CHAPTER ELEVEN
The sun shone weakly though the window and cast a buttery light into the bedroom. Todd slowly woke. He had a smile on his lips and wondered what this strange, light feeling was. He laughed a little, testing it out. He bit his lip and rolled his eyes at his silliness.
Joy.
Happiness.
Contentment.
Three little words that in the past, held no meaning for him. He felt a sensual rush flood his body and his mind. The memories of the past several hours were still fresh. They had made love until the early hours of the morning. He felt a delicious ache in his groin. He had forgotten how good that ache felt. He stretched like a big, sexy, rumpled cat and turned his head.
“Clarice?” He whispered. She wasn’t in bed. “Baby?” He sat up and scratched his chest. Where was she? His nostrils flared slightly. Was that fresh, hot coffee he smelled? “Huh.”
He flopped back down on the bed and stacked his hands behind his head. “Well, I can sure get used to this,” he said, grinning. He hoped like hell there were eggs, toast and jam to go along with it. He stomach rumbled hungrily.
The minutes went by, with complete silence. Todd sat up abruptly. He chewed on his lip. He swung out of bed and quickly pulled his underwear on. He walked through the house. “Clarice?” He said loudly. He went in the kitchen and she wasn’t there. A note was propped up on the toaster. He picked it up and read.
Thomas, I went to my place to pick up some clothes. You also have no food in this house! Poor baby, you live like a refugee. I hope coffee will sustain you until I get back. I’m stopping by the market to pick up a few things and then we will feast, my darling. See you soon. Love Clarice,
He stood there and let his mind tick. He didn’t want her going anywhere near her apartment. He had fully intended on taking her to her place to pick up her things. Todd had a horrible feeling in his gut. He started to hyperventilate. The hairs on his arms stood on end. Something was wrong he could feel it. Pete made a quick decision. He ran into his bedroom and threw on a pair of jeans, T-shirt and boots. He yanked his dresser drawer open and pulled out a leather gun case.
He took the P7 out. With the practiced ease of familiarity, he punched out the magazine, than slipped it back in, jacking the shell. He had a full clip. Thirteen rounds. More than enough to do the job.
His face was like granite. He brought the gun up and squinted over the sight. He shoved it behind his waist. He threw on his leather jacket and pulled out his blade, flipping open and shut. He slipped it into his boot.
He hoped like hell he was wrong. He stalked through the house and grabbed his keys. He slid on his bike and cranked the throttle sharply. His mind was a blank, maybe she was okay.
Oh God, please let me be over-reacting. He jumped on it, and took off with fear in his heart.
He ran up the flight of stairs to her place in a blink. The door to her apartment was wide open. “Clarice!” He yelled. He ran through the door and stood stock-still. “Oh, fuck me,” he whispered, horrified. He looked around in shock. Her place was completely trashed. Furniture was over-turned, and there was broken glass everywhere. It looked like a violent struggle took place.
He quickly searched the place. “Clarice!” He shouted.
In her bedroom, neatly taped to her mirror was a note. Pete yanked it off and read in disbelief.
I’ve got her. But, you already figured that out haven’t you? She is one sweet, sweet piece of ass. I can’t wait to fuck her. I’m gonna rip her in two. Hope she’s alive when you get here.
With a roar he strode back out of her bedroom. The phone began ringing. He snatched it up. “You’re a dead man. Do you hear me, Manning. If you fuckin’ touch her I swear it, I’ll gut you slowly,” he snarled.
“Spare me the dramatics, asshole,” said Peter Manning in a bored tone. “When are you gonna get it through your stupid, fuckin,’ skull, huh? I have all the power, not you. Whoever you are,” he whispered slyly.
Pete felt Tom almost take control, just for a split second. He gripped the phone tightly. “Where are you?”
“Go down to Holland Avenue. You’ll see a payphone. You have exactly three and a half minutes. I’d hurry if I were you,” he was laughing his horrible laugh as he hung up. Pete dropped the phone and took off at a dead run. The Kawasaki squealed out of the parking lot. He made it to the phone booth with a few seconds to spare. It was already ringing when he screeched up to it. He picked it up. “Yeah?” He rapped out.
“Very good,” Peter whispered in a silky voice. “It really warms my heart to know that you still jump through my hoops.”
“Stop fuckin’ around and tell me where Clarice is,” he said tightly.
