Resurrect Me

Chapter 24

Tacy

It’s the second week I’ve been on vacation from work, and I’m losing my fucking mind. The kids only keep me busy when they’re not at school. All I can do is sit around and obsess over my husband being alive, how I’m supposed to keep that a secret, and how he’s part of a secret militia that’s formed to take out some elite group of criminals. And I’m supposed to just sit around and accept all of this and do nothing about it? When one of The Org’s members had me kidnapped and nearly killed by my homicidal ex-boyfriend? I’m not one to sit idly by and do nothing. My mother used to say I didn’t just get into trouble, that trouble found me. I’m starting to believe she might have been right.

I pour myself another cup of coffee and take a seat at the kitchen table. My laptop sits on the other side, taunting me with its knowledge. My fingers itch to do more research, but my brain is telling me to distance myself from it. Maybe keeping myself in the dark a little bit might be better than knowing everything. Because the more I know, the more I want to join Aris in wiping the earth clean of these sick mother fuckers in power. Although he wants me to stay out of it. I’m in too deep now, though. So, fuck it.

I slide the laptop over and open it. I type in my code and open the browser. Then I research someone I should’ve already known everything about: Declan Harvey. I scan Google, first perusing Dee’s political website, one I’ve seen quite a few times, then scanning his social media pages for any clues. I don’t really know what I’m looking for, just anything that stands out as fishy or linking him to pharmaceutical companies, big corporations with a dark history, et cetera. But all I find is a stream of cheesy photographs taken of Declan in front of the capital building downtown, in his office, and shaking hands with the Senator. I’ve almost given up when something catches my eye. Well…someone. In a picture taken at a restaurant downtown, Declan stands next to the Senator, and just behind him and to the right, is one of the shareholders of the hospital chain I work for. “That mother fucker. I knew he was dirty. I fucking knew it.”

I click on the photo and expand to get a better look at their faces. To see if I recognize anyone else in the photo. And my doorbell rings. Probably just a delivery. I stand up and peek out the front window. Yes, there’s a box on the front step. I open the front door and bend down to retrieve it. I pick it up, easily, and it’s almost as if the box itself is empty. I turn around to walk inside when the world around me grows fuzzy. Wavy. And then…it’s lights out.

I come to and immediately realize I’m in my home…but I’m restrained. My hands are cuffed behind my back and attached to the kitchen chair, my vision is blurry, and my mouth is covered with duct tape. I peer down and see my legs tied to each of the chair legs.

“What the fuck?!” I push out a muffled scream. Who the fuck did this to me? Someone drugged me and tied me up…in my own kitchen. Was it Aris? No. He would never drug me like this.

I look around, but everything’s still blurry. Everything seems the same in my kitchen, though. I blink my eyes rapidly, trying to focus my vision…until finally, the fog clears, and I see him. Standing in the hallway, staring at me, a serrated knife in one hand. A smirk on his smug face.

“Ahh, there you are,” Declan sneers. “I thought you’d never wake up.”

I try to lift myself in the chair and try to shake myself free. But all I manage to do is knock myself over on the floor, sending Declan into a fit of sickening laughter.

“Oh, Tacy, Tacy, my love,” he chides. “Always so rambunctious. So feral.”

Declan crouches beside me and runs a hand through my hair. I nearly gag on my own vomit rising in the back of my throat. I glance at the knife in his other hand and grit my teeth. Tears threaten to spill from my eyes, but I forbid myself from showing this dickhead any semblance of emotion. Is he going to kill me? He has enough reason to. For one, I rejected him. And second, he knows that I know about the Duselizab deaths. This little antic only solidifies my suspicions that he was the one who hired Starkey to abduct me in the first place. But this isn’t the first time I’ve been tied up. And he should know by now, I’m fucking resilient. I ain’t going down without a fight.

He sets his knife on my kitchen table with a clink and flips me up, chair and all, so that I’m upright again. Now I’m face to face with him. I growl as I imagine all the violent things I’d like to do to him. Knock that arrogant look off his face. Slit his throat with his own god damn knife. Push him off a fucking cliff.

“There’s no need to fight me, Tacy,” Declan whispers. His breath is hot on my face. I pull back, but inevitably there’s nowhere for me to go. I’m bound, gagged, and exactly where everyone knows I’m supposed to be. At home. I glance at the clock on the wall. It’s almost time to pick up the kids. And…once again…I won’t be there. What if my mom picks them up and comes here? Will they see my dead body lying in the kitchen?

