Aaron: Book Three (Scars 3) Read online

  I fell onto the bed clumsily, and still she didn’t move. She used to flinch when I came near; now there was nothing. I reached my hand out, placing the flat of my palm against her soft and perfect skin. My mind swirled and I closed my eyes to try and steady the world, but instead I saw that whip. My father’s favorite whip. The thick brown leather that he oiled with love and care. The smell… oh God that smell of the freshly oiled leather…

  I imagined it flinging through the air to land on her back, ripping open that skin with a viciousness that could never, ever be repaired. But there wouldn’t be blood. Something else would erupt‒black flies, screaming out as a strong hoard from her decaying inside.

  Where the hell did that come from? The diary. That twisted, awful, delusional diary.

  Fuck. I was thinking like my uncle. Insanity must be hereditary. Fuck. “Fuck!” I spat out.

  Only then did she turn, sitting and letting the sheet fall from her, her breasts revealed.

  Her eyes searched me‒cold and uncaring. “What is it?”

  “Nothing,” I muttered, pushing away, away from her and the bed, finding my feet in a stumble.

  “What are you doing? Where are you going?” She didn’t sound like she cared. Why didn’t she fucking care? Then I remembered. Of course, she wouldn’t. She would never care.

  “Just stay away from me.” I lurched toward the door, grabbing onto the frame for support as I tried to get my feet to work properly.

  “Why?” she asked simply, but not moving.

  “Because you’ll hurt me,” I managed to say. Where did that come from? “I mean I’ll hurt you.” My voice was a slur, and it was too hard to lift my head to look at her. I could feel her eyes on me though, weighing me down.

  I had to get away. Stumbling, I made my way down the hall to the gym, slamming the door behind me in case she might follow. I rested my head against it as I tried to breathe, before letting myself sink down to the ground.

  They stared at me. Out of the dark swirls of the tree that formed the mural covering the wall, the faces all gazed at me‒resentful and seething.

  ‘Fuck you,” I told them. “I beat all of you. Every single one of you are rotting in the ground because of me.”

  I shut my eyes and lay myself down on the floor, but the world still wouldn’t stop spinning.

  Chapter Four

  The phone call came at 5.05 pm. The guy from yesterday had to die and Antony didn’t have the balls to do it. I was expecting the call.

  “I’ll take care of it,” was all I said as Antony gave me the news and then I ended the call. If he felt like a fucking idiot for not taking my advice, I didn’t need to hear about it.

  “Are you going out?” Rachel had paused with the knife in her hand as she chopped up a carrot.

  “Later. I’ll eat with you first.”

  She resumed chopping. The knife was sharp but her skills weren’t up to par and the blade sliced through her finger, blood blooming instantly. Red blood. Not black. No flies like in my crazy dream. I stared stupidly for a moment as she gave a gasp of pain and clutched at it.

  Then I took control and reached for her, taking her finger to inspect. “It’s just a small wound.”

  “Yeah, well it hurts like hell. I need a‒”

  Her words died away as I lifted that finger up to my mouth and closed my lips over it, sucking away the blood.

  Her mouth opened in surprise and her eyes showed her bewilderment for a second, before she looked away as if embarrassed. I released her.

  “Better?”

  “Yeah,” she muttered, still not looking at me. I held a towel to it until the flow eased enough to be bandaged. She sat quietly on the bar stool on which I’d placed her as I tended to her cut.

  “You’re good at that,” she said begrudgingly. “You should have been a doctor or something.” Then she gave a laugh. “And here was me thinking that you only knew how to wound.”

  “I know the human body.”

  There was a pause. “You say that like you’re not one of us.”

  I met her eyes. “Oh, I’m human all right, Rachel. I’m just not as stupid as everyone else.” I held onto her hand gently as she kept her eyes on mine. We stayed like that for a moment before she slowly started to pull her hand away.

  “I need to get changed. I’ve blood on my clothes.”

