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The gray light of dusk blanketed the town of St. Benedict. The curved wrought iron streetlights came on as Derek drove his mother’s blue pickup truck along Main Street to Mo’s Diner. He rubbed his thumb along a torn spot on the leather-clad steering wheel, hunting for a way to say what was on his mind.
“You look worried.” Carol, wearing her yellow uniform, reached over and ruffled his thick brown hair. “You thinking about school?”
Derek inhaled a breath and held it. “Actually, I’m worried about you.”
His chest contracted as he blew out the breath, glad he had finally found the nerve to say something.
“Me?” Carol chuckled. “I’m fine, sweetie. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”
He examined the bags under her eyes and cheap uniform. There had to be more for her than a life of filling coffee cups and serving po-boys.
“Mom, you work too hard. You put in too many shifts.”
She rested her head back against her seat, giving him an indulgent smile. “We gotta eat, Derek. And the diner isn’t so bad. I get to pick my shifts, and the tips are good at night, and we’ve got everything we need, right?” She patted his hand.
Derek couldn’t go off to college with a clear conscience thinking of his mother spending her days and nights at the diner. His biggest fear was once he was gone, she would work even more to avoid the empty house.
“Perhaps you should consider doing something else. Another job, or maybe even getting a hobby.”
“A hobby?” She ran her hand across her brow. “It’s been a long while since I’ve done anything for me. You’ve been my motivation for so long. I’m not sure where to begin.”
He had to know his mother had something other than him to fill her days. He wouldn’t be around much longer to encourage her to pursue her interests.
“What did you like to do in high school? What hobbies did you have? Things you liked to do? You never speak much about when you were growing up in St. Benedict.”
“Probably because growing up in St. Benedict was about the same then as it is now.” She glanced out the passenger window. “Everyone went to the river, had parties, hung out at Ed’s Diner, which is now Carl’s Pizza. Not a whole lot has changed.”
A thought popped into his head. “And the Devereaux family? Are they any different?”
She kept her face turned away, but he detected a change in her mood.
“Their influence is the same, yeah.”
Derek pushed on for answers. “What about Gage? How was he?”
Carol gave a slight shrug, not appearing too interested. “He was the quarterback of the football team, like his son, and very popular.”
Derek considered the slight tremor in her hands. “What happened between you and Gage Devereaux?”
The long, loud breath prepared him for something he might not want to hear.
“We were pretty serious, but his father never approved of me. I wasn’t the right material to be a senator’s wife, or so Edward Devereux believed. His mother, Amelia, was a snooty Uptowner from New Orleans. Her family was real blue blood, and she wanted Gage to marry into high society. They made him go away to college in Boston. He swore when he came home after his first year away, he would marry me. So, I went to LSU and waited.”
Her quivering voice tore at Derek’s heart. It was the saddest sound he’d ever heard.
She cleared her throat. “When he came back the following June, he refused to speak to me. I called, I went to his house, but I never found out why he cut me off. I fell apart and quit LSU, then got my job at the diner. It used to be his favorite coffee spot. I hoped one day he would stop by, order a coffee, and explain what happened. He never did. A year later, I met your dad.”
“But you never forgot about Gage.” Derek placed his hand over hers.
Carol raised her sad eyes to him. “Some pain haunts you. It digs in deep and awakens at those moments when you think you’re just getting over it. Gage was like that for me for the longest time. Then I had you.”
The glow of the white neon letters up ahead, spelling out Mo’s Diner, brought a smile to his face.
His second home. The diner and the people working there had been the closest thing to a family he had known. Despite his happy childhood, his envy for all those cozy homes in the neighborhoods of St. Benedict persisted. He wanted to know what a real family was like—even if it wasn’t his own.
He pulled the truck into one of the parking spots in front of the flat-roofed, one story building. Through the windows, he could easily see every customer inside. Seated at the blue booths and along the main glass-covered counter, they drank coffee, ate sandwiches, or enjoyed Mo’s famous strawberry cheesecake.
