Chapter 15
“Seduction is merely encouraging a man to do something he already wants to do.”- Lisa Kleypas
“Yes I have eyes on the subject.” “No, no sign of anyone.” “Yes, sir.” Bentley’s side of the conversation makes me want to vomit. Subject. That’s all I am. A pawn. How could I have ever been so naive to trust him? Everybody wants something. Nothing is free, not even friendships. I cross my arms around my midsection and block out the day’s events best I can. Before it was just me against one, but now I get the feeling that it’s two against me. My entire objective has been tossed in the air. I now need to escape Bentley and find Ezra. I need a new plan. One that keeps new enemies closer than even my mirror gets to me. It’s time to set the whole town on fire. I still have an advantage, one I never thought I’d have before last night. Me. My body. Bentley’s still a man. I’ve jumped over the hurdle of contact. I can use me against him. I live a lie and he thinks it’s done now that he’s outed himself to me. But my lie’s not quite done. All eyes on me everywhere I’ve gone for over a year yet no one gets close until now, because I let them. How stupid. I am not the meek girl I was. I’m more prepared for this than I’m giving myself credit for. It’s time to take control regardless of the collateral damage that may come.
I shift off the bed and stare long and hard at myself in the mirror over Bentley’s dresser. I smooth my hair with my fingers and wipe the black from under my eyes. I pull my tank off and adjust my breasts in their cups so they look just right. Bentley’s iPod sits in the speaker dock. I scroll through his playlist up until I find something I can work with. I push play and turn up the volume, loud. Closer filters through the speakers. I close my eyes and let myself hear nothing but the music. I move, swinging my hips, arms above my head, hair hanging lushly down my back. I feel it. I feel power. I don’t hear Bentley arrive, with the volume of the music being as it is, but I feel his stare. I rotate my hips in a circle left, pausing and then rotating right. I dance for me, but I know the show doesn't hurt the eyes. I spin around slowly moving to the beat and open my eyes. Bentley’s gaze is ferocious with desire, his pants already showing his bulge. I smirk coyly at him and wiggle my shorts down my thighs until I can step out of them. I dare him with my eyes to approach, and as if he’s a well-trained puppy he comes right over. His hands sear my hips as they grab me. I push into him firmly and slowly make circular motions. One hand wraps around his neck, the other hangs back behind me as I dance against him.
He moves one hand slowly up my back, under my hair, to the nape of my neck and threads his fingers in the silky strands. He pulls my face up to his and pummels me with a kiss. His eyes are glassy with desire. I did that. It’s dangerous and wild and I like it. This is my power; he thinks he’s in control but he’s not. I push away from him and slide my thumbs in the band of my panties, sliding them left then right before gripping them and slowly dragging them down my legs. He starts towards me but I stop him with a palm flat against his chest.
“Not yet,” I breathe. His eyes are stormy and clouded and it turns me on. Chet Faker begins his croony take on No Diggity and I realize I couldn't have picked a better song to follow the last. I reach one hand behind me and unclasp my bra, sending my breasts spilling out. I turn my back to him and crawl, on hands and knees, across his bed before lying down and crooking a finger at him. In seconds he’s naked as the day he was born, lean muscles twitching wherever I touch him. I let him explore my body hungrily with kisses and nips before pushing him from me and taking over. I let my tongue trail from his neck to the sweet spot where his hip meets his thigh and back up. I drag my nails across his chest and let my hair tickle his sides until he’s fidgeting restlessly under me. Reaching between us, I glare directly into his eyes and grip his cock. Without fanfare I position myself and guide him in. I ride him slowly, rolling my hips and letting my breasts brush against his chest while I keep his hands pinned under mine on either side of his head. My hair cascades around our faces, keeping us locked in an erotic cave of sorts. He never breaks eye contact as I grind and move on him. I feel it building inside of me. This is different than the rest. I’m different. I move faster and move my hands to his shoulders to brace myself better. His palms spread on my backside and push to keep me closer to him. I hook my feet under his knees and rollover, letting him do the work on top. He furiously pumps into me. I need more. “Faster,” I pant at him. He grins a crooked grin and pounds into me. His face drops to the crook of my neck and he bites lightly. It’s all I need to jump over the edge. I come fast and hard and he follows right behind me. He rolls off to the side and splays a hand on my stomach, spent.
“What was that?” he asks.
“Not enough,” I counter.
“What?”
