End of Eternity 3 Page 5

  “Aww, it’s nothing at all,” I say, deflecting the compliment. It’s true; the food I’ve been cooking for him is healthy; or at least it would be if it weren’t all dosed with medicine meant to drive him insane and cause permanent damage to his body. Because of this man, I will never have children. Because of him, my husband is dead. I only wish that I had more patience, and that it didn’t take the continuous long-term ingestion of the drugs to really see results. I wish I could destroy him overnight, but that’s just not how it works. Owen said that if I was extra careful, Brad would not even know what was happening to him before it was too late.

  “My little girl’s growing up,” my dad says with a smile. “I’m grateful for all you’ve done lately, Carmen. The way you’ve taken charge and taken care of things—you remind me more and more of your mother every day. She always took care of me so well. It was only when she passed away that my health really started suffering. But thanks to you, I’m slowly feeling better and better.”

  Sending my dad a small smile, I look down into my plate. At least one good thing has come from all of this. Since I had to cook for Brad anyway to deliver my slow and controlled poisoning, I figured that I might as well take the opportunity to simultaneously help my father. I am not sure if I am doing this because it seems rather efficient, or because it helps to even out my karmic balance. I have never intentionally hurt someone before like this, and I have felt the need to be extra kind and good to everyone else to compensate for my cruelty.

  Maybe it’s partly the thrill of playacting a perfect Stepford Wife, but I actually have enjoyed working in the kitchen more than I would have imagined possible. Even though I began cooking to cause causing someone pain, I still ended up learning a valuable new skill.

  “That was delicious,” Brad says as he polishes off the last pancake on his plate. “I’m stuffed. I’d better head out to work early before rush hour starts. Wish me luck on my big case!”

  “Oh, is that today?” my father asks. “That music thing? That big internet piracy case?”

  “That’s the one,” Brad says with an excited nod as he wipes a napkin over his lips. “I have really high hopes for this one.”

  “Best of luck, son. I’m sure you’ll do a great job,” Dad says with an encouraging nod.

  “Brad doesn’t need luck,” I say softly, and the men turn to look at me. I shrug and lower my eyes before explaining. “He’s been preparing for that case for weeks. He plans carefully, and he always wins. Brad makes his own luck.”

  Staring at me for a moment, Brad reaches out to touch my hand. “That’s a really kind thing to say, Carm.”

  “She’s right: fortune favors the bold, young man!” my father says with a grin. Then he turns to me. “I’ll probably be home late tonight, Carmen. I think my conference is going to run past dinnertime.”

  “That’s okay, Dad. I hope you have a great time.”

  “I’ll probably be late, too,” Brad says. “I need to run some errands in the city after work.”

  “No problem,” I tell him with an artificial smile. “I’ll be waiting for you.” Brad has no idea that I have been monitoring his every movement. I need to have as much information about him as possible if I’m going to be able to eventually gain the upper hand.

  Brad stands up and leans down to give me another kiss, and I try very hard not to flinch at his touch. He moves to the refrigerator and grabs his bagged lunch, sending me a smile before exiting the room. Once he’s gone, I begin to clear the dishes, but my father grabs my wrist and stops me.

  “Hold on one second,” he says quietly. “Who the hell are you and what have you done with my daughter?”

  “What?” I say innocently. “I’ve just changed…”

  “No,” my dad says with a shake of his head. “You’re up to something, Carmen, and if you don’t come clean with me, I’m going to eventually figure it out.”

  I swallow back a lump of fear and force myself to laugh lightly. “You’re just paranoid, Dad. I’m the new and improved Carmen Winters. Nothing strange is going on here.”

  “You can’t fool me, young lady. You can fool that idiot, Brad, but I’ve known you since the day you were born. My first child; I was there for your first words, your first steps, your first heartbreak. I know you, Carmen, and you are not acting like yourself. You are scaring the shit out of me right now.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Dad,” I say as I clear up the dishes. I smile brightly at him before turning toward the granite kitchen countertop. “I’m perfectly fine.”

