Chapter Six
Zarah
W aking up in Gage’s arms is the most wonderful feeling ever. I stretch, our legs tangled together, my hair stuck in his beard. Stifling a giggle, I pull the strands free and lie on my side, feel him breathe, memorize his features.
It’s like watching a giant sleep. Even in my queen, he takes up most of the bed and I slept cuddled into him all night.
I’m happy Zane has given me this. It might not seem like much since I spend the night at Gage’s whenever I want, but this tells me my brother is willing to compromise, that he accepts my relationship. Instead of fighting it, he’s inviting Gage into our family, and I shimmer with joy.
His eyes crack open, the golden glints sparking in my nightlight’s weak glow. It can’t be past seven, but Gage will need to shower and get on the road to go to work. Last night, during dinner, Zane and Gage told Stella and me about what they found out talking to Alan Guthrie. My dinner sat in a lump in my stomach. I don’t know what it means, that Senator Cook owns Quiet Meadows, but it can’t be anything good.
“Good morning,” he mumbles, snuggling me.
“Good morning.”
“Folgers had it wrong.”
“What do you mean?”
“They said coffee’s the best part of waking up, but that’s not true when I get to wake up to you.”
I press my face into my pillow to quiet the laugh. “You need a big cup to rinse some of that cheesiness out of your mouth.”
He nuzzles my neck, and his whiskers rub against my shoulder. “I can’t help it.”
“I don’t want you to, anyway. I like it.”
“I know you do.”
He covers my mouth with his, and our tongues glide together. After I spent the night at Gage’s, I read about the morning after. Not feelings about sex and regret, but about other things, like bad breath. That’s a worry a lot of women have. That, and our legs and armpits aren’t that smooth anymore. I don’t mind the way Gage tastes, and he must not care about how I taste either, because he’s never complained or asked me if I’d get up and brush my teeth.
We wore our pajamas to bed, and he makes quick work of mine, pulling my tank top over my head, pushing the matching shorts down my legs, and throwing them onto the floor. He’s naked in a second, and I roll onto my back.
“Do you want to try something?” he asks, fluttering kisses all over my face.
My heart thumps heavily beneath my ribs. I do want to try something, but I’m scared of it, too. Not that Gage will hurt me, but the memories it will evoke. Memories of Ash’s jobs are like a game of tug of war. I don’t want to remember...I want to push them down deep inside where they can’t hurt me anymore. On the other hand, I need to remember, so I can remind myself Gage would never abuse me like that.
Jerricka would scold me up and down and sideways for what I think next, and maybe Gage would too, get dressed and forget the whole thing. “Sure.” I’ll do anything if you don’t leave me.
He knows me too well. “You don’t have to sound like a scared little rabbit. I’ll never hurt you, Zarah, and if you don’t like it, say so and I’ll stop right away, okay?” He cups my cheek with his hand, and there’s nothing I wouldn’t give him no matter how much it hurt me.
“Lie on your side facing the door.”
I do, tucking my pillow under my head, over my arm. My stomach is all rumbly, but I’m wet. An odd combination. Anticipation and fear. I don’t have to guess which one weighs more heavily on me right now.
He spoons me, and I relax. It doesn’t matter the situation, I’m always going to feel safe in Gage’s arms. Sliding his arm under my pillow, he laces our fingers together and nuzzles my neck with his lips. His cock is hard between us, and he moves his hips, rubbing his length against my butt. My belly tightens under his hand, and he explores my trimmed pubic hair and goes farther, parting my folds. He feels how wet I am and sucks in a breath.
“Jesus.”
“That’s good, right?” I’m still not that confident he finds me sexy. Finds me desirable. No matter how many times we have sex, make love, I’m still used. He still knows what those men did to me first.
“You have no idea what you do to me,” he whispers against my shoulder.
As he glides his fingers in and out of me in long, lazy strokes, I think this is all we’re going to do, until he parts my legs and the tip of his cock nudges me.
“I know you don’t want to make love while I’m behind you. Is this position okay?”
