Fragile Truths (18 page)

Niko came behind me, standing so he was pressed against my back as his arms came around me to show me how to hold the whip. He sighed when I tensed as he covered my fingers with his own, the pressure against my stump throbbing but I relished the pain, stupidly feeling as though I was sharing a little of Tate’s agony. He leant further into me, his mouth directly next to my ear, “Relax your wrist,” he whispered in my ear. “That way your arm takes the strain before the crop hits his back, and aim for the backs of his thighs, the skin is fresh and untouched there.”

I frowned at his secret instruction but didn’t acknowledge him; the last thing I wanted was to give away his sedition after he was obviously helping me do this.

He stepped back and I hesitated as I looked at Tate. He was on the verge of unconsciousness, his poor back raw and inflamed, each tender gash red with anger and suffering as he remained unmoving and out of it.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so…” I repeated over and over as I aimed the tail and brought it as lightly as I could on the back of his thighs. Heat exploded across his skin as soon as the crop made contact and the barbs sliced deep.

“Harder!” Don demanded from my side and I jumped when I felt his approach.

“I’m sorry, so sorry…” I sobbed as I repeated the lashing over and over again, making sure to keep my arm lax enough to take the force away from Tate. “I’m sorry…” I howled as my vision blurred with the flood of my tears.

“If you don’t do it harder, I’ll take the damn thing and rip you both to fucking shreds beneath me,” Don yelled at me, his face purple as he relished the scene playing out to his sick satisfaction.

“Oh God, I…” I was choking on my sobs as I squeezed my eyes shut and ripped into Tate with a severity that crushed me. Each strike struck at my heart, each connection broke me and built something inside that I didn’t like; something dark and angry that gnawed and chafed at the edges of my soul. “I…”

“Enough” Niko barked as he stilled my hand with his own.

“No. More!” Don demanded angrily.

Niko approached Don and leant into him, whispering something in his ear but I watched the movement of his lips, blinking rapidly to dissolve the tears that were blurring my vision.

“Any more and she will kill him. We need him Don; we still need him to get us what we want.”

Don chewed on his lip as he narrowed his eyes and debated what Niko was saying. Eventually and to my great relief he nodded and I dropped the offending item from my hand, the feel of it  making me retch when what I had done to Tate came into focus.

I turned and threw up, my vomit spraying the wall violently as I cried out in desperation.  I could literally see his flesh dripping down the back of his calves, the torrent of my lashes so severe I had ripped him to bits.

“Oh god, oh god…” I cried as I dropped to my knees and covered my face with my hands. “What have I done? I’m so sorry, I’m…”

I heaved again as my despair surged from me in an angry torrent of self-hatred and abhorrence. I knew there was something wrong with me, the sexual interaction between Tate and me last night bringing it to the forefront. I had created a monster, a twisted angry freak of nature that relished in the dark and sinister side.

“I….” I couldn’t speak; my throat engulfed my words with the brutality of my bitter cries, my heart compressing so tightly that the pain in my chest was unbearable.

“Frankie,” Niko beckoned softly as he dropped beside me. “Frankie, this wasn’t your fault.”

I looked up at him, his face distorted through the river of tears. “Yes, yes it was. I did this, I hurt him. Look at what I’ve done, look how much I’ve hurt him.”

He shook his head and it was only then that I looked around and saw it was only us in the room. Don and son had left now the entertainment had ceased. “No, sweetheart. The crop did this, not you. However much you struck him, it would always be the instrument that controlled the amount of damage done. With a tool like that, there’s not a lot you can do. I watched you Frankie,” he continued as I argued with a shake of my head. “You didn’t hit him nowhere near as hard as you could have. The barbs didn’t dig into his legs hard, it wasn’t the strength of your beating that did this, it was the amount you were
forced
to rain on him.”

I squinted at him, my brow puckered so hard it was giving me a headache. “Why…” I paused as I hiccupped, “Why are you being nice to me?”

