Destroy Me (12 page)

Eventually he gave into his need for her and released every ounce of desire and aggression as he came hard into her, taking her with him one more time.

No man had ever been able to do that to her, had never made her body respond like he made it do, repeatedly.

He lay his chest on hers, keeping his weight on his arms so as not to squash her underneath him. Still inside of her they lay there for a long time until eventually becoming too heavy for her, he turned over onto his back and she curled up against him, her hand lying across his chest. He brought an arm around to hold her. It was quiet throughout the house, though it was full of his men and as they lay together in the late afternoon they drifted off to sleep.

Sometime later, Damien awoke with a start. Tara was curled up against him sleeping. There were no sounds in the house, no movements from downstairs. It was perhaps twilight he estimated. He gently disentangled her from him, laying her back down on his pillow. Rising from the bed, he pulled on a clean shirt and trousers from the closet. Stepping into his shoes he looked over at Tara spread across the bed, and envied her for a moment, for her peace of mind. He needed solitude. His skin felt tight, the familiar sensation like sharp vicious knives entering him. He went down quickly to check on the team. No reports of any movements, no signs of any approaching attack. He headed to his gym room.

He started to pound the bag hanging in the centre, holding nothing back; his attack utterly ferocious, beads of sweat covering his forehead as he pounded it, attacking the demons that were in his head. The visions of those who had died, those he had not been able to save, who appeared in his dreams so lifelike. He relived every moment like it was in slow motion, like he was trapped in sinking mud, fighting to get to them to help them, but unable to reach them in time; their lifeless bodies taunting him in his failure.

His tears came fast, the emotions of his incredible intimacy with Tara adding to the impetus of his desperation as he pictured Tara lying dead amongst the victims, another one he could not save, one he couldn’t stand to lose. He would not recover from that.

He tried to carry on with the punches but he was overwhelmed by the sadness and grief consuming him. He sank to his knees, his hands holding his head as he tried to block the images.

He didn’t see the slither of light from under the door get wider as the door opened and Tara stood there.

She was met with the most heartbreaking sight of him; his face covered by tears and his eyes full of pain as he looked up.
She moved toward him instantly to comfort him, to ask him what was wrong, but as he saw her he started to rise, his hands gripped in fists at his sides, the veins in his neck standing out in anger. 

“Go.”

She ran out, tripping in the corridor in his robe which was too big for her. She ran downstairs, not knowing where to go or what to do; scared and confused by what she had just seen. He looked terrifying and yet his face was filled with such pain.

She saw Damien’s men staring at her, but she couldn’t talk to them, couldn’t betray Damien in that way. She went into Damien’s office and stood there in confusion.

Damien hit the bag again with the most savage of blows, fury exploding inside him at what had just happened. He had probably scared the life out of her. She should never have had to see that. She should never have come here in the first place. She had caught him unguarded, had glimpsed his shattered state. She needed to go, as soon as possible, as soon as this was all over. He couldn’t let her see him like this again.

He left the room and went down the corridor. She wasn’t in the bedroom. He went down the stairs, taking them two at a time. Nodding to his team, he searched for her. None of them said anything to him; they knew better than to do that from the look on his face. He found her in the study.
“Tara, please go back up to the bedroom. I’ll stay down here. You’ll be safe from me.”
God damn it! He had promised to keep her safe; promised nothing would happen to her, and now she was scared of him. He would never have touched her. He had never hit a woman in his life; never would do. That wasn’t in him. He had just wanted her out of the room, ashamed to be seen like that by her. He wouldn’t have harmed her. It hadn’t even crossed his mind until he had seen the fear in her eyes.

He went outside into the grounds and found Brenton.
“Don’t you want to take a break?”
“No. I’m good, thanks. You ok?” Brenton could see that something was wrong. “You want to take a walk?”

It was his way of trying to ask Damien if he wanted to confide in him.

“You know Brenton, sometimes I wish we were still in the Forces. We should have stayed in longer.”

