The Arrangement 7

  The Arrangement

  Vol. 7

  H.M. Ward

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2013 by H.M. Ward

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form.

  Laree Bailey Press

  First Edition: May 2013

  THE ARRANGEMENT

  Vol. 7

  A note for e-readers:

  This volume is 121 pages in the print edition (trade paperback). Please be advised that the number of pages may appear to vary based on your e-reader, making this volume appear to have more or less pages due to the size of your screen.

  CHAPTER 1

  I blink at Sean as my stomach crashes into my shoes. The way he looks at me makes the hairs on the back of my neck prickle. Goose bumps line my arms. It feels like I stepped into a freezer. I manage to choke out, “That’s not true. How could it…”

  Sean’s dark gaze locks with mine for a moment. Every thought in my head says run.

  On some level I knew there was something wrong with him, that Sean had this darkness hanging over him. I thought it was grief. The way that he acts screams unresolved grief over his wife’s death, over losing his only child. But this, this revelation, chokes me into silence. My feet are glued to the spot.

  Sean watches me for a second. It’s almost like he hopes that I’ll run and never look back, but I don’t move. I won’t. For a moment, there’s no air. I’m falling through space, lost in his eyes. Sean can’t be a killer. I think it over and over again, but the twisting inside my stomach won’t stop. His words are true. I can feel the weight of his confession and it scares me. I’ve been fighting too hard to stay alive and this man says he snuffed out two lives before they got going.

  I don’t look away. It isn’t that I don’t believe him, it’s that I see something else there. The darkness is tied to death, but this wasn’t a grisly murder. I feel it in my bones, as though the premonition is part of me.

  Sean finally looks away and turns. “You’re not running away.”

  “Yeah, I’m a little crazy like that.” I try to steady myself, but I can’t. My pulse is pounding in my ears and my body is tense, ready to run. I try to sound calm. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

  Sean glances over his shoulder at me, on his way to the bar on the other side of the hotel room. He stops. The way his eyes crinkle in the corners gives him away. It’s a brief squint, like pain crawling up from deep within and trying to consume him. Sean swallows it back down. “Are you sure you want to know?” His voice is steady, cold, and utterly detached.

  It feels like the icy hands of a ghost that’s walked up behind me are touching my shoulders. I suck in air and step toward him. “Tell me.”

  Sean didn’t expect that answer. I can see it in his eyes. He turns away from me and heads toward the bar. After pouring a drink, he reaches for his laptop. The screen flickers to life. He taps the keys and clicks before turning it toward me. “Read.”

  I glance down at the headline from one of the country’s largest newspapers—SEAN FERRO ACCUSED OF MURDERING WIFE AND UNBORN CHILD. I reach for the computer and scan the article, but I don’t see what I’m looking for. It’s more of what Gabe told me about Sean appearing cold and detached, about how he didn’t look grief-stricken. The article ends with a link to a follow up story. I click through the articles one by one, watching pictures of Sean age like years are passing rather than months. I feel his gaze on the side of my face, but I don’t look up. I lean against the bar and set the computer down. I click through to another article. I stare at his picture, at the words and accusations, and swallow hard.

  I click the final link to the last story. FERRO AQUITTED. My heart is racing, slamming into my chest. I feel sick. I try to clear away all the emotions and think. I don’t understand how they didn’t find him guilty. The paper made it sound like it was an open and shut case. Sean Ferro brutally killed his wife in a jealous rage. He left her on their bed, bleeding to death, and went to work. When he returned home that night, he called the police. All the papers said the 911 call was a hoax and that his wife had died hours before he returned home that night. There were no other suspects.

  When I finish reading, I glance up at him. Sean’s gaze meets mine and fear twists inside of me. Have I misjudged him so badly that I can’t tell a messed up guy from a sociopath? Did he really do this? Sean doesn’t show emotion, but that doesn’t mean anything. Neither do I—well, not in front of people I don’t trust. I had that stone-cold look on my face when they lowered my parents into the ground. I remember people saying that it wasn’t right for me not to cry, but I didn’t. Not then. They didn’t see my tears or hear my sobs. Sean’s the same way. I know he is, so lack of emotion doesn’t mean what the papers say it means.