“More, Bentley,” I command. My heart beats double time and just as I knew he would, he complies and buries his face between my legs to start round two. It’s now that I realize no one can be saved. This game is going to end badly for everyone, and I’m okay with that.
Three hours later he is fast asleep, sufficiently spent from my hearty appetite. I reach down to the floor and grab my shorts and tank. Throwing them on quickly, I jam a hand into his jeans pockets until I find the key. I slip my feet into his slippers he has lying by the couch and exit the trailer. It’s chilly in the crisp early dawn air as I hurry toward home. A shiver rips through my body and my skin prickles. I stop moving and look up from my feet. I thought my heart was the pound of flesh the devil took from me when I pulled the trigger but this...this is more. Now it seems as though he’s come for my soul. He stands three feet away and sure as the sun is rising in the sky, Cane Ash is alive. I was free before, but all freedom is an illusion. If my heart could stop beating without sending me six feet under it would have stopped at this moment.
All the air rushes from my lungs and my vision blurs slightly. My heart sweats, my teeth grind.
“No, it’s impossible…” I whisper, throat tight, shaking my head. “Aster went to your funeral.” My body is shaking violently, but I’m rooted in my spot. He glares at me but doesn't respond. What is happening? Before I have time to put a thought together, he rushes me. I’m hoisted up over his shoulder and thrown into a trunk. Cane slams the trunk lid down on me, sealing me in darkness. “CANE!” I scream. Fear rips through me. I scream and kick at the back seat, and then at the tail lights, hoping I can break one or something. It works in the movies. I try to calm myself enough to plan something. I feel around but there is nothing in the trunk with me. Tears fall freely down my face as I desperately try to figure out what Cane is capable of. The car starts and the tires spin against the dirt before gripping and jolting forward.
About twenty minutes later the car stops, the trunk pops open, and Cane’s arms shoot down to haul me out. I immediately scream like a lunatic. Then I flail wildly as his arms tighten around me. I kick and bite his arm and scream some more but there is nothing but a dilapidated cabin around us.
“Bitch!” he roars when I sink my teeth in his arm. He rights himself, catches me by the back of my shirt, swings me around and punches me square in the face hard enough that I’m sent sailing down to the ground. I clutch my nose as blood gushes out. I’m kneeling in dirt and little chunks of rock are cutting into me. One. Two. Three. My mind is racing with thoughts that I don’t want. How is he alive? Was this all somehow orchestrated? Why me? Scooping me into his arms, bigger, stronger now, he carries me into the cabin and ties me to a bed. There are no blankets. There are no pillows. There are no sheets. Just a beat-up looking mattress and me, spread eagle on my back, tied down. He ties a bandana around my head and threads it through my mouth.
Cane stands over me. He grips my shirt tight and pulls it away from my body in one hand. His other hand moves a hunting knife. His eyes are crazed with rage and hurt. “Leave me. Leave me here,” I pant through the bandana trying to reason with him.
“Sure, when you stop breathing,” he grunts at me without making eye contact. “Don’t worry, this won’t take more than a second,” he spits. He slides the blade across my collarbone and then twists it into the fabric he’s holding. He rips the knife down the front of the tank, cutting it open down the middle from neck to hem, leaving me in just my bra. I whimper and try to talk around the gag.
“Uh-uh, baby girl, no talkin’ till we’re done.” He hops up on the bed and straddles me. Tears stream from the corners of my eyes as the knife slips under one shoulder strap of my bra and with a flick of his wrist, cuts through. He repeats this on the other side and then cuts the middle, sending my bra flopping to either side of me. He unbuttons my shorts and yanks them off. “This is all evidence that will need to be burned,” he growls while tossing my shorts to the floor. His mouth comes to my neck and sucks, hard. I cry out, and try struggling against the ropes binding me. Why would he do this? I’m trying hard to put pieces together, but none of them fit.
Cane’s head shoots up and he snickers at me. “You like it rough don’t you?”
I roll my head to the side, go limp and stare blankly at the wall. Please just get this over with quickly. Just do what you’re going to do and kill me. Please. I check out mentally. I will never live through this moment; it will drive me to insanity. He moves his mouth down my collarbone, leaving a wet sticky filth behind. Every second he touches me like this is devastating. This is not my Cane. This is not the man I was in love with. It’s clear I’ve ruined him. I’ve turned him into something monstrous…like his uncle. He shifts down and brings the knife to my underwear and stares at me. I refuse to meet his lecherous gaze.