Declan waves the knife around in the air, then brings it dangerously close to my face. The metal gleams in the kitchen light, matching his slimy yet shiny smile. Veneers. Probably got an upgrade when The Org placed him in office. I grunt and wiggle, fighting against the chair that’s keeping me bound, and hoping I can free myself. Which is ridiculous, I know, but in the moment, you’ll try anything to liberate yourself from your captor.

The knife inches closer, and Declan slides the flat part of the blade down my cheek. I scream again. Curse his name. I’m sure he knows what I’m saying, even from behind the tape. The icy cold metal glides over my jawline, and Declan’s eyes focus in on mine as he holds the tip of the blade to my throat.

“See? This is fun, isn’t it?”

In one swift motion, the mother fucker rips the duct tape from my mouth, peeling back my skin with it. I yelp in pain.

“You mother fucker!” I bellow. “Let me go! I swear to God, I will kill you.”

“Kill me? Ha!” He shouts. “I will put a ball gag in your mouth, Tacy, if you don’t shut the fuck up.” There’s a look in his eyes I’ve never seen before. Wild. Untethered. Homicidal. I grit my teeth and seal my lips.

“Fine,” I stammer. “I just want to know…why are you doing this, Dee?”

He shakes his head as he paces in front of me. The knife gripped at his side. He’s wearing a button-down shirt and slacks. But his shirt is untucked and there’s a spatter of blood on the shoulder. Whose blood is it?

I’m panting and trying to catch my breath. My heart’s beating a hundred fifty per minute. I’m calculating how I can get free from this chair. What I can use in the kitchen to knock him out. Can I get to my phone? No, it’s in the bedroom. Can I get to the knives on the counter? I look over Declan’s shoulder and realize the knife block is empty. The dickwad removed all the weapons in the vicinity. Of course he did.

“Many reasons, Tacy,” he walks back and forth. Back and forth. Huffing and growling like a tied-up animal. “Let’s start with the fact that you’re a fucking cock tease. Shall we? You’ve been throwing your ass around in front of me since Sol was alive. Flaunting yourself constantly. Letting your tits hang out, showing off your ass every chance you got. You and I both know we have sexual chemistry. You’ve wanted to fuck me since we met. And after Sol died, I thought for sure we’d get together. You were supposed to be my friend.”

“So, which is it, Declan? Are we supposed to be friends or fuck buddies? Figure it the fuck out.”

Declan freezes in his tracks and turns towards me. He bends over and his nose nearly touches mine. “Why not both?”

I flinch, then laugh, one of those deep belly laughs. The audacity of this asshole.

“Okay, you said there are multiple reasons, Declan. Why else have you tied me up in my own fucking house and flaunted your knife around in front of me as if it were your second dick?”

He leans close again and sniffs my hair. “Secondly, you’re too meddlesome, Tacy. And someone needs to teach you a lesson.”

“Meddlesome? Are you a fucking old lady?” Now I’m taunting him, but I don’t care at this point.

If I can get him to engage physically with me, maybe I can wrestle the knife from his hand. It’s a long shot, and Declan’s much bigger and stronger than me. But it’s worth a try. The more I rile him up, the more likely he’ll be to attack. “You always were such a fucking twat. Spineless pussy.”

He backhands me across the cheek. A burning pain blurs my vision again, and I taste blood. Okay, so it’s working. But I need him to get even closer to me.

“You’ve dug yourself a grave. You’ve gotten yourself into things you have no idea how dangerous they are. I tried to keep you out of it, but you kept pushing. I tried to protect you, Tace, but you are just like him.”

“Like who?”

“Your dead husband,” he smirks. “And pretty soon, you’ll be even more like him. You’ll be in the grave next to him. Fucking worm food.”

“You’re not going to kill me, Declan. You and I both know that,” I swallow hard. “So, why are you actually here? You think this is a game or something? You know…I do enjoy being tied up. And I don’t mind being beaten either.”

A wave of violence flashes over Declan Harvey, the tension building to a fever pitch. I know he wants to kill me. But there’s probably other things he wants first. Well…he can try, but he’ll never get to fuck me. I’ll bite off his dick before he can put it in me.

“You’re fucking psychotic,” he says and chuckles wildly. He begins to pace again. This time he walks out of the kitchen and into the living room, briefly. But returns in seconds. Now his breathing is more rapid, the veins in his neck popping. His free fist is balled up at his side.