  “This isn’t true.” I push down the laptop screen and keep my gaze locked with Sean’s. It’s a statement, a fact. There’s information missing from the papers, of course. But there are also things that Sean never shared about this. I see the secrets burning in his eyes.

  His eyebrow twitches. Sean shakes his head and looks down. Dark hair falls into his eyes. “You’re naïve, Avery.”

  “You’re hiding something, Sean. You’d rather let people think you killed your wife than tell the truth?”

  Sean stares at me. My words seem to grip him in a way that makes him anxious. I’m too close, and he can’t bear it. “The truth is there in black and white. I killed her. I’m a jealous man. Everyone knows that. I know you’ve heard I have a tempter, that I can be more than persuasive when things don’t go my way.” He steps toward me, brushing his chest into mine. I swallow hard, but don’t back away. “When are you going to get it through your head that I’m not the guy you think I am?”

  “You’re exactly who I think you are. You’re cowering behind this…” I’m yelling, waiving my hands around as I speak. “This manifestation of lies.”

  He laughs. The dark, rich, sound sends a chill down my spine. “Yeah, keep telling yourself that.”

  “Tell me the truth.”

  “The truth was printed.”

  “This is only part of the story. Omissions are lies.”

  Sean’s eyebrows lift. “You’re going to pull philosophical crap on me now? Unbelievable. Accept me for what I am and stop looking for things that aren’t there.” Sean shakes his head like he’s annoyed and slams his glass down on the counter. When he breathes, his back expands. His shoulders are so tense. Sean’s fingers are turning white as he grips the granite countertop. He rounds on me with his lips pressed tightly together. “I’m not your savior, Avery. There’s no knight, no horse, no happy ending—not with me. That shit isn’t real.”

  “I never said I wanted the white knight.”

  “It’s written all over your face.”

  Damn it. The thought is nice. I mean, who hasn’t dreamed about being rescued when their life turns to shit. It’s the epitome of every fairytale out there—the desire to be saved—but I learned the truth a long time ago. I bristle. My fingers ball at my sides. This subject is beyond striking a nerve with me, because I live it, I live the life where no one comes and the heroine is left utterly alone.

  “Fine,” I bite back, admitting it, “but you only got half of it right. I believe in white knights, but the only knight in this story is me. No one saved me. I’ve fallen so far that I can’t even see the way out anymore. I’m at the bottom of Hell and I found you.

  “You’re lost, broken, and completely fucked u
p. You’re not like me, but you want to be. The difference between us is that I still have hope and you lost yours a long time ago.” I swallow hard, wondering how crazy I am for saying this. “I’m not leaving no matter what you tell me happened to Amanda. At the very least, I’m your friend. I’m not the one who’s going to walk away here.”

  His blue eyes are so narrow, but for a split second, they widen. Sean blinks and the look of shock is gone. He steps closer to me, closing the space between us. “Do you have a death wish?”

  Sean’s irritating me more than anything else. His response, the absolute refusal to talk about what happened to his wife tells me so much, but I still don’t know what happened. I make an aggravated sound in the back of my throat and say, “Stop asking stupid questions. Spill your guts or let’s get on with things.” Stupid, stupid, stupid. Where did that come from? Did I seriously say that?

  Sean doesn’t conceal his surprise this time. Wide-eyed, he steps back and looks me over once. “Are you serious? You still trust me? What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “Me? What’s wrong with me? Are you seriously asking that question, you messed up bastard?” I slam my palms into his chest and shove, but he barely moves. “You’re such a goddamn hypocrite, and you can’t even tell.”

  Sean grabs my wrists and holds on tight. His breath washes over my face when he exhales. “Enlighten me, Miss Smith.”

