Conquered, page 7
“Hungry? I didn’t know what you eat, so I made tomato soup and grilled cheese.” I pull the plates out of the warming oven and bring them to the table. I already put two bottles of water out for us. She’s probably dehydrated as well.
Mallory smiles, but it looks like it’s the type of smile someone has when they suddenly have a good memory pop in their head. “My mom used to make this exact thing whenever I got hurt as a little girl. I was a bit of a tomboy growing up, so that was a lot.” She smiles at me. “Thank you. It smells delicious.”
For some reason, I’m ridiculously proud of myself for making this for dinner.
Get a hold of yourself, dude.
Chapter 12 - Mallory
WE EAT IN SILENCE FOR a few minutes, but eventually he asks me a question. “Where are you from?” It’s not the question he really wants to ask me, but I appreciate his effort to ease into it.
“I’m from Ft. Lauderdale. I’m a native. Although, I’ve lived in New York, too.”
“Wow. A real live native! I never thought I’d meet another one that wasn’t family.” Owen teases. In Florida, it’s hard to find someone that is actually from the state.
“So you’re from Florida, too? How rare.” I smile. “Now, ask me what you really want to know. It’s okay.” I see him internally struggle with whether or not to ask me anything, so I make it easy for him. “Look, I appreciate you taking me in and I promise I’ll be out of your hair in less than a day. I just need to figure out what my next move is and how to do it. Two days, tops. I promise.”
Owen sighs deeply, “First. You’re not going anywhere until we catch this fucker. Second, you’re not in my hair. You are welcome to anything you want or need. My home is your home. And third, your next move is to tell me all about you, your relationship with him, and everything I need to know to find him. We good?”
I shake my head even before he finishes. “No. I can’t let you do that. You’ve done enough. You should get back to your life and let me handle Patrick.”
Owen takes my hand. “Mallory, this is what I do for a living. I protect people and property.”
“What do you mean? You’re a security guard? I don’t believe that for a second.”
“No. I own, with my brothers, Hughes International. I’m a security specialist. We do security around the world. We’re much more than security guards. I’ve already got someone working on finding this fucker, so until then, you’re bound to this property. From the front gate to the back fence and everything in between. Got it?”
“So, you’re holding me hostage, just like Patrick did.” I know I’m being a bitch, but I can’t help it.
“No. I’m protecting you. I’m keeping you safe. I’m not hurting you. There’s an obvious difference between me and that fucker.” I can hear the hurt in Owen’s voice, along with the anger. It’s not fair to him what I said.
“I’m sorry. I know you’re just trying to help me. Thank you.”
Owen just nods and finishes his sandwich and soup not looking at me again until I start speaking. “I met Patrick a few years ago at a club. He was handsome and charming. We danced, drank, and had a great time. That night, he took my number, but I never thought I’d hear from him again. He was way out of my league, but it was a fun night. But the next day he called and asked me out. He was a perfect gentleman, opening doors for me, ordering for me, and even walking on the street side of the sidewalk. All the things a girl is looking for to feel safe and cherished. After that first night, we kept dating until he asked me to move in with him. He knew my mom was sick, and I was struggling to pay for her care and for living expenses. We had been dating for almost six months and the thought of being able to take care of my mom was all I could think about.” I look at Owen and he’s paying attention to every word I say.
“Go on.” He encourages me.
“Right. So, I moved in with him and canceled all my utilities and gave up my apartment. Patrick encouraged me to quit my job so that I could spend more time with mom. He paid off all my credit cards, so I had no more bills, which meant I didn’t have to work. So, I did. Each day, my mom got worse, but I was able to be there for her because I wasn’t working.”
“What does your mom have?” He asks.
“Had. She died last week of Alzheimer’s.”
Owen just shakes his head. “I’m sorry. You’ve had quite the month, haven’t you?”
