Creed 3: Undercover, page 12
Victor raised his glass to his lips and emptied the contents with one gulp. He placed the glass on the bar and refilled it.
“What can I do, Doc? What can I do to make it better?”
“You’re doing it.”
He looked at the shrink with disbelief. He’d just manhandled, cursed out, and threatened his pregnant wife right in front of him.
“Don’t bullshit me, Dr. Porter,” Victor warned.
“I wouldn’t, Governor Creed. Even though your wife didn’t do much talking, judging from what she’s been through and her behavior, I can easily deduce that she’s suffering from PTSD. That’s Post Traumatic—”
“I know what PTSD is, Doctor. And I deduced that without a Ph.D. in Clinical Psychology.”
The sarcastic comment escaped before he could help himself. Taylor had tested his patience, but he didn’t mean to take it out on the doctor.
“I apologize for being rude, Dr. Porter. I’m a bit on edge myself.”
“Understandable. No apologies necessary. After everything your wife has been through, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder is the easy diagnosis. But it’s also my understanding that your wife is pregnant.”
“She is,” Victor confirmed before taking a sip.
“Governor, traumatic events, compounded with hormonal changes due to pregnancy, is a powder keg of explosive behavior.”
Victor had been so worried about Taylor’s state of mind after the shooting that hormonal issues had never even crossed his mind. He’d been ridiculously oblivious to what she was really going through, and he felt like a complete asshole for snapping at her.
“I’m going to hell,” Victor muttered.
“Nah.” Dr. Porter chuckled. “You got her to calm down.”
“Hmph…did I?” Victor scoffed. “She’s probably trashing our bedroom as we speak.”
“It’s better than the alternative,” he said through laughter before drinking from his glass.
“The alternative?”
“Yeah. She was about to kick your ass.”
TAYLOR
The shining sun through the picture window forced Taylor to roll to her side. She pulled the sheet over her head and tried to go back to sleep. Unfortunately, pregnancy didn’t allow for sleeping in. She had to pee. After flinging the sheet off of her head, she forced herself to sit up. She looked behind her and was grateful to discover that Victor had left already. She wasn’t prepared to face him after the way she’d behaved the night before. Sure, she was angry he’d set up an appointment with a psychologist after she’d told him not to, but she was embarrassed and appalled by her reaction. Taylor knew she owed him an apology, but she felt like shit and she wasn’t ready to face him.
She stood and padded to the bathroom. As she made her way to the toilet, she glanced in the mirror. What a horrifying sight she was. Her big hair was unruly and matted in the back. Her eyes were swollen and red from crying herself to sleep. She had dried tears and dark circles under her eyes. A mess was the best way to describe her appearance.
After doing her business, she flushed the toilet and walked over to the shower. She set the water to her desired temperature and pulled her nightgown over her head. She stepped in the shower and sighed as soon as the hot water sprayed her body.
It was about forty-five minutes later when she emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a towel. She dried her freshly shampooed hair, entered her dressing room, and sat at the vanity.
“Good morning,” Victor said from the doorway.
Taylor looked at his reflection in the mirror. She exhaled and turned to face him. Horrible guilt washed over her when she looked in her beautiful husband’s eyes.
“I’m so sorry, Victor,” she said through a sigh. “I just…”
In two long strides, he was in front of her, lifting her to her feet. He clutched both sides of her face and looked at her with eyes filled with sadness and love. The guilt Taylor was feeling was overwhelming.
“No, sweetheart. I’m sorry. I promise I’ll do better.”
Taylor couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She couldn’t understand why he was apologizing to her. She was the one acting a fool.
“What? No. Honey, you have nothing to be sorry for. You were only trying to help me, and I completely lost it.”
Victor pulled her against his warm body and held her tight. She melted against him, feeling safer than she’d felt since the shooting. It was the first time she’d actually allowed him to hold her without tensing. She wrapped her arms around his waist and caressed his muscular back. Tears welled in her eyes as she thought about how much she missed being safely cocooned in his arms.