He stiffened and stood up. “I’m not,” he almost spat when he unravelled Tate’s chains and he dropped heavily into a heap on the floor. He walked over to his bag and pulled out a tub of balm, throwing it at me before I had the chance to react and catch it. He rolled his eyes when it bounced off the stone slabs and rolled back to him, coming to rest at his feet. He picked it up, his face full of his irritation before stomping across the room to me and making sure it was carefully in my hand before he trudged angrily out of the room.

“That went well,” Tate chuckled through clenched teeth as he glanced up at me.

“What the… shit, you should be unconscious.”

He scoffed but I noticed his body shudder with the pain, “It’ll take more than your pansy whipping to take me down.”

“I…” I cringed when he groaned and rolled onto his stomach, his back open and prepared ready for my aid. “I’m so sorry, Tate. I…”

He shook his head, “Stop with the whining and lube me up, Capella. And keep your hands off my ass, I know the temptation is extreme, what with it being such an amazing arse but don’t think I didn’t notice you didn’t disfigure that part of me.”

Despite the emotional hell swirling through me, the self-hatred curling and decaying my insides and the pounding beneath my skull, I couldn’t hold back the chuckle of laughter. He smiled widely but I could see the agony in the depths of his eyes, the exhaustion in his pale face and the hunger for oblivion in the way his brow creased. “Yes sir, but I can’t promise I’ll be able to keep my hands to myself.”

He smirked and closed his eyes, his face contorting in agony as I delicately applied the mass of cream to his wounds. “Fuck, I really hope not too.”

Jude

I chewed on my bottom lip as I watched the scene on the monitor, the flicker of static irritating the fuck out of me as I tried to get a clear image of her face. My narrow eyes watered slightly as the hatred aggravated the pit of my stomach and bubbled within my veins.

Could she not see who he was,
what
he was? But he kept the beast tamed around her and that intrigued me, tampered with the part of my mind that knew exactly who and what Tate was.

She was gentle and tender as she tended to him, bestowing the care he needed with an expression of anguish and….

My chest heaved and I looked away, couldn’t watch as she fell deeper into his deception. The knowledge that he gained such
love
gnawed at me, simmered in the depth of my belly and stoked the fire inside me.

He didn’t deserve anything, especially Francesca. She was too honest and blameless in this whole fuck up, but she did need to give Don what he wanted, what he needed for my life to continue as it was.

I watched her and smiled as her head fell back and she laughed at something Tate said, her eyes glistening as her soft laugh calmed me and quietened the anger. She nudged Tate’s arm playfully and my own indulgence slipped when he winked and grinned at her.

I wanted her to laugh at the things I said, I wanted her to grant me her pretty smile and to look at me with love.

Yet, that could never be. The fragile truth of us was exactly that, fragile and brittle, our bond could never be furthered or even established but she needed to know what and who Tate was exactly.

Who she had fallen in love with.

What sin hid in his shadows.

Tate

“You should become a nurse,” I told her as she helped me across the room and onto the bed, manoeuvring me carefully onto my stomach gently as not to pull my back and reopen the wounds she had managed to seal marginally with salve.

“Yeah, right. I’m the least patient person on the planet,” she admitted with a giggle, the soft sound pulling a smile to my lips.

She held the water bottle to my lips and encouraged me to drink, her eyes compassionate as she nodded in reassurance. I kept my eyes fixed on hers as she studied and controlled the angle of the bottle. Throughout this whole thing, through all the torture, the emotional hell and the misery that faced her in her nightmares, the silver flicker of her pale grey eyes never diminished, it was always bright and glowing in her resolution to see this through to the end.

“What evidence do you have on Don?” I asked as she peeled back the protective packaging on one of the sandwiches and broke a bit off then held it to my mouth as she slid to her knees beside the bed.

She swallowed almost as if urging me to follow as I chewed on the mank cheese and tomato sandwich, the noise my stomach made showed its appreciation more than my taste buds did. “Do you know the background to the case?”

“A little,” I shrugged as I devoured another piece of bread she offered to me.

“There’s something you need to understand first.” She sighed but I nodded, urging her to continue as I carried on feeding the monster in my raucous belly. “Every case, including the previous three I have acted on against Don Knight has either been dropped, thrown out or he was found not culpable. One way or another he corrupted each and every damn case ever brought before the courts.”