I don’t answer him, but I keep telling my story. “As mom progressed, I spent all my time with her. Even though she didn’t recognize me anymore, I still wanted to be there for her. She was my mom, after all. But, Patrick started getting demanding, saying I had to be home when he was home, I had to keep the house clean, the laundry done, cook dinner each night, etc. I didn’t really think about it because he’d let me quit my job so I could be with my mom and he paid off all my debts. I was living rent free in his apartment and he was paying for everything, so of course I was willing to do what I could around the house.”
I take a deep breath. “The first time he beat me with a belt was because I was late coming home from the nursing home. Mom had a particularly bad day, and it took longer than normal to get her calmed down enough to go to bed. Patrick had a bad day at what he called ‘work’,” I use the universal sign for air quotes, “and took it out on me when I got home. He was mad that dinner wasn’t ready. At first, I told myself that he didn’t mean it and that it was okay. I probably deserved it. But, after that first beating, they became more regular. I quickly realized it wasn’t me, it was him.”
“Then why didn’t you leave sooner?”
It’s a fair question. “I couldn’t. I didn’t have a job, an income, credit cards, friends, a place to go. I had nothing. I completely depended on Patrick. He set it up that way. He managed to alienate me without me even realizing it. Eventually, it got to a point where I couldn’t leave the house without him or one of his cronies chaperoning me. I was never alone. And I had Mom to think about. Patrick was paying for her care. He knew where she was, of course, so I couldn’t take the chance he would hurt her to get to me. So, I stayed.”
Owen’s face is red, and his hands are fisted. “This is so fucked up, you know that. Right?”
I think I take him by surprise. “I’ve always known how fucked up it was. Not once did I ever believe it was my fault after that first beating. But what could I do? I had to bide my time because of my mom.”
“What ‘work’ did or does Patrick do?” He asks using air quotes.
“Patrick has a lot of side businesses. I’ve seen a lot of drugs, cocaine I presume from the white bricks I’ve seen on television. He also has a lot of guns. Big ones, small ones, and then he also did a lot of computer stuff. He was careful to never talk about work in front of me, so that’s all the specifics I have. I know it’s not a lot. I’m sorry.” The guy and I lived together for a long time. You’d think I’d know more, but I really don’t.
“It’s okay. We’ll find him, but I have one question. What made you finally leave that night we met two years ago?”
I remember that night like it was yesterday. “Patrick was amped up on cocaine and mad about some imaginary dust on one of his computers he claimed I didn’t clean. He smacked me around a bit earlier in the same evening, but came back for more. The final straw was when I heard the crack of the bone in my arm and then the other in my ribcage. I realized if I didn’t get out, I may not survive and that would do my mother no good.”
“Smart girl.” Owen says.
“A few days before, I found a duffel bag of cash in the back of the closet that had been there the entire time we had lived together. I just assumed he had forgotten about it, so I had taken it and hid it by the pool at the apartment building. One night, I left the shelter and retrieved the money and used it to move mom to another facility and pay for her care.”
“And now he wants his money back, right?”
“That and some key he claims I have.”
“What key?” Owen sits back in his chair.
“Today, he claimed that I have a key to a safe deposit box. I vaguely remember him giving me a key and telling me to hold on to it for him the day before I left. I had put it on my car key ring, but I don’t have a car anymore, so I don’t carry any keys. It may be in a box in my apartment, which is what I told Patrick. He was taking us there when we stopped for gas.”
“Did you tell him where your apartment is?”
I shake my head, “No, but who knows if the guys who killed Ralph and Edie were following me. They were coming to the store almost daily the last few weeks. They could have easily followed me and then told Patrick.”
I watch Owen stand up and grab his cell phone off the counter. He looks at me. “I’m going to have someone go to your place and clean it out. You good with that?” He dials a number.
“Yeah, but the only thing I care about are my mother’s ashes. They’re in a box on the floor in the corner of the room by the bed.”
“Hey. It’s me. I need a sweep team at,” he pauses and looks at me, “What’s your address?”
“478 NW 25th Way, apartment 28.” I answer.
