Insidious (14 page)

“It isn’t uncommon for patients in his position to try to exert control in any way that they can. I’m sure that things like him wanting to know your whereabouts is annoying. But right now, it’s all he has.”

I remained stoic. There was no way I could let her know the ways he liked to exercise his control.

“In many ways,” she went on, “what happened to Randall was more humane than what’s happening to Stewart.”

Karma.

When I didn’t answer, she reached for my hand and continued, “I’ve also watched the spouses of those patients. I know this is hard on you. I wish you’d consider counseling. Grief and bereavement counseling doesn’t need to wait until he’s dead. You deserve support.”

I leaned over, gave her a hug, and said, “I know you’re busy, but I’ve loved getting together. Hopefully we can do it again, just the two of us, before you leave. Let me know your schedule, and we’ll work something out.”

“Sure thing, sis. Don’t worry about any of the foundation stuff. I’ve got the drugs all handled.”

I smiled, nodding my head, as I recalled a similar conversation a few years ago, one that proved very helpful.

“Val,” I asked, “what are those pellets used for? I mean, why would you have radioactive pellets in the first place?”

“They’re implanted into cancerous tumors, usually not permanently. However, when implanted, their radiation kills the cancerous cells.”

“Can they cause damage to the healthy cells?”

She shrugged. “When there are quickly multiplying deadly cells, that’s our number-one priority.”

“What if there weren’t?”

Her brow furrowed. “Then you wouldn’t implant them. Seriously, exposure to that level of radiation could result in the mutation of healthy cells. It would be just like Chernobyl on an individual scale.”

Val touched my shoulder. “Vik, think about it.”

My eyes opened wide. “Think about what?”

“The counseling. It’s all right to get it. You’re too young to be going through this. Facing the death of your spouse is hard. That’s why they have counselors. Sometimes it helps to talk to someone who isn’t as close to you.”

I shook my head.
What I needed was for him to be dead.
“Call me. Next time let’s talk about something a little less morbid.”

“Hey, I don’t use these drugs for morbid purposes. I use them for good. Remember that.”

I gave her one last hug. “Oh, I do.”

BEGRUDGINGLY, I SWEPT the screen of my phone. Though I refused to acknowledge the vibrations while with Val, I couldn’t help but notice the on-and-off-again motion coming from my purse. The icon for text messages practically jumped off the screen with the number eight flashing wildly. Eight fucking messages. I’d been gone from home for less than two hours. I continued reading: two were from my mother, two were from Brody, one was from the Harrington Society Clinic, and three were from Travis.

Touching Travis’ number was like ripping off a Band-Aid. If I did it fast, I could get it over with and move on to better things. A closed-lip grin came to my face.
Wouldn’t my mother be pleased to know that I considered her a better evil?

Message 1:
“MR. HARRINGTON WANTED ME TO REMIND YOU THAT HE EXPECTS YOU HOME UPON COMPLETION OF YOUR VISIT WITH YOUR SISTER.”

Really? My jaw clenched. From the first time I met Travis, he rubbed me the wrong way.

Message 2:
“MR. HARRINGTON WOKE AND WANTS YOU HOME NOW.”

There was no way that Stewart was awake. I watched the nurse pump pain medicine into his IV after I’d assured them it was what he wanted. Because it was more of what I wanted seemed irrelevant.

I wasn’t sure what kind of power play Travis thought he was making, but I didn’t plan on participating. I’d already been sucked into one set of fucked-up games. My quota had been filled. Each thought of Stewart’s right-hand man made my blood boil as well as my stomach churn. It was no secret that I detest everything about Travis: quite honestly, the feeling continued to be mutual. It was during Stewart’s warehouse training period that we finally laid our cards on the table. The looks, glances, and smirks that he’d given me during the first year of my marriage finally made sense the first and only time I was faced with him as a
friend
. Well, not faced. I was blindfolded. I wasn’t sure how either of them thought I wouldn’t recognize the man who’d, for over the last year of my life, spent every waking hour mere inches away from my husband.

Though I handled the situation completely wrong, I learned from it. I also learned that in some ways I could still influence my husband.

Settling into the leather seat of my car, I mused: if that asshole was stupid enough to think I’d keep him employed after Stewart died, he was dumber than he looked. It had been nearly nine years since Stewart’s right-hand man put his cock near me, yet whenever I saw his slimy sneer from the corner of my eye, my stomach lurched. I remembered that day like it was yesterday. I remembered it with the clarity that comes from the first time.

“This is the big test, Tori. We don’t want you disappointing our friends. They’re all anxious to get to know you.”

My hands trembled in his grasp. The tone with which Stewart spoke was as if he were asking me to organize a dinner party, not put myself on display for strangers—or worse, for men I knew. Ever since he’d first brought me to the warehouse, I knew this day was coming. He’d laid it on the line with no room for discussion. This was his desire, his fantasy, and the reason he’d chosen to make me his wife. This was what I’d agreed to do when I signed his contract.

I could choose to walk away. He’d told me that too. I could accept the clause of the contract that voided our agreement: voided our marriage and freed me from this hell. But at what cost?

Stewart had done everything he’d said. He’d fulfilled his promises: Randall’s debt was paid. My ungrateful stepfather’s life was spared. My mother was able to maintain her façade of perfection while now being able to boast about her daughter and new son-in-law. He’d provided me with every luxury a woman could imagine. Never did he question my expenditures or anywhere I chose to spend money.