“All in good time Todd. Or is it Pete? I sure as shit know it isn’t little Tommy.” Peter’s voice was light and amused. “Tell me, just who the hell am I talking to?”
Todd felt everything shut down inside him. “Your finished Dad. I’m going to kill you. Today is the last day your gonna spend on this planet, you count on it.” His voice was quiet and deadly.
“We’ll just have to see about that, now won’t we? From where I’m sitting, it sure seems like I’m in the power position, not you,” Peter said slyly. “I’ve got your woman and I know how bad you want her back. I know you’d do just about anything to get her back, wouldn’t you Todd? You’d suffer any indignity that was placed upon you. And it thrills me to the very bottom of my soul to be the one to do it. To bring you to you’re knees. Again.” He laughed low down and dirty.
Todd squeezed his eyes shut and swayed dizzily. “Please don’t hurt her Dad, please,” Tom begged. “I’ll do anything. I swear it…only please, let her go.” He choked back a sob. He knew exactly how brutal his father could be. He thrived on fear and weakness. He’d witnessed his father raping and sodomizing young women; just for the sheer pleasure of hearing them scream and beg for mercy. Clarice would fare no better.
“Shh… hush now Tom,” Peter whispered darkly. “I have no doubt that you’ll do whatever I tell you to do. You’re a gutless, pathetic, little coward. You always were. Is it any wonder why you make me sick to my stomach? We’ll have our fun, don’t you worry you’re pretty little head about it. Now fuckin’ disappear and put me with someone who’s in charge,” he snapped.
Breathing harshly Todd fought for control. He had his forehead pressed hard against the phone booth. “Tell me what you want, you goddamn bastard,” he said in a low, controlled voice.
I am you and you are me. Believe it. Trust in it. Make him go away or I will. Be a man.
“Go down California street about a mile, you’ll see another pay phone, it’s right next door to one of those jap restaurants.”
Todd lost his cool. “What the fuck is this? Musical fuckin’ phones? Just tell me where the fuck you are!” He shouted. His pulse beat fiercely in his head.
“Guess what Todd?” Peter began to shout as well. “There’s not a Goddamn thing you can do about it. You wanna see the bitch alive, then you make tracks and get you’re ass down to that payphone!” The connection went dead with a loud bang in Todd’s ear. Todd growled like a tiger, and beat the phone against its rest until it shattered into tiny pieces. He was gonna kill that animal slowly. Peter Manning was gonna atone for every sin, every beating, every burn, every…..
He clenched his jaw in cold fury and slid onto his bike, peeling out, once again.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The storage facility was huge. It boasted rows and rows of identical garages with red painted doors and padlocks. It was like a maze and incredibly easy to get lost. Peter Manning had rented a huge one, with air-conditioning and harsh florescent lighting. He leaned against the wall inside the garage, and smoked a slim, dark cigar. He squinted through the smoke and waited for the girl to regain consciousness. He smiled. She had put up quite a struggle. She was a little spitfire. It was too bad he had to chloroform her. He wanted her alert and wide-awake when he fucked her.
He took one last drag on the cigar, flicking it across the room, and pushed himself away from the wall. He squatted down beside her. Her face was translucent and pale. That lush hair was spread out around her like a halo. It shimmered blue-black fire. Her light breathing drew his eyes to her soft cleavage; the curve of her breast was just visible. Peter flexed his long fingers and ran them down in between her breasts.
He lightly slapped her cheeks. “Come on kitten, time to wake up.”
He yanked her up into a sitting position. Her head lolled against his chest as she mumbled incoherently. “I said wake up!” He snapped. He slid his hand around her neck and jerked her chin up with his thumb.
Clarice fluttered her eyes and slowly opened them. She felt a wave of nausea hit her. She moaned slightly as the dull throbbing in her head increased. She focused and stared straight into Peter Manning’s cold, ice blue eyes. They were as sharp and piercing as a bird of prey. She shuddered and let out a weak little cry.
Everything came back to her in a rush. She walked into her apartment, and out of nowhere he came at her, knocking her down. She screamed and kicked her way free trying in vain to escape. He was incredibly strong and fast. He lifted her bodily and threw her against the wall, knocking the breath out of her. Her last memory was of him covering her mouth with a white cloth. He obviously used chloroform on her. Her eyes were dilated in fear. “Who are you?” She whispered.
