Conscience (The Bellator Saga Book 2) (41 page)

Caroline frowned at her. “This family isn’t a democracy. You don’t get to vote.”

“What if I refuse to go?” she challenged.

Of course Marguerite wasn’t going to make this easy. Not with her genetics. “I know you won’t do that to me.”

Sophie broke in. “Mo, I don’t want to go alone!”

“Listen to me.” Caroline grasped both their hands. The bag on her lap tumbled to the floor. “I need you to trust that I’m doing what’s best for you. Jack and I will meet up with you as soon as we can. Chrissy and Tom are going to get you up north and we’ll come right after that. I swear.”

“Then why can’t you leave with us now?” Sophie asked.

Caroline had a feeling that this was going to be a continuing theme for the next twenty-four hours, and she would never be able to give her a satisfactory answer. “We just can’t.”

Marguerite yanked her hand away from Caroline’s. It took mere seconds before Sophie did the same, though her withdrawal came with a bit more reluctance. Caroline couldn’t blame them for being pissed at her. She was mad at herself. But she could do this without falling apart. She had to.

“Jack and I are going to help you pack,” she said. “We’ll have tomorrow morning and afternoon to spend every minute with each other. And then you, Chrissy, Tom, and Jess will get to where it’s safe, where I won’t have to worry about you as much.”

Marguerite folded her arms, avoiding eye contact with Caroline. “I don’t like this.”

“I’m not thrilled about it either,” Caroline said.

The three of them sat there for a few moments. Sophie cried softly. Marguerite subtly turned away from her mother, her shoulders set rigidly toward the wall. Caroline couldn’t stand the tension.

“I have something else for you,” she said.

Her words went unacknowledged. She wiped her eyes and picked the bag up off the floor. She was the adult. She had to act like it. Marguerite still had her back to her, so she turned to Sophie. Caroline reached into the bag and pulled out the stuffed hippo Sophie had given her after she’d been shot. She tried to give it back after she was released from the hospital, but Feef refused to take it, saying she really wanted the hippo to take care of her mommy for her. Caroline had taken it with her on almost every cross country campaign appearance when Jack wasn’t with her. It helped her feel less isolated.

She handed the hippo to Sophie. “I know you’re probably a little too old for this now but-”

Sophie took the soft plush from her mother’s hands and cradled it in her arms. “I want him,” she said. “Are you sure you don’t need him?”

If only a stuffed animal could keep her safe. Caroline would damn near strap him to her chest. “I think he’s better off with you, don’t you think? You can give him much more attention than I can. “

Sophie squeezed her eyes shut. “I will, mom.”

Caroline placed a hesitant hand on Marguerite’s shoulder. “Mo Mo?”

Marguerite slowly turned around to look at her. Her eyes were red. “Oh, I don’t think there’s anything in that black bag for me,” she said, and managed a weak smile.

Classic movie humor. Caroline tried not to think about how much the two of them were alike in that way. She could always badger Marguerite into watching all of her old favorite films with her. They had a blast watching Disney flicks and classic film musicals together. Sophie probably could have quoted
The Wizard of Oz
just as easily as her big sister, but classic movies bonded Caroline and Mo together. Caroline reached into the bag and pulled out a gold and blue striped scarf.

“That’s your Marquette scarf,” Marguerite said.

A mistress of the obvious, her child. “Nothing gets past you, Mo.”

“You love that scarf. You wear it all the time.”

“I do.”

Marguerite brought it up to her nose. “It smells like your perfume.”

Caroline reflexively closed her eyes so she wouldn’t start crying again. “I want you to have it.”

Marguerite held it gently in her hands. “Are you sure, mom?”

She took the scarf and wrapped it around her eldest daughter’s neck. “Absolutely.”

Marguerite leaned in on one side with Sophie on the other. Feef pressed the hippo into Caroline’s hand so that they were both holding onto him. The three of them sat on the bed crying and holding each other for a very long time. Finally Caroline looked at her watch.