I frowned as I shifted so I was facing her better. “Frankie, do you not think that maybe they were dropped due to specific reasons or he was found not guilty because he was innocent?” She lifted a brow at me and I sighed, “Yeah, fair enough.”

“He’s like smoke, Tate, in fact he’s thinner than smoke, he’s like… like a mist that seeps into everything but is never seen or heard. His money and power buys him more than his groceries. I know I may seem a little green around the gills or the one in the mass who stands at the back of the crowd, but he knows Tate, he knows each and every time the judge gives me that bloody statement and he laughs, he looks at me from behind that bloody box and salutes me… he fucking salutes me.”

I nodded and decided to be honest. “Frankie, I…” I gulped and then blew out a steadying breath, “That’s how people in my circle work, that’s what we do. I’m sure, in fact I know, my Pop has paid people off or bribed them or even fucking threatened them to stop one of our own going down for a stretch. It’s just something you’re gonna have to accept.”

She stared at me and scoffed. “He murdered my mother Tate, whilst I was stuck behind a door listening to her screams and her appeals for him to stop.” Her anger was rampant, her eyes blazing under the strain of wrath and her jaw sliding back and forth as she ground her teeth in agitation. “But not only that… he killed Judge Trowell; my friend, my mentor and someone who meant an awful lot to me. Knight walked into his office and blew a hole straight through his forehead, then turned and walked out before Gerry had taken his last fucking breath, just because he had the nerve to stand up for what was right.”

None of this was making sense. “But, that’s…” I sighed heavily and rolled my head around my aching neck. “Frankie, Don doesn’t do the dirty work himself. He has an army for that sort of thing.”

She laughed bitterly and shook her head. “Do you know anything about Don, Tate?”

I shrugged, “A little. I’ve had a few dealings with him, nothing major but his team and mine don’t generally party and play pool together, you get what I’m saying?”

She didn’t acknowledge me as her eyes secured on mine, “And do you know who Gerry Trowell was?”

I frowned at her, my intuition telling me this was more serious than I had originally assumed, “A high judge?” Fuck, I had no idea if there were even rankings for judges.

She nodded then, “Oh yeah he was a
high
judge, a damn good one for over fifty years but he was more than that, so much more.”

“An old judge?”

I grimaced and apologised when she glared at me. “Don’t make fun of me, Tate. You have no idea how deep this all goes.”

“Then tell me!” I demanded as I grew impatient with all her obscure bloody offerings.

“Gerry Trowell was Don Knight’s father.”

I stared at her, my eyes wide and my brows high. “Wh..what the fuck?”

She nodded sadly, “And Don Knight walked in and killed his own father without even blinking.”

“But no one is that low, Frankie. How can you be so sure?”

Her eyes lifted and I shivered at the delight on her face. “Because I have the CCTV footage from Gerry’s office. I have Don Knight recorded, walking into Gerry’s office, lifting his gun to his forehead and pulling the trigger.”

My mouth dried as the enormity of it all caught up with me and stole my breath along with a beat of my heart. This was bad; in fact this was fucking treacherous for Frankie. Now it all made sense, why Don was doing all this. Frankie had his balls in a vice, his life in her hands and his future hanging on a frayed thread. “Frankie…”

She sensed my panic, the worry and fear I had for her, “I know.” She smiled sadly but nodded her head, “I’m ready, Tate. I’m prepared to die for this. I’ve come to terms with it.” A tear rolled down her cheek and its solitude broke something inside me but she sighed faintly, “My dad is finally moving on, he’s going forward instead of being stuck in the last sixteen years. My best friend is happy; her life is taking her places she’s always wanted to go.” She shrugged and chuckled but it was far from a happy laugh, it was full of sorrow and melancholy as her eyes echoed the emotion.

“And you?” I asked softly, afraid of where she was going.

She lowered her eyes, refusing to let me witness her acceptance. “I’ve made sure I have no one to leave behind.”

That was all she said before she pushed off the floor and walked into the bathroom, quietly closing the door behind her.