I nod. I swallow a lump in my throat because I understand now. He’s not trying something new for himself, he’s easing me into other positions for me. So I can enjoy sex in other ways. I pull his arm out from under the pillow and press my lips to his skin. I love him so much in this moment my heart feels like it could literally explode.
He pushes a little more into me and rubs my clit. “I put a condom on. I’ll always protect you, Zarah.”
“I know,” I say softly.
You would think this way wouldn’t be as intimate as being able to look into your partner’s eyes, but you’d be wrong. Our bodies are molded from head to toe—there isn’t one part of us that isn’t touching. Gage angles his hips, and lightly thrusting, fills me all the way.
“Are you doing okay?” he asks.
“You feel good.”
“Good.”
He rolls his hips, his hard shaft moving back and forth, and his fingers circle my clit. It’s difficult for me to move, to join in, but I don’t feel nervous or trapped. I wish I had access to his body, too, but he’s doing this for me and I relax and enjoy the gift he’s giving me.
The ball of fire builds in my belly. “Faster.”
He start rubbing me almost frantically, and his thrusts are harder, deeper. Pressing my mouth against his skin to muffle the sound, I cry out against his arm. I pinch one of my nipples, and it’s the last zing I need to fall over the edge.
Gage rides out my orgasm, pumping through it until he comes, too, and the hand he used to rub my clit is sticky as he tightens his hold on my hip. Resting his chin on my shoulder, he sinks into the mattress to catch his breath in deep, shuddering sighs.
I can’t help the tears that drip down my face, wetting his skin.
Lifting up on his arm, he whispers kisses over my cheek. “Did I hurt you?”
“No.” I sniffle. “I know you were doing that for me. Thank you.”
“Well,” he says, and I feel him smile, “it wasn’t all for you.”
“Still. I appreciate the way you...handle me.” I can’t think of a better word, and I should have known Gage would know what to say.
“I like handling you.” He cups my breast, heavy after making love. “Let me clean up.”
Gently, he pulls out of me and rolls out of bed. He steps into the bathroom and shuts the door, and I fluff the sheets. The scent of sex wafts into the air, hot and musky. There’s another wet spot, and again it’s my fault. I can’t wait until the shot starts working and then I can blame him too.
I’ve cooled off the bed by the time he comes back, though our sweat still dampens the sheets. I’ll have to wash my own bedding. There’s no way I want Lucille knowing what Gage and I are doing in my room, and she’ll be able to smell it the second she walks in.
“If I ever want to do anything that’s too much, you have to tell me,” he says, lying on his back, angling an arm under his head and nudging me onto his chest.
“I will. It was nice. I liked it.”
Frowning, he searches my face. It sounds like I’m complimenting a meal we ate at a new restaurant. I try again. “It felt really good. I promise.” I kiss him, licking at his lips until he opens his mouth. “What time do you have to get going? If you’re hungry, Lucille will have coffee and breakfast set out already. Do you want to shower here? Don’t worry about letting Baby outside. Lucille will do that and give her, Sansa, and Arya something to eat.”
Gage brushes a strand of hair out of my eyes. “I have a few minutes yet, and I want to ask you something. If it makes you uncomfortable, you need to tell me. No lying, no saying yes because you think I’ll get mad if you don’t. This is on you, and if you want to say no, then you tell me no and it will be the end of it.”
“Does this have anything to do with sex?” My mouth dries, and I want to run away.
“No.” He pauses. “Maybe.”
“What is it?”
“Now that Alan Guthrie’s told us Rourke owns Quiet Meadows, I feel like that facility is the key to it all. Somehow. I don’t know why yet. Three women, prior patients, are dead. Seemingly of different things, but it’s a tie I can’t overlook, not anymore.” He smooths a finger down my cheek, and I press my lips to his skin. Maybe to keep myself from screaming, his touch, telling me to shh, shh, it’s going to be all right.
“Why do you think this has to do with sex?”
He stares at the ceiling. “Pop and I spoke to the sister and fiancé of the woman who committed suicide, and she said that her sister told them her doctors liked to touch her. Get a rise out of her. Test her to see if she’d...like it.”
“Oh.”
