Rendezvous (8 page)

“My uncle has a piece of jewelry that I want. It belonged to my great, great, grandmother and it belongs in our family,” she replies with that same snotty tone.

“That’s all good and well, but my Marco hasn’t passed yet. So if it’s still in his possession, then it’s still within 'your' family. I do, however, know that there are no personal assets belonging to my father in this house. Everything was moved out, so I don’t know why you’d be looking here for it.”

I watched her huff and throw an attitude before brushing past me and slamming the door behind her. I look back to Mrs. Anders with a question on the tip of my tongue.

“She’s wanted that ring for years, Miss. Bentley. Your father is afraid she wants it to settle an old debt. Sylvia has a nasty gambling addiction. I don’t know where your father keeps that ring, but it’s best if she not be here to snoop around for it.”

“Sounds like a plan. I spoke with my father’s doctor earlier. He said Marco could wake at any time. He seemed to respond to my voice, which I wanted to ask you about. Is there a reason that he would recognize my voice?”

“Of course dear. Your father has people checking on you constantly. He even attended a signing for your books, love. He has several recordings and videos of you. You are his pride and joy, even if you never knew it.”

I’m taken aback by her response. I can’t believe even after I became an adult he still checked up on me.

After speaking with Mrs. Anders, I ask her to have Jameson stop by and reset the codes on the gates. Thanks to Sylvia’s visit, I’m reminded that there are still people out there I don’t want knocking on my door. I keep telling myself I’m prepared for the worst, but it doesn’t hurt to have a little extra security.

Chapter 9

Tristan

I clean and bandage Darla’s leg. It won’t be much good if she dies of a fucking infection before she has to pay for her sins. I then place an old-fashioned tin tub under her seat. The bitch won’t be going anywhere, and I sure as hell won’t be carrying her ass to a bathroom. Of course I don’t want her pissing all over Cage’s floor either. Once I have her placed where I want her, I take a seat in front of her and remove the gag from her mouth.

“How about we have a little chat, Darla?”

She sneers at me before replying, “I don’t have shit to say to some piss ant like you.”

“Big words for a woman tied up to a chair. Come on Darla, here’s your chance. Don’t you have anything you’d like to confess before you die?”

That gets her attention as her eyes grow wide. She tries to hide her fear, but it’s written all over her face. She’s not so fucking tough when she’s on the other end of this fucked up game she likes to play.

“Did you suddenly take the cloth, pretty boy?” she chides. “What did fucking my slut daughter make you so turned off that you’d rather live a life of celibacy?”

My rage gets the better of me as I wrap my hands around her throat, squeezing on her windpipe. “That will be the last fucking time you ever speak ill of Bentley. Say another word, you fucking cunt, and I’ll cut your goddamn tongue out before Cage ever gets back.”

I’m not feeling too fucking chatty after that. Getting up, I kick the chair aside and debate what I want to fucking do to her. The truth is I want to hurt her in all the same ways she’s hurt Bentley, but I don’t want that shit hanging over my head. Darla’s words cut through my thoughts as I pace the length of the small room.

“You know I didn’t always hate her,” she confessed. I’m caught on her words and stop in my tracks, turning back to face her.

“No, of course not. I’m sure you adored her before you found out that Marco Linzetti wouldn’t leave his wife for you, even if you had his daughter. But that was what… until she was two? If even that,” I ask.

“She’s the spitting image of that man. It was fucking sickening having her around. Being the living image of the devil incarnate. That bastard ruined me and I was stuck with his fucking spawn.”

“Don’t try and feed me that bullshit. He would have taken her in a heartbeat and that was the fucking problem. He wanted her but not you, and you couldn’t fucking live with that, could you?”

“How the fuck could you possibly know that?” she asked.

“Know what exactly? That you started abusing her when she was two? Or that he would have taken her?” I watch her reaction change from a puzzled look to that of someone keeping a secret.

“You don’t know than do you?” she says in a sickeningly sweet voice that makes me want to rip her apart and beat her with her own limbs.

“Why don’t you clue me in, Darla, on
what I don’t know
? Aside from the fact that you’re a psychotic bitch who made it your life’s mission to torture and abuse your innocent daughter.”