“I love you, sweetheart,” he whispered into her thick hair.
“I know you do, and I love you.”
Victor took a step back and lifted her chin with his fingers. She warmed under his emerald gaze. With just a look, he was tearing down barriers that had formed the minute that animal killed her commander.
He leaned in, bringing his face close to hers. Shamefully, Taylor recalled the pain and anger in his eyes the last time they were that close.
“Victor, I—”
Victor cut off her words by pushing his soft lips against hers. She moaned against his lips and ignored the slight pain in her shoulder as she snaked her arms around his neck. For whatever reason, her husband's touch, his kiss, made everything all right in the world. At least, for that moment.
When their lips separated, she wanted so desperately for them to reunite. But Victor reached for her hand and led her into their bedroom. He walked her over to the sofa and gently pulled her to sit next to him. He caressed her hand, placing it to his mouth. After a soft kiss, he smiled.
“I’m worried, sweetheart. I don’t know how to help.”
In his solemn tone, Taylor could hear defeat. It was breaking her heart.
She squeezed his hand, hoping to give him some comfort. “Baby, please don’t worry so much. I’ve heard before, from other cops that have been involved in police shootings, that the way I’m feeling is normal. Now, my behavior,” she chuckled, “that shit I can’t explain.”
“Dr. Porter suggested that hormonal changes are a factor.”
“Oh, God.” Taylor sighed. “Dr. Porter must think I’m a nutcase.”
Victor laughed. “Yeah, probably.”
Taylor dropped her head in shame.
“No, babe, I’m kidding. Look, if you don’t want to see him anymore, you don’t have to.”
“No, no. I do. I mean…I think I need to,” Taylor admitted.
Victor smiled, and in his eyes, she saw relief. Plus, she was sure that what she was about to tell him would add to his sense of relief.
“Sooo… I’ve decided to quit my job,” she announced.
“What?” he asked with a furrowed brow as if he couldn’t believe what she was telling him. “Why are you quitting your job?”
Taylor frowned at the question. His reaction to her news was unexcepted. She, for sure, thought he’d be more pleased.
“I thought you wanted me to stop working?”
Victor straightened and clutched her shoulders. “I do. But I don’t want you to quit for me. Honestly, I truly just want you to be happy and safe.”
Taylor smiled up at him. He never ceased to amaze. He was so thoughtful that he would put his needs and wants aside just to make her happy.
“This is not about you. It’s not even about me witnessing such a traumatic event. I mean…I’m rich. It’s just stupid to keep doing a job that could get me killed when I don’t even need to work.”
Victor studied her for seconds before speaking. “Are you sure?”
“Hell, yeah!” Taylor confirmed. “This police shit is for the birds.”
The corners of his eyes crinkled as his smile spread. Victor couldn’t hide his happiness if he tried.
“Okay, well, that’s great, honey. Now, go and get dressed.”
“Get dressed?”
“Yep. We’re going out.”
For the first time, Taylor noticed his attire. He was wearing jeans and a Nickelback t-shirt. Taylor loved him in jeans and a t-shirt. When she looked down at his black boots, she instantly knew where they were going. For the first time since the shooting, she was excited to leave the house.
Two and a half hours later, Taylor and Victor were sitting on a rocky bank in Peru, Illinois, fishing for Silver Bass. It was more peaceful than usual. There were no boats disrupting the water, no disruptive jet skiers, and strangely, no other fishermen. Even though it seemed as if they were alone, she knew better. When they left the apartment, she was pleasantly surprised when Victor opened the passenger door for her and hopped in the front seat. She was trying to remember if she’d ever been in a car that Victor was driving.
For the entire ride, it had been just the two of them; no assistants, no driver, no Gregor. Even on the bank, it appeared that they were alone. But there was no way Victor would be out in the open, near a large body of water, without security.
