10. Garrison
TEN
GARRISON
S uch a fucking pussy. Can’t even stay conscious. What kind of man sets out to ambush and kill another man but can’t even stay awake after a little tussle? Not to mention, he tattled to Carsyn. Little bitch.
I take a bite of my chicken, studying Carsyn’s profile. I thought it would be strange finally seeing her up close, becoming privy to her mannerisms and ways after so long of just watching her. But being near her doesn’t feel strange at all. It’s Liam’s presence that boils my blood.
I can’t even enjoy the slope of her nose, the plump pout of her lips or the enticing way she tosses her hair to one side with a flick of her hand because she’s staring at fucking Liam.
Reaching out slowly, I press the tip of my knife under her chin, using the edge not serrated to guide her face to mine. “Quit.”
Her swallow is loud, and my groin flexes responsively. “You gotta use a knife to make your point?” she asks, watching the blade as I lower it back to my plate, flipping it to use the sharp edge to cut another piece of chicken.
“Didn’t use the cuttin’ side,” I say around a mouthful of potatoes and meat. “Finish your dinner.”
She wraps her chestnut hair up, tying it on top of her head. I like seeing the sexy slope of her neck. I like seeing all the places I wanna leave teeth marks.
“Planning where you’re gonna slice me?” she asks, catching me looking. Eyes narrowed in a hateful glare directed at me, she sticks her fork tines into some chicken. I watch her jaw flex as she chews, and I watch her throat bob as she swallows.
“If I was gonna cut your throat, why would I keep you for so long? Hmm? Tell me how that makes a lick of sense, Carsyn. Tell me why you’d even think I’m gonna kill you after I’ve done nothing but take care of you. Feed you, give you new clothes,” I lean in over my now empty dinner plate, “ free you.”
She scoffs. “Free? Who in this house, aside from you, is free?”
I reach down, managing somehow to keep my eyes on hers while wrapping my hand around her ankle, lifting it to rest her foot on the table.
She slams her foot down to the floor as soon as I let go.
“One ankle, wow, generous.”
Finishing her chicken and potatoes, Carsyn keeps her eyes on her fork and green beans when she says, “you should’ve just left me in that room. Bringing me out here just to see my friend hurt, to watch you pull some alpha macho bullshit on him with me as your captive audience? No thanks.” She shoves a forkful of green beans into her mouth.
If we were under different circumstances, that kind of mouth would have her thrown into my bed so goddamn fast. I love a smart fucking mouth.
“Finish your food.”
She stops mid-bite, her gaze only coming to my chest when she growls, “I already am.”
I push my plate to the center of the table and stack one boot on the other, waiting for her. Once she takes the last bite, I snatch her plate away and get to my feet. Now that he’s here and captive, I don’t have too much time. With Carsyn fed, it’s time to lock her up and get to work.
“Back to the room,” I tell her, nodding for her to get to her feet. She folds her arms over her chest, glancing back at Liam once before leveling her angry eyes on me.
“Why’d you bring me out here? Seriously? Tell me. Tell me what the purpose of tonight was if it wasn’t meant to make me feel worse?” She asks, her bottom lip lightly trembling as she keeps her voice low. She’s protecting him, and nothing makes me angrier.
I take her jaw in one hand, and yank her face up to mine, as close as I can without lifting her off her feet. “Quit with the questions. When you need to know something, I’ll tell you.”
Her brown eyes flare with anger as a frustrated tear slips through her full, dark lashes. “I hate you.”
My face remains impassive and cold when I reply, “you wish you did.” I shove my hands under her arms, yank her out of the chair—which topples backward with a clatter—and toss her over my shoulder. “Back in the cuff, let’s go.”
Digging her palms into my back, she pushes against my shoulder blades, struggling though in this position she has no real power. Not in my house, but especially not in my arms.
“I would’ve walked!” she hollers, slamming her palms into my back.
“I gave you the chance and the only thing runnin’ was your fuckin’ mouth,” I gripe, pushing into her room, tossing her onto the center of the bed. Bending to snatch the cuff from the floor, in my periphery I see her feet touch down, and I stand just in time to catch her around the waist and yank her back.
