Chapter Eight
Turner
“Fuck, baby. Where are you?”
I take a heavy sip of my beer, clinging onto the feeling I have in my heart that Clove is still alive. I stare out into the dark, thunderous night. It’s been over a year since I’ve seen her, heard her scream after my brother shot me, leaving me for dead.
The next thing I remembered after that was waking up in a hospital with my mom sleeping in a chair next to my bed. Two months I stayed in that hospital, secured and sheltered away from society while my body healed from its broken ribs and leg; a busted jaw, and a gunshot wound to my shoulder.
My body may be healed, but the only person who can heal my broken heart is my wife. My brave girl, who went through hell to find me. I know the whole fucked up story. Everything.
Does it kill me? Hell, yes, it does. Do I hate her for it? No. I could never hate her. Not when I know that what she did, breaking our vows, sleeping with another man, she did out of love for me.
I have never doubted her love, ever. Not one damn time, but the notion of another man touching what it mine is something I will never forget. I can’t help the visuals in my mind of her face when she comes as another man takes her, makes her scream and beg for more.
Did she like it when he touched her, more than when I do? Did she come for him? Did she suck his cock? Did she leave with him willingly? Think I was dead? Those excruciating feelings are all there.
I shouldn’t even be thinking these selfish thoughts, but I have plenty of time on my hands to let my imagination run wild while I have to stay out of the public eye, which is a whole other story in itself. One I don’t want to think about. I just can’t get past the images weighing heavily on my mind; it’s something Clove and I will have to deal with at some point.
“Son of a bitch!” I holler into the nocturnal sky.
I just want her home. Safe. Remember, Turner... you know her. She was trapped. The only way she knew how to claw her way out was to do what she did.
Memories of the first time Clove and I made love invade my thoughts. I was so damn nervous. She was, too. That first time I sunk myself into her, got past her barrier, I was lost. Lost in her. I had never felt anything like it.
I loved her before we had sex; hell, I think I loved her before she finally even agreed to go out with me. Clove has a delicate grace about her, a characteristic aura of beauty and elegance like no other woman I have ever met. There’s not a mean bone in her body. And what a body she has. Long legs, tight ass, and those eyes that look at me like I’m her everything.
I can still smell the sweet smell of her jasmine lotion every time I think about her. My dick aches for her. I can see her now as she lays her head down on our bed, her long hair fanned all around her as she rubs and pinches those ample breasts and spreads her legs wide, her juices pleading with me to lick them up into my mouth.
There is nothing better than the taste of Clove’s pussy. So tangy and yet so sweet. And there is no better feeling in this world than having the woman you love squeeze every drop of come out of you. God, and her mouth. I take a deep breath when I think of that mouth sucking my dick while rolling my balls around, squeezing them with just the right amount of pressure until she has me on the brink of spilling into her mouth. She always knew the exact moment to stop. Then she would slink her sexy body on top of mine and slide me deep into her wet, silky pussy, riding me hard one minute then slow and sensual the next. Damn it. I miss everything about my wife.
“Baby, come back to me. I need you. God, please come back.”
I tip back the last of my beer and sit down in the small chair in my mother’s backyard. Every night I sit here wondering if Clove sees the same stars in the sky as I do. If she is safe, if Trent is taking care of her. That motherfucker is one sick bastard, tainted by the sins of that son of a bitch who should have been a man we both looked up to. Our father.
I shiver at the thought of that man. He was one sick fuck. If anything comes out of this fucked up shit that’s good, it’s the fact that my mom didn’t have to live a minute longer with him. That he left and took Trent with him. Who knows where the hell we would both be if he hadn’t left.
Grabbing the bottle of whiskey by my side, I tip my head back and take a swig, letting the feel of it burn down my throat. I want to forget, or better yet, not think about anything at all, but the memories flood my brain like a tidal wave anyway.
I was lying in my hospital bed, my mom’s sweet but sad voice washing over me as I healed from my injuries.
“Turner, are you sure you want me to tell you all about your father? Haven’t you been through enough?”
My mind was clouded with the cocktail of drugs I was being given, but I was insistent.
“I need to know, Mom. Tell me everything.”
The things she told me about that asshole, what kind of animal he was, made me physically sick. .. He deserved to die; I just wish I would have been the one to do it.
And my brother. I have tried so many times to remember him. You would think I would. Now I’m so fucking glad I don’t.
When he first called my cell not five minutes after I got to my hotel room, I thought it was some kind of sick fucking joke. I almost hung up on the asshole until he said both my mom’s and Clove’s names. I still had my doubts as I jumped in my rental car and went to meet him where he asked me to. My gut was telling me to call Zack, but instead, I pulled up to the dark parking lot by myself. That was the biggest mistake I have made or ever will make in my life.
It didn’t feel like a mistake at the time, though, as I climbed out of my car and stared at the man who looked exactly like me. Fuck, I was shocked, and thrilled, and pissed off at the same time. I couldn’t believe I had a brother, an identical twin. It blew my mind.
We stood there talking for the longest time. He told me our father never really talked much about the divorce and he had just found out about me when the man had broken down and confessed he had another son.
Trent went searching for me right away, he claimed. Said it wasn’t hard to find me since I was still living in the same place I grew up and mom was still living in the same house. I was so overjoyed with this news that I never even gave a second thought as to how in the hell he just happened to be there in the same city as I was, since I was there on a business trip.
