Chapter 32
Emerson
"So talk."
It was the first thing out of Ace's mouth when we reached his bike, which was parked in a dark corner of the parking lot. The evening had gone from anticipation of hot sex to a tension-filled silence of discomfort. I couldn't tell him about my father, whom I'd caught a glimpse of inside of JJ's. He'd been standing by the door, just watching me with a cold, condemning expression, disappearing the second that he knew that I'd glanced up to see him there.
It was as if he wanted to make sure that I knew he was around, but the second I did, he took off. It frightened me because I didn't know what he had planned. It was now clear that he was stalking me, but for what reason? Since he hadn't approached me, was he just trying to keep me on edge? Or worse, wait until I became immune to his unexpected appearances and then pounce once my guard was down? Should I phone the police? And what, tell them that my father was recently released from prison and I thought that he had it out for me?
Certainly he knew to never approach me; there was a no contact order. Would he honor it? He'd just spent twenty years in prison; surely he wouldn't do something that would land him back behind bars. He hadn't actually contacted me yet but if he did I wouldn't hesitate to turn him in.
I wish that I had the guts to tell Ace. Ace would keep me safe. But what if he looked at me differently once I confessed my secret? What if he looked at me as if I were something unclean and ugly? It would kill me. A snort brought me out of my musings and back to the present. Ace was standing there, feet braced apart and arms crossed. Even in the darkness I could see the gleam of his watchful eyes and feel his impatience. I knew that he would only wait so long.
I stepped close to him, placing my hand on his chest. "Can we just go home and make love?"
He grabbed my wrist. "I don't make love." That hurt, and I knew that he was being rough because he was pissed at me for keeping something from him. "I might consider fucking you after you tell me what the fuck is going on."
What? My jaw dropped with disbelief. As if I'd let him now. He was going to hold sex over my head? Two could play at that game. I squashed down my disappointment when I sensed that the night wasn't going to end as I'd anticipated. Irritation began to set in response to his being so demanding and unreasonable.
It suddenly occurred to me that as stubborn as I was acting for not wanting to tell him, he was being just as obstinate to demand that I do. What made it okay for Ace to demand anything from me? I loved him, but he didn't know that, and right now we were just fucking. We weren't even a dating couple.
I stepped away from him and slapped my hands on my hips. "I have nothing to say. I thought I saw someone. I didn't. No need to make it into something that it isn't."
"Someone who scared the fucking shit out of you," Ace growled. He would focus on that. "I know you're keeping something from me, Emerson. If it's someone from your past we need to deal with, I'll deal with it. Fuck, my whole club will, if it comes down to it."
I shook my head, fighting to hold back tears. I couldn't tell him the truth. I was too ashamed and embarrassed. But one thing I did know, in spite of the protective order I'd have to confront my father the next time that I saw him and demand to know why he was stalking me, because I couldn't go on the way I was. I was afraid that I'd see him around every corner, afraid that he…a damned tear fell down my cheek, and I choked out, "I can't."
I heard his resigned breath. "Not sure I can accept that, baby girl. I can't protect you if you're not honest with me. But more than that, I can't trust you." I caught my breath. "If you have trouble coming your way, it brings trouble to my brothers."
Oh, God, was he saying what I thought he was saying? Was this leading up to breaking things off with me? "We all have secrets—"
"My gut tells me that your secrets could hurt someone."
"Only me," I said without thinking.
It grew silent between us.
"Tell, me," Ace insisted after a while. "Trust me to protect you."
I knew that he would, but once the words were out there would be no going back, and I just couldn't bring myself to say them out loud. I couldn’t bring myself to confess my sins. I was frozen with indecision as to what I should do, and then the solution came to me. After I confronted my father, then I would tell Ace. Maybe not everything, but enough.
"Can I have a little more time?" I asked softly, praying silently. "There's something I have to do first."
He exhaled loudly. "That's not going to work for me." He sounded so disappointed. He mounted his bike. "Get on."
"Ace—"
"Get on, Emerson. I'll take you home."
I ignored the urge to continue to plead my case, and got on behind him. Maybe the ride home would give Ace enough time to think things over and decide to let things be for now. I wrapped my arms around him tightly, determined to enjoy the short ride to my apartment. I loved riding behind Ace, tight against his large, powerful body. He blocked the wind from me, yet before long my loose bun had come down completely and was flowing out behind us like a long veil. We were flying down the street, surrounded by darkness.
In no time Ace was pulling up to the curb in front of my complex. I got off with a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. He made no attempt to shut down or dismount. He sat there, staring straight ahead.
"I'm sorry I ruined our night."
He turned his head to look at me. "It's okay, baby girl. Call me when you can trust me, yeah?" Or don't call him if I couldn’t. Is that what he was saying? His tone sounded final, almost indifferent. He reached forward and grabbed a handful of hair, bringing it to his nose before letting the long strands run through his fingers. "I'll wait until you're inside." His dismissal couldn't have been any clearer.
"Goodnight." I turned reluctantly and walked away. I didn't look back, reaching my apartment door with tears swimming in my eyes. I should have just told him and got it over with, and then maybe he would have come inside with me and we would have spent the rest of the night together.
But how do you tell the man that you love that your own father was a child rapist?
That you'd been one of his victims?
I wasn't ready to expose my shame.