  Chapter Eight

  “Unfortunately, Carmen, he covers his tracks really well. We’re going to need a lot more evidence before we can do an exposé and publicly humiliate him. Right now, all you’ve got is speculation.”

  Sighing, I knead my temple with my fingers. “Really, Lauren?” I murmur into my phone. I am sitting in dad’s leather chair in his office, and doing research on my laptop. “It’s been a month. We’ve been looking into this guy for a month, and we’ve got nothing?”

  “Sorry, doll. This guy is good. He’s smart and careful. I have no doubt in my mind that you’re right, and that something really messed up is going on here, but I can’t do anything about it.”

  “Then I’m totally fucked,” I whisper in exasperation. “God.”

  “Maybe not totally,” Lauren says softly. “Why don’t you just use your natural talents, Carmen? Sometimes, even the smartest of men can make errors in judgment when it comes to beautiful women. Just get close to him. Earn his trust. Keep your phone constantly recording, and have him confess his sins to you. Then you can either sell your story to the press like you were planning, or go to the police once you have enough information to make a case. Or both!”

  “I don’t know if I can do this anymore, Laurie. It’s making me sick to live under the same roof with him. There must be another way of finding out what he’s up to.”

  “I don’t know, doll. You have already been playing him for this long. What’s a little more? He might even surprise you. Maybe you’ll discover that he’s actually a good guy, and that all his mistakes are ancient history—and maybe you can find a way to forgive him.”

  Snorting softly, I scroll through some information on my laptop. “I highly doubt that. But you’re right: I’ve already started this charade, and I should see it through to the end.”

  “Sounds good to me. Besides, isn’t it a little fun? Lying to him and sneaking around behind his back. Don’t you feel a little like a spy or a secret agent?”

  “Not really,” I tell her softly, but the idea brings a little smile to my lips. “Maybe I’ll feel better once it’s over. For now, I just need to focus on getting through this situation.”

  “You’re doing a great job, doll. I am proud of you for taking it upon yourself to bring justice to Brad’s crimes. Remember that when it’s over, you still have a job waiting for you here at the station, and friends that care about you.”

  I hear the sound of the front door opening and I am startled into sitting upright. “I’ll call you back later, Laurie,” I say quickly before hanging up the phone. A small ping alerts me to the fact that Owen has messaged me on my computer, but as much as I want to read it, I don’t have time. I can hear footsteps out in the foyer.

  My dad said he’d be out all day at the conference—he shouldn’t be home yet. He usually spends forever at those things. I am about to stuff my phone into the pocket of my robe, but then I remember what Lauren said. I quickly flip to the recorder app and turn it on before sliding the phone discreetly out of sight.

  I rise to my feet just as the doors to the office slide open. Brad is standing there in one of his expensive suits, and his perfectly styled hair. I am so exhausted with his perfection. He always wears black; only black. There is never a splash of color anywhere on his person. However, I do notice something strange about his appearance that wasn’t there before: there is a look of triumph on his face.

  “I did it,”
he declares. “I won my big case—way ahead of schedule.”

  “That’s wonderful!” I tell him, stepping around Dad’s desk and moving forward.

  He closes the distance and puts his hands on my waist, lifting me into the air with excitement. I laugh a little in surprise, clutching his shoulders as he spins me around before setting me down. “They came to an early settlement. A huge settlement. I love my job, sometimes.”

  “We should do something to celebrate,” I tell him lightly. “Do you want to go out for dinner and a movie? You’re usually so busy. Maybe we can even go to the beach for a walk, or…”

  “I kind of just wanted to stay in with you,” Brad says in a soft voice, guiding me back toward the desk.

  A little lump of fear forms in my throat. “Well, sure—we could watch a movie in the media room. I can make some popcorn…”

  “No,” he says gruffly, pinning me to my dad’s desk. He places a hand on the side of my head, gently rubbing his thumb across my cheek. “I want you.”

