“I can’t fault her for the self-awareness there.”
“Neither could I. Tilly’s the same way. I guess that’s not my story to tell. But it is a reason why Tilly and Loren are so close. Like sisters. Closer. All Loren told Tilly about her…issue, was that a guy in college raped her.” He sighed. “On the way back from the lunch a couple of months ago, when Clarisse told the girls about the twins, Tilly had a breakdown on the way home. They had to pull over so she could cry it out of her system. It really triggered Loren. Then on top of that, the anniversary, one of the assholes’ sisters contacting her…”
When he didn’t continue, Sully asked, “How’s Loren doing?”
“Coping. Would you believe she asked me for fifty goddamned cane strokes that night when I got home and she confessed she’d talked to the guy’s sister? I couldn’t do it. Wouldn’t do it. I gave her ten so she wouldn’t feel bad.”
“Yeah, been there, done that. Once they get it into their head that they think they deserve a punishment, they get pissed off if they don’t get it. Catch-22. It’s easier to beat them, sometimes. I’ll never understand it, but I’ve quit questioning it. Logic doesn’t apply.”
“Amen.” Ross sipped his iced tea.
“So how did you do it? Just out of curiosity.” Sully knew he didn’t need to clarify.
Ross laughed, but it held no humor. “Got them drunk and spiked the booze with their own drugs. I’d already scoped out the road. Two of them smoked, so I made sure I had matches and an open pack of cigarettes. They picked me up, I got them drunk, waited until they passed out, and set it all up. I knew that stretch of road was usually empty that time of night. I wore gloves. Drove out there, poured a couple of liquor bottles all over their clothes and left the partially empty bottles in the car with them. Dumped half of a five-gallon can of gas inside the trunk and left it sitting in there with the cap off. I’d hidden a bike in the brush nearby, along with a scissor jack. I jacked up the car’s rear axle after I put Kessling in the driver’s seat, made sure all their seat belts were fastened, and started the car. Shifted it into drive, put the cruise control on.”
Ross took a deep breath. “Then I lit a match and tossed it in through the open window. After it went up, I walked around to the back and shoved the car hard enough to knock it forward off the jack.”
Ross made a sailing motion with his hand, a graceful arc followed by a sudden plunge. “I knew from the angle that it would miss the guardrail.”
“What about skid marks?”
“There weren’t any. Dirt road.”
“They didn’t suffer enough,” Sully said.
Ross picked up his iced tea and took a sip. “At least one of them suffered. I heard him screaming as the car went over.”
“You didn’t hang around?”
“Just long enough to make sure they hit bottom and watch the boom. Then I grabbed the jack, used a branch to smooth out where the rear tires hit the ground, and my footprints, and boogied. I knew the emergency vehicles would roll over any other tracks. Recovered the bike and headed back into town. I’d left my car parked near Loren’s building, just in case. Right across the street. It sat there all night. That way, anyone who thought about questioning me, I figured at least one person besides Loren could be found who might remember seeing my car sitting there all night. I wore gloves for everything, left the bike unchained in front of a liquor store, and it was gone when I went by the next morning. I tossed the jack into some brush on my way back, a couple of miles from the accident site.”
“Damn.” Sully held up his glass in a toast. “You, my friend, should have been a cop.”
Ross clinked iced tea glasses with him. “What’s saddest, I think?” Ross noted. “Those assholes trusted me just because I had money. They had talent and potential and the best education money could buy, and they didn’t give a shit because all they wanted to do was figure out how to get whatever they wanted and flaunt screwing the system in the process. They had no souls. I slept better that night than I think I had in my life. And I’ve never lost a minute’s sleep over it.”
Sully nodded. “Believe me, I’ve never lost a minute’s sleep over my situation, either.”
“So, my friend. My honest question is, do you still respect me?”
“Ross, I think I respect you more than ever. I’m damn proud to call you my friend. Why the need to unburden yourself now, though? After so many years.”
Ross pondered it for a moment. “Partly because I wanted to make sure you and I were okay. And partly because I wanted to know if I’m a sociopathic asshole who should turn myself in for what I did.”
“Sociopaths don’t usually question the validity of their actions, so I’d say you’re safe there. To answer the first part, yes. We’re okay.”
“I guess I also needed to vent a little. I’m not a religious man, and a therapist might have felt compelled to report what I did.”
“Sounds to me like all you did was make something right. Sometimes, that’s all we can do, no matter how badly we want to fix something for the people we love.”
“Amen,” Ross agreed and they clinked their iced tea glasses in another toast. “A-freaking-men.”
THE END
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Tymber Dalton lives in the Tampa Bay region of Florida with her husband (aka “The World’s Best Husband™”) and too many pets. Active in the BDSM lifestyle, the two-time EPIC winner is also the bestselling author of over seventy-five books, including The Reluctant Dom, The Denim Dom, Cardinal’s Rule, the Suncoast Society series, the Love Slave for Two series, the Triple Trouble series, the Coffeeshop Coven series, the Good Will Ghost Hunting series, the Drunk Monkeys series, and many more.
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Tymber Dalton, Things Made Right
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