the door. She can kick him in the balls, push him over, make a break for it. But her arms are so sore and weak and she can’t no for certain if he locked the attic door. Before she can decide to act, however, he drags her to the futon where Colt had once slept.

Please, Colt, save me. Break down the door and save me!

Colt
will
save her… As delirious and impossible as that idea is, it is the only thing she can hold on to.

Wishful thinking.

A miracle.

Emmett heads over to the door and picks something up from the floor. When he returns at her side he opens a bottle of red wine and pours two glasses. He takes a sip from his glass, then lifts the other glass and puts it to Becky’s lips. She declines but he thrusts the glass against her face and forces her to partake in his sick games. The red liquid pours down her face, spilling onto her neck, her breasts and then her thighs. The liquid feels thick like blood. It even tastes bloody, probably due to the chloroform and her fear. She chokes down a few mouthfuls but it doesn't put out the fire in her throat.

Maybe this can numb the pain…

He suddenly snatches the glass from her and throws it across the attic. She hears it smash against the wall. Then he grabs her by the throat. “I want you to take it in the mouth.”

“Wh-What?” she can hardly speak. Hardly breathe. He isn’t killing her. Not yet.

“Let me show you, Petal.” His hand releases her and strokes her cheek with his claw-like finger. Lifting his own glass she takes a swig, but doesn’t swallow. Then he leans forward and presses his lips against hers. Becky can’t open her mouth but he digs his nails into the side of her face, hard, and her lips open.

The wine seems scolding hot, from his mouth into hers. She wants to spit it onto his face, but she is so weak and all she can do is comply. Swallow. Another wave of nausea rolls through her and it takes what little strength she has left to not puke.

“You like it, don’t you, Petal?” he says, pulling away. “Let’s try it with my cock. I know you’re begging for it.” She nods but her stomach churns and tears roll down her cheeks. Her skin is covered in goose-bumps, even though she feels as hot as the Sun. His hand trails up her thigh and begins to play with her panties. With sudden force he rips at them. Becky screams knowing what evil comes next.

He slaps her. “Shut up!” he shouts in her face. But she can’t stop sobbing. “Shut the fuck up!” He stands up as though this isn’t going as he planned and stomps over toward the door. This is her chance. Her only chance.

Grabbing the bottle of wine she stands up, nearly loses her balance as the room seems to revolve and for a second she thinks she’s going to fall. But somehow she fights through the pain and nausea and gets to the window fast, throwing the wine bottle. The attic window smashes into pieces seconds later. It's all she can do.