Rose of Betrayal (2 page)

Solely
Brad’s reputation procured a first class seat on the next flight to New York
along with arrangements to have his car waiting upon arrival.
 
Now all he had to do was get to the airport
on time.
 
Known for his crafty driving,
with Charlie behind the wheel, Brad felt confident that was the least of his
problems.

Brewing
emotions clenched the fists that were cramming clothing into a satchel.
 
Snatching the bag, Brad descended the curving
oak staircase two and three steps at a time.
 
Enticing odors seeping through the doorway to the vast country kitchen
said where to find his mother.
 
Planting
a kiss on her rosy cheek, hugging her rounded body, he explained, “I'll call
you from New York.
 
It's important.
 
I must go.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….............................................................................................................................................................

As
the elevator crawled past each floor, Brad used his shirtsleeve to dry his red
puffy eyes, the action swamping him with memories of a time when he dried tiny
droplets from Sam's eyes.
 
Captivating
blue saucers ringed in black that beckoned you to enter their depths where a
spell was caste never to be broken.
 
How
well he knew, the pain of never seeing those blue eyes again was a lethal
disease only Sam could cure.
 

The
clanking sound of the elevator doors opening jerked him from his memories.
 
As he exited into an enormous foyer carpeted
in rich emerald green, he faced gray textured walls decorated with oil
paintings framed in black lacquer and red velvet that he had personally selected.
 

At
once fists hammered and vibrated white, double doors.
 
“Sam, its Brad, open the door, Princess,” a
rapping that went unanswered.
 
Twisting
and tugging on the elaborate gold knobs holding him prisoner due to the lack of
a key, never summoned a reply.
 
Patience
dwindled, temper flaring, he raised a foot and with a grunt filled with anxiety
and apprehension the doors swung wide.
 
Wood smashed against walls shaking pictures and hurling particles of
plaster into the air.

Calling
out her name, long strides frantically searched room after room until reaching
the master bedroom.
 
Standing paralyzed
at the end of a circular bed his heart tumbled to the pit of his stomach,
quickly sucking in a breath helped to ease the nausea and weakness threatening as
fists desperately tried to wipe away the horror.
 
Unknown pain claimed his brain.
 
Hands came to the sides of his head in an
attempt to squeeze out the vision.
 
“Lord
no!
 
Please, God, no,” screams resonating
a long while before comprehending they were coming from his swollen
throat.
 

Tapping
his shoulder from behind, Walter’s shouting went unheard.
 
Brad's black eyes fixed on one thing only . .
. the bed, long agonizing moments later Walter's words finally penetrated the
barrier, “Mr. Johnson.
 
Mr. Johnson!”

Spinning
around, with an expression resembling a rabid dog, eyes like a mad man’s
penetrated Walter’s. Brad’s hands finding his crisp starched collar plucked him
off the floor. “Where is she?
 
Where is
she,” he snarled.
 

Wishing he could
vanish, his feet dangling in midair, Walter, a stubby, meager man in his
thirties trembled violently.

Shaking
Walter until his narrow face turned crimson, Brad bellowed, “Talk now, or you
never will again.”
  
Suddenly appalled at
his behavior, Brad loosened his grip bringing Walters' feet with a thump to the
floor.
 
At once large calloused hands
began pressing the wrinkles from the frightened man’s shirt the strong hold had
caused.
  

“Hospital,”
Walter expelled, flicking him aside as if a feather, Brad bolted toward the
elevator.
 

His
body banging against the wall rendered Walter speechless.
 
There was no way to gain his boss’s attention
before the elevator doors closed.
  
Now
regretfully, what he knew Brad would not find out until reaching the hospital.

Piercing
black eyes, mapped with streaks of red became flooded with more tears.
 
Anxieties perspiration soaked his shirt.
 
With his mind whirling, fatigue mingling with
pain traveled through every fiber of Brad’s body.
 
Dear God, there was so much blood surely Sam
was dead.
  
His palms applying pressure
to his eyes attempted to dispel the horror.
 
Feeling defeat gripping his throat, he collapsed against the corner of
the elevator serving to support his weary body.
  
Inching down on his haunches, cradling his
head in his arms, he sobbed, “I knew this was going to happen.
 
I knew he would hurt her.
 
I have never failed at anything in my
life.
 
How can this be?
 
The one thing I wanted most, and could never
have is gone.
 
I was a coward for
leaving.
 
How can I ever forgive myself?”

Staring
at his hand's, Brad vowed vehemently, “If you're to blame, Ted, I swear I'll
kill you.
 
God help you, I'll search
until I find you and if necessary, we will die together.”

A
jolting widening strip of light beamed through the elevator doors.
 
Not caring what blocked his path springing
like a leopard Brad broke into a run.
 
People stumbled out of his way as he burst through the front doors, his
feet never touching the three steps leading to the sidewalk.
 
He never noticed the red flashing lights, the
crowds gathering, the police officers rushing past him, or the detectives who
had just entered an elevator heading for the penthouse floor.

CHAPTER
2

“JUNE 2011”

           
Torrential
rain attempting to purify the air blew intermittent gusts through alleys,
around corners, stealing scarves and hats, a futile effort that left fumes from
oil, gasoline, and garbage to invade the senses. A dome of clouds overhead
conjuring up eerie shadows toyed with the sun’s cheerful rays struggling to
penetrate and bless the earth with warmth.
 
