Necessary Evil of Nathan Miller (20 page)

When he did respond, his every movement
was careful and tender, as if he were savouring each moment.

I can do this. I can let him touch me.
I can respond. I even want to. After the pain, confusion and
killing tonight, I want this. I want whatever pleasure this man can
give me. If only to feel wanted again.

He had no shirt on. My hands smoothed
his skin. He kissed me as urgently as I kissed him.

"Let me help take your mind off
it."

He was so gentle.

Was he this gentle with her?
Ugh, could he really have slept with her?
I don’t care how
gentle you are now, you bastard. You touched me without my
permission and then nearly got me killed. The hell you’re touching
me now – and definitely not if you slept with her. How could you
fuck that bitch? Knowing what she did?

"NO!" I hissed through gritted teeth
and shoved him away.

Part 62

Four – Mike – Tom – Simon – Pete –
Her

I lost track of the days, the
difference between day and night and any sense of time. Some
minutes stretched for hours when I just wanted it to be over, but
it felt like I'd only just gone to sleep when someone else would
hurt me and wake me up to start all over again.

I was always tired. Maybe the pain or
the horror of it made me so sleepy. Sometimes I was even too tired
to fight, too tired to spit the insults at them that I was
thinking. Maybe they hurt me less because they didn't get much of a
reaction to whatever they did to me. Maybe they hurt me more to get
a reaction.

There were four of them who hurt me,
all different.

One of them was there more often, a big
bully who'd crush me under his weight. He was rough and strong and
he probably left bruises wherever he touched me. He'd hit me or
hurt me some other way with his big, meaty hands, until I'd at
least whimper, before he'd start grunting his way to a climax. He
was the one the others called Mike. The bastard who'd drugged me in
the car.

Another one liked to break my fingers,
or twist the ones he'd already broken. He liked to pinch and slap,
too. He was a small, skinny bloke with a nasal, whiny voice.
Torture with him couldn't have lasted more than five minutes. I
heard Mike say to him once, "C'mon Pete, your five minutes are
almost done!" and, thankfully, Pete had been done, too.

One of them always brought one of the
others along to "hold me still." He took forever and his hands were
everywhere. It was like being groped by two squids. He'd make
comments to himself or the guy holding me for him. I know I fell
asleep more than once and I doubt he noticed. If Mike was holding
me, he'd hit me 'til I woke up and he'd laugh that he and the other
guys had exhausted me before it was Simon's turn. The cold fish was
called Simon.

Simon's preferred accomplice he called
Tom. Tom didn't say much, he just did what he came for and left. I
asked him once why he bothered with me at all. He told me to shut
up or he'd break my jaw. Don't remember if he came back after
that.

Then there was Her. The woman who
wanted me to speak to her friend. The woman who drove the red
Mercedes. She hit me and pushed me in and she knew what they'd do
to me. I'll kill her if I can.

I want them all dead. I want to know
they can never hurt me or anyone else again. It'd be satisfying if
I can make sure they feel the same pain as what they’d forced on me
before they die, but I'll settle for them dead. Maybe.

Part 63

I didn't regret it properly 'til Nathan
had hurried out of my room and I heard the water running in the
bathroom. I slipped out of bed and opened my bedroom door silently.
I wanted to apologise. I was so messed up after getting into not
one but two fights tonight that I'd started a third with Nathan. I
didn't want him to leave me alone – not tonight.

Outside the door I came face to face
with a man I didn’t know. Oh, but I did. Even as his eyes slid away
from my face, I realised this was the man who’d tried to crush the
life out of me before he stabbed me with a syringe. The man who
knew Nathan.

"Are you here to guard me?" I
whispered.

He nodded.

I looked into his eyes, keeping my
voice low so Nathan wouldn’t hear me. "I’m sorry I held a gun to
your head. I thought you were going to kill him."

He smiled, nodded and told me it was
okay. Haltingly, he said, "I’m sorry for...stuff, too."

I heard Nathan splashing in the
bathroom and hurried through the house to the toilet. When I opened
the door, I half expected to see the blood-spattered walls in my
memory, but the gore was gone. The tiles sparkled like they hadn’t
for months and I know I hadn’t cleaned them.