He pictured his mother and Gage Devereaux inside as happy teenagers, stealing a few kisses in a corner booth.
“Do you think he forgot about you?”
Carol wiped her finger under her eyes. “I honestly don’t know, and at this point in my life, I don’t care. The boy I loved in high school isn’t the Gage Devereaux everyone sees now. He’s different—darker, angrier, more like his father, the senator.” She positioned the rearview mirror so she could check her makeup. “When I heard he married Elizabeth, I figured he’d forgotten about me. We’ve both moved on.”
She tugged at her ponytail and ran her finger under her lower lip to wipe away a smear of lipstick. When she put the rearview mirror back in place, she smiled, the pain of the past erased.
“You want to come in and get some cheesecake before you head home?” She reached for the door handle. “You can chat with me while I work.”
He was about to skip the offer, more intrigued by the sci-fi book waiting on his Kindle when a customer caught his eye.
Despite the mild October evening, she wore a thick black sweater, and sat on a corner stool hunched over a cup of coffee on the counter. Her brunette ponytail askew, with tufts of hair poking out at odd angles, she seemed very uncomfortable.
His mother tapped his shoulder. “I want you to promise me you won’t go near the river. The cops are beefing up patrols there since they pulled over that girl.”
There was something familiar about the stranger nagging at him. “Pulled over what girl?”
Carol gathered her big black purse, the umbrella sticking out of the top. “A Covington girl got pulled over last night. Kent Davis came in for coffee and told me about her. She’d been beaten up but refused to say who did it. She wouldn’t even allow the police to take her to the hospital for an examination. All she would tell them was she had been at a party on the river.”
He turned to his mother, revisiting what he knew about the river. “Leslie had a bad experience there once with some pushy football players. She never wants to go back, and I’m not part of Beau’s crowd, so I wouldn’t be welcome.”
She leaned over and kissed his cheek before climbing out of the truck. “Glad to hear it. If you ask me, not being part of Beau Devereaux’s crowd is a good thing.” She shut her door. “Pick me up at seven and we’ll have breakfast.”
“Okay, Mom.”
Carol walked toward the double glass doors at the entrance to the diner, waving at him.
Derek waved back, uncomfortable with the idea of his mother working another twelve-hour shift. What could he do? After hearing her story about Gage Devereaux and why she’d taken the job at the diner to begin with, he understood her attachment to the place. But after all these years, it was time to let go and start a new life. He just wished he knew how to help her.
He was about to back out of his parking spot when the girl in the thick black sweater walked in front of his truck.
He sat back in his seat, flooded with astonishment. It was Taylor Haskins.
Her gray sweatpants, oversized sweater, and the flopping loose laces on her tennis shoes didn’t bother him as much as why she was at the diner alone. Mo’s wasn’t the preferred hangout. Everyone gathered at Carl’s. So why was she here?
He opened his door, grabbed his keys, and hurried from the truck.
“Taylor?”
She stopped. Her back to him, he could almost sense her cringing beneath the thick material of her sweater. She slowly turned to face him, pulling her sweater closer as if preparing her armor, and when her eyes met his, Derek became concerned.
Her stone-cold expression did not belong to the vibrant girl he remembered passing in the school halls.
“You’re Leslie Moore’s boyfriend.”
He moved closer, taking in the darkness descending over the street. “Derek Foster.”
She folded her arms and slouched her shoulders, appearing uneasy with the encounter. “Ah, yeah.” She eyed the diner. “What are you doing here?”
He glanced at the windows. “My mom works here. I drop her off when she has the night shift.”
Taylor nodded, pressing her lips together. “That’s cool.”
“Why are you here and not at the party on the river?”
Taylor paled, turning a sickly shade of gray. “I don’t like it there. Those parties are ... some crazy shit happens there.”