He looked at her and smiled a dazzling white smile. “I’m Todd’s Daddy,” he purred. Clarice shook her head in confusion. “Who’s Todd? I know no one by that name,” she trembled.
Peter Manning threw his head back and laughed. It echoed throughout the garage eerily. “Why sure you do Clarice. Just who did you think you were fucking all night long?”
Her breath barely escaped her lungs. “I don’t know what you’re talking about! I was with Thomas. Not this Todd person.”
Peter pulled his lip through his teeth. He was enjoying himself immensely. “Oh, it was Todd alright. Thomas Todd, Pete, Tom, Rafael, Manning. He has a whole shit load of names, honey. But it’s anyone’s guess which one of them was doin’ you last night. I’d put my money on Pete, though. He appreciates fine pussy, just like I do.”
Clarice put a shaking hand to her head. She had no idea what he was talking about. Peter abruptly released her and rose to his feet. She started up at him cowering. He was easily six feet tall and powerfully built. He had on a tight black shirt with short sleeves. His tan biceps bulged like rocks. His forearms were dusted with white blond hair and were corded and sinewy. He black linen pants did nothing to hide his muscular legs. The man was in excellent physical condition.
He raised an arrogant eyebrow. “I can see that Todd has been less than forth coming with his past. But trust me, it’s mighty interesting.” He paused to gauge her reaction. “Ever hear of Llanview, Pennsylvania?”
She shook her head. “No,” she whispered with dread. Whatever she heard from this point on was going to be horrible, she knew it.
Peter crossed his arms. “Our boy Todd was a very colorful figure there. He made quite an impact on just about everybody he met.” His eyes were alight with venom. “Did you know he was worth about… uh… upwards of thirty million bucks?” She shook her head slightly.
“That doesn’t surprise me,” he sneered. “Todd has lots of secrets. All of them ugly.”
“Why are you telling me all this? Why do you hate you’re son so much?”
Peter glared and took a threatening step towards her. “I’d shut up, and let me finish my little story if I were you,” he whispered. His lips barely moved. Clarice shuddered in fear and said nothing.
“As I was saying, Todd made enemies with just about everybody back in Llaneview. They all hated him,” he smirked. “Did he happen to mention he has a criminal record?”
“I don’t believe you!” She cried. . Thomas was the most gentle person she’d ever met. He was sad, complicated and vulnerable. Yes, but sometimes he’s like a different person or people, you know that. Sometimes you’ve been a little scared. Her mind whispered.
Peter watched the doubt race across her face with delight. He wanted to shatter her illusions. “Trust me Clarice he does, you don’t have to take my word for it though.” He walked over to a silver briefcase on a small card table in the corner of the garage. He popped the locks and pulled out a thick stack of newspaper clippings.
He strolled over to her and dropped all but a few at her feet. “Read em. Then talk to me about you’re precious Thomas,” he rapped out.
She slowly picked up the news paper clippings. She put a hand to her mouth and stared at the papers. He was accused of murdering a young woman. He held a bunch of people captive, threatening to blow them up. He stood by and let an old man have a heart attack. He kidnapped his baby daughter. He had a child? Tears blinded her. He was in article after article. None of them had anything but horrible things to say. He stalked a blind woman?
She abruptly threw the papers aside. “I don’t want to read anymore,” she choked out.
“All I’m seeing is one side to the story, I want to know Thom…Todd’s side, because I KNOW HE HAS ONE!” She shouted fiercely. She was not going to believe the worst of him, not yet.
Peter put a hand to is heart. “You’re devotion to him is touching,” he said slyly. “Truly a thing of beauty, but there’s more,” he said in a sinister voice. He dropped the last few pages at her feet. “Go on kitten,” he softly said. “You know you’re dying to.”
She swallowed hard. She glanced down and read, horrified. She felt nausea claw it’s way up her throat. He had brutally raped someone. He orchestrated a gang rape of this poor woman. He tried to rape her again and that’s how he’d gotten his scar. She saw white spots in front of her eyes. The paper had slipped out of her numb fingers. The man she loved beyond reason was a monster. Clarice slumped on the hard concrete as unconsciousness claimed her once more. The only thing heard in the garage was the loud ringing laughter of Peter Thomas Manning.