The weather was perfect, the water was still, and the fish were biting. Taylor looked over at her man, loving the way his big body was putting a strain on his t-shirt. A gust of wind pushed his silky, dark hair away from his face, gifting Taylor with an unobstructed view of his beautiful profile. When he grabbed a beer from the cooler, she watched with lustful anticipation as he lifted the bottle and pressed his sexy mouth to the lip of the bottle.
Victor turned, catching her mid ogle. “Stop eye-fucking me, Lady. I am not a piece of meat,” he joked with a mischievous glint in his stunning green eyes.
“A big, thick piece of meat,” Taylor rebutted through laughter.
“Naaaaw, baby. You know what’s big and thick?” he asked, jumping to his feet.
Taylor’s gaze roamed his muscular chest, down his lean abs, then to the outline of his package in his jeans.
“What’s that, sexy?” she asked in her best, “Gimme that dick” voice.
“This whopper on my hook, baby!”
He yanked his pole, winded his reel, and pulled in a giant, fighting Asian carp.
“Shit!” Victor barked.
The disappointed look on his face was hilarious. Taylor almost fell out of her chair laughing at him. He’d done all that celebrating only to catch the worst invasive species. A fish often referred to as pests.
“Throw that shit back in there!” Taylor teased. “You done wasted a damn worm on that water roach!”
“Shut up, woman!”
Taylor was hunched over, roaring with laughter. With the cutest pout, Victor pried the swimming predator off his hook and tossed it toward the trees.
19
Donatella
Halfway through a tasteless meal packet of ready-to-eat survival food, Clara approached with a smile.
“Kateri, dear, the prophet would like to see you in the rectory.”
Donna trusted Clara even less than she did the so-called prophet. She was always fucking smiling. How could someone like that possibly be trusted? Her sickeningly sweet disposition was nauseating. Yet, Donna played along and sprouted a smile in return.
“Thank you, Clara.”
When she walked away, Donna turned to Kelly and rolled her eyes. “She creeps me the fuck out,” she whispered before getting up from the cafeteria table.
Being summoned to Bobby Lee’s personal living quarters was not unusual. He often sent for his future wives to hold private sermons, preaching about being a good and dutiful wife. But what really surprised her was that in all the times he’d sent for them, he never once tried to get physical. Even though he’d said, several times, that he would wait until after the mass wedding to consummate his marriages, she didn’t believe him. She didn’t believe a word that came out of the charlatan’s mouth.
When she got to the rectory, she greeted the overly happy women who acted as if they were winning some sort of prize by becoming one of his many wives. Again, Donna played along. She smiled and took a seat on the living room floor next to Vera.
All conversations ceased when Bobby Lee entered the room. His golden hair bounced with each step. He was wearing a long, white garb as if he were some sort of medieval friar. She could hear soft gasping coming from the swooning women. By his side was Clara. She was his bottom bitch as far as Donna was concerned.
“Ephesians!” he called out dramatically.
He didn’t have to do much to have the other women mesmerized. They waited with bated breath for the next round of bullshit to plop out his mouth. It was like they were all puffing on the same batch of Purple Haze.
Donna was tempted to roll her eyes, but she resisted. Instead, she sat with her legs crossed and her chin resting on her fists. She imitated the other ladies and stared up at him with googly eyes.
Bobby Lee smiled, exposing perfect, white teeth and raised the Bible over his head. He was definitely a good-looking man, and he certainly didn’t lack charisma.
“The Bible says, ‘There is one body, and one Spirit. Even as ye called in one hope of your calling. One lord, one faith, one baptism.’”
He walked over to the fireplace and placed the Bible on the mantel. After scanning the room, he held his hand out to Sonia, a young Hispanic woman who’d arrived around the same time Donna had.
“Join me, please.”
Without hesitation, Sonia hopped off the floor and hurried over to Bobby Lee. The excitement in her eyes from being so close to him was… sad. Donna, for the life of her, couldn’t understand how he managed to control the minds of people who otherwise seemed perfectly normal.