“I’m wondering now if someone had her killed to cover up any sexual abuse that was going on.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“I want us to go there. Today. See if something trips your memory.”
I scramble onto my knees, too flustered to cover myself. My chest heaves, and my skin’s clammy. “You want me to go to Quiet Meadows.”
It’s not a question.
“If you’re up to it. If you’re not, don’t feel bad. Pop and I can snoop around. Maybe talk to other patients, if we can get our hands on a list.”
“You want to bring me there to see if I remember being sexually assaulted?” I want to throw up. “Are you sick?”
I fly off the bed and into the bathroom. I lean against the toilet, just in case my stomach decides it can’t hold on to what I ate at dinner last night. Out of all the things I thought Gage would ask me, going back to Quiet Meadows is not one of them.
“I’m sorry. Forget I asked. I’ll figure something else out. It’s okay.” He kneels next to me and brushes his hand down my back. “I’m sorry.”
I want to help him, but I can’t. “I don’t want to go there. The things they did to me—the drugs, the nurses, group therapy, time outside. Those years are nothing but impressions, feelings, snatches of conversation. Ash would visit and tell me he would kill Zane if I said anything, did anything, tried to escape. I don’t remember his exact words, just the sharp, unbearable pain of knowing if I didn’t do what he said, he would murder my brother and then I would have no one. I would welcome the next dose of medication. It made me numb, made me drift. It shut down my brain and I embraced it.”
Moaning, I rest my forehead against the edge of the toilet seat.
“The only thing I remember without any fog is Stella walking into my room. She’s the sharpest memory I have. I felt hope for the first time since the ambulance carried me away that night at Zane’s party. I looked into her eyes and saw that Ash hadn’t killed her, that she managed to get away.” Gage doesn’t touch me...he’s disgusted and doesn’t want my past to stain his hands. “I don’t understand why you think this involves me.”
“You’re the same age as those women. Maybe you were in group therapy together, maybe you overheard a doctor talk to a nurse about one of them and can’t remember. Rourke owns Quiet Meadows, you don’t have your memory back like your doctor thought you would by now, three women are dead, and the psychiatrist who ran the place is still treating patients. I don’t like any of it, but you’re right. It’s too much and I shouldn’t have asked. I’ll get my clothes and head out.”
“Because I’m dirty.”
He lifts me into his lap. “Stop saying that. We all have secrets and we all have dirt. I pushed you too hard and I’ll give you some space. You know I never want you scared of me, especially if I ask you to do something you don’t want to do.” Kissing my cheek, he says, “Call if you want to talk later.”
I don’t have the words to stop him. To tell him that I don’t want him to go. He dresses, and I sit on the floor in the bathroom until I hear the door click behind him. Wrapped in my robe, I crawl back into bed. The scent of his body saturates my sheets and invades my nose, and tears fill my eyes. I should have asked him to stay. I should have been brave enough to tell him that even if he made me, not mad, but, I don’t know. Appalled? Frightened? That he didn’t need to go.
Someone knocks on my door, and Stella slips into my room without permission. We’re past that. There’s nowhere in my life where I wouldn’t let her in.
“Hey. Gage asked me to come up and check on you.” She lies on my bed and props her head in her hand.
“I’m fine.”
“He told me what he asked you to do.”
“Yeah.”
“Do you want to do something else instead?”
I meet her eyes. “Like what?”
“Something that’s probably just as bad.”
I scoff. “Oh, please, yes. Thanks for asking.”
She smiles. “Shower and get dressed. I’ll meet you downstairs in an hour.”
“ You’re not going to drive me out to Quiet Meadows, are you?”
“No, but you’re not going to like it any better. One hour.”
“Okay.”
All through my shower I wonder where she’s going to bring me.
I should have left with Gage because there’s no chance in hell I would have went there willingly, even with Stella.
Black Enterprises towers in front of us, the very top of the skyscraper disappearing into the clouds. The sight churns my stomach, but not because I have to bend my neck so far. Ash forced me to move in with him to keep me in his sights, to keep me available whenever one of his jobs demanded me. He let me out sometimes so I would look normal, so our relationship seemed normal, only, he sicced Hector on me and had him follow me around the city. Thank God Stella knew something was happening.