  I glare at him for a moment and then spit it out. “You’re telling me to run away, that there’s nothing worth saving—that you have nothing left to give—but then you have the nerve to go and say you care about me.

  “I can’t come back from where I’ve gone. People don’t recover from things like this. I know that. You know that, so don’t patronize me with your fake empathy, because that’s what it is if you feel nothing, if you’re as hollow as I am, if —”

  Before I can take another breath, Sean’s mouth comes crashing down on mine, cutting off my flow of words. Sean pulls me against his chest and tangles his fingers in my hair, pulling hard. The kiss is demanding and all consuming. He doesn’t want me to talk. I’m saying things that he doesn’t want to hear. I’m gasping between his lips, kissing him back, wondering how far I’m willing to go. There’s no coming back from this side of Hell. I know his agony; he knows mine.

  I know there’s more to his wife’s death than Sean’s telling me, that he’s hiding something bigger and using the murder accusations to mask it. I feel it in my gut. There were pictures of Amanda Ferro in there, smiling next to a serious Sean. In one picture, his arm was around her with one hand protectively on her stomach as she stepped off a curb. Sean cared about her and the baby. He wanted them. I know he can’t live with his loss. I see it on his face and hear it in his voice every time he speaks. Fathomless pain courses through his veins to the point that he’s gone numb.

  I understand. I wanted to be where he is and feel nothing anymore, but this—the fact that hookers can do things that bring Sean back—means something. Sean doesn’t want to stay in the depths of that torment anymore, but like me, he can’t find the way out. Too much time has passed. Too many scars are still raw and refuse to heal. It brings out the desperation, the maddening need to cling to life even when there’s nothing to hold on to anymore.

  There’s a darker version of Sean that I’ve never seen. If I allow things to continue, if I stay here with him, I’ll stand face to face and see the horror replay before his eyes, like he’s lost in a nightmare that never ends. I want to free him from that so badly, but no one can save Sean, not when he’s like this. Not even me.

  Sean’s kisses become more demanding. He pushes me back against the bar and lifts me onto the counter. His hands are forceful when they slide over my thighs, pushing my dress up to my hips. He steps between my legs and dips his head to my lips again. I tangle my fingers in his hair. Heat spreads across my skin, trailing in a wake behind Sean’s hands as they move over my body. He palms the curve of my ass, holding me tightly in his hand as his kisses grow hotter and hotter. His tongue is over my lips and in my mouth as his lips crush into mine.

  Ragged breaths escape from him like he can’t slow down, even if he wanted to. I reach for Sean’s shirt and unbutton the top enough to slide my hands inside. When I move to touch his shoulders and dip my hands down his chest, Sean jerks back. He grabs my wrists and slams them into the wall. I gasp, half turned on, half frightened.

  Sapphire eyes, dark as night, bore into me. Sean doesn’t blink. It’s like he forgot himself for a moment. The tension in his jaw fades after a second, and he leans in and presses his lips to my throat while pinning me to the wall. I let him. I let him hold me there even though every ounce of my being wants to fight to break free. I hate feeling trapped and the way he holds me and presses against my neck makes me feel like I can’t move.

  Normally, I would fight back, but I don’t. I tilt my head back and close my eyes, allowing the fear and lust to course through me in unrelenting waves. I suck in a jagged breath and Sean pushes against me harder. I wonder if he’s doing it on purpose, if this is part of what he wanted. I want Sean, all of him, on any terms that I can get him.

  The hot kisses stop and I notice how incredibly intoxicated I feel. My eyes flicker open and I look at Sean. He’s still leaning into me, still holding my wrists to the wall. His voice is raspy, all air and heat. “When it’s your turn, you won’t hold back?”

  CHAPTER 2

  His question surprises me. I can hear the strain in Sean’s voice, like the idea of being with me on my terms scares the hell out of him. I nod, looking into his eyes. “I’m taking what I want from you. I expect you to do the same. No holding back.”