“That little bitch would have had everything, everything that should have been mine. That son of a bitch tried to take her from me, and he paid dearly for it. Who the fuck he thought he was to refuse me, then try and take the baby I had to carry for nine fucking months? That little bitch ruined everything, and he wanted to give her the fucking world. Well over my dead body. I’d put her in the grave before I’d let him have her. He tried taking her a few times and he learned the hard way. Each time he interfered, she paid for it, and each payment was worse than the last. Eventually he got the fucking picture,” she taunted.

“So he wanted her and you made sure that never happened. I get that, but why torture her for the rest of life? It wasn’t her fucking fault that you were a whore who tried to use a married man to make yourself famous. She had no part in that; that was all you and your fucked up plans to step up a ladder you didn’t deserve. If you couldn’t make it on fucking talent, you sure as fuck weren’t going to make it by laying on your back or getting on your knees.”

“That little bitch thought she was entitled. She walked around like she was better than everyone else. She acted as if she was too good to associate with her own family. She got every fucking thing she deserved.”

“You’re fucking delusional. All she ever wanted was to be loved by you, though for the life of me I can’t understand why. She did any and everything to make you fucking proud of her and nothing was ever good enough. Don’t fucking sit here playing the pity card with me. I know the shit you did to her. You had your own daughter raped, you fucking piece of shit. Tell me, what would ever justify that?” I screamed.

“Big fucking deal. So I had some asshole take her virginity. It’s not like he gave her some incurable disease. Don’t be so fucking dramatic.”

I want to kill this bitch sitting in front of me. I want to tear her limb from limb, cut her chest open, and force her to eat her own fucking heart. I yearn to see this bitch bleed. Then it dawns on me, I will be seeing her bleed. I just need to wait for Cage. I decide it’s time for a change of subject. Time to let Darla know just what I have in store for her.

I calm myself considerably before taking my seat across from her. “You know what Darla, it doesn’t matter. None of it means a damn. All that matters now is that you’re here, and you’re never walking away. I will never let you see another opportunity to terrorize your daughter. You won’t be making it out of here alive. I have something very special planned for you.” Leaning in really close to her, I lower by voice so she has to concentrate on my every word. “Would you like me to tell you how you’re going to die?”

I watched the panic build in her eyes. For someone who has no problem playing death in other people’s lives, she sure as shit isn’t eager to have someone play death with hers. There’s a perverse sense of enjoyment in the fact that she’s afraid. Watching her hands begin to shake, I know the last thing she wants is the answer I’m going to force on her.

“What, Darla? Not as much fun when you’re on the other side of this fucked up game you play, is it? How many lives have you destroyed? Was Bentley going to be the second? Or was that Cora?” I ask, watching for any reaction that maybe she knows Cora was alive.

Darla scoffs at me, “I never touched Cora, that sick fucker that stalked her, did that all on his own. She was my pride and joy. She was going to be my ticket to the top. I had no reason to harm her. She was perfect.”

“Perfect? Is that why you tried to force coke up her nose? Why you would shove shit down her throat to make her hurl? Or better yet, why you hired someone to rough her up in that alley to remind her that she belonged to you? If anything, her stalker saved her from a far worse fate than she would have endured being stuck with you. You seem to really enjoy watching others bleed. Are you a squeamish person, Darla? Does the sight of blood make you sick? I’m just curious, since you’re going to be losing a lot of blood. Myself, I’m not really the type to get sick by seeing others blood, but I’m not a fan of seeing my own.”

Again, I find a sick satisfaction in seeing her grow pale at my words. If she thinks she is winning this by trying to make Bentley seem like she is unworthy of anything in this life, I will to prove her dead wrong. I wait a minute more, but she doesn’t answer so I continue.

“What about snakes, Darla? How do you feel about them? I’m not really a fan of snakes, and definitely not of snake bites. You see a few years ago I went on a safari with Cage and another friend of ours. We were walking through some tall grass in Africa and our buddy Nick never knew what hit him. The effects started within hours. He was screaming in agony. We had no fucking clue what bit him. The guide told us he didn’t have a chance, as we were too far away to get the antivenom in time. He said he was likely bitten by a juvenile snake because the venom was taking effect so quickly. I thought he was fucking with us until Nick started bleeding. It was pouring out of everywhere. Every opening in his body was bleeding. We thought the pain had overtaken him and he pissed himself, but no, that was blood too...his eyes, nose, mouth, ears. Every hole in his body had blood pouring out of it. He was screaming and writhing in pain. I wanted to shoot him just to put him out of his misery. We tried to get him to the hospital, but we didn’t reach it in time. Within eighteen hours, his brain hemorrhaged and he bled to death. Of course, you’re a bit bigger than Nick was, so it might take a little longer for you to bleed out.” I say nonchalantly before sitting back in my chair.