“Look at me, you filthy bitch,” he seethes as one last sob tears through me. I crane my head toward him and look through his rage and hate. I look deep into his face, his eyes. I look until I can see through all the hurt and anger, I look until I see my Cane. His expression shifts then and his gaze drops slightly. The whole world is torn, shifting off its axis. None of this is right. None of it makes sense. I can feel his indecision and torment. I can see my Cane battling this new one. This, surely, is what hell is like.
PART II
“Don’t grieve. Anything you lose comes round in another form.”- Rumi
Cane
“Did you really think we could play Where’s Waldo forever, Cy?” I laugh cynically. I see the realization of my name choice register on her face. It’s a bad sign and she knows it. I rip the bandana from her mouth. “I’ve been killing you since the day we met. You were always better than me, Cy, you came from a different world. I should have never let you see my world.” My voice trails off as I finish, dragging a hand down over my face in frustration. “You think I'm a scumbag, right?” I say hoarsely. God, her eyes. How could I ever think I’d be able to look into those eyes and inflict torture? I’m so angry. So hurt, but still, I care for her.
“I’m not here to judge you,” she answers softly.
“What am I supposed to do, Mags?” I plead. I can see it in her eyes, her love for me, devotion. It tears me apart from the inside out.
“Are you afraid, Cy?” She could pretend she wasn’t but that wouldn’t help. I see the choice - she shoots for honesty.
“Yes, I’m afraid.” Her voice shakes.
“Of me?” She nods, keeping her eyes focused on the wall to the left.
“Why are you afraid of me, Cy?” I ask, my voice making a strangled sound.
“Because you’re here to kill me.” My hand snaps out to her chin and lifts it until her eyes meet mine. I am. She’s right. I was sent to kill her. I have a job to do. But her face, her scent, her voice – they’ve fucked with my head to the point that I don’t know how to do what I’m supposed to now.
“Is that what you really think?” I whisper.
“What am I supposed to think?” she answers, wide-eyed.
“Cypress,” I seethe.
“It’s Magnolia now. Why are you doing this?” I avert my eyes. I don’t want to see her face. It wrecks me on so many levels.
“After what you did to me I’m not sure you get to ask questions,” I grind out.
“Yet, here I am, asking,” she replies with snark.
“You always did say whatever was on your mind.” I smirk but it fades quickly. “Cy, no one knows what it’s like to fall in love with the wrong person more than I do.” I can see my words cut through her walls and it shreds my heart to hurt her like this. “I thought you might feel like you owed me.”
“Owed you?!” she screeches.
“Mags,” I start.
“I thought I accidentally killed my soul mate. Please God, tell me how you can possibly trump that!” she shrieks. What did she just say? She accidentally killed her soul mate? Her expression is guilt-ridden. Filled with sorrow and hurt.
“I thought you meant to shoot Ezra. I thought you meant to take the money. I thought you meant to leave me...and then...I thought you didn’t give a shit that you left me for dead. You just moved on. Disappeared.” FUCK, I feel so torn. What is the truth? She seems stunned and it makes me question everything Ezra’s told me.
“It doesn't matter now. I thought that part of my life was over,” she laments.
“How can you say that?!” I slam my fists down on the mattress on either side of her. She waits, afraid to move, afraid to breathe, until she thinks I’m calmer. She was always doing that. Waiting on me to change, to calm down, to be reasonable enough that she could get through to me.
“Because the moment I saw you, alive, it dawned on me - I finally realized that despite the shitty way everything ended, you were it for me, Cane. I’ve never felt that way about anyone before...or since. I don’t want to ruin you more than I already have, by manipulating you into something that might be bad for you. Just take me back to Ezra. I couldn't bear it if you ended up hurt or worse, because of me, again.” Her words shock me. I’ve just violated her in ways that would make most women shut down and she’s being complacent out of concern for me?
“It was the same for me,” I whisper, not meeting her eyes. “I loved you so damned much, Mags. You own me. Even now. Even after all the shit.” I admit.
“I get it, Cane. But don’t think that just because I understand, I care.” She exhales. What? Who is this hard cynical woman? Magnolia, my Magnolia was all beauty. She was all heart. What have I done? Have I really broken an amazing woman? Have I done this?
“Salvation is a choice. You have to choose to go there,” I say surprising myself.
