I called for a cab from inside the café, and when I got into the back, I told him to drive around.
Just aimlessly.
Through the slick streets, we drove, puddles splashing onto deserted sidewalks, raindrops on the windshield. The drops started to fall once again, the rain coming back for a second shower.
I couldn’t go back to the motel.
He knew I was there. Must have followed me. I wasn’t sure.
He could be following me now, so I told the driver to drive around Paris, the Eiffel Tower on our left and then sometimes on our right. The meter ran, piling up into a small fortune, but I had to make sure he had no idea where I was going.
Then I gave him the address.
I pulled up to Benton’s apartment, in front of the double black doors with the potted trees on either side of it. Rain pelted the sidewalk, and the cacophony grew louder when I opened the door.
“You want me to stay?” the driver asked.
“No.” I wanted the cab to keep driving, so Forneus would continue to follow him instead of searching for me on the sidewalks in the rain. I stepped into the deluge, my clothes immediately soaked, and I jogged up the steps to the front door.
It was the middle of the night. He’d already said he wouldn’t help me. There was no reason this would work.
But I was desperate.
I knocked loudly. My fist pounded hard three times in a row, making the wood shake. My eyes glanced over my shoulder, checking for the dark outline of his body and the sight of his stupid smile under the lamppost.
The door opened a moment later.
Benton stood there in nothing but his sweatpants.
He was a big guy. Really big. Veins. Muscles. And he had the rage thing going for him too. He didn’t carry a weapon, probably because a knife wouldn’t get any deeper than his bulging abs if he were stabbed. And a bullet…would probably bounce off. He was more intimidating than Forneus.
His bright-blue eyes stared at me, pierced me like bullets that left his eye sockets.
“Daddy, who is it?”
His hand instinctively went out, blocking her like he knew exactly where she was at all times. “Go back to bed—”
“Constance!” Claire tried to move past his arm.
My heart immediately tugged at the sight of that blond hair. “I’m sorry to show up like this—”
“Come inside.”
“What…?”
“You’re letting the rain in. Come in.” He grabbed my arm and tugged me inside before he shut the door. Several locks were turned and put back into place.
I was almost knocked over by Claire as she rammed into me. Her little arms circled my waist, and she held on to me. It was like we were back at the cult, her holding on to me so she wouldn’t have to look at the monsters.
I kneeled and embraced her—so I wouldn’t have to see the monsters either.
The anxiety and terror that gripped me by the heart suddenly left once that door was shut. Claire and I were reunited, and her father didn’t throw me back out onto the street like a rat.
Claire pulled away. “Why are you here so late? You want to see my room?”
Benton moved his hand to her shoulder. “Back to bed, Claire.”
“But—”
“Now.”
She looked up at him but didn’t dare defy him, not after she heard his tone.
“You can see Constance in the morning.”
In the morning?
Claire gave me a wave then went into the hallway to return to her bedroom.
His apartment was elegant, wood paneling up part of the wall, wallpaper taking up the other part. There were paintings and photographs on the wall—all of Claire. The floor was hardwood, and I was dripping all over it. The hallway was illuminated with low lighting, like he had dimmers to set it at whatever intensity he wanted.
When Claire left, Benton stared at me again. There was subtle hostility there, but since it was way less than it’d been before, I’d gladly take it. Or maybe he just always looked like that. Like he wanted to bash someone’s head against the wall.
He made his way down the hallway, his muscled flanks shifting and moving as he carried himself.
I watched him for a second before I followed.
He walked down the hallway and gestured to an empty bedroom.
I didn’t step inside. I looked at him instead. “Why are you helping me?”
A foot taller than me, he squared his shoulders, his short hair a little messy because he’d been asleep just moments ago. He stared for a while, trying to find the words. “Because you helped me.”
I slept like a rock.
Hadn’t slept like that since before I was taken to the cult.
Even if Forneus knew where I was, I suspected he wouldn’t cross Benton. Benton and his associates had some kind of power over the cult. That was the only way to explain how he’d gotten Claire and Beatrice out of there in the first place.
I slept naked because I didn’t have any clothes.
When I opened my bedroom door the next morning, there was a pile of clothes on the floor. I took them inside and discovered they were Benton’s—and they were the size of a tarp. His shirt went to my knees, and his pants had to be held at my waist with double knots in the string.
Whatever. They were clean and dry.
I heard a commotion in the house, pans shifting and moving.
Once the door was open again, I smelled it.
Breakfast.
Barefoot, I moved down the hallway.
