Part 3 (1/2)
Tessa fumed as she watched Rene use his hands to help maneuver his prosthetic leg into the Audi. ”Good news,” he said. ”I talked to Lina on the phone inside. We're meeting her and your brother tonight for supper in Arizona.”
”Good,” she said coolly, clicking her seat belt in place. ”Because I'll be riding with them to California after that.”
”What?” he asked with a sideways glance.
He thought he was so clever, that the stunt he'd pulled in the restaurant with the waitress was oh-so-charming, and meanwhile, he'd never even bothered to notice that she was infuriated with him, murderously so, in fact.
a.s.shole, she thought, fuming.
”Look, you've been a big help to Brandon, and I really appreciate it,” she said, struggling to keep her composure, her tone of voice steady and unaffected. ”And I know you're friends with Lina, but this just isn't going to work anymore.”
He c.o.c.ked his eyebrow, an annoying, condescending expression. ”What the h.e.l.l are you talking about? You make it sound like you want to break a date to the prom or something. We aren't supposed to be in love here, pischouette.”
”No, we're supposed to be riding in a car together. And we can't even do that without fighting all of the time. You make fun of the way I look, the way I dress-I'm tired of you acting like I'm an idiot or a child or you're better than me somehow.”
At this, he uttered a sharp bark of laughter. ”I act like I'm better than you? There's a crock of s.h.i.+t. You know what your problem is, pischouette? You've never had someone tell you no before. You've gotten used to having everything just the way you want it, exactly when and how you want it at that little pony farm of yours, and you can't stand it out here in the real world, where that kind of s.h.i.+t doesn't fly. You're a spoiled rotten little brat.”
”And you're a hypocrite!” she snapped. ”After all of the things you said yesterday, all that c.r.a.p about how that man in Louisiana was something to somebody somewhere and then you have the nerve to turn around and do the exact same thing to that waitress.”
He jabbed his forefinger at her, his brows narrowed. ”Now wait just a G.o.dd.a.m.n minute, pischouette. I didn't do the 'exact same thing to that waitress.' I didn't kill her. h.e.l.l, I didn't even hurt her. She doesn't remember-”
”Don't curse at me.” Tessa slapped his hand out of her face. ”And you wait a G.o.dd.a.m.n minute. I don't have the right to kill someone, but you have the right to brainwash them? Strip away their memories? Make them pretty much your personal walking- talking feed sack?”
”That's not what I-” he began, but she cut him off hotly.
”I'm tired of you talking to me and treating me as if everything I do, think and say is wrong! I don't know if losing your leg has made you such an a.s.shole or if you were like this before, but I don't care. I'm not like you, and you sure as h.e.l.l aren't like me! You don't know anything about me, or...or my life and I...I just...!” Her voice dissolved into tears. Thanks to her pregnancy and all of the hormonal turmoil that came along with it, she seemed to weep at the drop of a hat, as if her body had forgotten any other physiological response to stress but this. She uttered a frustrated little cry and clapped her hands over her face. ”G.o.dd.a.m.n it!”
He didn't say anything; merely sat there like a big dumb rock while she hiccuped and sobbed in the pa.s.senger seat of his car. After a long moment, she felt his hand drape lightly against the back of her head, and she swatted him away. ”Don't.”
”Tessa,” he said. ”I'm sorry.”
He tried to touch her again, this time on her shoulder, and she flapped her arm furiously to shoo him. ”I said don't, Rene. I don't want your apology.” She tried to glower at him through a hazy curtain of tears. ”Just...just leave me alone. By tonight, you'll be rid of me, all right? You can go back to your boozing and playing with your gun and prank calling your hookers, or whatever else const.i.tutes your stupid, sorry, messed up life.”
His face clouded with momentary hurt, and she almost felt sorry for what she'd said. But then his brows narrowed and his mouth turned down in that cold, dismissive way he had and he snorted.
”Fine by me.” He jerked the key in the ignition and the engine roared to life. ”Just f.u.c.king fine.”
The Audi lurched as he dropped it into gear, and the rear tires squealed against the parking lot asphalt.
As they drove through the open Texas countryside with bright sunlight spilling through the windows, Tessa leaned her head back, closed her eyes and dozed. She hadn't slept much the night before, between trying to decipher the mysteries of the Tome she'd found and Rene's little stunt on the sofa. Napping was not only needed, but also a welcome reprieve from the heavy, brooding silence in the car. She and Rene hadn't said a word to each other in hours.
He can keel over dead for all I'm concerned, she told herself. I should have done myself a favor and let him shoot himself last night.
But she didn't feel that way. Not really. She was too hard on him and she knew it, but sometimes...
