The Guardian (20 page)

Chapter Seventeen

Dawn had agreed to Philip’s request for a divorce.  It was obvious that their marriage was over.  He knew he didn’t have to show her the pictures.  There was no denying the evidence.  He needed space, he’d said.  He even told her about the evil thoughts plaguing his mind.  He didn’t want to hurt her.  He loved her, but loved their children that much more.
       “One medium popcorn and a coke, please.”
       Dawn held Sierra on her hip and Mason stood patiently with a hand secure around her thigh.   A young teenage girl waited behind the counter to serve them.
       “Three dollars, please.” The girl said.
       Dawn pulled a five-dollar bill from her pocket and handed the bill to the girl.
       Elizabeth stepped up beside her and looked up at the menu board.
       “Hey, how are you? You have a kid on the team?” Dawn asked.
       Elizabeth smiled at her and pointed toward the baseball field.  “Yes. My grandson Timmy. He’s on third.” She caressed Sierra’s head and gently patted Mason’s cheek.  “Beautiful kids you have.”
       “Thank you.”
       Elizabeth walked beside Dawn and the children toward the bleachers.
       “Look!” Dawn said excitedly.  “My son Christopher is on base with your Timmy.”
       Mason ran ahead and stood at the fence.  “Chrissy!”
       “Your kid’s got a great arm.”
       “Yeah.  His dream is to be an L-S-U Tiger.”
       “He’s thinking about college already?  That’s amazing.”
       “Believe it or not. He’s something else. He’s got what I call ‘an old soul’. He’s my little man in the house when his dad’s not around.”
       “Where is your husband?”
       “He wasn’t feeling well.  He suffers with migraines.”  Dawn could tell by the way Elizabeth looked at her that she knew she was lying.
       “You have a beautiful family, Dawn,” she admired Sierra’s curly hair.  “She looks just like her father—“
       “Momma! Chrissy! Home-run!” Mason yelled in his three-year-old voice excitedly, his little hands hanging on to the wire fence.
       Dawn quickly looked toward the field and watched as Christopher sprinted from third base like a young colt and dove into the dirt.  With arms outstretched, he reached home plate.  “Good job, Christopher! Good job!”  she turned to Sierra, “did you see your big brother?” she pointed at Christopher and kissed her on the forehead.
       Elizabeth had already moved away from them and stood beside the bleachers with her arms crossed, gazing out at the baseball field with a grateful smile on her face.
       A man in his early twenties sat beside his wife holding a baby.  “That’s okay, Timmy!  Way to go!  Get’em next time, partner!”
       Dawn started toward Elizabeth who’d made a beeline from the bleachers and was now walking toward the parking lot.  “Elizabeth!” she yelled, but Elizabeth continued to walk as if she didn’t hear her.  “Elizabeth! Wait!”
       The man shielded his eyes from the sun looking at the parking lot.   His wife leaned over, her eyes glued to the baseball field.  “What’s wrong, honey?”
       “That woman.  She’s calling out my mother’s name.” 
       His wife huffed.  “Your mom was not the only Elizabeth in the world, dear.”
       “Just strange hearing her name, that’s all.“
       “It’s been thirteen years, darling. She’d want you to be happy.  Not mourning her death.
       “I
am
happy.”  He kissed her cheek, but his eyes remained focus on the empty parking lot and the woman calling Elizabeth’s name.
       Dawn stopped and shielded her eyes from the sun and watched Elizabeth disappear into the crowd of cars.  Did I say something wrong?  Why’d she walk away like that?  The game’s not even over.
       People are so weird.  One minute they are giving you advice and the next, they pretend not to know you.
       “Excuse me,” a man’s voice called behind her.
       Dawn turned around and quickly glanced at Mason still standing near the wire fence, then into the man’s face standing in front of her.
       “Who was the woman you were calling?  In the parking lot?  You said ‘Elizabeth’ … right?”
       “Yes. We work together at the Ritz.  Do you know her?”
       “No.  No.  I thought I did –“ the man realized how crazy he must’ve seemed to her and gestured ruefully.  “I apologize for bothering you.  Which one’s your kid?”
       Dawn smiled.  “Number thirteen.  His name is Christopher.”
       “Ah, we’re on opposing teams.” He smiled with folded arms.  “That’s my son Timothy on first base.  He’s been playing since he could hold a bat.” He chuckled.
       Dawn’s face whitened and she felt faint.
       “My name is Todd Greenwood,” he said and pointed toward a woman seated in the bleachers holding a baby.  “That’s my wife Jennifer and our baby Samantha.”
       Jennifer smiled and politely waved.
       “We moved to Las Vegas about eight years ago –“ he noticed Dawn’s grimace.  “Are you okay?”
       “Yes.  Yes.  It’s just a little hot out here.” Dawn’s voice was shrill with anxiety.
       “We have some water in the ice chest if you’d like some.  Your baby girl seems to be a little famished too.” Todd offered.
       Dawn noticed that Sierra’s face was red and sweaty and she was becoming quite fussy.         “Thank you.  Let me get a towel from the concession stand.” Dawn sauntered over to the stand, grabbed a handful of paper towels and poured the cool water onto them and patted Sierra’s little face and legs to cool her off, then did the same for Mason.
       As soon as he was satisfied, Mason darted back to the wire fence, planted himself there, and watched Christopher on the field like he was eager to be out there alongside his big brother.
       Dawn couldn’t help but think of Elizabeth and wonder why she’d left so suddenly.  Had she seen someone?  Or had someone recognized her?  And this man?  Todd.  Timmy was his son?  Then that would make Elizabeth his mother.
She couldn’t possibly be … No, I’ve spoken to her in public.  At work!  Had coffee with her in the restaurant … she didn’t drink her coffee.  Oh my god, I’m losing my mind –
      