“Why are we here? Isn’t this hard on you?” I lived here a short time, but this is where Ash kept Stella prisoner. Her coming here is like me going to Quiet Meadows.
“Yes, but sometimes we have to look our nightmares right in the eyes and tell them to go back to hell. I’ve avoided this, and I think I know why now. I was meant to come here with you.”
“Can we get in?”
The FBI shut down Black Enterprises. Nothing the Blacks touched was legal, even the seemingly innocent businesses that had nothing to do with their foundations, sex trafficking, or selling arms on the black market were closed due to suspected money laundering. I don’t know when the FBI will conclude their investigations. They could need years to find everything the Blacks have done, though they have more than enough now to put both Clayton and Ash away for consecutive life sentences.
“I asked Zane to make a couple of phone calls. Come on.”
She waves at Douglas and he tips his hat and drifts into traffic.
We stop in front of the tinted glass doors, our reflections wavering in the weak winter sunlight. She’s dressed in jeans and her cream winter coat, her platinum blonde hair swirling around her shoulders.
I stand to her right, wearing a pair of jeggings and my black peacoat. My dark hair is a stark contrast to hers. We’re the same height, almost the same build, though she’s always been just a bit stockier than I am. In the looks department, we’re complete opposites down to her alabaster skin, mine coppery and glowing, even in the dull winter months.
I wonder if I saw that in her the first time we met. How opposite on the outside we are, how identical we are on the inside. If I somehow knew what she would become to Zane and me. How intricate a part of our lives she would become. I can’t tell you what made me invite her to the penthouse for wine and cheesecake except I felt a belonging, a kinship I didn’t want to let go of after I finished shadowing her that day.
She opens the door, jerking me out of my reverie, and the security team lets us through. Everyone turns to stare, but no one records our visit, not like at Willow’s building. A few wave or nod. They all know who we are, what we did. What Ash did to us.
“Where do we start?”
“Where do you want to go?” she asks, leading me to the elevator banks.
“Home.”
“Ha. Ha.”
She acts nonchalant, but with every floor the elevator climbs, more color drains from her face.
The building brings back a lot of memories. Not just of Ash and what he did, but of my childhood. My dad and his were best friends. I grew up in this building almost as much as I grew up in my own. The hallways feel familiar, the professional atmosphere. The quiet authority. Things got done in this building. Horrible, nasty, things. The employees of Black Enterprises thought they were making a difference. They were proud to work for their foundations. They were proud to negotiate business deals in the Blacks’ name until all the evil they were doing was exposed, revealing the Blacks for who they really are.
Stella knows this building as well, or even better, than I do, and she leads me to Ash’s office. The view from here is just as spectacular as the one Zane’s office gives us. The sun shines through the windows, highlighting the empty bookshelves and the desk that has been wiped clean. Nothing much remains in this building, and I wonder if they found all the secret passages that made the skyscraper so much fun to play in as a child.
“Do you think the FBI knows about Clayton’s penchant for hidden rooms?” I ask as she walks around the office.
“After Clayton and Ash were arrested and Willow was taken into custody, I showed them all the hallways and rooms top to bottom. It took me over a week.”
“Where did you stay?”
Pausing, she swallows. “I’ll show you.”
She slides one of Ash’s bookcases aside, easier now, because all the books are gone, to reveal a hidden doorway and walks down the carpeted hallway to a door that’s ajar. She nudges it open wider revealing a pretty bedroom that appears normal—a queen bed, a white desk. A TV, and a large bathroom. The wallpaper is periwinkle blue, and plush carpeting matches the walls.
It doesn’t feel like a prison, but I know it was. The doors in the secret hallways never lock from the inside. I sigh and run my fingers over an armoire. This room, too, was cleared out, not a scrap of anything personal left behind.
I can’t think of anything to say, nothing that wouldn’t sound stupid or trite. It’s my fault Ash trapped her here...because I was too much of a coward to say anything to anyone.