Out of breath and in an instant, she’s pinned beneath me on the mattress, staring up at me with wild, frantic eyes.
“This your way of asking me for the needle?” I ask her quietly, our lips nearly touching. Her little tits heave against my chest, and if I moved one inch over, she’d feel seven inches against her leg.
She shakes her head. “N-no.” Her tongue swipes along her bottom lip before she swallows, adding, “but I’d be a fool not to make a break for it when I can.”
She isn’t wrong about that. If anyone was holding me captive, I’d spend every moment of my consciousness trying to get free.
“Be good or you leave me no choice,” I warn, moving off of her. On her back on the bed, she watches me, standing next to the mattress, her foot in one of my hands. I snap the cuff closed around her ankle, then lower her leg back down, adjusting the chain on the bed so she has length to move around a little.
“Why did you bring Liam here?” she asks again, this time her voice frail and thin. I’ve been feeding her well, but still, she looks frail because she won’t eat more than a couple of bites at breakfast and lunch. Huddled up on the mattress, late afternoon spilling through the window, leaving pink and orange streaks along her legs, I realize it’s not hunger or lost calories altering her appearance, it’s stress. Anxiety. Fear.
It’s me.
“How’re the clothes?” I ask her through the guilty cramp in my gut.
I focus on the clothes she’s wearing. They fit. They fit mighty good. The flannel and wool socks never got used but then again, can’t blame her. She’s indoors. When she rides her horse along her property, she wears a flannel and her hat, same as me. Looks sexy as hell, too. I like her like this though, casual in leggings and a tank. Feet bare. Hair wild.
“They cover me,” she says, staring at the TV on the wall. She has yet to turn it on in the last few days, and I don’t know why it doesn’t surprise me, but it doesn’t. Stubborn as an ox, this woman. God forbid she make a moment of her captivity easier or pass quicker with some entertainment.
Carsyn Beckett is everything I already knew and where there was unknown, she’s just what I expected.
“Hmm,” I say, following her gaze to the blackened TV set. “Well, okay.”
Turning, I head toward the door, ready to wake up that little bitch from his nap when Carsyn stops me. “Why is he here? Can you answer that much at least?”
With my hand on the knob, I look down at my boots for a second. I could tell her now, but I don’t think she’s ready. Instead, I tip my hat up and turn to face her. “ He came to me .”
“You already told me that,” she whispers, her fingers inching toward me. “And that doesn’t answer my question. Why did he come here?”
“To get you.”
“To rescue me,” she clarifies.
“If I meant rescue, I’d have said rescue,” I tell her. She doesn’t believe me, but at some point, she’ll see. I’ll show her.
I leave Carsyn, closing the door behind me, and crack my knuckles as I make my way down the hall, toward Mr Harvey Dent himself.
I kick his foot. “Hey.”
Nothing.
I kick his foot again. “She’s locked up in her room. It’s just me and you now.”
Liam stirs, tipping his head back to reveal his open eyes.
“You were faking to make Carsyn angry with me, eh?” I smirk down at him, stuffing my hands in my pockets. He spits blood across his leg, and it lands on my boot.
He doesn’t answer.
“Well, you either faked it to garner attention and sympathy or you’re a weak little clown who planned an ambush and failed. Either way I look at it, you’re pathetic.”
Liam grimaces as he shifts in his cuffs. “Coming from a man who trafficks women and ch?—”
Perfect. I’ve been waiting for him to bring up the sins of the Conway family. It’s the perfect opening. I drive my boot into his stomach, making him choke on his sentiment. Dropping to a knee, I stare at him until he meets my eyes.
“Now ain’t that the pot calling the kettle black.” I can’t help but grin.
Liam glares at me but says nothing. “Staying quiet? Pleadin’ the fifth? That’s fine.” I move across the room and take a seat on the couch, resting comfortably as I stare him down. “I’ll talk.”
Liam twists in his cuffs, repositioning himself against the hearth as he glares at me. His blonde hair is matted with blood, and his clothes are, too. Pretty soon, none of that is gonna matter.