Sierra was screaming and when Dawn snapped out of her daze and realized what she was doing, her hands were wrapped tight around Sierra’s leg squeezing.   Immediately, she released her grip and held Sierra close.  “Momma’s sorry, baby.  I would never hurt you.”
       Philip was not home when Dawn and the kids returned.  By the time she had congratulated Christopher (even though his team lost) with his favorite burger and ice cream from McDonalds, Mason and Sierra with chicken nuggets and fries, she was nauseous from the smell of food and bending over the toilet in her bathroom.  She held her hair back with one hand, grasped the rim of the toilet with the other, and vomited.
       I’m pregnant, her mind reeled.  I’d know this feeling anywhere.   I don’t need a test to know it, either.
       Nor would she need a DNA test to know who the father was.
       Philip had had a vasectomy six months after Sierra was born.  Dawn’s gynecologist explained that tying her tubes didn’t guarantee she wouldn’t get pregnant, but if Philip agreed to a vasectomy, their chances of getting pregnant were nearly impossible.
       Dawn was pregnant with Nicoli’s child.  Pregnant for a man she hardly knew.  He’d swept her off of her feet with his irresistible good looks and steamy love making.  He’d given her the attention she’d yearned for in her own marriage.  He was everything that Philip wasn’t and more.  She knew Nicoli would be ecstatic to know she was having his baby.  But she wasn’t actually going to have the baby …was she?  How was she going to tell Philip?  It would tear him apart.  He would take the kids away and she would never see them again.
       She had no choice but to abort the baby.   Nicoli would never know.

Chapter Eighteen

He was calling again.

But she was at a loss for words and what she had to tell him had to be in person.  She couldn’t see him anymore.  Hearing his voice would surely make her melt and as Dawn was pressing the
IGNORE
button for what seemed like the umpteenth time, a man was walking straight toward her.   He was tall and lean with chiseled facial features and nonexistent lips. His green eyes peered straight through her.  They were the evilest eyes she’d ever seen.  And that tattoo around his left eye and down his cheek looked like a shadow of an eagle’s claw.
       "You must be Dawn," William said, his Ukrainian accent thick and distinguishing.  He gestured at her cellphone.  "You're playing cat and mouse with my man, are you?"  Dawn could see her name illuminated on the tiny screen.
       Nicoli's phone.
       "Who are you?" she demanded.
       He grinned snidely, turned and looked over his shoulder at Miguel and Consuelo circling beside him, then back at her and said, “We’re messengers.  Nicky wants to see you.  He sent us to find you.”
       Fear rustled through her body.  She felt the overwhelming urge to back away … to run, but the idea of closure with Nicoli – the father of her unborn child – shielded her with courage and curiosity.
       “Where is he?”
       “Upstairs in the presidential suite.”
       “Why didn’t
he
come?” she asked edging away.
       “C’mon.  Don’t leave my man waiting.  If you don’t come, then
I’ll
be in trouble.” He snickered.  “We don’t want that, now do we?”
       It had been two days since Dawn spent the evening with Nicoli.  And two days since she’d spoken to him; avoiding all of his calls.  She felt confused and in the pit of her stomach, she knew there was something this
messenger
wasn’t telling her.  Where is Nicoli? Her mind screamed.
       Dawn stood before the panoramic floor-to-ceiling windows of the presidential suite overlooking the Las Vegas strip, her frame backlit by a sea of multi-colored flashing lights.  She glanced out at the distant MGM sign and the vibrant emerald-green building glowing like a beacon.   If only she could reach out and grab it and hold on for dear life, she thought as William drew closer.  His baggy jeans whiffed with each step.
       “Where is he?  Where is Nicoli? Why isn’t he here yet?”
       “I see why Nicky liked you so much,” William approached her from behind with a flute of champagne, sniffed her hair, and graced loose tendrils with the tips of his fingers.
      