Her words brought to mind Leslie’s warning about the river. But, unlike his girlfriend, Taylor seemed terrified of something.
“I thought going to the river was mandatory for all cheerleaders.”
“I’m not on the squad anymore.” Taylor took a step back, her fingers nervously twirling her ponytail.
Her behavior bothered him, a lot. The girl standing before him was nothing like the cheerleader he’d seen leading pep rallies in the school quad during lunch.
“Are you okay?” He put a hand on her arm and she leaped back as if he had the plague.
“I’m sorry.” She scoured the street. “It’s getting late. I need to go home.”
“Let me drive you.” He wasn’t about to let her walk home in such a state. He motioned to the truck. “You shouldn’t be out here alone at night.”
Her gaze went from him to the blue truck next to them, then back to him.
He could see the big vein along the side of her neck pulsing. She squeezed her arms closer while an ugly line darkened her forehead. She bit her trembling lower lip.
What happened to her?
“I have to go straight home. Okay?”
He thought the request odd. Where else would he take her?
“Sure.” He went to the passenger door and opened it for her. “Get in and tell me where you live.”
She stepped toward the car like a wild animal sizing up a trap—cautious yet hungry for the bait.
Once inside, she seemed to calm. After he shut her door, Derek went around to the other side and climbed in, his mind humming.
He started the engine and waited as she secured her seatbelt. It took her shaking fingers a while to get the belt locked in place.
“1125 Huntsman Road.” She hugged the edge of her seat, closer to her passenger door. “That’s where I live.”
He nodded and put the truck in reverse. “I know where that is. Just before Devereaux Plantation in that new subdivision.”
Again, the blood drained from her cheeks. She twisted her hands together. “Yeah, my house faces their black gates. I’ve got to look at them every single day.”
“You’re not a Beau Devereaux fan, are you?”
Taylor turned to her window. “What makes you say that?”
He dug his thumb into the same tear in the steering wheel, grasping for a way to get her to open up. “I get it if you don’t like him. There’s no love lost between Beau Devereaux and me. I know everyone in this town thinks the sun shines out of his ass, but I know better. Leslie knows better, too.”
She settled back in her seat, and for the first time, relaxed her hunched shoulders. “He thinks he’s invincible.”
“Invincible?” Derek chuckled as he remembered something he’d once read. “‘The mighty have a longer way to fall than the helpless. That is why the impact of their demise resonates like a dying star throughout the heavens.’”
The smile on her lips was slight, but he figured it was a start.
“Did you just make that up?”
Derek eyed the last of the buildings as Main Street came to an end. “It’s from a book, The Dust of Giants. I forget the author.”
At the line of wide oak trees, he turned left, wondering how to keep her talking.
She leaned in a little closer to him. “What’s the book about?”
“It’s about the Titans—the giant gods who ruled before the Greek Gods of Zeus and Hera. They thought they were invincible, but eventually, their invincibility destroyed them. Believing you’re above the laws of the universe will lead to a person’s demise.”
Her disdainful snicker compounded his concern.
“It sure does apply to the whole Devereaux family.”
“Yep, sure does.” Derek kept picking at the ripped leather. “Let’s hope it’s not too long before Beau Devereaux’s invincibility eats him alive.”
Taylor turned to him, her innocent smile taking on a devilish glow. “Wouldn’t that be wonderful? To have the smug son of a bitch suffer just like those he’s tortured. Makes you believe in Karma, huh?”
The chilly tone in her voice gave Derek pause. “Why do you say he’s tortured people? Do you know something, Taylor?”
“Nah.” Her evil grin widened. “I’ve just got a feeling.”
* * *
The air brisk, the stars shining bright, the pounding techno-pop in the air—it was all for him. The river was Beau’s playground and soon he would leave it behind. For his fellow team members seated on the picnic benches along the Bogue Falaya shoreline, football at St. Benedict High would be as good as it got for them. He would go on to be famous, but these guys would spend their days looking back and not ahead.
