Freeing Lana (24 page)

“Detective
Massey, isn’t it?”

“Yes,
but Mel will do just fine,” the man said, sticking his hand out in front of
him.

Cautiously,
Sergio took it in his own and shook it briskly the socially demanded minimum
times, before letting it go. He studied the man carefully, unsure why he and
Lana had warranted a visit from Tink’s partner in the first place, though he
had a sneaking suspicion that he was here on behalf of her former lover in some
futile attempt to make some weak ass apology. He wasn’t going to care too much
for Sergio’s response if that as the case.

“Ok,
Mel then,” he said softly, not wanting to be overheard, “call me Sergio.”
 

“Sergio,
I was hoping to speak with Lana Martin, if that would be convenient,” the
detective said. Sergio caught a hint of professionalism in the tone, but was
well aware it would be present no matter what the man wanted, so he granted it
no real credence.

“I’m
afraid it would most certainly not be convenient, Detective,” he said flatly.

“I’m
sorry, but I understood she’s staying here.”

“She
is.”

“Is
she not home then?”

“She
is,” Sergio repeated, his tone leaving no question that he was quickly growing
weary of the conversation. Mel took a step back, his experience helping him to
recognize the defensive stance Sergio was taking, and the seriousness behind
it.

“I
can understand why you might be concerned by my presence, given everything
that’s happened,” he said finally, “but there’s a thing or two that I need to
tell her, in an official capacity.”

“Whatever
it is, I’ll be more than happy to pass it along to her.”
 

The
two men stood in the hallway, less than two feet between them, staring at each
other. It was what men did when they came to an understanding, when each
completely understood the stance of the other but was completely unmoved by it.
Sergio would take a bullet before this man got into his apartment, and
Detective Mel Massie could see it in his eyes.

“Very
well,” he finally said, “walk with me then. It isn’t something that needs to be
overheard and taken out of context.”

Sergio
understood what he meant even before he nodded toward the door to his
apartment, so he followed the man down the hallway to the stairs. Once they
were outside the building, he took one of the cigarettes the detective offered,
though he hadn’t smoked in a many years. He listened quietly as the man spoke,
though the anger rose up in him. When he was finished, he thanks him and walked
back to the apartment, unsure exactly how to tell Lana what had happened.

He
sat in his recliner, painfully aware of the sounds coming from the bathroom.
She had stood up and was most likely drying off. In a moment, he would hear the
hair dryer. That would last for a spell, but once the annoying sound ended, the
countdown would begin. He would only have a few seconds more, and then he would
have to tell her that Daniel Morrow was out of prison and somewhere free in the
city.

Chapter Forty-One

“Are
you going to be ok?”

She
didn’t answer, instead continuing to stare out the window in front of her, her
teeth grinding softly behind her tightened lips. She heard him, and she intended
to answer, but her brain wasn’t quite responding in the timely manner she would
have preferred. Lana managed to look up at him and nod, a faint
fuck my life
smile on her face. She had
to remind herself to stop nodding after realizing her head was still moving
seemingly on its own.

“I
should probably get a restraining order, don’t you think?”

“He
said one was already in place as a condition of his release,” Sergio said. “
the
same goes for Tink as well.”

Lana
looked up at him, not really expecting that. Somewhere down the road, there
would be questions for her, and while that was infuriating, just the thought of
Daniel Morrow on the streets frightened her. He could be somewhere not far out
that very window, down there on the street below, hiding just in the shadows of
the nearby alley, just watching…and waiting.

“I’m
fine,” she said, not really realizing the question had long since passed her
by.

Sergio
just nodded. If she had looked closer, or even at all, she would have easily
been able to tell he didn’t believe it for a second. His face was drawn back in
a worried scowl, and he knew perfectly well that she wasn’t fine, not even
close. And she knew it as well; she doubted she would be able to walk out the
door anytime soon, preferring instead to remain indoors, the door locked and
the curtains drawn.
Forever, if necessary.

“You
look tired,” he said, forcing a smile, “would you like to go lie down for a
bit?”

“Yeah,
I think a nap might do me some good after the workout you put me through.”

It
was a veiled attempt to change the subject as well as lending credence to the
notion that the news had not affected her as she and Sergio both knew damn well
it had. There was no need to talk about it since there was nothing they could
do about it. Sure, she could appeal it, but all that would really do would be
out her face on the news, and all she really wanted was to disappear. They
could say what they wanted about her, but that didn’t mean she intended to
listen to it.

She
followed Sergio into the bedroom, and slumped onto the bed which was now in the
corner of the room. His contraption took up a lot of room, and while she had
yet to be strapped to the monstrosity, she knew she would be some day, and as
she lay on her side, her knees pulled up to her chest, she took a long look at
what he had built. It was a thing of beauty; there was denying that.
Maybe tonight
, she though
as she closed her eyes.

She
had done her best not to think about Daniel or the time she spent captive in
his home, but the dream came just as she had feared, and Lana was powerless to
stop it. In the dream, she was tied to a steel bed with no mattress or even so
much as a sheet. In front of her, a pane of glass stood defiantly between her
and a laughing Daniel Morrow. He held the black hood in one of his hands,
taunting her with it. She was screaming, but the more she protested, the louder
he laughed, drowning out her pleas with his sadistic cackle.

“I
knew you would come,” he would say, “
do
you want
this?”

He
held the hood up to the glass and then began laughing again as she struggled
with the restraints trying to break free and get to the hood. It was her
salvation, her sanctuary. In its darkness, she was free from Daniel, from any
and all restraint that had once bound her, but he had taken it away from her
again. The demented bastard knew she wasn’t afraid of him, of anything, but she
needed that darkness, that freedom.