Hours later, Mother Nature surrendered and gave into a persistent mist.

           
Knowing
Brad would not be long, Ralph waited alongside the Porsche. Having worked for
Peterson and Johnson Investment Company since its establishment, he knew the
companies intricate workings and employers well.

           
Of the
two business magnates, Ralph favored Brad Johnson, a down to earth, kind,
generous young man, the type of son that would make any father proud.
 
The son he secretly always wanted.
 
Though resolved marriage was not for him, his
love for children and a few months of knowing Brad made him lament living his
fifty years alone.

           
Impeccably
well groomed, no one noticed Ralph’s stocky build and less than average height,
due to a pleasant and charming personality, the bubbling over kind.
 
He was trusted and respected.
 
Some considered him handsome, everyone considered
him loyal, completely packaged with principles and morals.
  
During the past ten years, his dark brown
hair had turned gray at the temples favorably accenting sable eyes framed by
distinguished rimmed glasses.
 

           
Deemed
more than capable, Ralph continually declined promotions, arguing his position
satisfied his love of people and thirst for freedom.
 
The first to meet, greet and offer assistance
to those passing through Peterson and Johnson's prestigious portals made him
the perfect forefront of the company.

           
Shortly
after Ralph secured his position, following a long day of work, Brad began
singling him out, the pair often patronizing Jake's corner bar for a few
beers.
 
Ralph’s ability to be a good
listener, and confidant Brad often confided in him. Sometimes merely sitting
quietly together was all he needed to extricate a portentous decision. The move
to New York and flourishing business combined with homesickness had placed
unimaginable pressures on Brad.
 
Ralph's
companionship seemed to ease the tension, and the accompanying loneliness.

           
Privy to
more than he wanted to know, Brad confessing his love for Sam just before
leaving New York made Ralph's heart ache.
  
A loyal friend, during Brad's absence, Ralph promised to watch over Sam,
while doing so wormed his way into her world forging a bond typical of a father
and daughter.
  

           
So
young, and fresh, Sam overflowed with girlish delicacies.
 
The most delightful, stunning woman Ralph
ever knew.
 
Like sunshine entering his
life she made him begrudge his twenty something extra years.
 
Often he wondered if Sam would have been the
one to change his mind about marriage.
 
Along with everyone who knew her, he had fallen helplessly into the
depths of her beguiling blue eyes.
           

It was Ralph that Sam summoned, her voice weak from
pain.
 

“Help . . . me!
 
Please . . . help me!”
 

           
Rushing
to the Penthouse to discover her battered body wrenched Ralph’s heart.
 
If not for recognizing her voice, identifying
her would have been impossible.
 
Gagging
down vomit, trembling fingers of one hand frantically dialed an ambulance,
while her bloody hand grasped the other tightly.
 
Clinging together, they waited what seemed an
eternity.
  

           
So
positive was Ralph Ted committed the horrible crime, he could not bring himself
to call the police.
 
He was confident while
in route to the hospital the paramedics would notify the authorities.
 
Besides, he knew Brad was on his way, the
only one capable of handling the chaos yet to come.

           
The
sirens, the white uniforms, and Sam’s cries of pain was a nightmare that filled
him with self-recrimination for his inability to protect someone he loved.
 
Sitting beside her, gently wiping the blood
from Sam's brow, her ceaseless pleas shredded his heart.

“Get Brad . . . Please . . . I want, Brad.
 
I want, Brad.
 
Tell him I . . . “

           
Fighting
back the emotions racking his body, Ralph whispered tenderly, “Brad's on his
way, child.
 
I promise he will be here
soon.
 
Hang on, Sam.
 
Dammit, don't give up now.
 
I love you.
 
Do you hear me?
 
Everyone loves
you.
 
Please!
 
Please, Sam, fight, fight!”
Her screams as the paramedics pried their hands
apart still echoed in his skull.

           
Pain was
evident on Brad’s face when like in a trance without a word he entered the
car.
 
How could he explain all that had
happened?
 
Brad’s familiar expression had
fanned the flames in Ralph's heart reminding him though kind and loving, his
young friend possessed a fearful temper that he’d seen launched toward one
person all too often over the years.
 
Without a doubt, Brad would make the person responsible for hurting Sam
pay dearly.
 

           
The
reality that it was already too late filled Ralph with dread.
 
Knowing the whole story placed him in the
middle. Experience told him Brad would not listen in his present state, he just
prayed he would get to see Sam before she . . .
 

CHAPTER 3

“JUNE 2011”

           
A
flash of light quickly followed by a shrill crack of thunder illuminated the
enormous room.
 
Wind blew torrential rain
through the opaque, white drapes concealing a wall of windows.
 

Disoriented, memory
eluding her, through an impenetrable cloud, Sam struggled to open her
eyes.
 
Despite the warm breeze brushing
her skin, oddly her face felt cold and clammy. Languidly raising a hand with
the slightest touch, she examined her face a movement that shot pain fierce and
unrelenting to her skull.
 
Noticing her
palm covered with blood jerked her glance to the white satin sheets beneath that
were turning rapidly crimson.
 
A terrified
scream rifled the room.