“You hear that?... Yeah, bring everything to my condo... oh, and make sure to grab a box on the floor... yes, everything... thanks.” Owen hangs up. “In the morning, we’ll go to my condo and go through your things. We’ll find the key. That will help us find this fucker.”
“You have a condo, too?”
Owen nods. “Among other things, yes.”
Suddenly, I’m exhausted, but I’m afraid to go to sleep and wake up and still be sitting on the floor tied to a pole waiting for Patrick to show up.
Owen must see me repress a yawn. “You should go to bed and get some sleep.”
I nod. “I should, but I’m not sure I’ll get any actual rest.”
Owen goes to the cabinet and pulls out a bottle of ibuprofen with a sleeping agent. “Here. You’re going to need the ibuprofen for your wounds. The sleeping medicine will help with the resting.”
I take the bottle from him and pull out two pills. “Thank you. For everything.”
Owen nods, “You’re welcome. Now, go.” He points towards the staircase.
I follow his instructions because they sound like a good idea. I grab the glass of water and down the pills as I climb the stairs and go into my room.
The bed looks inviting. I pull the sundress off and find a t-shirt in the heap of clothes on the bed and put it on to sleep in. I slowly climb into the bed as my entire backside hurts, but I eventually settle in and feel the bed absorb me into it.
Thinking back on the last two days, I decide to be proud of myself for conquering my fears and escaping Patrick’s wrath.
Now I just need to help catch him so I can live in peace.
Chapter 13 - Owen
I WATCH MALLORY EXITING the kitchen and then listen to her footsteps on the staircase. What she’s been through... it’s amazing she’s still standing, not to mention thinking she could take Patrick on herself. I can’t even imagine what would be happening to her right now if she hadn’t bolted at the gas station this morning. If she’d even still be alive.
My phone rings and I answer it on the first ring. “Hey.” It’s Matt.
“Hey. Gabriel told me what’s going on. How ya doin’?” He asks.
“I want to kill the fucker, but other than that, I’m okay. Otto’s working on finding him and I’ve got a sweep team at her apartment right now collecting her stuff. There may be a safe deposit key he’s looking for. We can use that to find him.”
“You know this guy is wanted by the FBI, ATF, Homeland, and every local and federal agency around here, right? For everything from drugs, weapons, to human trafficking.”
“Yes, I know, but this fuckers’s biggest fuck up is that he pissed me off.” I pull a bottle of whiskey out of the cabinet and pour myself two fingers.
“Understood. What do you need from us?” Matt offers.
“Right now, I don’t know. In the morning, I’m taking Mallory to my condo and we’re going to find the key and then take it from there. Any ideas?”
I hear a baby crying in the background and then a door close, “Not right now. As long as she’s safe, you’re ahead of the game. But take it from me... you don’t want to let her out of your sight even for a minute. We both know how quickly that can go south.”
“Agreed. I’ll never make that mistake again.” We’re both referring to Piper and Alana being kidnapped and then Alana being murdered. Piper barely survived. Those were some dark days for the both of us.
“Okay, well, I have to go help Piper with the kids. Let me know what you need. Anytime.” Matt says.
“Thanks, I will. Give those kids a kiss from their Uncle Owen. Good night.”
“Good night, Owen.” Matt hangs up.
I take my drink out to the patio and let Bella run around the backyard. She’s looking for the ducks, but they’re gone for the night. So, she’s wandering the backyard garden and smelling everything in sight.
As I watch her, I’m thinking about all that Mallory told me. If I had known it was as bad as it was, would I have done more two years ago when I took her to the shelter? I’d like to think I would. And what the hell is this feeling of protectiveness I’m having over her? Or the feeling I was getting when I saw her standing in her room in nothing but a towel? I must have lost my senses. The last thing she nor I need right now are my feelings all over the map. That’s a surefire way to get one or both of us killed.
It’s been about an hour since Mallory’s gone up to bed, so I call Bella inside and we both head upstairs. I decide to check on Mallory. I do not know why, but I just wanted to make sure she was sleeping.