“It’s late,” she said. “We should get some sleep. We have a lot to do tomorrow.”

“Can I stay in here with Mo tonight?” Sophie asked. Marguerite had a double bed.

“I can’t think of a good reason why not,” Caroline said.

Marguerite gave Caroline a hug. “Can you stay in here too?”

Caroline kissed her forehead. “How about we all stay in the master bedroom tonight? It might be a little tight, but it would mean a lot to Jack. Let me go change. I think he wants to talk to you anyway before we go to sleep. Are you okay with that?”

The firm hugs her daughters gave her were all the response she needed. Her beautiful, wonderful angels. She had no idea how she was going to get through the next day.

“I’ll go tell him,” Caroline whispered.

The Fed

What did those awful men do in the wee hours of the morning when they were monitoring that camera? That goddamn fucking piece of shit, that evil eye blinking at her erratically even when the lights were off. The guards loved that part of their job, no doubt. They were probably placing bets on what she’d scream out in her sleep.

There had to be even odds that night on the names Marguerite and Sophie. Back in the day, when she’d been far more self-deprecating, she would have joined in on such an activity. But that was when she played with house money. Now she was in the red. Deep in the red, her idealism now permanently and painstakingly crushed by the unyielding fist of authority.

She tried not to think about it. About
them
. But each attempt to push them from her mind led to thoughts of greater tragedy, greater agony…greater grief. She flashed back to that day in January so many years ago, when she arrived at her office to find Ellen, Christine, Jen, and Kathleen waiting for her. She walked in after a subcommittee meeting and her receptionist couldn’t even look at her. Caroline was in the process of leaving yet another voicemail for Nicky, begging him to call her back. Her heart thudded into her stomach when she entered her private office.

Two Maryland State Police troopers were standing next to her desk. It didn’t take a genius to connect the dots. She figured it out right away. Why Nicky hadn’t called from Baltimore, why he hadn’t responded to her texts, why her calls had gone straight to voicemail. She almost keeled over at the sight of them.

Jen or Kathleen must have called Ellen and Christine, to soften the blow. They all pulled her over to the couch as the troopers tried to explain what happened. At some point the men might have offered their condolences, but the words slipped into the ether, the roaring rush through her head too powerful to let them in. The four women had her wrapped up in a cocoon of sympathy, Ellen and Christine on either side of her on the couch, Jen and Kathleen kneeling on the floor with their arms around her. The voices in the room started to run together. Caroline started making some horrible guttural cry that didn’t even sound human, and wasn’t sure if the troopers stopped talking or were still trying to explain things through the sound of her agony. She’d never felt that kind of grief before, not even when her parents died almost two years apart.

Ellen drove her car home, with Kathleen in the front passenger seat. Christine and Jen sat with their arms around her in the back seat. No one spoke the entire time. It was eerie. Christine somehow convinced Caroline’s doctor to prescribe her a sedative to calm her down, but by the time they arrived in Rockville she was too numb to take it. She sure as hell took one before the girls got home, though.

She sat them down in the room she and Nicky shared, told them what had happened, and could actually see their hearts ripping apart. They were both so young, particularly Sophie, but they knew what death meant. As the days passed, Caroline felt herself changing. There were moments when time stood still, when the world appeared to stop turning on its axis and reality ceased to exist. She had hoped never to experience those moments again. She’d dealt with enough, or so she thought. But it had been foolish to think she could cheat life’s most harrowing experiences.

Now she had no one left. Her children were dead, which meant Chrissy, Tom, and Jess were dead too. The adults would have fallen first, defending Mo and Feef with their own lives if need be. And it was Caroline’s fault that they were all dead. Her soul split apart on that icy day in January when she became a young widow but that grief paled in comparison to the way she felt now.

Was it possible to die of a broken heart? She pressed a mangled hand to her chest, feeling the steady beat. The tempo a little faster than normal. She half expected there to be no activity at all. But no, that would be too easy. Too simple for her to suddenly ease into a permanent sleep, never to wake up. This was only the beginning of her payback for her sins. There was no way that the pain, the agony, the absolute defeat she felt would ever subside.