Hugging my brother was the last thing I remember until I woke up in that shit hole where I was beaten within an inch of my life the minute my eyes opened. I was in and out of consciousness for days, and every time I awoke, a man I didn’t even know existed was screaming and yelling at me about twenty million dollars.
“Goddamn it!”
I heave the bottle of booze into the yard and scream for my wife.
“Turner.”
The sound of my mother’s voice echoes throughout the night.
“I’m fine, Mom.”
She comes out and stands beside me.
“I’m worried about you, son.”
Reaching out she pulls me in for a hug, soothing me just like she did when I was growing up.
“I miss her so damn much, Mom. I know she’s out there somewhere. It’s killing me not being able to do anything to help her like she tried to help me.”
My shoulders start to shake and I cry like a baby while she cocoons me in her arms. I’m a grown man, but being surrounded by my mother is the only thing I need when I get like this.
“Come on. Don’t you dare blame yourself, do you hear me, Turner Calloway?”
How can I not? It’s all my fault. No matter how many times the psychiatrist who has been coming over to the house twice a week now instead of once tells me it isn’t, I will always blame myself. I will never give up trying to find Clove. Never.
A part of me wishes I had died that day. My life is empty without her. Nothing I do feels right. I hate climbing out of bed in the morning, knowing the reality of the day I have to face. I hate getting in bed at night knowing she isn’t there beside me so I can hold her, make love to her, and keep her safe.
Instead, she’s somewhere out there with a man who is hell bent on making her his own. Clove would never deceive me in that way. She loves me, this I know with every breath I take. But Trent? God knows what the hell he has done to her over the course of a year.
“We all miss her, son. I blame myself too, you know. I think all of us do.”
“You shouldn’t blame yourself, Mom. You had no choice.”
She releases her hold on me and shuffles her feet back a few steps.
“That’s where you’re wrong, Turner. I… I did have a choice. And I chose you and your safety. I have lived with that every day since the day James left here, taking the other half of my heart with him when he took your brother. I was a foolish, scared woman. I gave up one child for another. That makes me the person to blame. Not you, not anyone else, just me.”
“No, Mom.” I bring her back into my arms. “I never want to hear you say anything like that again. James threatened you. You did the only thing you could.”
“There’s nothing we can do about the choices I made. I have lived with my guilt and I will die with it. It’s my burden to bear. Now, it’s getting late. Go get some rest.”
Mom releases her hold on me. She bends and picks up my empty beer bottles, then just like every night, she guides me into the house. The last thing I remember when I fall into a fitful sleep is the look on my beautiful wife’s face when she walked down the aisle in her white wedding dress to become mine.
************
“Fuck me.” I have been trying to call Zack all damn morning. “Answer your damn phone.”
This is the third voice mail I have left in two hours.
I woke up drenched in sweat after having the worst nightmare I have had since Clove has been missing. Why? I have no clue. It’s the same recurring dream I have every night, but this time, something felt off. It’s as if I could feel her screaming for help. My eyes shot wide open as I sat up in bed. My girl was begging for her life with a gun shoved to her temple.
I kick my jeans and boxers off and change into my workout gear. I need to punch the shit out of something.
Snatching my phone off the end of the bed, I head down the stairs to the basement where all of my exercise gear is, aiming straight for the punching bag. I kick. I punch. I beat my body until my muscles are raw and aching, all the while holding the image that looks just like me in my mind. Only it’s not me; it’s my fuckwad of a brother I beat to death with my fists and legs as I kill him with my bare hands.
I lay my head up against the bag trying to regain my breath and close my eyes. Inhale, exhale, over and over until my breathing comes back to normal. After a few minutes, the sound of my phone ringing crackles through the room. I pick up without even checking the caller ID.
“Hello?”
“Turner.”
It’s my father-in-law, the pain in his voice more pronounced than ever.
“Hey, what’s up?”
“Meet me at the police station. Now.”
It takes me three minutes to change my clothes and get my mom so she can drive us to the police station. It’s the first time in a year I have been outside in the daylight. I’ve been under constant surveillance for a year, for my own protection, Zack told me. Trent needs to believe I am dead.
Nothing has changed as I take in the sights, anxiously waiting, ready to push on the fucking gas pedal myself, anything to get us there faster.
“Do you think they have her?” Mom’s voice cracks through the small interior of her car.
“I don’t know, Mom. Something has happened. Why…”
I say no more as she pulls into the parking lot. I am out the door before she even stops, running up the stairs and down the hall toward... where? I don’t know. Zack’s office?
I scan the somewhat deserted hallway. It’s then that I see my father-in-law slumped over in a chair outside of an office not belonging to Zack. He looks up to me when I approach, out of breath. His eyes are red-rimmed, as if he’s been crying. Fear wraps around my throat, gripping me, making it hard to breathe. I shake my head back and forth.
“No. NO!”
“Turner. Listen to me.”
I don’t let him finish.
“Don’t you fucking say it! Where’s Zack?”
I’m frantic; my heart is beating out of my chest. I stumble through the fucking door and I see Zack, Martinez, and the Chief all standing there with their mouths gaping wide open, shock and disbelief written all over their faces.
“Where the hell is my WIFE?”