Page 69 of Torment

20

Mason

My stomach gnawedat itself as Jolie stepped outside in floods of tears.

It was a mistake to let her in earlier, and it was a mistake to tell her I loved her, even though it was true. I should’ve told her to leave as soon as I saw her standing at the front door. Better yet, I shouldn’t have answered the door in the first place. I should’ve just pretended I wasn’t around and waited for her to leave.

I could still hear her wrenching sobs as she headed down the porch steps, even through the thick walls of the house. The sound made me feel like a glass splinter was working its way into my heart.

I hated hurting Jolie like this, but I knew it had to be done. I had to let her go. Nothing I could ever say or do would be enough to make up for the pain I’d caused her. No matter what she said, no matter how much she claimed to forgive me, I couldn’t accept it. I didn’t deserve it. One day, she would come to her senses and realize that, and then she would finally get over me.

I went around to the side window so I could snatch a few more precious glances of her as she stepped toward her car. After walking a few feet, she turned her head over her shoulder as if she’d sensed me watching her. Her face was streaked with mascara from where the rain and tears made her makeup run.

My chest ached at the sight. I wanted to run out and grab her. Kiss her. Tell her how much I fucking loved her. But I couldn’t. I knew that in letting her go, I was proving just how much I loved her. I was freeing her from the bondage of caring about a man who was nothing more than a reprehensible monster.

I was sure that one day, she’d meet a new man who would never hurt her, and she would finally see how much she was worth and how much better she could do. They would marry and have children, and they would live a happy fairytale existence far away from the dark places of the world. Far away from people like me.

I wanted that for her. Happiness, love, family. She deserved it.

She deserved safety too, so wherever she ended up going, I would ensure she always had protection similar to the team I currently had monitoring her apartment in the city. That way I could keep her safe from a distance instead of showing my face anywhere near her and muddying the clear waters of her new life with bad memories of me.

She abruptly turned away and started walking toward her car again. Frowning, I looked above her head and into the distance as something caught my eye. Another car was making its way down the lengthy driveway.

There was nothing outwardly suspicious about the vehicle. It was a plain silver car in a common make and model, the sort of thing you’d see all the time at your local gas station. However, the fact that it was heading this way raised my hackles. For one, the lake house was one of my private retreats, so hardly anyone had the address. Even my closest friends and business associates had no idea it existed. Secondly, it was twenty miles from the nearest town. It wasn’t exactly the sort of place that door-to-door salesmen or other similar types would randomly decide to visit.

I figured it could be the contractor who helped me design and build the house, but that didn’t make much sense. He drove a white van, and if he wanted to see or speak to me, he would just call me and arrange something. He wouldn’t show up out of the blue, especially when he knew I might not even be here, given how frequently I usually traveled between cities and states.

I frowned as the car continued on its way, slowly meandering down the winding road. As I watched, I felt as if my brain were full of static, firing off a million thoughts at once. If it wasn’t the contractor, then it could be a lost tourist searching for directions, or the nearest neighbor wanting to discuss the border fences with me. Probably nothing bad. Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something dark was coming. My mouth had run dry and my stomach was turning with inexplicable dread.

Deciding to trust my gut, I ran to the front door and whipped it open. “Jolie!” I shouted as I dashed out onto the porch. She was about to get into her car.

She looked back at me, eyes wide. “Yes?”

“Get inside. Now.”

Her face darkened with confusion as she straightened up. “What?”

“Just do it. Hurry.”

I could see the uncertainty and apprehension in her expression, but she ran up to me anyway. I ushered her inside and locked the door.

“Did you change your mind?” she asked timidly, a tiny glimmer of hope shining in her eyes.

“I need you to go down the hall and turn right,” I said, ignoring her question. There simply wasn’t time to address it. “The closest door on the left is my bedroom. I want you to go in there and lock the main door, then go into the attached bathroom and lock yourself in. If anything happens, that particular bathroom window opens up onto the side porch. There’s a crawlspace under that. It’s not ideal, but you can hide under there for a while.”

Her eyes widened again. “What? Why?”

I turned and looked through the window again. The silver car was pulling in at the front of the house now. “Just do it.”

She nodded and hurried down the hall.

I peeked through the edge of the window, and a flush of adrenaline ran through me as I saw the man getting out of the car. I was right to be suspicious of the unexpected visitor. It was Tom Anderson, the tall blond henchman Jolie’s father sent to deliver the deadly package to me in Amiens eight years ago.

The mere sight of him made my blood boil. “You motherfucker,” I muttered, running over to the sideboard near the front door. I rifled through the middle drawer, certain it was where I’d left my gun last time I cleaned it.

It was gone.

“Fuck!” I growled. So much for keeping a firearm around for protection when I couldn’t even remember where the hell I left it.

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