“Did she say why she’s here?” Beatrice’s voice was easy for me to recognize because I’d lived with her for months. It was stronger now, like she’d had a good recovery since the last time I’d seen her at the hospital.
Benton’s voice was as cold as ever. “No.”
“Is Constance going to live with us too?” Claire asked. “Like Mommy?”
Neither one of them answered.
I stepped into the living area. There was a large kitchen, a dining table beside it, and then a living room next to it with a large fireplace that burned. Raindrops were still visible on the windows.
Benton faced me, and the second he saw me, he got up and made me a plate in the kitchen.
Claire’s eyes lit up. “You’re awake!”
“Yes.” I took a seat at the table, across from Beatrice. My eyes held hers, thinking about our twisted pasts, and I was a bit incredulous that we’d ended up here, at this table, across from each other.
She studied me, her beautiful face more luminous now. “You sleep okay?”
I gave a weird laugh, because I didn’t know how else to respond.
She seemed to understand, because she didn’t react.
Benton put the plate in front of me before he took his seat at the head of the table.
Two strips of bacon, scrambled eggs with Gruyère cheese, ratatouille on top, and then a couple croissants. Hot, fresh, delicious… I almost couldn’t believe it. I’d been eating premade deli sandwiches for the past few days. First time I’d have something hot in my belly. I took a bite and stared in disbelief at my plate.
“Dad is a good cook, huh?” Claire asked, spinning her eggs on her fork because there was a string of white cheese. “He makes the best mac and cheese.”
Benton ate with his elbows on the table, staring straight ahead to the window.
“Yeah.” I took another bite. “It’s…the best thing I’ve ever eaten.”
Beatrice ate her food and watched me. “So, what happened?”
I glanced at Claire, not wanting to scare her. She’d returned to her old life, so that period of time clearly didn’t exist to her. It was gone, far away.
Benton shifted his gaze to me. He stared. Hard.
I looked at Beatrice again. “Got locked out of my apartment…didn’t have anywhere else to go.”
Benton looked away, like that was the answer he wanted.
Beatrice let it go.
“You’re looking well,” I said, seeing the life returned to her cheeks, her eyes a little sharper than they’d been at the cult.
“Yeah, I feel better.” She grabbed her coffee and took a drink.
I’d been through so much with these three people, and it was surreal to be sitting with them right now, having breakfast together…like nothing ever happened.
“Daddy, what are we doing today?” Claire asked. “Can we go see the ponies? Constance, you want to come see the ponies?”
“Sure,” I said. “I love ponies.”
Benton drank his coffee. “How about you and your mother go?”
Beatrice exchanged a look with him. A look that said a lot.
“You want to go with us, Mommy?” Claire asked.
“Just you two,” Benton said. “You should spend some time together.”
The little girl looked at me. “What about Constance—”
“You can take her another day,” Benton said. “Now finish your breakfast so you guys can get going.” He wasn’t as sweet and affectionate as he normally was. He must have had a lot on his mind because his words came out harsh. The harshness seemed normal for him, but when he spoke to Claire, it was really out of place.
Beatrice stared at him for a while before she looked down at her food again.
We ate in silence after that.
A private car pulled up in the street, two guys in the front.
Beatrice and Claire were both bundled in their raincoats even though the rain had stopped, but the weather was unpredictable right now. Benton gave his daughter a long hug and a kiss on the forehead. “I’ll see you when you get back, sweetheart.”
“Bye, Daddy.” She took her mother’s hand, and they left.
I watched from down the hallway, still in the baggy clothes he’d supplied for me.
He stood there and watched them go, one hand on the door. When they were gone from sight, he shut the door and turned to me.
It was the first time I’d been alone with him.
I stared.
He stared.
He was in black jeans, boots, and a dark blue tee. He moved forward, squeezing past me in the hallway, his footsteps announcing his route to the sitting room in front of the fire.
I followed him.
He sat in the armchair, a decanter of scotch beside him. Day or night, it seemed to sit there, ready for him whenever he needed it. The fire burned low in the fireplace and there was a stack of wood to replenish it, but he didn’t make a move.
I sat in the other armchair, my hands in my lap, staring at the man who’d opened the door and granted me asylum.
His knees were apart, one elbow propped on an armrest, his big body sunken into the chair. His fingers reached over the edge of the other armrest, gripping it, just the way Forneus did. His closed knuckles rested against his jawline. An endless stare ensued, his crystal-blue eyes focused rigidly.
“Do you want me to leave?”
“No.”
“Because you seem angry.”