I opened my door and stepped inside my apartment. As I closed the door I reached for the lights, flicking them on. In an instant they were flicked off again, and I was grabbed from behind. The door was slammed and locked as I struggled against the arms that were holding me. My scream was cut off by a hand covering my mouth, and the next thing I knew I was being dragged over to the living room and forced down into a chair that had been situated in front of the TV. The hands that were subduing me were brutal and hard. I soon realized that fighting back was futile. Whoever was behind me moved close, putting their mouth to my ear, and in that heart-stopping moment I knew. I knew who he was.
"Hello, Emmy."
My father was the only one who'd ever called me Emmy. The tears meant for Ace fell down my cheeks.
"I was hoping your boyfriend would come in with you. I was ready for him." He held up a wicked looking knife in front of my face." I shivered with revulsion, and fear for Ace. "You know I've been watching you, daughter. Now I've got something I want you to watch." His laugh was the menacing sound of someone who knew a secret that no one else did. He replaced his hand with some kind of cloth, and then tied me to the chair with rope. "I had twenty years to think of nothing but what I was going to do to you for turning against me. I wanted to kill you, but then I thought of something even better."
He picked up the remote and clicked the TV on. There was a flash and then a picture appeared. It was grainy, black and white, and looked like an old movie. At first I couldn't believe my eyes. There was a naked, pregnant woman tied to a bed, crying with a look of sheer terror on her face. She looked slightly familiar to me, but it was hard to tell with the lighting.
It took me a few seconds to realize that it wasn't something on the TV that I was watching, but a video he'd put in. I blinked to clear my eyes. Someone turned on a light close to the bed, and suddenly everything in the video was very clear.
"Killing you is too easy, too final," my father snarled into my ear. "So I decided the next best thing was to take away someone you cared about, starting with the two bitches that helped send me to prison."
No! I began to shake my head, whimpering with terror when I finally recognized that it was Sophie lying on the bed. Her tear-ravaged voice filled the room as she begged someone who was standing out of camera range. She was begging for her life! Her hysterical tone cut through me like a spear before turning low and sad, as if she were resigned to her fate. I watched her eyes grow large, and then my father walk into view of the camera. He laughed low in my ear, getting a thrill out of the sounds of Sophie begging him not to hurt her and her unborn baby.
"So pretty," he said to her, running the back of his hand over her wet, swollen cheek. It was apparent that she'd been beaten. She'd probably put up a fight. Revulsion caused me to shut my eyes. "I dreamt of you and Gracie and all the others when I was in prison. I remember how sweet and tasty taking your innocence was. But you're not the little girls I remember, are you? Too bad you had to grow up."
"Please don't hurt me," Sophie pleaded. "I have children. They need me," she sobbed.
I closed my eyes and tried to turn away. "No, you watch!" my father sneered when he finally noticed. He shook my chair until I did what he demanded. "I did this for you, Emmy. Or should I say, because of you?" His laugh caused chills to run through me. "I want you to watch what I did to your sweet cousins."
"Please," Sophie cried. "Please don't do this. I'll do whatever you want. My baby—"
"It's too late for that," my father said with a smile. "Emmy will need to see this. Watching me kill you and Gracie will be her punishment for turning against me."
I shook my head vigorously, whimpering into the gag he'd stuffed into my mouth. What had he done?
"You'll see," he said into my ear. "This is just the beginning. I've been watching you and making a list of all your friends. Soon you'll have no one. But don't worry, daughter. I won't kill you. I'll leave you behind to live with the knowledge that they all died because of you. All because you cost me twenty years of freedom."
Oh my, God, he was completely insane. I wanted to scream at him that he'd deserved what he’d got for what he’d done to us. Twenty years of prison for ruining our lives and taking away our innocence wasn't enough. I watched him sit next to Sophie on the bed and talk to her in a soothing tone that was meant to disguise his true intentions. But she knew. The terror was written all over her face, revealing that she saw through his act. I saw the knife in his hand before she did. My eyes rounded with stunned disbelief as I sensed what he was going to do, and then I watched him slowly bring the knife up for her to see.
He taunted her with it, holding it so that the light bounced off the blade. The twisted grin on his face emphasized the wild madness in his eyes. He was getting ready to kill an innocent woman with gleeful anticipation. I felt like I was going to be sick, but I knew the danger of that while I had a gag in my mouth. Still, I couldn't stop from gagging as I watched helplessly when my father covered Sophie's mouth with his hand at the same instant that he plunged the knife into her heart. Not once, but over and over again. Bright red crimson spurted out of her each time he yanked the blade out, bringing with it arcs of blood that splashed onto him and the walls.
Once she stopped moving he went into a frenzy, stabbing her all over. When he moved to her protruding belly, I did get sick. The vomit rushed up my throat and I began to choke when it had nowhere to go, until my father realized what was happening. With a disgusted snarl, he yanked the gag from my mouth and jumped out of the way. I vomited violently, and when I was done I began to scream. I screamed and screamed, tears running down my face as insanity claimed me until all I heard was my own screaming, my father's fanatical laughter, and a muffled noise that I couldn't identify.
I sensed a change in my father, a kind of rushed panic, but I couldn't stop screaming. Part of me knew that the video was still playing, but my brain was stuck on the vision of my father stabbing Sophie in the stomach. My screams were deafening, but something warned me that if I stopped, I would die.
I screamed for our lost innocence.
I screamed for Gracie.
I screamed for Sophie and her unborn child.
I screamed for myself.
And I kept on screaming.