I shut the door again as quietly as I
could and headed into the laundry to retrieve my knife. I scrabbled
around on top of the dryer until I found it, wedged between the
dryer and the wall. I tucked the sheathed blade into the waistband
of my pyjamas, pulling my top down to hide it. It was cold against
my skin, much like my resolve.

I tiptoed quickly back to my room,
listening for the running water in the bathroom. It sounded like
Nathan was still there.

The guard hadn’t moved. He gave me a
nod as I approached.

"Nathan’s guarding me, too, right?" I
asked.

He nodded.

I hesitated, but I had to ask. "Is he
any good? Can I trust him?"

He paused, looking thoughtful. "Well,
he’s kept you alive this long."

Through blind, dumb luck and help from
everyone, including me.

He looked like he was thinking the same
thing. He opened his mouth to speak.

"Why did he take so long to come back
for me?" I couldn't stop my voice from shaking.

He swallowed. "He disobeyed orders and
killed suspects he was supposed to capture. My orders were to get
him to the surveillance van. I didn't know he'd missed one."

"Orders? You mean Nathan's not in
charge?" I asked quickly.

"No, the unit manager up at the State
Office..." he began.

That’s the man I need to meet. The man
who's ordering him around. The one who told him to let me get hurt.
If all of Nathan’s fuck-ups aren’t his fault – well, most of them,
at least – someone else needs to pay. And the price will be high.
I’ll make sure of that.

I gritted my teeth so hard they grated
together. "Tell him I need to talk to him. Without Nathan." I took
a deep breath. "I’ll tell him everything I know."

He looked at me in consternation.

I heard Nathan turn the water off and
his footsteps cross from tiled bathroom floor to hallway carpet.
"Thank you," I whispered as I hurried back to bed.

I slipped the knife beneath my pillow
while he exchanged words with the guard outside, their voices too
low for me to hear. I lay down and focussed on my breathing,
allowing my body to relax again. Whether I trusted Nathan or not,
at least I wouldn’t be unarmed any more. I intended to take this
knife everywhere. Especially if I lost Nathan's help.

As he crept into bed beside me once
more, I relaxed in relief. I needed him still and the only way I
could think to bind him more closely to me involved sex. I only
hoped I could do it.

Part 64

The plan was so stupid it was hard to
believe it'd been mine. Of course, it wasn't until I was in the
middle of the crowded nightclub that I realised what a terrible
idea it was. I couldn't seduce Nathan in this crush – he couldn't
hear a word I said. I needed privacy. And a truckload more courage
than I could ever possess.

It took him ten minutes of waiting
before he could buy me a drink from the bar – hardly enough liquid
courage to bolster my bravery.

So when Nathan asked me if I wanted to
go home, I was so happy, I kissed him.

I’d finished two of my stubbies by the
time Nathan pulled into an unfamiliar driveway. My head was swimmy
with the alcohol. Nathan swirled it round further by lifting me
from the car and spinning me around. The empty bottle in my hand
slipped from my fumbling fingers and thumped to the grass. A
glowing heat spread through my chest, fuelled by the alcohol and
more besides. I returned Nathan’s fierce kiss, holding his head in
my hands.

I want this. Fuck, I want this. He’ll
never hurt me. NEVER.

Something bumped against my leg. I
looked down and saw Nathan had hooked his fingers round the handle
of the bag from the liquor store. It was coming in with us. If my
courage needed any more fodder, he had it. Dutch courage. I
giggled. Not my vodka mixers. Russian courage, more like.

Nathan smiled at me, setting me gently
on my feet so he could unlock the door. We both lurched through the
front door, laughing as our bodies were squeezed together in a
doorway that wasn’t meant for two at a time.

He dropped the keys as he kicked the
door shut, then knelt to retrieve them. I stuck my toes on top of
his keys, out of some fuzzy concept of mischief. His hands on my
leg, sliding up and lifting, threw me off balance, so I almost fell
on top of him. Instead of righting me, he tried to rise to his
feet, with me balanced precariously over one shoulder.

He shifted my weight so he had me in
more of a fireman’s hold over his shoulder – better balanced but
hardly dignified. His firm hand on my bare backside steadied me,
but it shocked us both. Somehow my skirt had ridden up and my
underwear was in clear view.