“I am angry. Just not at you.”
“Well, that’s good to know.” I wasn’t myself in his presence at all. I’d been around psychopaths that believed they were demons and I never lost my tongue, but with him, I forgot who I was.
He continued to stare, as if he expected me to answer a question he never asked.
“You threw me out…and now…what changed?” He’d welcomed me into his home, cooked for me, never asked me a single question.
“Beatrice told me everything you did for my daughter. Claire would be dead right now if it weren’t for you. And even if she’d somehow survived, she wouldn’t have been the same.” His eyes dropped momentarily, strain in his face as he said these words out loud, thought about a reality that haunted his soul. “Tell me what you need—and I’ll make it happen.”
My hands held all the power suddenly—and I didn’t know what to do with it. My eyes dropped to the fire beside me. Now it was just glowing embers, small sparks of red and orange. The window behind me didn’t vibrate with raindrops, so it seemed like the worst of the weather had passed. “He’s following me.”
His eyes left the floor and focused on me.
“Forneus.” He was somehow more frightening across the street—at least, when he smiled like that. “I knew he wouldn’t really let me go…”
Benton watched me without reaction, like a psychopath stalker was just another day at the office to him. Or perhaps, he wasn’t an expressive person, keeping his thoughts locked behind a cage where no one could see. “I can get you papers. You can start over somewhere. I recommend Canada. Not overpopulated. You can get a cabin in a small town, and he’ll never know.”
“I never want to live in a cabin again…or be in a forest.”
“When I get the papers, we’ll find the right place for you.” His deep voice was pragmatic but gentle, not aggressive and short like it’d been before, and now I felt like an equal to him…and not an annoyance.
“I’m not sure I want papers.”
He stared at me.
“Wherever I am, he’ll find me.” The snowy mountains of Tibet wouldn’t keep him away. The Congo in Africa wouldn’t either. There was no obstacle, no distance that would ever be enough. “He believes I’m his only chance of salvation. He’s not going to let that go.”
His forearms moved to his knees, his rough palms gently gliding past each other, a slight scraping sound audible over the fire. “Then what do you want to do?”
“Kill him.”
He quickly hung his head. “I can’t do that.”
“Why not? After what he did to Beatrice and—”
“Trust me, I want to.” His voice deepened, rough like sandpaper, hostile like a loaded gun. “You have no idea what I want to do to every freak in that godforsaken place. But that’s not an option. Don’t ask me again.”
“Why?”
“Because I said so.” He raised his head, his look furious.
“I meant, why is that not an option?”
After a long silence, he gave a subtle shake of his head. “It’s complicated.”
“Do you do business with them?”
His blue eyes locked on to mine, his presence as solid as the statues in Hell. “Not personally.”
“Then your friend…Bartholomew?”
“He’s not my friend.”
“Whatever. Is that why?”
“Yes. He was the reason I found Claire. He didn’t do it as a favor—because I owe him something in return. I gave my word not to retaliate in any way. And I will keep it. Instead of going on a killing spree, I’ll spend time with my daughter. It’s over.”
It would never be over for me. “I have friends that are still there…”
“I’m sorry.” He didn’t seem the least bit sorry about it. “But you should forget about them. They would want you to.”
“No, they wouldn’t.” I pictured them sitting together in that church, the Malevolent blocked from view by those papers covering the windows, like mice in a cage. “If it were me, I’d expect them to do everything they could to get me out. Not just go about their lives and enjoy their freedom like nothing happened.”
“Then go to the police—”
“That’s a dead end…and you probably already know that.”
He looked away, admitting his guilt.
“Do they pay off the police or something?”
“It’s…complicated.”
“I doubt it’s that complicated—”
“I said I would help you, not give you a lesson in the underground crime organizations of France.”
Going to the police was pointless because these guys were more powerful than the police. I would never get those girls out of there—at least, not on my own.
“How else can I help you?” He looked at me once again, his hands together.
“I…” I had no idea. There was nowhere to go. There was nowhere to hide.
His crystal-blue eyes remained patient, waiting for a response so he could fulfill his obligation and move on.
“I have nowhere to go…” It was a depressing realization. There was no one in my life that could handle this situation. I used to be all I needed to get by, but now I wasn’t enough. I couldn’t return to ballet and start over. Forneus would just take me again.
But then it hit me.
Forneus wouldn’t touch Benton.
Therefore, he wouldn’t touch me. “I know it’s a lot to ask—”
“Nothing is too much—not after what you did for Claire.”