Our gazes hold.
He drops his voice to a whisper. “Does she know?”
“We both know that doesn’t matter. You were never gonna get her.” I stare past him, out the window, to where his car is parked behind an old camphor tree. “What you got in the car?”
Liam doesn’t speak for a moment, and when he finally does, it’s useless. “We can work it out. Once I give her over, I’ll get money and you can have?—”
“She ain’t yours to give over,” I tell him. “What’s in the car?”
He shakes his head, nostrils flaring as he searches his mind for any viable excuse, anything he believes will free him. Little does he know, I’m not who he thinks and he’s never getting free. “Let me talk to Forrest!” he shouts, thrusting his body forward against the chains. “Goddamn it, Garrison, let me talk to Forrest! Let me explain!”
“If I find any surprises out there and you blow me up, you do know you and her will both die of starvation and dehydration in here. So tell me now, you fucker, what’s in the fucking car?” I add her in, but the truth is, a man like Liam only cares about his own life when it comes down to it.
He shakes his head frantically. “No, no, nothing is in there. Maybe a knife in the boot, but nothing else.”
“Alright. Well, I’m a nice guy so I’m gonna let you take a leak, but I’m gonna have a gun pointed to your head when I do.” I lean forward, bracing my palms on my knees. “I got permission to end you, so don’t put me to the test.”
Liam nods. I get to my feet and pull the keys out, reaching behind his back to access his wrists. With my gun drawn, I free the cuffs from the wall, then free one wrist entirely. “In front of you,” I tell him, the barrel of my pistol pressed into his cheek. He brings his hands in front, and I recuff him with one hand, keeping my gun aimed right at him. Slowly I walk him to the bathroom and unfortunately watch him take a leak before bringing him back, returning him to the floor.
“I’m hungry,” he says as I’m putting my coat and gloves on. My calf is starting to really fucking hurt, and as soon as I check his vehicle and his clothes, I can have a hot shower and a big fucking whiskey.
“Well, here’s what I’m thinking. I’m gonna kill you, most likely, and so feeding you doesn’t make much sense.” I tug on my left glove, making sure my fingers reach the tips. “Groceries ain’t cheap, you know?”
“You aren’t gonna kill me. If Forrest wanted me dead, I’d have been dead ages ago,” he says, attempting confidence, but unease finds space between his words, and his eyes are lined with doubt.
“Why would Forrest want someone as inconsequential as you dead?” I ask him, fishing around in my pocket for the keys I took off him when I first chained him up. “Better yet, what makes you so sure I’m doing this for Forrest?”
Leaving him confused, I walk out the front and trudge through the pasture toward his car, using the key to pop the trunk. Every inch is bare, and when I lift the cover to expose the spare tire, it’s bare in there, too. This asshole really was not prepared. If it were me going to ambush, I’d show up with a trunk full of weapons, ammo, ropes, tarps, first aid—all of it.
I shake my head as I slam the trunk closed and move to the driver’s side door, popping it open. I search every square inch of that car but as Liam said, it’s empty. Standing under the camphor, I pull my phone from my coat pocket and redial the last number that called.
“GC—you got him?”
“Yeah, I got him.” I smooth my tongue over my teeth as I stare at my tiny blue house in the middle of nowhere. Looking at it, it seems peaceful. No one passing by would ever know two people are prisoners inside. “He drove here.”
“We expected that.”
“Alright then.” I end the call, white puffs of breath hovering above me with each step back to the house. Inside, I shrug out of my coat and gloves I put on before I headed out, and place my hat on the counter, on top. Smoothing my hand through my hair, I flip on the small light above the hearth and kick off my boots.
“Where are you going?” Liam calls after me as I head down the hall toward my room.
Turning, I walk back into the living room and smirk. “You’re right. I knew I was forgetting something.” Curving around the counter, I reach for my whiskey in the cupboard and pull it out. “Thanks buddy.”
He swallows thickly, fear making him sit stick straight. “You can’t just leave me here,” he calls after me but everything else he says is inaudibly muffled by my closed bedroom door.