“Are you working up the balls to kill me or what? Get it over with, Dee!” I shout and brace for another strike. He growls at me, winds up, and his fist meets my temple and rocks me back in the chair, almost knocking me to the floor again. I don’t know if it’s the adrenaline or my hatred for him, but it doesn’t knock me out. My eye begins to swell, partially blocking my vision, and more of that metallic liquid floods my taste buds. My lip smarts and my entire face feels like it has its own heartbeat. I wonder how many times this mother fucker plans on hitting me before he finally does the deed.

“What did you use to knock me out, Dee? Was it Duselizab? Did you sprinkle a little bit on the box at the front door or what?” I laugh as I lick the blood off my top lip. This is fun. Riling up this psychopath. What he doesn’t realize is, I’m just as fucked up as he is. Just in a different way. And I’m not afraid to kill.

“Something like that,” he mutters and slides a phone out his back pocket. Nice. He has a phone. I can use that.

He types a text message then repockets it and glares at me. His jaw tenses as he looks at the clock on the wall. “I’m done answering your questions. Now, you’ll answer mine, or you’ll answer to my knife.”

He approaches me, leans over, and shines the knife in my face again. “Okay, I get it. You have a knife. Good for fucking you. You don’t need to threaten me with it, I’ll answer your questions.”

I smell expensive cologne on him…and the faint smell of chemicals. Or is that the smell of bleach? No. Medication? The aroma reminds me of the way the med room smells at the hospital. A sterile environment in which a medication was just spilled on the floor. I grit my teeth again and steel myself. Waiting for the first question.

I nod. “Go on. I’m waiting.”

He folds his arms over his chest, knife at his side, and says, “why not me? Instead, you chose Sol that night. Why?”

“Because I loved Sol the moment I laid eyes on him. I still love him,” I say. I want to tell him he’s a rancid mother fucker, but that would only incite him further. And something’s telling me I need to stay calm. I need to wait for the right moment to snatch that knife. “Next?”

“Love at first sight. Sounds like bullshit to me. But whatever. My next question is…why did you start digging into Duselizab?”

I clear my throat. “I put two and two together when multiple patients of mine started dying. It’s not hard to figure out a pattern…one of my patients was taking a medication and died with the same symptoms as another patient who also died. And then another. It only took a bit of research to see all my young, healthy patients were prescribed this drug and that their condition worsened afterward. They came to the hospital for help, and the doctors prescribed more of it. Eventually…killing them.”

“Why do you…of all people…care if people are dying?”

I swallow and glare at him. “What does that mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean, Tacy MacFee,” he drops my maiden name. I haven’t heard that name in years. Wanted to bury it. Keep it in the past forever.

“I’m sure I don’t, Declan Harvey.”

“You’re a murderer. Depraved. Blood thirsty. Just like Solomon.”

“Then I’m in good company, aren’t I?”

He huffs. Then pulls up a chair beside me. “I guess so.”

I glance down at his jeans pocket. There’s a long, cylindrical object within it. About three inches in length. Half an inch in diameter. Maybe it’s his tiny dick, but doubtful. It’s a syringe.

Declan rests his head on my shoulder. “I thought we were close, Tacy. Don’t you care about my wellbeing? My happiness? You always said you loved me.”

“I cared for you, sure,” I say through clenched teeth. The cuffs dig into my wrists as I try to free them. I’ve gotten out of cuffs before…a little game Sol and I used to play in the bedroom. I have unusually small hands and double-jointed fingers. And loads of practice. “But you lost that love, our friendship, when you had someone abduct me. When that psychopath tried to kill me.”

I shrug my shoulder and push him off me. He leans back in the chair, knife resting in his lap, one hand gripping the back of my neck. He’s displaying his dominance. Like I’m a dog and he’s the owner. Too bad for him, I bite back.

“You mean, your ex-boyfriend? I thought maybe you’d be happy to see him.”

Shit. He knows. “Happy? Why would I be fucking happy to see Orion Starkey? He’s a piece of shit. One of the worst dirtbags I’ve ever known in my life. The most disgusting, vile…”

“I was going to make you a deal, Tacy.” He runs his hand over the back of my head, his fingers getting stuck in a knot in my hair. To which he abruptly rips loose, making me squeal.

“Mother fucker!”

“What, Tacy? I thought you could take the abuse. Seems like you can’t. You’re just a scared little girl, aren’t you?”

“Enough of this bullshit, Declan. What’s the deal?”

“To join me, my cause, and reap all the rewards.”

“So, you were going to offer me a deal while I was strapped to a fucking bucket in Starkey’s disgusting ass basement? Covered in my own piss and blood and sweat? You think I would’ve accepted your fucking deal? You’re an idiot, Declan. Dumber now than when I met you.”

