Provoke (8 page)

Mace

I had nowhere to be. It was fucking seven in the morning on a Friday.

I just couldn’t stand being in that room with her any longer, knowing how much she hated me right then. I had to get out of there and clear my head. I needed to speak to Dad. I thought I could handle this on my own, but I was fucking everything up royally, and as much as I hated to admit it, I needed his help.

I turned onto the freeway and headed toward the state prison, thirty miles east. P
ulling off the freeway and into a roadhouse to fill up with gas, I decided that I might as well have something to eat and a coffee. It was either that or wait outside the prison until they opened for visitors.

I walked inside, the smell of bacon and eggs frying making my mouth water. The place was empty, aside from a couple of truckers enjoying some breakfast, and an older waitress slumped behind the counter. She perked up as I approached.

“What can I get ya?” she asked.

“A coffee, back thanks. And a plate of bacon and eggs.” I handed her a twenty, waving at her to keep the change.

I wandered through the restaurant over to one of the corner booths, and sat down. Sighing, I rested my head in my hands. What was I doing? This had to be the stupidest idea ever. How could I possibly see this ending well? Not only had I well and truly fucked things up with Leet, but my chances of finding the guys who raped Anna were slipping away.

I smiled at the waitress as she dumped my breakfast in front of me.

“Call me if you want a refill,” she muttered.

I tucked into my undercooked eggs, and burnt bacon—so well done I almost broke a tooth—washing it down with the coffee.

Shit. Finn. I winced as I pulled out my phone and found his number.

Dude, sorry not well. Won’t be in today. Just do what you can and leave me a list.

Getting to my feet, I nodded at the waitress and headed out to my car. What I needed to do was stop being such a pussy and focus on what needs to be done. I was going to catch these cunts. No question.

I just have to pray that I’m getting closer
. So long as I can remain in the loop, eventually they’re going to fuck up, and I’ll find them. So help me God when I do find them.

They’re going to wish they were dead.

#

Dad saw me approaching the visitors’ area as I walked through the gates. His eyes widened in shock. Not that surprising, considering I visited him maybe once every six months—unless I needed something. He crossed his arms and waited for me to approach his table.

The visitors’ area was outside, with a large section undercover. Bolted down steel tables were scattered around the area. It was depressing, but you’d expect that from a maximum-security prison. I studied Dad as I sat down. He looked older. Tired. His dark hair had begun to pepper with grey in the past few months.

“Mace.” No
how are you
, or
good to see you
. It was typical Dad.

“Hi,” I muttered, sliding onto the bench seat. I rested my arms on the table.

“Didn’t expect to see you anytime soon,” he said. That was probably as close to a positive comment as I was going to get. I sighed.

I didn’t have time for small talk. And when he found out what I’d done . . . well, let’s just say he was going to be pissed.

See, Dad had it in his mind that I was better than him and Cash. Knowing I was messed up in something like this, whatever the reason, was going to crush his perception that maybe he wasn’t that bad a father.

“You here for a reason?” he asked, lighting a cigarette. I nodded. We didn’t beat around the bush.

“I’m in some trouble.”

He stiffened, as if he hadn’t been expecting that.
Wait till he hears the full story.

“Yeah? How’s that?” he asked, trying to keep his tone casual.

“Things are pretty messed up. I think you know me well enough to know I wouldn’t come to you unless it was bad.”

Dad chuckled and nodded. “You always were one to try and deal with things yourself. How bad?”

“Bad,” I said. I hesitated, for the first time doubting telling him everything. He had always thought Anna’s suicide had been related to depression. And it had, but he’d never known the full story behind her death. Maybe that had been my problem. Maybe letting the guy in prison for life deal with this would’ve been the way to go.

Too late now. Hindsight was a wonderful thing.

“Are you going to tell me or make me guess?” he growled, butting out his half-smoked stub on the side of the bench.

“Long story short, Anna had a reason for killing herself, Dad. She sent me a letter. It came the week after she died. Along with a tape.”

“And you’re telling me this now?” He cursed and smashed his fists down on the table between us. He was so pissed—to the point where I was glad there were more than ten guards within the vicinity of us. “What do you mean, a reason? What the fuck aren’t you telling me, Mace?”

“She was raped, Dad.”

“Raped? What . . . why didn’t she come to you? You would have helped her. She had to have known you’d have had her back.” He was echoing the same thoughts that had been banging through my head for the last year. “Do you know who did this?” His voice was tight. I was impressed at how controlled he actually was then. Dad usually didn’t hold back.