Just like my old man. Bastard. I’ll show him I got more talent than he ever did.
The twitter of girlish laughter chased away all cares about his father. Pretty young things crowded their tables in an array of styles—from short to tall, blonde to black-haired, mahogany to lily white. He could have his pick, but he ached for someone with a little more wisdom in their eyes and adventure in their heart.
Sara wasn’t among the girls at his table. She’d never showed, disappointing him. He struck up a conversation with a curvaceous sophomore with honey-colored skin and the prettiest heart-shaped, pink lips, but it wasn’t working. Her innocence, and the way she constantly batted her eyelashes sent him from the picnic tables claiming he needed to grab a beer.
He wandered the beach, checking out the girls. He ached to take another to his cell. But he wanted a challenge, someone who could satisfy his thirst for pain. He debated between a perky cheerleader who reminded him of Dawn, and a serious-looking brunette with a perfectly round ass until he spotted a new face.
Older than the others, she had mature poise, whetting his appetite. She had to be in her twenties.
What’s she doing here?
With dark hair and wide-set eyes, she came across as seductive and sensual. He especially liked the way she moved. She swayed in time with the music, rocking her hips like a wave rolling over the ocean. Fluid, smooth, and mesmerizing. The more he studied her, the more he wanted her.
He followed her around the beach until she ended up on the outer edge, away from the bonfires’ light.
“We don’t get a lot of your crowd here?”
She spun around, her full lips parted in a tempting smile. “My crowd?”
Her teasing tone aroused him. “All I ever see here is high school kids. Why are you here?”
She searched the beach around them, her eyes glistening in the light of a nearby bonfire. “I was at a campground further down the river. I heard the music and came to see what’s up. But you’re right. This isn’t my scene. Sorry to intrude.” She turned to go.
He hiked across the sand. “What’s your kind of scene?”
She halted and glanced at him over her shoulder. “Something less ... noisy.”
He took another step, his heart pounding. “What’s your name?”
She faced him, looked him up and down, and then gave him a compelling smirk. “Andrea. What’s yours?”
“Beau Devereaux.”
She didn’t bat an eyelash. Either she didn’t know who he was or she didn’t care. Either way, he was intrigued. He debated how to get her to his cell. She could be just what he needed to cap off his night.
Andrea folded her arms. “What would a lady have to do to get a drink around here, Beau Devereaux?”
He closed the gap between them. “Well, that depends on the lady.”
She got a little closer. “You’re cute. How old are you?”
Tantalized by the ivory color of her skin, he drifted his gaze down her skintight jeans. “Old enough to know how to please a lady.”
Her eyebrows went up. “I doubt that.” She arched closer, her voice barely a whisper. “Men have a hard enough time figuring out what women want. What makes you think you know, little boy?”
Now he was excited. The challenge in her voice, the way she teased him roused his hunger. “I’ve got a lot more experience than most men. I have very selective tastes.”
She stood back, reappraising him.
He could sense her interest and her reservations. Tempted, she was still leery. He had to find a way to convince her to join him in the cells.
She chuckled, captivating him. “You’re cocky, aren’t you?”
Beau got up close, invading her personal space, letting her know he wasn’t playing games.
“I’m eager and very motivated to try new things. I might surprise you.”
A flicker of curiosity rose in her features.
He had her.
She scanned the trees surrounding the beach. “Is there a place we can go to get to know each other better?”
Beau turned to the far side of the beach where a cleared path led away from the sand. “You ever seen the inside of The Abbey?”
She sank her hands into the back pockets of her jeans, jutting her breasts forward. “I’ve heard about the old abbey around here, but I’ve never seen it.”
He held out his hand; his every nerve on fire. “Let me show you.”
Beau guided her through the revelers on the swath of beach until they came to the path.
“The Abbey dates back to the 1800s. The land was given to the Jesuit priests by a local family to build their seminary.” The white spires rose in the starry sky ahead of him. “There are rumors about wild dogs seen hunting on the grounds late at night. And then there’s a lady in white myth, but no one believes it.”