  I released her hand. “Sure.”

  Slowly, she slid from the bar stool. She lifted her finger. “Thanks.”

  “No problem.”

  I watched her go from the room before resuming her task.

  We ate together but it was mostly in silence. I cleaned the kitchen so she didn’t need to get her bandage wet, plus, she didn’t do it as immaculately as I liked. Some clutter was always left out, marring the perfect stone and glass. It was better when I did it the way it was supposed to be.

  After, I changed and grabbed my keys. “I’m going now.”

  She sat at the table, reading a magazine. “Okay. I’ll see you later.”

  Before her eyes could flick back to her article, I stooped down and took hold of her chin, tilting her head up so I could easily kiss her mouth. She tasted sweet as I slowly plowed her mouth with my tongue. I closed my eyes, stretching on the kiss until she made a small noise. Only then did I pull away. “I won’t be back till late. Lock up well,” I told her gruffly as I grabbed my bag and strode toward the door.

  “I always do,” I heard her say faintly behind me but I didn’t pause.

  The defiant idiot had done me a favor. His hiding place was a lot closer to my home than his own house, so it meant the drive wasn’t as long. It was a hunting cabin and that meant that there would be weapons there. It had been in his family for generations. He was from one of those waspish families that thought they owned the world and everyone owed them just because they had money. Well, they used to have money. This favored son had wasted everything in bad business deals and an opulent lifestyle of drugs and women while his prim wife and children sat in oblivion in their gated community. For their sake, they better hope that this guy had life insurance.

  I’d set up a motion sensor in the cabin as a precaution and it had been activated some hours earlier which meant I knew exactly where he would be. He should have gotten on a plane, but he was so arrogant that he didn’t think screwing over Antony should mean that his perfect existence should end. He probably thought that he would come up with the money that he owed at some stage and all would be forgiven.

  He was so very wrong.

  I accessed the camera on my phone. He was there and pacing. He knew things were bad but he hadn’t done anything to fix them. His wife was some blue blood type. He could have begged the money from her family, but he had too much pride for that. Pride was a bad thing. Instead I guessed he was trying to wheel and deal himself out of everything. He was on the phone but I hadn’t bothered to install a microphone so I didn’t know what he was saying. His hand shook as he drank and smoked, one after the other.

  I had parked a small distance away so I would be beneath the cover of the trees. It was only after I was completely convinced that he was all alone did I make a move. The structure of the cabin was fairly simple. There was a front door and a back door and several windows. The simple thing to do would be to jam all the exit points and then set fire to it, but this guy had fucked with Luca’s family and a message needed to be sent‒a message that was bloody and cruel, and I was the guy to do it.

  Luca had called me earlier. He knew about this mess, just like he knew about everything, and he gave explicit instructions that his brother wouldn’t like or approve of. I would follow them perfectly. Antony was my friend, but Luca was a psychopath. Luca I respected. Not feared, because I feared nothing, but I knew how his mind worked and I agreed with it.

  I got in while he was in the toilet, probably pissing himself in fear. I made swift work of the locks and walked in the front door. It was child’s play really, and for an instant, I almost felt sorry for how pathetic he
was, but I got over that quickly.

  I settled myself in the arm chair and waited. A bottle of whiskey sat on the table. It was half full. The asshole should have finished it. Maybe I’d let him, if I was feeling generous.

  The toilet flushed and I heard running water as he washed his hands. I rested my gun against my thigh so he could see it when he came out and wouldn’t try one last act of bravado. I didn’t need anything more to aggravate the pain in my leg. The doctors had said that I should use a crutch when I walked, but that would make me look weak and I couldn’t have that. Instead I ran on it every single day.

  Sometimes, I could feel Rachel watching me as I walked. I didn’t even try to disguise the limp in front of her. I got hurt rescuing her and then she’d left me alone to die. That should make up for everything. That should have put us on an even playing field, but somehow it didn’t, and now every time I felt the pain shoot through me, it was only her that I could think of and concentrate on.