Liked?
       She could feel his breath on her neck.  Goosebumps rose on her skin.  Strands of windblown hair tickled her cheek.
       “You look so beautiful tonight,” his hand caressed her shoulder, but it was the elusiveness in his whisper Dawn feared most; a supple warning of the battle ahead.
       For a moment, she could not speak.  She could feel the evil in this room.  Could cut it with a knife.  The evil was all around her.  Thick as blood.   At last, she took a shaky breath and found the words: “Where is Nicoli?”
       A heavy silence followed.  Dawn wilted beneath his seething glower.  He studied her, slowly, circling like a wolf.  And although the recessed lighting was dim, he could see the artery pulsating in her neck.
       The floor was sticky beneath her shoed feet, smacking with every step.  The marble looked like it had been mopped with muddy water and the attempt to clean it had been piss poor.    The filmy residue covered a large area and she stood right in the center.  It loomed like a cloud beneath her feet.  She could almost taste it.  The metallic stench emanated. Was it blood?  Couldn’t be.
       A paper cut hardly bleeds…
       That’s when she noticed the dark stains on William’s rough cracked hands.  They reminded her of a mechanic’s …but that wasn’t grease on
his
hands.
       William handed her a medium-sized box, just big enough for a lady’s bangle bracelet.
       “What is it?”  her voice was taut with fear.
       He grinned wide.  Big yellowing teeth sparkled with snuff saliva.  Specks of tobacco slimed between the grooves of his canines.  “It’s from Nicky baby.” His voice growled with vengeance.
       Was it the bracelet Nicoli bought for her?  If it were, why would this man have it?  She had to know.
       With a shaky hand, she removed the top and what she found inside chilled her to the bone.  Horrified, she flung the box to the floor and shrieked.  A bloody dismembered penis toppled out, its fleshy scrotum still attached.
       All of a sudden, he gripped a stronghold of her hair.
       She screeched as he held on tight.
       “He can’t fuck you now, can he?” William whispered in her ear, sucking the lobe with his filthy mouth, “-- scream and you’ll be a dead little pussy,” he groped her breast and slipped his hand underneath her skirt, snaking a finger into her panties exploring the femininity that awaited his manhood.  “I knew you’d feel good … grrrr—“
       Smack!
       Pain exploded in the back of her head as William’s large fist connected.  Dawn tumbled like a rag doll onto the stained marble floor.  The Las Vegas city lights seemed to flare as flickering glows of white bursts of lights against the night sky. The pain was delayed for several seconds. When it registered in her brain, it had the force of a rocket blast.
       “Fight me,” his large hands held her down as he laid suffocating weight on top, grinding his pelvis.  “I bet Nicky didn’t fuck you like this.”
       With all of her might, she pushed against his chest with both hands.  A move she’d soon regret.
       William lynched her wrist so viciously, she thought she heard her bones break.  She struggled to breathe beneath him.  He smelled like death.  He was solid and strong like a bear.  She was no match for his strength and her weak fight only heightened his arousal.
       Dawn could feel his erection bulging against her thigh.  Tears streamed from her eye and into her ear.
       His wet mouth was on hers now begging for a kiss, and when she refused, he bit her lip and forced his tongue inside.
       He tore at her shirt and freed a breast from her bra, toying with the nipple with his tongue.  “You know you want this cock, you filthy bitch--” he panted, raising her skirt to her waist and clawing at her panties.
       Dawn squirmed to free herself against the floor’s stickiness, but William’s weight pinned her down against it.
       His large hands were strong like steel as he grabbed her legs and yanked her panties to her ankles, tying them like twine.  He raised her legs in mid-air exposing her nudeness.   For a moment, he reveled at the sight of Dawn’s loveliness before him; the way the moonlight cast its perfect glow on her skin.  He brushed a hand gently against her naked buttock, admiringly, then spanked her so hard he left a bruise imprint there.   “You’re so beautiful—“
       “Please…”  she cried, horrified. “Please, don’t do this--” She saw his fist move swiftly in the dim light and the pain it brought burned in her face.  Her eye immediately started to swell.