Brenton understood what Damien was getting at. He knew it all too well.

Damien was antsy now. He had a strong urge to go after Chambers tonight. The mood he was in, it would be the perfect outlet. But he knew he should wait it out.

“Go get some food and rest Brenton. Ask one of the others to come out will you? Thanks.”
Brenton gave him a slap on the shoulder and made his way back into the house.

Damien stayed outside whilst Brenton’s replacement came. Then he took a walk around the grounds.

When he finished, he went back inside the house. He needed to check on Tara.

She was upstairs on the bed, sitting fully dressed, her knees tucked up in front of her.

“Tara you walked in at the wrong moment. Everything’s ok. I’m going to spend the night downstairs with the men. I want you to get some sleep. I apologise that I frightened you. I would never harm you. Please understand that.”

He turned from her and walked out of the bedroom. The look on his face was heartbreaking. She didn’t understand what had happened. She jumped off the bed. Going out of the bedroom, she called out to him.

“Damien, wait, please! Come back for a minute.”
He carried on walking, didn’t turn back around.

“Damien.”

He didn’t stop.

In a quieter voice, but loud enough for him to hear, she said, “I will talk downstairs with you, in front of everyone, if you don’t come back.”

She knew she was pushing it, playing dangerously with fire.

He turned around and came back towards her.

“Get in the bedroom.” His face was tight. He followed her in. “Let’s get one thing clear. I don’t answer to you Tara.”
“I’m sorry, I just wanted to help.”

He was pacing the floor.

“Do not presume to know me Tara.”
“I don’t know you at all!” she threw at him.

“Tara, there are some things it’s better not to know. Sometimes we carry things with us that we don’t want to have, but that are now a part of us.”

“I don’t understand.”

“We’ve lived very different lives.”

“What do you mean?”

“Some of us don’t deserve what others have.” He turned and left the room, leaving his statement hanging ambiguously in the air. He seemed at that moment the saddest person she had ever met.

He spent the remainder of the night patrolling with the men and getting a couple of hours sleep on the couch. He didn’t return back upstairs.

When Tara awoke, after long hours of sleeplessness, she dressed quickly and went downstairs.

Todd was in the kitchen. He looked like a giant standing beside her.

“Tara, good morning. Help yourself to some breakfast.”
“Thank you. Where’s Damien please?”
“He left an hour or so ago. Said he’d be back later.”

“Oh, ok.”

Her heart sank. She had wanted to see him, to see how he was feeling, to talk to him, to ask him to explain his pain.

She made herself a cup of tea, offering to make Todd a coffee but he said he was good and left the kitchen. 

She sat drinking her tea in solitude. There was a hollow, empty feeling in the pit of her stomach. She went into Damien’s study, not knowing what to do with herself, and picked a book up.

She ventured out to get cups of tea occasionally, but the day passed slowly, with no sign of Damien. She felt intimidated by the presence of all the men in the house, and couldn’t engage in conversation with them when they were carrying out professional duties, protecting her.

She couldn’t focus on the book, and though she turned the pages she could not have recalled much about it had she been asked.

The day turned into twilight, and then night, as it got later and later. Damien didn’t return and as she looked at the antique grandfather clock in the corner as it struck two am, she took herself upstairs and fell asleep in Damien’s bed, his scent on the sheets as she drifted off.

Chapter Seventeen

She woke surprisingly late the next morning and looked around the room, slightly disorientated and wondering where Damien was.

There was a knock on the bedroom door.

“Yes, come in.”

She pulled the sheet up to cover herself.

It was Brenton.

“Tara, hope you slept well?”
“Yes, thank you,” she lied.
“Damien has asked me to take you to him, when you’re ready; no rush.”
Her heart leapt.

“Oh, ok, I’ll just have a quick shower. I won’t be long and I’ll be down.”

She wondered where Damien was, where she was meeting him, and she realised that if she could leave the house then it must have been done; that Chambers must have been dealt with. In her concern for Damien’s state of mind, Chambers had been less of a consideration as she waited all day yesterday for Damien to come back so she could be reassured that he was ok.