  The door opened. The asshole didn’t take a single precaution. His arrogance just got him killed. His shotgun lay leaning up against the wall where he’d left it and he should have taken it with him. His eyes shot up to me and then flicked over to it. His chest moved up and down as he got over the shock and sweat covered his forehead. I knew that feeling‒fear. I had never felt it with the intensity of when I was a child, but I’d never forgotten it. It was imprinted in my mind‒the waiting, the not knowing, as I heard my father’s boots on the porch and I wondered what would be my punishment and if I were to die. My mother’s eyes were wide with fear as she stood frozen to her spot. “Run,” she rasped. “You should run.”

  That’s when I got over the fear, pushed it down, lifted my chin. “I ain’t no fucking pussy,” I told her.

  She flinched at my swearing. I never swore at her, and in that moment I felt like laughing at her idea of manners when she was about to stand there and let her son be hung or beaten or starved for days in the dark. How could she stick by her Christian ideals when what was about to take place would be an abomination?

  I let my mind return to the man in front of me. His mouth opened and then closed and then it opened again but this time it became a nervous smile. “I reached out to his people, to Antony. I made an offer. I’ve got some of the money and he’s accepted. Didn’t he tell you?” As I stared hard at him, his eyes widened. “Call him,” he said desperately. “Call him now.”

  My phone was silenced, but I knew full well that there were at least a dozen missed calls all from one number.

  “I’m afraid matters have been removed from Antony’s control,” I told him coolly. “Why don’t you come and sit down.” I nodded toward the couch.

  He moved slowly. “I can fix this.” To his credit, his voice didn’t shake even though his hands did.

  “It’s too late.”

  “Please, I have a wife and kids.”

  I nearly laughed at that, but I kept my face still. “I know. I’ve actually met your wife.”

  His body straightened with alarm. “Don’t hurt her,” he begged. “She doesn’t know about any of this. It isn’t her fault. She’s a good woman. She‒”

  “Actually, she’s kind of a stuck up twat,” I interrupted. “Even you must know that. So stiff and prim and proper. No wonder you took up with other women. Especially the ones that you had to pay. That way you can control them. Control their pretense of love and have them make you feel like you’re the best lover in the world. Isn’t that right?”

  Confusion flooded his face and I decided to enlighten him.

  “She’s the kind of girl that you marry, but you want the dirty kind, the whore, the one you fuck anyway you like. She’s the kind that has sex with gloves on in case she has to actually touch your pathetic little cock. Isn’t that right?”

  He didn’t know what to say.

  “Don’t worry. I get it. Women are confusing. They say one thing and mean another.” I leaned forward as if confessing something. “I’ve got one of them. She’s so beautiful‒nearly flawless, but she’s got a dark side. One day I’m probably going to wake up with a knife to my throat.” It was okay to say this; he’d be dead soon. I shrugged. “I guess it’s my fault though. She just wants to be loved. They all do.”

  “I love my wife,” he blurted out.

  “Relax, buddy. I’m not here to moralize and tell you how to treat women. God knows, I’ve made plenty of mistakes myself in that department. Hey, you want another drink?”

  He nodded, his mouth open, his eyes not blinking.

  “Go on then. Pour yourself one.”

  He did, with shaking hands, before sitting back where I had told him, and sucking on that glass like it was life itself. After he finished it, I let him pour another while I leaned back in the armchair.