“You plan on having some snake bite me? What makes you think you’re not going to end up getting bit yourself? Seems pretty risky, don’t you think?” she questioned, although it seems as if she is trying to convince herself of the danger more than me.

“Oh I’m not bringing the snake into the country. Customs would have a fucking field day with an exotic, highly poisonous, and very deadly reptile. No I’m having the snakes' venom brought here. So I’m not concerned with sticking myself with the needle, and you won’t have to worry about the nasty snake bite. It’d be a bit difficult to explain how you got bitten by a snake that doesn’t reside on this continent. Not to mention that snakes rarely bite in the winter. No, that wouldn’t work at all...not that it will much matter. There won’t be much left of you to find. You see once you’re injected, you’re free to go. I don’t figure you’ll get real far on that broken leg though, and I doubt you’ll be doing much moving once the venom starts attacking your muscles and organs. I also imagine it will be difficult to see when the blood begins pouring from your eyes. But you can flee none the less.”

“My daughter will never allow it. You just watch and see. Wait until she gets here and hears the things you’re planning. She’ll never go for it. She still pines for the mother she never had. She won’t let you kill me so heinously. You just watch, by the time I’m done with her, she’ll be begging you to release me.”

“Then I guess it’s a good thing your daughter isn’t coming.” My statement took her by surprise. I guess she really believed I’d involve Bentley in this. As if I’d give her any more material to source her nightmares. “Bentley hasn’t been in my life for quite some time. Thanks to you, she ran from me. She believes she’s protecting me from you, but the thing is, I don’t want to be protected. So you see, there is no one who will be saving you from me. You fucked with the wrong person. No one fucks with what is mine...and Bentley...well...she’s been mine since five minutes after she met me. But the only way I can fucking have her is if you’re gone, and you will be...very soon!”

“You could just let me go. I’ll disappear again. I’ll leave you both alone. You don’t have to do this. I’ll go away for good. She’ll never hear from me again, you won’t have to worry about me anymore,” Darla cried.

“That’s just not good enough. You don’t get to destroy her life, constantly threaten it and then walk away. I know you planned on putting another hit on her. Don’t play the fucking victim card with me, you dumb bitch. She will never be free of you. She will never stop looking over her shoulder until you are dead. So make peace with whatever it is you believe in because your hours are marked. Within a couple of days, you’ll no longer be a plague hanging over Bentley’s head,” I say, before getting up and heading out of the room.

Bentley

I set up an office downstairs and try to get back into my normal routine. I have a book I need to finish writing, another that needs editing, and I still need to pick the model for my latest cover. While having a space to concentrate is all well and good, my mind is running in every which way.

It has been two days since Sylvia was prying through my father’s house. I haven’t heard from her since, but I expect she’ll be back. I had the gate code and locks changed so no one who once had a key will be entering uninvited. I visit my father daily and the latest news is that his brain activity was growing and that they are hoping for him to wake up by the end of the week. Then, of course, is the never ending hellfire that I wait to overcome me in the form of Darla. I’ve been on eggshells since I arrived, waiting for her or her lackies to finish what they started or die trying.

Tired of sitting around the house, I decide to explore the quaint town Marco lives near. I find a small coffee shop in town that reminds me of home. Not the cabin I settled in, but back in Florida with Dante, whom I mailed a letter to this morning. I didn’t write my address on the envelope so he won’t be able to respond, but he’ll see the state it’s being mailed from as I couldn’t help that. It’s been unbearable not having him all these months, especially around the holidays. He usually goes home to his family for Christmas, but we always have a get-together with some friends a day or two before he leaves. I’ll miss that this year.

When I arrive back to the house, Mrs. Anders is standing by the living room window, directing two men as they position the tree a few feet away. She wants it perfectly centered so it sits in the middle of the window if you’re looking inside.  Yesterday, we planned out the party and I asked Maddie if she could call and have someone cater the event. She was upset, thinking her cooking wasn’t up to par, until I informed her she is a guest at this party and I’ll not have her cooking for a party she is meant to be enjoying. I learned that my father’s annual party is only attended by higher society. He typically just passes out the staff’s checks, so having a staff party this year will be something new for all of them.