“Brittney, the girl you met, was repeatedly abused physically and sexually from the time she was a baby. Her brother Jacob, who’s four, received the same treatment. The last time he raped her, it was so ruthlessly she could barely walk the next day at school. No one knew about it until then because he hid his abuse so well. Their father was the last person to earn the Expiration Penalty. That was a little over five weeks ago.”
He tips his chin to a little boy sitting on the floor playing with blocks. It’s not until I look closer that I see the prosthetic leg. My lunch threatens to come up because I know this story won’t be any easier than the ones before.
“Parker’s Mom ran him over with her car because she was so high on drugs that she didn’t notice her son wasn’t in the house when she decided to leave to go pick up more drugs. He was three and there was no one there to watch him while she was gone. He weighed only nineteen pounds. Way under the average weight for a boy his age. His mother chose to buy drugs instead of food for him. He had no family, so when we heard about what happened to him and to keep him out of foster care, we contacted Marybeth to see if she wanted to adopt him. She couldn’t have kids of her own. With some help from a lawyer friend, she was able to adopt him. His birth mother got three years in prison because it was her first offense and it was an accident. Three fucking years, Remi, when Parker will suffer for the rest of his life. We paid someone in her prison to kill her.”
My gut twists and turns. I want to beg him to stop. It hurts too much to listen to what these kids went through. You always know that the world isn’t perfect. That there’re people out there who likes to prey on the weak and innocent, to dominate over them and control them. But to actually hear about the details is devastating.
He points to anothe
r little boy about seven or eight. “Jaden was born here. His mom, Elizabeth, came when her husband paid a man to rape and kill her. She met her current husband here in Malus a year later. Her ex-husband didn’t even make it to trial before my brothers and I stepped in. She’s from San Antonio. JW happened to be in town when he heard the news from a detective buddy of his.”
He turns me around and looks at me soberly.
“Can you honestly say those people deserved to live, Remi?”
I keep quiet and think about his question. The part that’s been ingrained in me since I was old enough to comprehend right from wrong says we have no say-so on who lives and who dies. But a bigger part says those lowlife, horrible people lost the privilege of protection from death by harming someone else in such ghastly ways. Could I ever witness the killing of another human being? Absolutely not, but I doubt I’d hold remorse or regret in knowing that it happened.
After several seconds, I slowly shake my head. “No.”
“Everyone has scars. Whether it be emotional or physical. Accidental, from abuse, or even self-inflicted. There is absolutely no justification for another person to purposely cause those scars.”
No, there isn’t. The world is already a horrible place at times without people making it worse.
I turn back to the kids and look at each of them. Do they all have a story to tell, and if so, what are they? The thought of a child being harmed is gut-wrenching. Intense hatred against the people who could harm children sends pin-pricks over my arms and my scalp tingles.
Against popular opinion, I’ve always been a supporter for the death penalty. If the crime warrants it, then those criminals aren’t worthy of keeping something so precious as life. It’s the price they pay. A price they know full well they’ll pay if caught. And the ones who aren’t caught and continue with their heinous acts or the ones who only receive a miniscule sentence? Maybe I’m glad they are taken care of by other means. Is what Trouble and his brothers do really that bad? Most people would say yes, but I bet most of them haven’t felt the back of a hand against their face, or felt a kick to their stomach so hard it breaks a rib. Experienced the pain of a miscarriage caused by a punch to the abdomen. Witnessing their child being beaten until they barely hold onto life. Had their innocence ripped away while a man rapes them.
My stomach tightens when I remember my own pain and betrayal. To know he did the same to Trouble and so many other kids makes that pain so much worse.
A thought comes to mind, and I glance over at him. “Your parents….” I pause. When his gaze settles on me, I forge ahead. “What happened to them?”
“They went to prison. They were the first ones I paid to have killed.”
I nod sedately, not surprised by his answer.
Feeling Trouble’s arm move back around my waist and the warmth of his chest against my back, I grab his other arm and pull it across my chest. I press a kiss against his wrist. My hair slightly pulls as it gets stuck on the scruff on his face. I feel his breath against my ear, indicating he has his head dipped close to mine.
“I understand why you do it,” I tell him quietly, keeping my eyes on the children.
He acknowledges my words by tightening his arms around me and pressing a kiss against my temple.
REMI
I STARE ACROSS AT TROUBLE and a thrill of excitement settles in my stomach as his sapphire eyes regard me. We’re at The Hill, having just finished dinner. My nerves have been on edge all evening and my body’s been hyper aware of him and the heated looks he keeps sending me. I’m always aware of his desire and need for me, but tonight’s different. He’s not tamping down the strength of it like he normally does. Nope. I’m feeling the full force of it and it’s making me dizzy. Not because I’m frightened, but because of the deliriously sinful way my body is responding.
I wiggle in my seat, trying to relieve the needy ache between my thighs. I’m past the point of being embarrassed for being so turned on in a public place.
I don’t know what’s going to happen tonight, but unfortunately, it’s going to have to wait. When we leave here, we have to go to Susan’s to get Elijah. Trouble surprised me after we left the library by saying Susan was watching him while we ate dinner too. I feel guilty for leaving Elijah for so long, but I can’t help the pleasant feeling of spending time with Trouble.
He has his arm propped on the table, lightly rubbing his chin. A smirk pulls up one corner of his mouth and his eyes blaze as he sees me shift again in my seat. He knows just what he’s doing to me.
I need a distraction before I go up in flames, or worse, embarrass myself by asking him to put me out of my misery and take me home and do naughty things to me.
I pick up my glass and gulp down several swallows, hoping it’ll cool me down. It doesn’t work.
“I spoke with my brother yesterday,” I say in an attempt to distract myself. “He wants to come for a visit.”
Trouble’s eyebrows rise. “Does he now?”