He hisses, stands, and slaps me again. This time so hard I see red stars. Warm fluid drips off my cheek and into my lap. I gulp and look at the time. It’s two o’clock. Pick up time. My poor kids. And where is fucking Aris? Wasn’t he supposedly stalking me? Watching me? Then I remember. The camera in the corner of the kitchen. I glance over. The tiny green light is flashing, which means…it’s on. Wouldn’t Declan have noticed that? He knew I had cameras put up, because Orion disabled them during the power outage that day he abducted me. Did Dee just forget?

“He was supposed to bring you to me. And then I would let you decide.”

“Decide to join you? You sound like a fucking cliché villain straight out of a cheesy-ass movie, Declan. You must know that.”

“Decide whether you’d want to live or die,” he says and holds the knife to my throat. “You weren’t supposed to get away. Starkey wasn’t supposed to die. Nor was he supposed to treat you in such a manner. Speaking of…how did you get away, Tacy? Hmm? You didn’t kill Starkey yourself. Someone helped you, right?”

I close my eyes and focus on the pain. In my body and in my mind. In my heart. It’s the pain that drives me. It always has. So, instead of running from it, I lean into it.

“No one helped me. I killed the asshole myself,” I growl. “He had it coming.”

“I don’t believe you,” he whispers in my ear. His knife tip presses into the skin above my carotid artery. “You know what I think? You had a savior. A protector.”

I stare blankly ahead. Remind myself to keep my countenance stale. Don’t let him see me react.

“I save myself,” I say as I muster all my strength and fling myself against Declan, crashing down into his lap, my elbow smacking into the pocket with the syringe. In a clatter of metal and tile, I fall to the floor, taking Declan down with me. My face cracks into the porcelain, and I lie in a heap beside my mortal fucking enemy. His knee is in my ribs and his hand is on the back of my neck again. I peer around and notice he dropped the knife in the shuffle. It lies about three feet away.

“You bitch!” He yells, jumps up, and kicks me in the gut.

All the wind is knocked out of me, but the jolt of it somehow releases one of my hands from the cuffs. This is it! My chance!

I reach around and grab Declan’s ankle and pull with all my might. He stumbles over and reaches out to catch himself on the table but smacks his head on the chair on the way down. I reach out and pull myself forward with my free hand. Crawling towards the weapon.

“Fuck!” My captor shouts, and there’s a shuffle behind me as he gathers himself and stands.

Just as I close my fingers around the blade, Declan crouches over me and slips the knife from my hand, and the blade cuts through the flesh of my palm like scissors through tissue paper.

The next thing I know, I’m being lifted from the ground, chair and all, and shoved towards the corner of the kitchen. Directly in front of the security camera.

Declan pulls my free arm behind me, and secures the cuffs, tighter this time, then shoves me so hard into the countertop that my sternum cracks. I’m shocked I haven’t passed out from the pain encompassing my entire body, at this point.

“You’re going to die, Declan. I’m going to fucking kill you,” I spit at him.

He grabs the back of my hair and pulls my head back, exposing my throat to the recording camera. I mean, does this security company even do anything? Then he holds the blade to my neck and huffs into my ear. “Tell your husband I said hello when you see him in fucking Hell, you cunt.”

“Fuck…you!” I manage to get out, just as the metal digs into my skin again. Not enough to kill me, but enough to make my life flash before my eyes. I’ve become a human knife cushion.

“You can say hello now,” a third voice rings out from the back door. Sharp and ruddy. And oh so comforting.

“Who the fuck?” Declan releases his grip on me as he spins around. But before he can see who it is, a baseball bat strikes him in the face. Metal on bone makes a strange, clinking sound. Declan falls to the ground, and I wrench my head around to look.

“Get up, Harvey,” Aris says. He’s wearing a JFK mask. “Get up. And let’s fucking finish this.”

Moaning, Declan lurches himself up from the floor. Blood spills out of a slit below his right eye all over my white tile. He slips in his own blood as he stands up. The look in his eye has gone from vengeful to downright explosive.

“Solomon?” Dee asks and blinks. “I fucking knew it.”

“I’m not Solomon. Remember? You said it yourself. Solomon is fucking gone.”

Declan chuckles. “Then who the fuck are you?”

“Lazaris King.”

“Oh, right. I get it. Biblical. Nice touch. So, you’ve risen from the dead and now you seek vengeance on me? Well…I didn’t put the hit out on you,” Declan growls as he lunges with the blade.

Aris leaps backwards, avoiding the knife and laughing at the same time.

“You had plenty of enemies, Brother. No need to wear a mask. The stench of weakness gives you away.”