  “You see, the thing about Rachel is…that she isn’t Rachel. She’s no one, not really. She’s a fucking ghost. She’s pulls in people around her. Like when I first met her, she had a bunch of friends and a boyfriend, but none of them knew her. Not really. They thought they did, but she just upped and left with no more contact.” I shook my head. “People love her. They don’t know it, but they do. They’re drawn to her, probably ‘cos she’s so pretty. She makes you want to own her; to have her. But you can’t. Not really. Just when you think you have the upper hand, she blindsides you. You can’t trust her either. You don’t know if what she tells you is the truth or if it’s a lie. That’s not her fault though. It’s how she was brought up. She’s a survivor, and she doesn’t have to be anymore because she’s with me and I will fucking dissect anyone who ever hurts her.” I let out a laugh. A crazy laugh. “But that’s the problem because she thinks I’m her enemy and that she has to constantly fight against me.” I shrugged again. “What’s a guy to do in that situation?”

  He was staring at me like I was a complete nut job. I grinned at him. “Thanks for listening. Any advice?”

  He shook his head hesitantly.

  “Okay. Good.” I raised the gun and blew a hole through his forehead. Blood and brain spread on the wall behind him and his body slumped to one side as his dead eyes stared. He got off easy. I’d still use him to send a message though. His heart would be delivered to his business partner so that there was no confusion around the fact that they now worked solely for Luca. That guy got off easy. He was in on the theft as well, but we needed one of them alive to run things at their end and the business partner would be the easiest to control.

  As I slid my phone off silent, it rang. “Hey, Antony.”

  “Aaron. Where the hell have you been?” His voice was panicked.

  “I’m doing my job.”

  I heard him breathing unevenly. “There’s been a change of plans. You don’t have to k‒”

  “Too late. Luca stepped in.”

  Silence, then, “What the fuck did you just say?”

  “It’s for the best. I’ll call you when I get back.” I ended the call. Let him rage. Let him take it up with Luca. I had work to do.

  Cutting out his heart was easy. Dad had taught me early on how to kill animals and slice them up. This wasn’t that different. I wondered what the headlines would be. Satanism? Witchcraft? Or just one crazy motherfucker.

  Luca wanted creativity so I staged the scene to look like he was some kind of sacrifice. It was a bad decision. Bodies were a bad idea. Bodies gave evidence. It was far better if they just disappeared, never to be found in this decade at least, that way police investigations never got very far, and even if there was a trial, it would always be circumstantial. Not that I would ever get to trial if I were ever caught or suspected.

  I spread the body on the floor, arms and legs outstretched, and his chest an open mess of gore. Skillfully, I carved into his skin. I had studied the occult symbols in depth before deciding on what this dead canvas would be decorated with. It wasn’t hard to decide on the most predominant design. One of his girlfriends had it tattooed on her back. She was some wannabe Satanist or witch. She hung out with people
who slaughtered animals and took a lot of drugs. It wouldn’t be that far fetched for anyone to believe that she took it a step further. Especially since he’d dumped her last week and she was pissed. I’d sat in my car and watched as she confronted the wife. She’d screamed the truth out to the wife who had just regarded her coolly, unsurprised and ever the ice queen. The wife would point toward her first and the mistress would be a distraction for the police for a while. The business partner, of course, would never utter a word about the mob connections.

  I worked into the early hours of the morning, making sure that my work was perfect before I packed up my tools and left the cabin. Through a cluster of trees was a small lake. Taking a bag from my car, I headed toward it in the dark. I burned the clothes that I had been wearing in the sand. Using an accelerant, they ignited and burned quickly. Only after I was convinced that they were burned down to nothing did I scoop up the ashes and send them into the water to drift away and drown.

  The swim was a whim. Naked, I walked into the cool water until it was waist deep. Moonlight glinted across its disturbed surface as my movements sent ripples across it. I dived down and swam underwater for as long as I could hold my breath and imagined the minor traces of blood and brain fleeing from my skin and dissolving into the pure lake water. Only when my lungs were ready to burst did I resurface, slowly and controlled, as not to disturb the now smooth surface or draw attention to myself if anyone happened by.

  Chapter Five

  She was singing in the morning as she made coffee. Her voice rose up through the house to me and seared at my ear drums. What was the song? A lullaby? A hymn? The tune sounded vaguely familiar but I couldn’t place it.