“Did you choose it, Cane? Because if you’re what salvation looks like, I don’t want any part of it. You look as lifeless and empty as I feel,” she spits, and glares at me. "It's one thing for someone you wronged to forgive you; it's a completely different game trying to forgive yourself," she says looking defeated.
“I loved you, Mags. LOVED you! I had to live knowing that you went on living even though you thought I was dead. Knowing that you tried to kill my uncle, knowing that instead you shot me and left me for dead. All this time...” I rant, “…all this time you went on living your life thinking you killed me. You should look lifeless and empty. I didn’t betray you!” I bark. She betrayed me in the worst way possible. Or did she?
“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Cane. Why? Why would I have done that? I had you. I had everything I needed with you! It was always enough for me just having you!” she wails at me. “THINK, goddamnit! I had no motive! If I meant to kill Ezra and leave you, how would I have taken the money? You wouldn’t have been home!” she screams.
“Jesus, Mags, all I’ve done is think about why for the last fourteen months! Tell me!” I growl at her. She hangs her head to the side in shame. It runs so deep and transparent that it consumes me. The memory of that night eats at me. It still doesn’t make sense. No matter what lines or lies or truths Ezra’s told me it doesn’t add up. I don’t care how this ends for me, I can't imagine living without her again. Not now. Not after touching her, smelling her, hearing her voice again.
“Cane…” she whispers and looks up at me through her lashes. God, those lashes. They should be illegal but all her eyes scream is broken. She is broken. Something is driving her now and it’s something I don’t understand. “Do what you have to do, take me back to Ezra, but please, please, baby, make these last days for me my best yet. Love me. Be mine, don’t hate me until we get back home,” she pleads. “If I’m going to die, let my last days be lived out the way I’d always dreamed my life would be. With you, Cane, in love.” She drops her head and stares as a single tear leaks out of her eye and rolls down her cheek at the thought of all we were supposed to have but didn’t. For all the dreams we had for us that came screeching to a halt. She’s prepared for me, or Ezra I guess. She’s prepared for her fate. I can see the confusion lingering in her expression, seeing me, threw her and she’s changing her game plan.
“Mags,” I croak before tilting her chin up so she’s forced to meet my gaze. The rough pad of my thumb swipes across her soft cheek, brushing the tear away. “I never could say no to you,” I mumble. My heart feels like it might burst with affection, hope and love. In a quick fluid motion that makes her flinch, I cut the ties at her wrists and then her ankles. There is no way I am going to be the one to take her down. She looks so beautiful, it’s always so damned hard not to kiss her. Even if the offer was on the table, I couldn't kiss her now. I’m sure we’d both combust if our lips collided. It’s been too long. There are too many charred remains haunting us both. She saved my life. She taught me everything. About life, hope and the long journey ahead. I'll always miss her. But our love is like the wind. I can't see it, but I can feel it. If nothing else, the last year has taught me that I don't need her physically around to survive.
“I love you, Cane Ash.” she sniffles sitting up, rubbing her wrists and seemingly unconcerned at her toplessness. “I’ve loved you since I slipped in milk when I was seventeen.” She breaks down in a mess of tears. Now that they have started she can’t seem to shut them off. I pull her into my chest and hold her tightly to me while she cries it all out. I shouldn’t but there isn’t anything else my body would let me do. Ever since the day we met it seemed my sole purpose was to keep her safe, untouched...pure.
“Me too, Mags, me too.” I say into her hair, “but how the fuck are we going to pull this off?” I say more to myself than to her. She shakes her head in my chest because she has no better idea how we’re going to do this. We fall into silence punctuated by a radio playing softly in the background and my lips connecting with the soft spot just behind her ear. My senses catch fire at the feel of her skin. Just like before. My core trembles at the new feeling stirring inside me, not hate, not rage, something softer, something more tender. Something I haven’t felt in over a year.
“There are more than five hundred million firearms in worldwide distribution, Cane. That's one firearm for every eleven people on the planet.” he said. “Selling a gun for the first time is a lot like having sex for the first time. You remember that, yeah? You're excited but you don't really know what the hell you're doing. And some way, one way or another, it's over too fast.” I’d nodded my head, unsure how else to respond to him.