She nestled closer to him, curling her hand around his arm. “Scary stuff.”
He put his arm around her. “Don’t worry. I’ll protect you.”
At the fountain, he stopped and turned to the brush-covered crack in the cell walls. “There’s some place special I’d like to show you.”
Andrea didn’t resist when they marched across the high grass toward the cells.
His fingers itched, his heart sped up, and excitement gathered in his gut. Sensing he was close to his release, to capturing the power inflicting pain gave him, made his mouth water.
She’s gonna be so sweet.
When he parted the brush covering the crack in the wall, she hesitated.
“It’s in here?”
A slight tinge of apprehension. He liked that. It meant she was sober, somewhat cautious, and would put up a fight.
“We will not be disturbed. No one comes here.”
She gave him a wary glance as she slipped through the crack.
He followed her and on the other side of the wall, took her hand. He guided her down the dark, dank corridor to his cell. The air heavy with moisture; the odor of rot and mold hung around them. She didn’t flinch as the pinpoint of light coming through the cracks landed on the skeleton of a rat. Brave, too. Even better.
Once in the cramped room, he went around lighting the candles.
She waited at the doorway, the candlelight enshrouding her in a yellow halo. He admired the play of light and took her hand. The inviting smile on her soft lips enticed him. Unable to stop himself, he kissed her, a long, passionate kiss. She responded and her fervor for him added to the building excitement in his system.
It’s time for some fun.
Beau flung his arms around her, practically carrying her to the cot. He carefully eased her onto the blanket, plotting his next move.
Andrea pressed her hand into his chest, pushing him back. “I’m not like other girls. I don’t want you to be gentle and romantic. I’m not looking for anything like that tonight.”
Shades of Taylor danced in his head. “Tell me what you want.”
Her fingernails scratched all the way down his chest to his crotch. “You ever hit a girl?”
A wary thread snaked through him. Either she was twisted like him or a setup. He didn’t trust anyone.
“What are you saying?”
Her fingers deftly worked the button fly on his jeans. “Some girls like to be spanked. Some tied up with ropes or handcuffed.” The fly undone, she slipped her hand inside his briefs. “I like to be raped.” She bit his chin. “Rough, hard sex, with all the hitting and biting you can muster.”
Beau should have been happy about his find in her, but a trickle of disappointment curbed his enthusiasm. She wanted to be hurt, wanted to have him abuse her—that didn’t motivate him. The fear he got from those he assaulted aroused him more than this half-assed recreation.
She lay on the cot, her plump lips parted, eager for him, and though he wanted to button up his pants and walk away, he also wanted to show her his idea of rough sex.
Why pass up the opportunity?
He pushed her hands above her head. “I’m going to give you the night of your life.”
He slammed her back on the bed and ripped her shirt open.
Andrea let go a wild loud cackle, sounding like some hideous cry from a cursed witch.
“Don’t hold back, Mr. Devereaux.”
Beau combed his fingers through her long hair, gripped it in his fist, and then yanked her head back. “I aim to please.” He bit into the soft flesh at the base of her neck.
“There you go.” She held him to her. “Show me no mercy.”
Caught up, Beau roughed her up and slapped her face as he stripped her naked.
He bit her shoulders, breasts, and inner thighs, waiting for her to beg him to stop, but she never did. She took everything he gave her, winced through every bite but never uttered a sound. Andrea never asked him to stop, and the rougher he got, the more she seemed to enjoy it.
He bound her hands with her bra and secured them to the pipe in the wall. Her lower lip trickled blood, but she smiled through it.
He didn’t care for this game. It wasn’t fun. He missed the wide-eyed terror, the cries, the pleas, the whimpering. Her happy grin left him empty.