I press my feet against the floor and turn towards them, trying to free my hands again. I used to like handcuffs. Now…not so much. If I make it out of this alive, I’ll be pitching the damn things. Shibari is much prettier anyway.

Aris faces Declan. Declan faces Aris. They’re staring each other down. No doubt planning their next moves. Who’s going to deal out the death blow. Aris drops the bat. Declan lays the knife on the table beside him. Why the fuck did Aris drop the bat?

“You were my best friend, Declan. We were brothers. You betrayed me,” Aris says and lunges forward, slamming his fist into the side of Declan’s face. “You fucking Judas.”

Declan chuckles and spits blood at Aris. Maroon droplets spray over his black leather work boots. “You were always trying to save the fucking planet. Save humanity. But it wasn’t out of the goodness of your heart. It was so you could get the credit. The worship. So, people would love you for being so wonderful. Come on, Lazaris. You wanted to be the savior of the people for the fucking media coverage. To feed your covert narcissism. You don’t truly care about people, do you? And neither does your precious slut of a wife.”

“You leave her out of this. You’ve done enough to her,” Aris says, the JFK mask twitching with anger.

He bolts forward again, the back of his fist slamming into Declan’s ear. Declan stumbles sideways and catches himself on the kitchen wall. The clock falls off and crashes to the ground. It’s two-thirty. The kids. They’re probably being picked up by my mother again. Jesus, I hope they don’t come here. Not now. Not when I have a homicidal maniac in my kitchen fighting my deceased husband in a dead president’s mask. I’m still trying to pull my hands out of the cuffs.

Declan punches Aris in the face, then mumbles something and turns to me. “You don’t know about her, do you, Laz?”

“It’s fucking Aris to you, you piece of shit,” Aris growls, bends over, and picks up his bat.

“Ha! Okay, Aris, is it? Has your lovely wife, the nurse, told you about the people she murdered in Washington? When she was in a death cult?”

I look at Aris, who’s now looking at me. Yes, he fucking knows. I wriggle my hands back and forth and manage to slide a cuff over my thumb knuckle.

Aris slaps the bat against his free hand, threatening Declan. “We can do this all day, Brother. In fact, I’m having a fucking blast.”

“Fucking hit him, Aris!” I yell. Why monologues? Just take him out already.

Declan waves the blade in the air. “You have a blunt object. I have serrated metal. Who do you think will win this fight, Sol?”

Aris pulls back then swings the bat. With a whistling noise and a clang, smashes the bat into Declan’s ribs just as Dee thrusts the knife. Aris curses and whips backward, taking the bat with him. Declan falls to the floor, “fucking prick.”

The knife is sticking out of Aris’s shoulder. The bat clatters as it falls, and Aris frees the knife from his arm. He doesn’t make a sound but secures both weapons.

I scan the kitchen for anything I can use as a weapon. Aris has the knife. And the bat. But I still want to help him take this mother fucker out. There, under the table, is a syringe. It has to be the same one from Dee’s pocket. I slip my second hand from the cuff and reach down to free my legs.

Both men are panting, now encircling one another, hunched down like lions preparing for the attack. Aris’s boots squeak on the bloody floor.

I rip the rope from one of my ankles, then quietly liberate my other leg. But I wait until Declan has his back turned towards me to get out of the chair. My heart beats violently, and I hold my breath as I bolt from the chair and slide under the table, my hand closing around the plastic tube. The syringe is still intact, even though I tried to break it before. The screw cap is easy enough to open, and I just need to get it into Declan’s body somehow…

I jump up from the floor and watch as Declan lunges for the knife in Aris’s left hand, and the bat in Aris’s right pings off the side of Declan’s head. He flies backwards and hits the wall with a thud. “Quick! Give me the knife!” I yell at Aris.

The man behind the JFK mask hesitates. And shakes his head slightly.

“Now!” I hold the syringe up to show him.

He slides the knife across the table towards me, I grab it, turn and slam it into Declan’s hand, pinning his palm to the floor. Then I bite the cap off the syringe, which is stupid in hindsight because I could’ve poisoned my fucking self and dump the contents onto the stab wound.

Declan screams, “You fucking bitch! You…” And passes the fuck out.

“I thought you wanted to kill him, Babydoll?”

“I refuse to give him the satisfaction. And…I guess I’m not a killer.” I confess. “I never meant to hurt anyone.”

In a way, I’m forgiving myself in this moment. Righting the wrongs I’ve done. “Anyway, it would be too merciful to kill him. He deserves to rot in a prison cell.”