“The first and most important rule of gun-running is: Never get shot with your own product. The second rule of gun-running is: Always ensure you have a way of getting paid.” His words made me feel uneasy but ever since Dad died he was in charge. I didn’t really have a choice. “Bullets change governments as votes do, Cane, remember that. Of all the weapons available, nothing is more profitable than Avtomat Kalashnikova model of 1947 or the AK-47. It's the world's most popular assault rifle. A simple nine pound combination of steel and plywood. It doesn't break, jam, or overheat. It's so easy, even a kid can use it; and they do.” My Uncle Ezra’s crew imports and sells weapons to almost every street gang throughout the bible belt and he is set on grooming me to take over the family business someday. I know it’s not for me but I don’t have a choice, you don’t walk away from the family without consequences, like, death and at fifteen, I’m well aware that I’m too young to die. “Sometimes, we have to make deals with lowlifes because we’ve got our sights set on life forms even lower on the low life ladder than they are. Those men are dangerous. You need to remember that. They have nothing and therefore they give a shit about nothing. Adapt or die, Cane.”
Her face is pretty nasty looking. She needs stitches at the bridge of her nose and has two decent black eyes. It’s all puffy and black and blue and I’ve never felt like such a sick asshole in all my life. I watch as she lays still in my arms fast asleep. We must have dozed off at some point after the adrenaline waned, but I’m not complaining. I’ve dreamed of her in my arms for so long it’s surreal having it be true. She shivers slightly and I position myself around her a little more to keep her warm. Her lips form this perfect little heart shape when she sleeps, all pink and swollen with sleep. Short puffs of air move out from that perfect heart shape. I let my fingers drift over the exposed parts of her enormous tattoo. I’m in absolute shock that she has one. Even more so that she got a magnolia tree. That she permanently marked herself with me. The tattoo, the name change, it’s all confusing as shit. A woman who means to kill. To steal. To leave, doesn’t brand herself the ways she has for the person she left. I can’t sort it out in my head. Her breath sputters and wheezes a little, no doubt from her swollen face and I can’t help but cringe. I roll off the bed gently so I don’t wake her, pull the sleeping bag from the corner and spread it over her gently. I allow myself one last look at her sleeping form before I leave the room, shutting the door quietly behind me.
I pull my cell from my pocket and dial Ezra. I lean against the hood of the car and on the third ring he picks up.
“You set?” he clips.
“Yes.”
“Shit,” he hisses.
“What?” I ask.
“I’ll send someone to you. Where’d you break down?” he says covertly.
“I don’t need someone. I’m fine,” I bark into the phone.
“Fuck, Cane, I can hear it in your voice, son. You’ve gone soft,” he growls at me.
“Jesus, Ez, calm down.” I grind my palm into one of my eyes to relieve the building pressure. I can’t let him figure things out. “No one’s soft. She put up a damn good fight and I’m fuckin’ exhausted,” I lie.
“You know the rules, we don’t discuss business on the phone,” he booms.
“Sorry. Tired,” I retort and sigh.
“This is the best way. You know that. We’ve discussed why countless times.”
“I’m aware and I’ll be back in four days,” I say snidely.
“Four?” I knew this would be an issue for him. Get the job done and get the hell home. Those were my directives.
“Four,” I repeat firmly.
“Unacceptable. You have a meeting in two.” I want to pound my phone into the dirt. My meeting is a shipment of guns coming in. New sellers make my uncle nervous and therefore all hands on deck are required for this new shipment coming in. God forbid something goes awry and a full on war breaks out.
“Uncle E,” I plead, trying not to sound weak. Weakness is not tolerated in my world. “It’ll be four days.” I snap the phone closed and toss it on the rock at my feet before stomping on it. It’s probably compromised now anyways. I’ll have to get a new burner when we leave.
I turn around to head back inside but Mags is sitting on the step of the house, watching me intently. She’s breathtaking even with a bruised face. Her black hair hangs down around her breasts hiding all the good bits from view. She isn’t smiling or crying or scared. She’s just watching me, observing.
“Morning!” I call out as I start towards her. She doesn’t reply or move in any noticeable way at all.
“Mags?” I try again, starting to wonder if something is wrong.
“Sorry...” she mutters and shakes her head like she was waking up. When I reach the step I stop and sit next to her. She flinches slightly as I do and it kills me. All I ever wanted to do was protect this woman and now I’m the one she fears. She remains silent and still and it makes me nervous. I watch her stare out at the bleak landscape that surrounds us, unmoving. Her face is hard and unreadable and it breaks my heart. Who has she become?