I steeled myself against my emotions as he slowly removed my clothes, placed the blindfold over my eyes, and headphones over my ears. With each impending second, I knew I would willingly give up everything. I didn’t give a damn about the money. Randall could make his own fucking way in the world and as for my mother’s social status, I didn’t give a rat’s ass. What kept my hands on the headboard, holding tightly to the wrought-iron spindles, was the realization that Val would not be able to attend Johns Hopkins University.

She’d worked hard to make her grades at the academy. Johns Hopkins was one of the top pre-med programs in the country. It was exclusive and prestigious with only a seventeen-percent acceptance rate. She’d made that cut. Tuition alone was nearly fifty thousand dollars a year. Despite all of Randall and Marilyn’s posturing and proclamations of devotion, they’d never ante up for her tuition, not to mention her room and board.

It wasn’t that Val wasn’t a hard worker: she was. However, was it fair to offer her this opportunity and take it away? That was what would happen if I decided to exercise my right to leave. As long as I played Stewart’s game, I could support my sister and anything else my heart desired.

His voice came through the headphones. “As we’ve discussed, I could tie your hands, but if I do that, I take away your freedom of choice. Nod if you understand.”

I refused to let him know how much this disgusted me. So I summoned all my strength, straightened my neck, and nodded.

“Good girl. Stay focused on me. I’ll be right here with you. Can you hear me all right?”

I nodded.

Of course I could fucking hear him. We’d been playing this game alone, just the two of us, for months.

“Remember, don’t speak. You can make sounds—I love to hear your sounds—but no words. Nod if you understand.”

I nodded.

“Today you’re going to meet our first friend.”

My legs twitched, aching to close and cover myself. The way Stewart had placed them they were slightly bent with my knees to the sides. I was completely exposed.

“No, Tori. I want our friend to see you, to appreciate that sexy, fuckable pussy. I want him to see those luscious tits of yours. I’m sure he’ll enjoy coming all over them as much as I do.”

I closed my eyes and unsuccessfully tried to drown out his voice.

He continued, “I promised you condoms during penetration and that will always be followed. I’m here for you, darling. However, don’t be surprised if some of our friends take them off to bathe your gorgeous tits or your perfect ass; others may let you suck them. Remember to be a good girl and swallow.” His words taunted and demeaned, while his tone was sultry and encouraging. It was a cruel game.

My arms ached before our friend ever made his presence known. And despite the cooled temperature of the warehouse, my sweaty palms made keeping my grasp difficult.

“Don’t let go of those bars. You’re not allowed to touch our friends unless I tell you what to do. There’s no sense in your trying to figure out who they are. It makes this game so much more fun that way, don’t you agree.”

I didn’t nod. I didn’t agree. There was nothing fun about any of this.

I don’t know if the friend spoke. I couldn’t have heard him if he did. He made his presence known by touch. I gasped when I felt it, immediately knowing it wasn’t Stewart. There was nothing remotely compassionate in the way this rough hand seized my breast, pinched my nipple, and pulled it tight. Despite all of Stewart’s training, I flinched away.

“It’s all right, baby,” Stewart’s voice attempted to calm me.

My legs slapped closed as my skin tingled in disgust. For a while I heard nothing, only music. All I could imagine was that the two of them were discussing what this friend was going to do.

Finally, Stewart’s voice came back through the headphones. “Come on, Tori, I know you can do this for me. Don’t make our friend mad. You don’t want to be punished.”

The hairs on the back of my neck sprang to life.
There was no fucking way…
and then I knew. I don’t know how I knew, but I did. His warm breath was near my neck, and the same sickening feeling I’d had since the first time I met Travis overwhelmed me.

Though I was working blindly, I reacted by instinct. My knee went up. At the same moment I let go of the headboard, leaned forward, and sunk my teeth into whatever was in front of me. My knee hit pay dirt as I felt the bed shift. Ripping the blindfold and headphones from my head, the room of light and sound momentarily blinded me as the world spun.

It wasn’t just the assault to my senses that set it spinning. It was the back of Travis’ hand as he struck my right cheek.

“Stupid bitch!” He screamed, surveying his bleeding shoulder and his wounded balls. “You fucking kicked and bit me!”

I was a damn cat with claws extended. Without thinking, I sprang from the bed. I didn’t give a damn about the rage-filled glare I saw in Travis’ eyes. Ignoring my throbbing cheek, I scratched at his exposed skin.

“Get the fuck away from me. There’s no goddamned—”

Stewart reached for my shoulders, pulled me away from Travis, and yelled, “Stop!”

His voice was harsher and more demanding than I’d ever heard. Before that moment, I perhaps had thought I’d seen my husband angry. I’d been wrong. Nothing compared to what I now saw and heard. His hands trembled as his face reddened with fury. Knowing I was outnumbered, I prepared myself for his promise of punishment, closed my eyes, and waited. My punishment never came.

My husband spun toward Travis. His voice was strong, not at all trepidatious about remonstrating this monster of a man. Spit rained forth with each word. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“The bitch bit me! She kicked me in the goddamned balls.” Blood oozed from his wounds as his body too shook with anger. “What the fuck do you think I’m doing?”

Stewart stepped toward him. As their proximity decreased, Travis’ body shrunk. “Don’t you ever fucking lay a hand on my wife again. How dare you think you could strike her? You’re a fucking idiot. You know how this goes down. If you plan on being with me one more day, you’ll recognize that you just had your one chance and you blew it.” His finger prodded Travis’ bare chest. “You fucking blew it!”

When Travis failed to respond, I peered from behind the perceived safety of Stewart’s back and said, “Mr. Harrington just told you that you blew it. Nod if you fucking understand.”