Like whenever he opens his mouth....she felt powerless to stop herself. He could be sarcastic and acerbic, true, but he could then turn around and offer clumsy attempts at gentleness, like trying to comfort her when she'd burst into tears. Secretly, Tessa found that sort of charming and endearing. Nice, even. Not that she'd ever admit this aloud.
G.o.d, I'd never hear the end of it, she thought as her mind faded and the warm suns.h.i.+ne lulled her to sleep.
She dreamed of her grandmother. Not surprising, Eleanor n.o.ble had been on Tessa's mind a lot since she'd left Kentucky. To Tessa's knowledge, Eleanor had been the only woman among the Brethren who had ever traveled beyond the confines of the farm compounds. Tessa had always envied her adventures.
And now here I am, off on one of my own.
Tessa had enjoyed dressing up in Eleanor's clothes, even into her teen years, up until the time of Eleanor's death. In her dream, she imagined herself in her grandmother's bedroom, standing in front of a full-length mirror and admiring a white sundress she wore.
Eleanor sat behind her in a winged-back chair, watching and smiling.
”It looks beautiful, darling,” Eleanor said, her voice deep and rich, nearly silken. ”It fits you perfectly.”
”Do you think, Grandmother?” Tessa asked, beaming. She'd been staring down at the dress, and glanced up to meet Eleanor's gaze through the mirror. To her shock and horror, she caught sight of a man's reflection behind her own-her husband.
”Martin!” she gasped, drawing back from the mirror. Martin Davenant was handsome in a haughty, pristine sort of way; the polar opposite of Rene Morin, with his unruly hair and beard scruff. Martin wore his dark hair combed back from his wide, high brow, and his sharp, square jaw seemed perpetually settled at a stern angle. His mouth was small, his lips full but set in an unyielding frown. His eyes were small and wide-s.p.a.ced, his gaze so piercing she'd been able to feel-even from across a crowded room-whenever he'd pin her with it. As he did right now.
She whirled in surprise, and uttered a breathless gulp as Martin's hand clamped against her throat, seizing her just beneath the chin.
He slammed her backward, cras.h.i.+ng against the mirror, and she felt the gla.s.s crunch, splintering at the impact.
”Tell me where you are,” he seethed, leaning close enough for spittle to spray from his lips against her own. She could smell him- the awful, familiar combination of spicy cologne, laundry starch and cigarette smoke. He was a chain smoker; sometimes the stink of cigarettes in his hair or on his skin had been enough to gag her when he'd come to have s.e.x. Tessa pawed helplessly at his hand, choked and mewling. ”You miserable b.i.t.c.h-tell me where you are!”
Tessa snapped abruptly from sleep, her breath hitched to scream. She realized she was still with Rene, still in the car, and that they'd come to a stop.
”Where...where are we?” she croaked, sitting up, tucking wayward strands of hair behind her ears.
”Rest area,” Rene replied, unfastening his seat belt. He opened the door and swung his legs around slowly. ”I need to take a p.i.s.s.”
”How charming,” Tessa murmured as he slammed the car door shut behind him. Even though the back of her blouse was sticking to her spine with perspiration from where the intense Texas heat had permeated the car's interior, she s.h.i.+vered, the downy hairs along her forearms rising. Her heart was still racing with residual fear from the nightmare about Martin. If she closed her eyes, she could still feel his hand shoved against her windpipe, smell him, hear his voice hissing.
Tell me where you are.
When she'd first fled Kentucky, he'd tried to call her, over and over again leaving messages on her cell phone. They'd been benevolent enough at first, his voice soothing and calm, nearly purring...
I'm not angry with you, Tessa. I just want you to come back.
...but with each pa.s.sing day, his tone had grown colder, his words more malicious...
You're trying my patience, Tessa. It's time to come home. Right f.u.c.king now.
...until at last, any hint of his customary, cool composure had dissolved, and she'd understood what Brandon had always meant when he'd told her the Brethren were monsters.
You answer this G.o.dd.a.m.n phone! You think this is funny? You think this is a f.u.c.king game? Tell me where you are or so help me G.o.d, I'll make you sorry! Do you hear me, you stupid b.i.t.c.h? Tell me where you are!
She hadn't told anyone about the voice mails, and had laughed off Martin's phone calls so Brandon wouldn't worry. She'd never told him the truth about her marriage, the nightmarish four years during which she'd lived under the Davenants' roof. During that time, Martin's attention toward her had careened between nonexistent and s.a.d.i.s.tically violent at the drop of a dime.
She opened the car door and stepped out, pausing long enough to glance around anxiously. They were alone at the rest stop, the parking lot empty, and the highway was vacant of any traffic coming or going, eerily silent in the hot afternoon.
He can't hurt me anymore, she told herself for at least the millionth time since leaving Kentucky. He can't find me here. Me or my baby.