I silently open the door a crack to see if she’s sleeping soundly when Bella busts through the door and jumps on the bed.
“Bella!” I whisper yell.
“It’s fine. I’m not sleeping.” Mallory says as she pets Bella’s head.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you. I was just checking on you.” I point to Bella. “She’s proud of herself for jumping on the bed. It’s her first time she’s made it.”
“What a good girl.” Mallory says to her.
“Why aren’t you sleeping?”
“I don’t know. Strange few days. Strange house. Being kidnapped. Being beaten. Someone wants to kill me. I saw my friends murdered. My mother is dead. Take your pick.” She sits up in bed and winces. “My ass hurts.”
“Is there something I can do?” I ask, still standing in the doorway.
She ignores my question. “You know, Patrick whipped me with his belt fifty-one times today, with plans to whip me with a cane another four hundred and fifty times once we got to his place? I don’t think I would have survived that.”
I don’t know what to say, so I say nothing. It feels like she’s venting and she probably needs that. I can’t see her face in the darkness, but I can tell she’s looking out the window while mindlessly petting Bella, who is now curled up beside her in the bed. Slowly, I walk to the chair in the opposite corner of the room and sit, letting Mallory say what she wants or needs to say.
“He fucked my mouth this morning. Like I was some piece of trash.” She goes silent for a few moments. “There were days when he would decide I did some transgressions against him and his punishment for me was to hook me up naked to a collar and leash and parade me around the apartment with his friends watching. Not once did someone help me or even look at me like a human. They just watched.”
She goes quiet again and I hear the telltale signs of sniffles. She’s crying. I get up and retrieve the box of tissues in the bathroom, place them next to her on the bed, and go back to the chair.
She takes a few tissues and wipes her tears. “I can’t remember the last time I was happy. Between everything with Patrick, the shelter, mom getting sick and then passing away, Ralph and Edie, and the last twenty-four hours... I’ve been lying here trying to think back to the last time I was truly happy and I can’t remember when that was. How sad is that?”
Now I feel like I need to answer. “It’s not sad. You’ve had a lot on your shoulders for a long time.”
She turns towards me. “My mom would be so disappointed in me if she saw me right now.” Her voice is so small, tiny even, that I’m drawn to her side.
Sitting on the side of the bed, I take her hand. I look into her eyes, which I can see now that I’m sitting right next to her, and I tell her what she not only needs to hear, but what is true. “I’ve obviously never met your mom, but I’m positive she’d be inspired by your resiliency, elated that you’ve conquered your demons, and proud of your survival skills.”
Suddenly, Mallory’s shoulders shudder and her tears start flowing down her cheeks. She’s crying hard into her hands. I pull her into my embrace while she lets out all that has built up inside her over the years. She snuggles into my chest and I just hold her. There’s something about this girl that has got me all torn up inside, unlike anything I’ve felt before. Even with Alana.
I want to protect her, fight for her, be brave for her. I’m silently happy she’s crying into my chest, but irate that she’s crying in the first place. I don’t understand these feelings, but I’m not going to even try to. Right now, she needs a shoulder to cry on and I’m the one that will be there for her.
“Shh. I’ve got you, Mallory.” I wrap my arms around her shoulders and pull her in tighter as I lay on top of the bedspread. “Let it all out. I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”
She cries for so long that she cries herself to sleep. I watch her sleeping as the tears dry on her cheeks. Staring at the ceiling with Mallory on my chest and Bella at my feet, I feel a sense of peace come over me. I don’t understand.
What the hell does that mean?
Chapter 14 - Mallory
Thankfully, I wake up to an empty bed. I don’t know what I was thinking last night, crying and snuggling into Owen’s chest. I have got to get a grip. But... I slept better than I have in years. Was that because I knew I was safe? Was it because I wasn’t sleeping on a lumpy old mattress? Was it because I couldn’t hear the sounds of drug deals, shootings, and prostitution going on outside my front door? Was it because Owen was here? I’m afraid to answer that question.