  The hungry look in his eyes betrays his meaning. “I don’t think I’m healed enough,” I tell him hoarsely. “Brad, I can’t…”

  “You won’t know unless we try. Come on, Carmen. You’ve been driving me crazy for weeks. Do you know what it’s like? Sleeping beside you, watching you wear those little nightgowns. God, I have been going out of my mind wishing I could fuck you.”

  I am too stunned to respond. Brad has made a few passes at me over the weeks, but all of them were easily rebuffed. He’s mostly been respectful and kind—not that I really expected more from someone with his track record. He even invited me to his apartment in the city, which was not the creepy murder house that I found with Owen, but a posh and stylish one-bedroom close to his work. He has been acting almost normal, and it’s almost been tolerable to be around him.

  When I feel his lips descend to my mouth, I am startled and push him away. “Brad, I can’t do this right now. Please. It will hurt so much. I’m not ready.”

  “Try to be ready for me, Carm,” Brad says as he reaches out to undo the strings of my robe. He slides it back off my shoulders, and I struggle to push away his hands and keep it on.

  My robe has an unusual weight, and I realize that it is my phone. My phone—set to record in my pocket.

  An idea strikes me, and I stop struggling barely enough for Brad to get my robe off. I feel naked and exposed without it around my shoulders, even though I am wearing a small cotton dress underneath. I turn to glance fearfully at the robe as he places it on the desk. What should I do now? Should I do everything in my power to get out of this situation, or should I seize the opportunity to record this? It feels strangely like fate that Lauren just suggested I turn on the recorder. I feel like I have been presented with a special opportunity to make my own evidence, and I shouldn’t dare let it slip by.

  Brad is fumbling with the buckle on his belt, and before I can even think, he has dropped his pants and his boxers. I glance down warily, suddenly comforted by the fact that he doesn’t have an erection. I have been drugging him so much lately that it should be difficult for him to get one at all. Am I safe? Will he not be able to actually go through with this?

  “You’re so beautiful,” Brad says, lifting me onto the desk and moving to stand between my legs. He grinds his hips against me as he kisses my mouth with warm, wet, ravenous kisses. He slides a hand down to squeeze one of my breasts, and I wince at the discomfort.

  “Brad, it hurts,” I complain, pushing him away.

  “Don’t worry. It won’t hurt for long. This will feel good, Carmen. I know you want this, too.”

  When he reaches down to grasp my panties, my heart begins to hammer in my chest, I grasp his wrists tightly in a panicked effort to keep my clothes on, but he manages to slide my panties down my thighs and off my legs completely, as though my resistance means less than a fruit fly landing on his arm. Am I really that weak? I consider using my legs to kick him away, but then I realize that the voice recorder on my phone can’t pick up fighting noises. I need to speak. But what do I say?

  “Brad,” I whisper. “I’m not…” I gasp out as he slides his hand between my thighs, beginning to roughly knead at my sensitive flesh. I grip his shoulders tightly, trying to steel myself against the blinding pain. When he shoves two fingers inside me, I cry out loudly, putting both my hands around his wrist to try and pull him away. “Brad, please!” I tell him softly as I begin to sob. “Stop. Just stop.” I glance toward my robe in fear and indecision, unsure of whether I should give into the urge to fight with everything I have. Should I stab my fingers into his eyes or rip out his hair? Should I punch him in the balls? Surely I could get away if I really tried—but what would that accomplish? No one would know. No one would believe me. I would just be another voiceless female crying rape, and making a fool of herself.

  No, the tape recorder is the key. It’s the key to everything.

  I need proof.

  “Just trust me, Carmen,” he says softly, with his forehead pressed against mine. “I’m going to make you feel good. I know what you want.”

  “Have you—” I gasp out, trying to ignore the pain, “—have you been drinking?”

  “Yeah. Just a few drinks to celebrate with the guys at work,” he says, continuing to assault me with his fingers. “There might have been a little more than alcohol involved, if you know what I mean.”