       With one hand, he tore apart his own shirt at the buttons exposing a carved chest of thick golden hair.   He looked down at her with fire in his eyes. “Don’t do what?  But you look so good.  Why would I let this moment go to waste?”
       He disappeared from her view and gripped her inner thighs and shoved her legs apart.  His face was between her thighs now sucking hungrily.  His mouth worked feverishly in her most intimate place lapping up every bit of her.  Week-old stubble scraped against her delicate skin and his wistful tongue slithered sinfully between secret crevices.
       Her mouth spilled whimpering cries of terror.  She knew death would come to her as soon as he was finished.
       The rigid sound of a zipper resonated and before she knew it, William was pushing himself inside of her.  He held on to her arms like reins as he drove deeper and deeper, bucking wildly.
       She writhed with pain at the massive member.
       The rocking back and forth allowed Dawn to free her legs and kick William in the face with shoed feet.  She scrambled frantically to stand, but William punched her across the face with his backhand sending her reeling toward the bar where she grabbed the bottle of champagne that was perched on the ledge.
       With all her might, Dawn broke the bottle across William’s head.  He fell in defeat, but did not stop there.
       He regained his footing and reached for her as she swung the broken bottle at his throat, slicing his neck with the jagged edge.  His blood spurted.  He gaped at the open wound with both hands.  “Fucking bitch!” he grunted, plummeting to the floor.
       Dawn quickly gathered herself, then grabbed her keys off the bar and sprinted for the door.  The sea of lights outside the window spun as she pivoted to flee, but then the pungent stench of gasoline alarmed her -- there on the bar was a syringe full of a dark yellowish substance.  Shaking, she grabbed the needle and plunged it into his back, injecting the lethal dose of Krokodil into his bloodstream.
       The deserted hallway stretched out in front of her and the stairwell door seemed to be miles away.  She couldn’t consider the elevator.  There was no time.  William’s men would be on her trail in minutes.   
       She pushed against the door with both hands, shoving it into the wall with a loud thud.  Two flights down, she heard the door open and slam into the wall above her.  She staggered to the next landing and tackled the door handle.
       It was locked from the inside.
       “Please!”  She screamed now and rapped on the metal door, pleading for someone to help her.
       Multiple footsteps tapped on the concrete stairs above.
       Frantic, she started again, dashing down the next flight.  On the landing, her knee hit the metal bar of the stairwell and pain shot through her leg.  In tears, she pried at the door, but it, too, was locked.
       And the men were gaining.
       She could almost feel their hands around her throat.  It only fueled her to maneuver faster down the next flight of stairs.
       Her kneecap screamed with pain as she pushed on to the next landing.
       Finally, a door read
PARKING GARAGE
.
       She pushed against the bar with both hands.  The door slammed shut behind her as she sprinted through a lot of cars and found solace behind Nicoli’s white Bentley backed in a corner.
       Pain shot through her knee as she lain down bracing herself with both hands.  She stared in horror at the thickness forming on the cement.  The grisly mess oozed and dripped creating a coagulating pool of blood.   She could almost smell Nicoli’s cologne emanating from the car and sense his presence about her.
       Moments later, the door flew open and banged against the wall.
       Careful not to make a sound, she slipped off her shoes one-by-one and listened intently for their footfalls, but all she could hear was her own panting which she muffled with both hands.
       And then a rock clattered across the ground.
       Her eyes bulged with fear.   She knew they were near. 
Dear God, make them go away!
      
Slowly, she peeked beneath the Bentley.
       The men were moving toward the car!
       She positioned herself like a sprinter and took off in the opposite direction, plunging over ornate foliage and into a crowd of waiting taxis.
       She yanked open the door of the first in line and slammed the door shut behind her.         “Drive!”