Lana
woke up wiping the tears from her face, fearing she would never be free again.
He had somehow managed to take away the one thing she needed, and he was using
it to torture her in an entirely new way.

Lana
looked around in the dark room, the light coming through the small crack under
the door allowing her to just make out the room. She had slept much longer than
she would have thought, but it was clearly already night. She stumbled to the
door and went out into the apartment. The television was on and the volume was
barely loud enough to hear. Sergio wasn’t there. For an instant, she panicked,
but the door was locked and soon it passed.

Still
not completely recovered from the dehydration of the previous events, she went
to the kitchen for a drink. One of Sergio’s Miller Lights would do just fine,
she reasoned. He would just have to deal with the smoke, as she had no
intention of sitting outside in the open, not even at night, especially at
night. She went out onto the balcony long enough to get her smokes and the
small ashtray she kept with them, slamming the glass door shut and locking it
immediately behind her once back inside.

She
lit one of the cigarettes before she reached the table, and as she sat down
heavily in one of the chairs, she noticed a note. She picked it up and read it.

Lana,

Don’t worry - everything will be fine.

Be back soon

I love you,

Sergio

2

“I
don’t know what the hell you pulled to get out of prison, but I promise you
that you’ll never hurt her again,” Sergio said, holding the knife to Daniel’s
throat, a small red line already showing from when he had first applied the
knife to its present location.

Daniel
Morrow had been sleeping in his father’s recliner when he slipped through the
front door. He had watched him for some time from the window before making the
decision to come inside. He didn’t know of Tink was home, but he hadn’t seen
any sign of him. A quick look in the back rooms would have confirmed it, but he
hadn’t wanted to run the risk of Daniel waking up and getting away. He did his
best to keep his voice down, just in case.

Somehow,
the fucking prick had been sleeping soundly, sounder than he imagined Lana
would ever sleep again. He attributed that to a complete lack of conscience,
the only thing that could explain his very existence the way Sergio saw it. But
sleeping soundly he had been, and he hadn’t so much as stirred when he put the
knife to his neck. Even when Sergio thumped him on the forehead with one of his
fingers, he didn’t budge. Finally, he had slapped him, but even then he had
taken his time waking up, and when the knife had stopped him from sitting up,
only then had he opened his eyes and seen Sergio.

“What
are you talking about?”

“You
know damn well what I’m talking about,” Sergio said, pushing the edge of the
blade against his skin.

“Easy
man, take it easy with that.”

Sergio
remarked that even with a knife at his throat, the man didn’t seem overly
scared. Did he think maybe he had this coming, or was he so convinced of his
own grandeur that he didn’t think Sergio would dare hurt him? It didn’t really
matter to him; Lana would be safe no matter what he had to do to ensure it.

“Take
it easy? Fuck you,” he growled, his fingers tightening around the handle of the
knife, “I’ll cut your dick off and shove it down your throat, you piece of
shit.”

The
low laugh that escaped the man in the chair caught Sergio by surprise for a
moment, before he realized the man truly was insane. His hands left the arms of
the chair and came together on his lap, his fingers casually intertwined as he
closed his eyes, still chuckling under his breath. When he opened his eyes
again the humor was gone and he looked directly at Sergio.

“I
see,” he said,” you’re the boyfriend, aren’t you?”

“I’m
your worst Goddamn nightmare, that’s what I am,” Sergio replied.

“Sure,
sure you are,” he said, the laugh once again powering his voice.

“What
the fuck is wrong with you anyway?”

“Apparently
a lot, from what they tell me.”

This
time the laugh boiled out of his mouth loudly, his body bouncing in the chair
below him. For a second, Sergio thought he would try to reach for the knife,
but Sergio had most of his weight balanced over it and if the lunatic made any
unexpected move, there was no doubt he wouldn’t live long enough to see it
through fruition.

“Shut
the fuck up, Goddamn it,” he whispered, “or I’ll kill you right now.”

“What,
and miss all the juicy details? Don’t you want to hear the way she begged me to
fuck her? Or the way she would lick the glass when she came to visit me at the
prison?”

“Shut
up!”

Daniel
laughed louder now, knowing he was having some effect on him. Sergio hadn’t
meant to but he had flinched when the man mentioned Lana visiting him at the
prison. Everything else he could have dismissed as him trying to get under his
skin, trying to cause him to make a mistake so he could get away. But he had
seen her go to the prison. She really had been there.

“Oh
come on now, don’t be like that,” Daniel teased him. “You know she likes it
rough, the rougher the better. Why hell, I’ll bet she still does.”

“I’m
warning you…”

“Tell
me, is there anything sweeter than the way she says thank you when you got your
dick up her ass, anything at all?”

Sergio’s
hand began to shake as he imagined this sick fucker with Lana, and the
possibility she had enjoyed it, any of it. The pictures, each worse than the
one before it, streamed across his thoughts as the man’s laughing voice droned
on and on in the background.

“Or
what about the way she looks up at you while her tongue is licking underneath
your balls, tell me that
ain’t
the shit, brother,
tell me it
ain’t
.”

“Stop
it.”

Sergio
was pleading now, unaware that the knife was coming dangerously away from the
man’s throat. He didn’t want to hear any more of this. He knew there was
something in it that reflected what he had already known, that it was during
that time she began to understand she really did like it rough. He found
himself questioning if perhaps that’s why he hadn’t been good enough for her
before, not
rough
enough.