  Sean is frozen. For a moment he doesn’t move. I wonder what he wants to do, how far he wants things to go. Anxiety flashes across his face and is gone. Sean nods once and releases my hands. They fall to my sides, aching. The place he held me burns and my underarms ache.

  Sean scoops me off the counter and carries me to the bed. Fear starts trickling through me. At first it’s small and manageable. I swallow it back down and it turns into nervous excitement.

  Sean places me on the bed. I’m on my back, looking up at his beautiful face. I’m scared. I don’t know if I can do this, but I want to. There’s a wall between us and I want it to come crashing down. No, it’s more than that. I want to be everything Sean needs.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” Sean asks. My throat is so tight that I can barely swallow. I nod. Sean looks away and runs his hands through his hair. He sighs, like he hoped I’d say no. Sean stands there, staring at me, lost in thought.

  I push up on my elbows. “Do you need this?” His eyes are locked with mine. Sean nods. The expression on his face is timid and so unlike him, but there’s something in the depths of his eyes that says he needs this like he needs air. Without it, he’ll lose what’s left of himself.

  I watch Sean for a moment. I want to be the one he needs, the one he trusts with everything. I could back away and he’d let me. I could let him continue doing these acts with nameless faces, but I can’t do that to him. He needs me and I need him just as much. My decision solidifies. “Then, I want to be the one to give it to you. Will it work, since you know me?” I wondered about that part. It tripped Sean up when he first ordered me. He said it wouldn’t be the same.

  “I think I figured something out. But, there’s no way out, Avery. Once we start—”

  I cut him off. “I’m not leaving.”

  Sean breaks my gaze and nods. His throat is tight. He swallows hard. “Roll over.” I do as he says. Sean grabs my ankles and pulls me back over the edge of the bed so my legs are on the floor. He spreads my ankles and ties each one to the bedpost. I try not to think about it, but panic is building inside of me. The other strap is worse. Sean leans hard on my back, knocking the air out of my lungs as he ties my wrists. Within seconds I’m bound to the bed, facedown, and can’t move. My heart beats faster. I can’t control it, but I try. I take a slow breath
in and let it out.

  Sean sets a video camera on the dresser. It turns on and the red light blinks, telling me it’s recording. I don’t like it. That freaks me out as much as being tied down. “What are you doing?”

  “You’re going to watch it later.”

  I laugh, like that’s most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. “No, I’m not.”

  “You will. You’ll beg me to see it.” Sean’s gaze is so dark, so intense. Fear is crushing into me.

  My voice quivers. “No, I won’t.”

  He smiles and sits next to my head. “Last chance, Smitty.”

  “I’m not leaving, Jones.”

  Sean touches my cheek gently. “All right. I’ll see you when this is over.” He pulls a blindfold from his pocket. My heart explodes in my chest when he ties it over my eyes and the world goes black. It makes the claustrophobia worse. Sean knew it would. I hear his voice, but it sounds far away. My pulse pounds harder. Sean is gentle this time. I wonder how long it’ll stay this way. His voice is closer when it finally registers. “Open your mouth.”

  I do as he asks, not sure what to expect. Nerves flutter through my stomach, making me queasy. My mind is screaming at me, telling me that I’m going to die. I try to ignore my bonds, but it feels like they’re searing into my skin. There’s no way to forget that I’m tied down, even if I attempt to ignore it. I breathe through my mouth when I feel the gag slip between my lips. He tugs it hard and the smooth fabric gets forced to the back of my mouth. Sean ties it tightly. The amount of fabric in my mouth makes it feel like there’s no air, like I can’t breathe.

  Panic surges through me, stronger this time. Mentally, I know I can breathe, but I feel like I can’t. My wrists twitch, making the straps pull tighter. I can’t slow my heartbeat. I can’t picture a meadow and mentally escape to somewhere else. Sean took every fear I have and rolled them together. I can’t calm down. Anxiety races through me in an avalanche. I try to thrash and pull away, but the only thing I can move is my head.