She showered and dressed quickly, going downstairs to find Brenton.

He was standing in the day room.

“Ready?” he asked her.

“Yes. Where is Damien?”
“About forty minutes away. Let’s go.” He smiled at her reassuringly.

He escorted her outside to a big black van, one that had been outside since the men had arrived.

“Has everyone gone?”

“Yes.”

“So it’s been done?”

“The job has been done Tara, so we don’t need to mention it again, ok?”

She knew what he meant, understood his implication perfectly. He wasn’t threatening her but she understood the seriousness of what had been done and the necessity to keep quiet.

“Of course,” she said, looking directly at Brenton to let him know she would comply.

When they got in he tuned into a rock station on the radio and they drove without further conversation. All of Damien’s men were a bit like him; self-contained, quiet.

They drove mostly on the freeway, heading away from the direction of D.C. Her mind wandered to thoughts of Damien; that he had really done it, that he had killed Chambers. She hadn’t really doubted that he would, but now the reality of it was starting to hit her; the enormity of it, and she felt a little shaky. The strange thing was, she hadn’t worried for Damien’s safety; she had believed in his certitude, his insurmountable courage, his unstoppable ability for force; she had been more occupied by his pain.

She suddenly realised they were driving down the turn-off for the airport departures drop off. She had seen signs for the airport but hadn’t really been paying attention. Was Damien here? Was he taking her somewhere? Were they going away for a couple of days, to get away from it all?

Brenton pulled into the car park, and climbed out. She followed, excited at the unexpected prospect of going away with Damien.

From the back of the van, Brenton pulled out her suit case.
“You’ve packed my things!” She had to keep herself from jumping up and down in excitement.

“Yes. Come on.”

He led her into the departures lounge and told her to sit on one of the benches, saying he would go and do the check in on one of the automatic machines in the terminal, to save her the need to go to the desk.

She scanned the area for Damien but couldn’t see him yet. Her stomach had butterflies, just at the thought of seeing him walking towards her. Brenton returned with her ticket and boarding pass, holding on to them.

“Ok, let’s go over to the security area, there’s not much time left until boarding.”
They walked across the terminal, Tara scanning for Damien amongst the crowds.

At the security entrance, Brenton turned to her.

“Why don’t you go through and meet him at the Gate?”
“I don’t know where I’m going!”

He handed her the ticket, his face serious.

“It’s probably for the best to go on Tara.”

“Is Damien already at the Gate? Why didn’t he meet me here?”

Something wasn’t right.

Brenton’s expression was severe.

Time stood still for Tara. Why wasn’t Damien here? What was going on? She looked down at the ticket.
Washington to
London
.
One way
. She felt like she was going to be sick.

“Look Tara. Damien’s got you a flight back to London ok? He’s arranged an apartment for you there.”

“So we’re going to London?” her voice holding the most desperate of hope.

“
You
are going to London. The info’s all here.”

He handed Tara a small folder.

She couldn’t move her arm to take it, she was frozen in shock.

Brenton pulled her hand up to take hold of it.

“What the fuck do you mean?”
Fury coursed through her. “You mean he’s not coming?”

“He said to get you on the flight, to give you the folder. He put a note in it for you. He just wants you safe Tara.”

Brenton felt like a heel. He wished Damien hadn’t asked him to do this; he felt terrible for her.

“A fucking
note
?” She ripped open the folder; the note fell to the floor. A piece of beautiful ivory fine grade paper lay at her feet. She bent down to pick it up, crouching, tears rolling down her cheeks. She couldn’t bring herself to read it. She was humiliated, hurt, and embarrassed. She wanted to stay on the floor and sob. She held the note in her hands, staring at the floor, refusing to look at it.

Brenton pulled her up gently. “Don’t make a scene Tara. It’s for the best.”
“Please, leave me alone.”

Brenton hated himself, and he was angry with Damien.