“It’s complicated . . .” I sighed. How the fuck did I put the next part into words? “Anna’s rape was put up for auction. She was raped under the instruction of the winning bidder. I guess, in a way, she was raped twice.”

Dad cradled his head in his hands. It was the most emotion I’d seen from the guy since her funeral. I sat there uncomfortably, not exactly sure how to react.

“Have you found the cunts who did this? I assume that’s where this ‘trouble’ comes into the picture.”

“I’m close.” I hesitated. “I’ve found the group. I’ve been working them from inside.” I closed my eyes and waited for his wrath.

“Are you fucking insane, boy?” he yelled.
And there it was.
He glared at me, his eyes laced with anger unrivalled to anything I’d seen from him before. “What do you mean, you’re working it inside?” he mimicked, his expression one of disgust.

“It means the only way I could get some fucking answers was to see how they operate,” I said through gritted teeth. “Don’t worry, I’m not breaking any laws. I’m not a total idiot,” I sneered.

“Watch your mouth.”

I sighed and rubbed my temples. I hadn’t come here to fight. I’d come here because I had no other option.

“Are you going to help me or not?”

Dad sighed and then cursed loudly. “What do you need?”

“I need a gun,” I said quietly. “Maybe some cash.”

Dad eyed me. “Fine. I’ll get the word out. Wait for my call, and don’t do anything until you hear from me, okay? Just stay low and keep the fuck out of trouble.”

“Fine.” I stood up, nodding at the guards, and walked off.

Did I know what I was doing? No, but I was sure as hell was going to be ready.

Leeta

I spent a good part of the next two hours trying to free myself from my restraints. Of course, Mace could tie rope like a freaking sailor, and just in case that hadn’t been enough, he’d wrapped a length of chain around my legs, too. He had also taken my phone, my wallet, and my shoes.

Why the hell had he taken my fucking shoes?

I sat there, pissed, waiting for him to get back. With each minute that passed, my anger lessened ever so slightly. I was just so tired and hungry. And frustrated.

Maybe that was his plan? Disappear for a while and let me cool off. Well, I’d show him. Every time I began to feel the anger slipping away, I forced myself to think about what I’d found. I forced the faces of those girls to remain in my mind. I imagined him fucking them. Hell, I didn’t have to imagine, I’d seen it with my own eyes.

It worked, and the anger would skyrocket. But then I’d remember the look in his eyes, pleading with me to believe that he had some kind of explanation, and I’d wonder . . . maybe . . . just maybe . . .

#

My head shot up with a start.

Mace sat in front of me, watching. I’d fallen asleep. I could feel a trail of drool running down the edge of my mouth, and I was embarrassed that I couldn’t wipe it away before he saw it. How long had he been there for?

“How are you?” Mace walked over to me, holding a takeout bag.

“How do you think I am?” I asked irritably. “I’ve been sitting here, desperate to pee for God knows how long . . .”

He stared at me for a moment and then set down the bag. His arms moved around me as he began to untie the rope. As hard as I tried to fight it, I found myself giving in to the sweet, musky scent of his aftershave. His fingers brushed past my bare skin, making me jump. He had always had that effect on me: just one finger trailing down my forearm could almost send me into an orgasm.

“Go,” he muttered, nodding his head. I stood up, refusing to meet his eyes. Racing toward the direction he had nodded, I pushed open the door to reveal a small, cluttered bathroom. “Leave the door open,” he called out.

“Mace—”

“Just do it, Leet.”

His tired voice was laced with frustration, as if he was annoyed that I was making this hard for him. I turned around, miffed, and stalked over to the toilet, pulling my panties down.

“You sure you don’t want to come in here and watch me?” I said sweetly. “You know, just in case I manage to squeeze myself down the toilet pipe.”

He didn’t respond. I took my sweet time, not knowing if I was going to be tied up again once I’d finished, or what. Finally, he appeared at the door.

“How long does it take to do a piss?” He ran a hand through his dark hair, his blue eyes burning through me.

“Sorry, there was a bit of a build-up from being tied up all day, and all,” I said. “Now if you don’t mind, leave, so I can finish.”

He rolled his eyes but left me alone. “Your food is going cold.”

“I’m not hungry,” I muttered, washing my hands and re-entering the living room.

“Sit down and eat.” He pointed to the couch. It wasn’t a request.

A burger and a drink sat on the nearby coffee table. I wanted to say no, but my stomach betrayed me, grumbling loudly—loud enough for him to hear. He smirked at me, knowing he had won.