Well, he probably didn’t suspect I’d ask for this. “I want to stay…”
His intelligent eyes shifted back and forth slightly, crystal-blue waters over a sandy shore. The depth of his eyes extended as deep as the universe, infinite. “In Paris?”
“No…I want to stay here with Claire.”
The understanding was slow, and his eyes took their time accepting my meaning. “Why?”
“Because he won’t cross you.”
“If he’s really obsessed with you, nothing will stand in his way. And I’m not going to put Claire in the path to get to you.”
“Like I said, it’s a lot to ask. But if I walk out of here, he’ll take me right back to that horrible place. There’s nowhere I can run…nowhere I can hide…not unless I kill him.”
He shifted his gaze to the dying fire, his expression strained.
“I can take care of Claire, be her nanny, help out around the house.” There was no better way to heal than be with Claire, the little person I’d worked so hard to protect. We could both overcome that painful experience with Benton looking after us both. “It’s not forever. He’ll eventually replace me with someone else, someone he believes in…and then I can leave.”
His eyes remained on the fire.
I already knew his answer. He’d just gotten his daughter back, and he wouldn’t put her at risk again, not for anyone. I would have to ask for something else, maybe some weapons, and when Forneus came after me, I’d pull the trigger and hope we both didn’t die in gunfire.
“Alright.”
Alright? “You…you’re going to let me stay?”
He nodded, his eyes still on the fireplace.
In disbelief, I stared.
“There was nothing you wouldn’t do to protect my daughter. So, there’s nothing I won’t do to protect you.” The fire was pretty much dead at this point, just a cloud of smoke, but he stared at it anyway, his fingers stitched together.
“Um…thank you.”
“I could use the help with Claire anyway.”
I was still in disbelief, the relief still dumping into my blood. My entire body felt better. The fight-or-flight response immediately shut off. There was no more anxiety. As long as I was under his roof, under his protection, Forneus wouldn’t touch me. “I’m happy to help.”
“I’ll be out of the house a lot—mostly nights.”
“I thought you were a contractor?”
“Not anymore.” A slow sigh escaped his lips, his eyes annoyed.
“Oh…” Now I understood. “That was the only way Bartholomew would help you.”
“Yes.”
I gave a nod even though he didn’t look at me. “I’m sorry.”
“I left that life to keep Claire safe…and now I’m back where I started.” His palms started to slide past each other again. “I can’t keep it from her. The older she gets, the more she’ll understand. I want her to look at me the way she does right now…forever. But she’s smart. She’ll figure it out.”
“You shouldn’t have to apologize for doing whatever is necessary to protect your child.”
His eyes flicked to me, hostile.
“I…I didn’t mean anything—”
“Don’t rationalize my actions. I’m a top-tier criminal. I kill people. And I do worse than that. I failed as a father. If I hadn’t, I would have gotten her back myself.”
My eyes winced at his self-destructive narrative.
His eyes moved back to the fire. “Now it’s just the two of us. I can’t be in two places at once, so I need someone to care for her when I’m away. I trust that you’ll keep her safe in my absence.”
“Of course. But…what about Beatrice?”
Still. Quiet. Formidable. He didn’t move or speak, but it was somehow obvious how angry he was at the question. “She’s joining her family in London.”
“Like…permanently?”
He didn’t answer—but that was an answer in itself.
“Why would she do that? I’ll talk to her—”
“Don’t bother. She’s a piece-of-shit mom anyway. It’s better to have one parent who actually gives a damn than a mom who still wishes she’d never had her.”
“She…she said that?”
Again, no answer.
Our time in Hell had been a challenge for everyone—but it was especially hard for Beatrice. It rewired her brain, scarred her physically and emotionally. She confessed that being a mother wasn’t her calling, and after everything that had happened, she was probably even less suited for the role. It still hurt…because Claire was the sweetest little girl ever. “I’m so sorry.”
“Tried to change her mind. Don’t want Claire to feel abandoned. But having a ghost of a parent…is worse than losing them altogether. Made my peace with it. Hope that Claire can too.”
After everything she’d just been through, losing Beatrice would probably be traumatic. She didn’t deserve it. But Benton was right. Having a parent who resented you every day wasn’t a good environment for a child. “She has you, and you’re more than enough, Benton.”
His eyes flicked to mine. No hostility. No anger. Just a long and poignant stare.
I meant what I said. Despite his criminal participation, he was the father of the year. I’d never seen anyone love their child the way he loved her. He had the emotional spectrum of a concrete wall—but that wall came down for her.