  I actually don’t know what he means, but it scares me. At the very least, with my drugs, the alcohol, and whatever else he has taken, there is no way he should be able to get it up. He’s remained surprisingly soft throughout this encounter, even when grinding himself against me. I have hope that I might be able to escape this one without too much damage done—and gaining plenty of great evidence without having to pay too much of an emotional and physical price. Of course, he is still managing to hurt me enough with his hands and fingers, but maybe…

  Brad growls in frustration and rips his hand out of me, moving it down to his own crotch. “What the hell? Why am I so limp?” he growls as he strokes himself. “Fucking beer. And lack of sleep, probably.”

  Under normal circumstances, I might laugh—but this is simply not funny. “I’m not ready for this now, Brad. I’m still sore. Let’s try this another time,” I tell him softly, reaching for my robe to cover myself up. I probably won’t get a worthwhile recording if I make him stop here, but I don’t have the stomach to take any more of this.

  Brad reaches for my wrist. “No,” he says firmly, gazing into my eyes. He leans forward until his head rests on my shoulder and his body is pressed against mine. “I need you so badly, Carmen,” he whispers into my ear. He runs one of his hands over my throat, letting his thumb press lightly against the tender front of my neck. For a moment, I’m afraid that he’s going to crush my windpipe or begin to choke me, but his touch hovers on the cusp between brutal and tender.

  “Bend over,” he whispers.

  “What? No. Brad, I…”

  “Bend over the desk.”

  I find myself staring blankly at him, trapped between the urge to run, fight, and stay a little longer to get evidence. He’s useless, remember? I try to reassure myself. By now, he should be totally impotent. If anything, it will be funny to watch him try. Just be tough, Carmen. If you can get this whole situation on tape, you could finally begin to build a case against…

  A shriek leaves my chest as Brad grabs my hips, and twists me around like I am a rag doll. He shoves my upper body down against the desk, and presses himself up against my thighs. I can feel some growing hardness against my body along with a bit of moisture. It sends me into a panic.

  “No,” I beg, my voice getting louder and more frantic. “Brad, what are you doing? Stop this, please.”

  His hand travels up my spine and grasps my hair violently, knotting and tangling his fingers at the nape of my neck. He twists the chunk of my hair he’s grabbed and pulls it backward until I am nearly screaming from pain. His other hand slides over the front
of my body, harshly squeezing my breasts. When he slaps the sensitive mounds of flesh, I find tears slipping from my eyes at the pain. They splash down on my laptop, and I think of the fact that Owen messaged me just a few minutes ago and I never got to read it. If I can only hold on until this is over, I could read that message. I bet it’s cute and funny and sweet.

  “Tell me you want me,” Brad whispers. “Tell me how badly you want me to fuck you right now.”

  I shut my eyes tightly, not caring about the recording anymore. I just want this to be over. “Brad, this isn’t you. You’re better than this. Just stop.”

  “It’s been so long since you’ve let me fuck you. Once you remember how good it feels, you’ll be begging for it all the time. You need this, Carmen—maybe more than I do.”

  His twisted words might be more unsettling and upsetting than the physical pain of his hands on me. But when he pulls my hair more, and reaches down to position his semi-hard phallus against me, I realize that I’m about to change my mind. Brad plunges himself into me with a guttural groan as his body tears at my sensitive flesh.

  I scream in pain as tears cascade down from my eyes. Brad slams my torso down onto the desk and my cheekbone bangs against the edge of my laptop painfully. He puts both of his hands on my hips and digs his fingers into my sides as he drags my body back against him with his rhythmic thrusts. I feel like I am incapable of thinking. I want to fight; I want this to stop, but I don’t know how. At the same time, I recognize that there’s a good reason I should let this continue. My phone is still recording. One small sacrifice for me could save a few of the other innocent people that Brad might harm over the course of his lifetime. It’s so lucky that I managed to put the recorder on when I did, and it has to mean something. Thank god for Laurie. This must be what was meant to happen.