I want to die.

For the first time, she heard no dissenting opinion.

*              *              *              *              *

She didn’t know how much time passed. She stopped drinking from the sink, stopped getting up to use the bathroom. Her head pounded non-stop and she drifted in and out, never able to stay asleep or awake for any length of time. Caroline stayed curled up in a ball on the bed, hoping that death from dehydration wouldn’t be nearly as bad as she imagined it to be.

The lights flickered on and Murdock and several guards came in wearing smiles. She didn’t recognize any of them. Night. It had to be nighttime. Fischer and Powell worked the day shift. One of the guards yanked her off the bed. Her knees buckled. He didn’t bother holding her up.

Murdock knelt down beside her. He’d taken off his suit jacket and tie. Even at his most horrible, he’d always been wearing a suit. Because he was a pretentious tool.

“They gave me the green light with you tonight,” he said. “I’m going to enjoy this.”

Caroline looked over his shoulder. One of the guards carried a spool of rope, and her gaze was immediately drawn to the hooks in the ceiling.

Oh no.

She tried to fight back. Her brain told her to battle, to resist, not to cave. It didn’t matter.

They ripped off her shirt and bra, bound her wrists, and hung the rope from one of the hooks, until she was standing on her tiptoes. Thankfully, that part was over quickly. The guards then exited the room, looking quite disappointed, leaving her alone with the biggest sadist in the building. They hadn’t been allowed to touch her aside from the clothing removal because as Murdock put it, “He wouldn’t want them to behave in an ungentlemanly manner.”

They’d busted up her face, shattered her fingers, killed her friends, killed her family, psychologically and physically tortured her, tied her to the fucking ceiling with goddamn rope coiled so tight it tore into her already raw wrists, and Caroline was expected to be grateful that they hadn’t sexually assaulted her?

Fuck them. And fuck that twatfucker Murdock in particular.

He came up behind her and placed a hand on her back. Cold as ice. His touch made her feel nauseated.

“It’s just you and me,” he said. “The guards turned the cameras off before we came in, although I assure you, they very much wanted to watch.” He pivoted to face her. “At least, they said they turned them off. Some of my friends may have decided to stick around and enjoy the show.”

Her voice was weak, wiped out from the lack of fluids. “Fuck you.”

He smiled. “You’ve had this coming to you for a long time, and I’m going to relish every minute. I’ve had a lot of time to plan. So many hours spent wondering what I’d do to you when I finally got you alone. Granted, I never had the opportunity until now. If only I’d been able to do this years ago.”

She didn’t want to think about it. Caroline pursed her lips and didn’t say anything.

“Cat got your tongue? I guarantee you won’t be silent for long. I heard rumors about how you and Jack used to get into some kinky shit. Nothing substantiated, mind you, but some really good stories.” Murdock walked around her slowly. “Tell me, Caroline. Did you like Jack to beat you? Whip you? Degrade you? Was that part of your little game, how you both got your thrills?” He laughed. “Such a shame he wasn’t captured along with you. Just think of what we could have done to you while we made him watch.”

What an appalling idea. She wasn’t going to respond. He wanted that. Wanted to twist the knife again, throw something else in her face. But he seemed to read her thoughts anyway.

“You think he’s still out there, don’t you? Fighting the good fight, helping your grand cause? Face it, Gerard. He’s only looking out for himself. Always had, always will.”

Lies. Dirty fucking lies. Meant to play on insecurities, to wound, to stab, to kill her more than once. Caroline gritted her teeth. She wasn’t going to think about Jack. She wasn’t going to think about how much she missed him. How much she needed him. She wasn’t going to think about how much pain she was in or how much it might continue to hurt. And she definitely wasn’t going to think about what Murdock was going to do to her as he slowly undid his belt and removed it from his pants.

She closed her eyes and prayed for strength.