“Who can find a virtuous woman? Her price is above rubies. That’s Proverbs 31:10.”
Sonia was smiling as if she’d just won the Publisher’s Clearing House sweepstakes.
“A virtuous woman,” he repeated. “Virtuous.”
Get on with it!
Donna totally could’ve been in the cafeteria finishing her powdered food.
“Beloveds, Sonia is not a virtuous woman. Since she was a child, her body has been bought and used time and time again.”
Sonia’s smile faded. Her face turned beet red with embarrassment. She folded her arms as if she was trying to put up a protective forcefield.
“Yet, we are not here to judge. Let He who is without sin among you cast the first stone at our beloved Sonia.”
Donna was horrified for the young woman. She could not believe the audacity that it took to throw her under a very judgmental and unflattering spotlight.
Clara walked up to Sonia wearing her trademarked creepy smile and placed her hands on her shoulders.
“You will be cleansed, washed, and made clean again, and worthy of our prophet.”
When Bobby Lee left the room, Donna looked around to see if any of the other women were as appalled as she was. Nope. The loopy ass women were all smiles.
Clara kept one hand on Sonia’s shoulder and turned to the rest of the group. “Ladies, please stand and disrobe.”
Donna wasn’t sure she’d heard correctly. Maybe she was using disrobe as a metaphor. Surely, this chick wasn’t telling them to strip.
“Quickly, please,” Clara insisted.
Donna had an inner debate about whether or not she was going to get naked on demand. She’d worked undercover for years, and had to do plenty of strange things to keep her cover. She’d posed as an exotic dancer, a prostitute, hell…even a dominatrix. But she’d never, ever had to get completely naked.
She could refuse and call it quits, but she wasn’t squeamish about nudity, and there was no way she was leaving without witnessing Bobby Lee in cuffs. So, like the rest of them, she took off her clothes and waited for further instructions.
Once they were all naked, Clara walked over to the same door that Bobby Lee went through. “Follow me, ladies.”
Like puppies, they did.
They followed her down a hallway with wood paneling until they reached a door. Donna heard gasps coming from the women who entered first. And when she entered, she understood why. Inside the room was a huge indoor swimming pool under a greenroom roof. Donna was amazed at how well Bobby Lee was living in comparison to everyone else.
Bobby Lee, still in his robe, was standing in the shallow end of the pool with his arms raised as if he was John the Baptist.
“‘And now why thou tarriest now? Arise and be baptized, and wash away thy sins, calling on the name of the Lord.’ Come, wives! Be baptized.”
Clara gestured toward the pool steps. One by one, everyone entered the pool. Yes, the baptism was a sham, but at least the water was warm.
Bobby Lee called Sonia over, placed his hand in the small of her back. “I baptize thee in the name of the Lord,” he declared as he dipped her into the water.
Surprisingly, it appeared as if he barely noticed her naked body. He seemed focused and, dare Donna say…professional. Maybe he really and truly believed he was the Messiah. Maybe in his mind, the Messiah was supposed to con, steal, deceive, and degrade.
After the fourth baptism, it was finally Donna’s turn. She stepped closer and waited for him to dip her in the water. When he didn’t, she looked up and found him studying the tattoos that covered most of her torso. His lips parted as if he was about to speak, but he quickly pressed them shut. When he placed his hand at the small of her back, Donna noticed the swollen package beneath his saintly robe. She did her best not to cringe when he pressed his wet fingers to her naked flesh.
“I baptize thee in the name of the Lord.”
Donna held her breath as he dipped her in the pool. She came up mad as hell that there were no decent hair products anywhere on the compound.
He pulled her upright and stood her in front of him. “Now, you are clean,” he affirmed while pushing her wet hair out of her face.
Donna blinked the water out of her eyes and smiled. She was waiting for him to take his hands off of her, but he was in no hurry. When he finally released her, he said, “Take your place with the rest.”
She nodded and shuffled over to the women who had already been baptized.