To offset the numbness her silence created in him, Beau took his violence to a whole new level with Andrea. The more he tried to make it like rape, the wider her grin got, heightening his anger. In a last act of desperation, he put his hands around her throat right at that climactic moment. He hoped to frighten her, shape her face in the mask of horror he’d grown to love, but it did nothing. Her smile continued as he choked off her air.
When her eyes bulged, and her lips turned a dusky blue, he let her go. Gasping and coughing, she never turned away.
“Don’t stop. I deserve it.”
The fury in him had not been satiated. Determined to have his release, Beau flipped her over, slapped her ass, and started all over again.
This time he didn’t let up on his chokehold. She bucked beneath him as her fair skin turned red and then pale. Andrea kicked violently and jerked, fighting for air. For a split second, he pictured Leslie, and only then did he get off, reaping his satisfaction from the panic in her graying face. When he let her go, she collapsed lifelessly to the cot.
She lay motionless until the air entered her lungs in one loud, ragged gasp.
He rolled off her and lifted her chin. Her eyes were dotted red from a few broken capillaries. Proof he had pushed her to the edge of death.
What if he had gone further? What kind of rush would he have experienced if she had died? The idea floated around his head.
“Wow. That was insane.”
Her hoarse but perky voice rattled him. He preferred a woman’s whimpering to her accolades.
“That was the biggest rush ever. I thought I was going to die. I tried to get other guys to do that to me, but none would.”
Beau’s adrenaline surge fizzled. He pushed off her and rolled to the side, frustrated by the fact she wasn’t frightened of teetering on the edge of death. His only enjoyment during the evening ripped away, he got mad. She’d been the one in power all along. It made him feel impotent. Subduing another, belittling them, hurting them, those were the things he hoped for but hadn’t gotten with Andrea.
“If you wanted it like that, you should have told me from the start.” He sat up on the side of the cot.
“Do I get a round two?”
Beau stood and worked his jeans over his butt. “I think we’ll save round two for another time.”
“I like your style, Mr. Devereaux.”
“Don’t call me that. Mr. Devereaux is my old man, not me.”
Andrea cocked an eyebrow but didn’t comment.
Beau studied the cut on her lip, the red handprints on her throat, and the assorted bite marks on her creamy skin. There was something intensely erotic about surveying the damage he’d inflicted. She was like a work of art, and he yearned to paint another.
“When can I see you again?”
Her lips curled into a wily smile. “I’ll be in touch.”
With a last peck on his cheek, Andrea darted out of the room and through the gap in the wall.
He pushed the vines aside and watched her run across the high grass toward the fountain.
The encounter bittersweet, he wanted the rush of being with her again, but not the letdown. How much better would the interlude have been with another less willing victim or even Leslie?
Tons better.
Images of Leslie’s pale skin and blonde hair had meshed with Andrea’s during the height of his passion but dwindled in the afterglow.
How much longer could he go on without her?
Every night he spent with another woman prepared him for the day he would be with her. No matter the depth of pain or type of torment he inflicted, his greatest rush would come with Leslie.
He rested his shoulder against the jagged line of broken stone.
Perhaps the time had come to make his move. The world was his, and with his life getting better with every day, it was the perfect time to bring Leslie into it.
The echo of twigs crunching floated down the corridor behind him.
Alarm tensed his muscles. He turned, peering into the darkness.
Was someone in the cells with him?
Determined to defend his territory, Beau returned to his cell and snapped up a lit candle. He couldn’t afford for anyone else to come to his spot; he had more work to do here.
In the corridor, he swept the candle from side to side, lighting up the narrow passageway. He checked the other rooms, kicked around some of the debris, but saw no one else. Could have been a rat or raccoon. He’d caught them in there before.
Beau settled down and wiped the damp from his brow.
Time to get back to the party.
He returned to his room, put the candle back on the ice chest and made sure everything was in place. He relaxed, chalking up the noise to nothing more than his imagination.
After he blew out the flame, he headed back to the damaged wall and slipped into the night.