*              *              *              *              *

It could have been minutes. It could have been hours. He’d taken a couple of breaks, he’d gotten so tired. She didn’t cry out, didn’t say a word. Defiance was her last remaining weapon. Perhaps a tear or two slipped down her cheek, she didn’t know. Her stoicism made him angrier, and Murdock didn’t cease his actions until he accidentally hit the wall and the belt and buckle broke apart.

“I think that worked quite well,” he said. “Don’t you?  I bet you loved every minute of it. Such divine marks.”

Caroline tried not to retch as the pain radiated through her body. Her back was shredded. She didn’t know much anymore, but she knew that. The blood was pouring down her shoulders, over her spine, pooling near her waistline. She wanted to pass out, to die, anything. Anything to let her escape from this. She blinked rapidly. She didn’t want Murdock to get the sick satisfaction he’d derive from watching her break into a full-blown ugly cry. She would retain some self-respect, no matter how little she had left.

“You put up a good fight. I tip my hat to you.” He circled her like a hawk eyeing its prey. “But still you lose.”

It was a struggle to speak but words were the only power she had over him, even if they came out in a croak. “All this trouble just for me. You must really hate women. Or have a tiny dick.”

Murdock reared back and backhanded her. “You’ve got a smart mouth,” he hissed. “If you were my woman, I’d have any number of ways to keep it occupied.”

“Fuck you.”

“Don’t say that.” He trailed a finger down her torso, stopping at her stomach. “We could have had so much fun together.”

Was this his version of foreplay? She didn’t want to find out. “If you try to take my pants off, I’ll puke on you.”
Or piss. Or bite.

He laughed. “You think I want a piece of you now? You’re a disaster.” He grabbed one of her breasts. “Although these are still nice. I’m glad the boys finally got to see them. Look but don’t touch. Had to throw them something, you know? It’s a shame you wasted them on McIntyre.”

Murdock leaned in closer, his hand still clenching her breast.  His voice was a low whisper. “He’s dead. All of them are dead. Your family. Your friends. That kike Goldman, that dyke you hung around with, and that whiny bitch who took your seat. All because of you. Was it worth it?”

Caroline struggled in the ropes, trying to get away from him, but it was no use. She cried out from the pain. Her shoulders were about to come out of their sockets.

Murdock laughed again, withdrawing his hand. “You poor thing. And your night isn’t even over yet.” He pulled a small item out of his pocket. “Know what this is?”

He held it up. Caroline tried not to panic as he flicked it open. It had an ornate carved handle, and the silver glistened in the low light in the room.

“This is one of my personal favorites. I have an extensive assortment of weapons in my collection,” Murdock said. “In case you thought I limited myself to – how did you put it? Oh, my
pretty princess tool set.
”

Fuck
. He’d latched onto that one. It was obvious from his demeanor. It didn’t matter now. She could have been as sweet as syrup and he would have found a way to turn it around on her.

Murdock twisted the blade in his hand. It had to be at least five inches long. “It’s one of my less expensive pieces, but it’s by far the sharpest.” He slid it along the top of her breast with the slightest bit of pressure. She could feel it drawing blood. He pressed it deeper, smiling at her. “Did I ever tell you how skilled I am with a knife?”

Caroline bit the inside of her cheek as a new, more terrifying pain hit her. This was it. This was the end. She was going to die, probably in a very ghastly way.

“I hope your principles are a comfort to you as you bleed out.” Murdock smiled at her wickedly. “They aren’t going to do you a damn bit of good once they throw your corpse into the incinerator with the rest of the traitors.”

He wrapped a fist around her hair and yanked up so she was facing him. “You’re going to die in this disgusting cell, Caroline. Alone. Slowly and painfully. It’s a shame I won’t be in here to watch you take your last breath, but I’ve got plans with a hot slut who’s far more attractive and much more pliable than you.” He slapped her face once more for good measure, the handle of the knife striking her cheek with startling force. Murdock laughed as he brought the tip of the blade to her stomach. “Shall we get started?”