I trudged over to the couch and sat down, peering into the bag. Taking the fries out of the bag, I shoved them into my mouth handfuls at a time. Mace watched me from the bed.

“Will you listen to me?” he asked, his voice soft.

I scowled at him. “What’s the point? I saw the videos. How can you possibly explain them? At the very least, you’ve been cheating on me. How can you explain that?” I pushed the food away, my appetite gone.

“It wasn’t like that, Leets. I love you so much. You’re all I need.”

“That’s not how it looked. I mean, am I overreacting? Is that what you think? Maybe in your world this kind of thing is acceptable . . .” As soon as I said it, I wished I hadn’t. He stood up and walked over to me, anger flashing in his eyes.

“That was low,” he muttered. He grabbed my arm and brought me to my feet, crushing me up against his chest. I could feel his heart beating as he glared down at me. “You
know
I fucking love you. What I need is for you to trust me.”

“Then give me something to trust,” I yelled, glaring back at him.

Before I knew what was happening, he was kissing me. My body went limp as he pressed his lips roughly against mine. I kissed him back. I so badly wanted to push him away, but I couldn’t. The desire to be with him was too strong.

His hands ripped off my tank, revealing my breasts. I groaned, my fingers clutching at his hair as he kissed my breasts, his tongue occasionally teasing my nipple. I pushed myself against him, his erection oh so obvious. I loved that I made him so hard.

And then those images floated through my head again. It was like I couldn’t escape them, no matter how much I wanted to.

“No,” I yelled, pushing him away.

He looked up at me, surprise registering on his face, then resignation. He walked away, back over to the couch, and lay down, eyes on the ceiling.

For the longest time, neither of us spoke. What the fuck was that? After what he’d done, I’d almost gone
there
?

“My sister was my life.”

I glanced over at him, the enormity of what he was saying hitting me in the face. He never spoke about Anna—as in
ever
. Refused to tell me anything other than that she had killed herself. I sat down beside him and waited. For something.

Anything
that would give me a reason not to hate him as much as I did right then.

“She was the one that kept me sane. Kept me out of trouble. Where Cash hung out with a very bad crowd and got mixed up in some serious shit, knowing Anna was there kept me clean. It was like she needed someone to look after her, you know?”

I nodded, swallowing hard. I stared at the table, not wanting to listen, but at the same time needing to hear whatever he had to say. How did this—what he had done—have anything to do with Anna?
If he tries to play the feel-sorry-for-me-my-sister’s-dead card, I might just punch him.

I tensed, convinced that was what it was: making me feel sorry for him so I’d forgive him. And the worst thing was, it was working. I could see how much pain he was in over his sister’s death.

“The week after she died, I received a package from her. Anna.” Another long pause. “It contained a letter and a USB stick.” He turned to face me. “She had been raped. Some guy had slipped something into her drink one night, and then he had taken her back to his place. He held her there for three days, where he repeatedly raped her.”

My heart plummeted. I wanted to race over there and hold him. I hated to see him hurting so badly. But I forced myself to remain cold.
This does not excuse what he did.

“So, you thought you’d see what the fuss was all about? See what it felt like? That’s sick, Mace. You need help.”

He glared at me. “You think I . . . How could you think I’d do that? Don’t you know me at all?”

“How the hell would I know, Mace?” I yelled, blinking back tears. All I knew was what I’d seen. For years, I’d forced myself to focus only on the facts. That was what my whole career was built around: leaving emotion out of the equation. Now, my heart was asking me to abandon everything I’d ever believed in.

“Fuck!” he growled. He stormed toward me. “Fuck this, Leets. You know me. How can you even
think
I’d do something like that?”

His face was so close to mine I could feel the heat radiating off him. Without warning, his hands cupped my face as his lips crushed against mine. I melted into his kiss, my body aching for more.
No. I couldn’t just forget
. . .

“Stop!” I pushed him away. “You don’t get to do that, Mace. It’s not fucking fair.”

“What do you want from me, Leets?” He shook his head in frustration.

“Just leave me alone,” I muttered, burying my face in my hands.

“Fine.” He grabbed hold of my wrist and led me over to the kitchen counter. Pushing me down in a chair, he pulled out a set of handcuffs and locked one cuff around my wrist, and the other around the solid wooden bar that ran along the length of the bench. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a ball gag, shoving it in my mouth and tying it up.

I sighed, defeated. I didn’t even have the strength to argue anymore.