"You got a red g-string to match the
red bra?" he gasped.

Actually, I’d been pretty pissed to
discover the idiot of a shop girl had given me a g-string instead
of knickers, but it'd been the perfect choice for tonight. Nathan’s
lips on me drove all thought of anyone else right out of my
head.

"Kiss-arse," I murmured, my skin
tingling as he did it again. I watched the keys get further away,
forgotten on the tiles.

Nathan inverted me and I felt furry
fabric beneath my bottom. I looked around fuzzily at the lounge
room I didn't recognise. I was sitting on his sofa and he stood
near me, holding out a bottle. "Would you like another drink?" He
took a deep draught of his own, downing most of the bottle before
he wiped his mouth and dropped the bottle on a side table.

I watched his throat move as he
swallowed. I wanted another drink, but I wanted him first. I
struggled to my feet and stuck my arms around his neck, trying to
kiss him again.

He lifted his head out of my reach.
"You’re drunk, angel. I don’t want to take advantage of you."

"Not drunk, well, not quite," I managed
to say with a giggle. "Very tipsy. I think I want to go to
bed."

"Sure, angel. Let me help you." He
supported me as we walked together through his lounge room and into
the passage to the bedrooms. It wasn’t wide enough for both of us
together, so he moved behind me, tugging my waist-high skirt down
to cover me as he did so.

Annoyed, I yanked my stretchy dress up
and up – over my bra and my head, so I stood in my underwear, with
my dress dangling from my hand. I turned to face Nathan, whose eyes
were huge as they stared down at the red bra between us. "Oh God,"
he murmured.

I looked at him in consternation. Was
he disgusted by what he saw? Would no one ever look at me like I
was attractive again? Last night, he’d said…

"God, you’re beautiful, Caitlin. You
have no idea how hard it’s been, resisting you." The look in his
eyes was one of longing.

Is this what it’s like, to be truly
loved by someone?
I wondered.
This isn’t just lust. I’ve
seen plenty of that – more than I ever care to.

And me? I want Nathan.

We kissed, long and lingering, until he
lifted me in his arms and we began again. I felt the jolt of his
footsteps as he carried me through a doorway, from the darkness in
the passage to clumsily clicked-on light.

The bed Nathan tenderly placed me on
looked black, but as I looked around me I realised that it was a
printed quilt cover, the black only a background illuminated by the
millions of stars in the Milky Way.
Take me to the stars,
Nathan.
Before he could straighten up, I pulled him down to the
bed with me. He wasn’t clumsy – instead, he was careful to land
beside me. He leaned over to kiss me again, one hand lightly
stroking my neck.

I moved by instinct, for I knew if I
thought about this I’d back down and I didn’t want to. I had to
know. I rolled, pushing him with me, so instead of lying side by
side in the stars, I sat astride him. Stars beneath my knees and
his bulging pants between my thighs. I caught his surprised eyes
and reached back to unclip my bra, sliding it off to throw it to
the floor.

"Angel…" he said in wonder. With
agonising slowness, he sat up so his breath was a warm breeze
across my skin. "You know I’ll never hurt you, right?"

I touched trembling hands to the back
of his head and gave the slightest push. "I know," I breathed as
his lips touched my breast.

I needed to feel his skin against mine,
not fabric. I pulled at his shirt and together we hoisted it over
his head. His bare chest was as hard with muscle as mine was soft,
but it was clear in his kisses that this didn’t bother him in the
slightest. I undid his belt and slid that off, too. All that was
between us were his pants and my g-string.

Nathan sat up straight, his eyes level
with mine. "I don’t want to take advantage of you," he
whispered.

"Last night you said any time, all I
needed to do was ask. I’m asking now, Nathan." I could feel the
drunken buzz fading, leaving me cold and naked in its wake.
Somewhere inside, I felt terror that he was going to reject me. The
longer he took, the greater was my desire to curl up in a little
ball and give up. "Please?" It came out as a whisper.

With his lingering kiss came relief.
"For you, angel, anything. I’ll even keep my pants on. Tonight’s
for you. I can wait."