If I Fall

  Lowering his voice, he whispered, “Jade, I want to help you, but I can get into a lot of trouble for what I’m about to tell you. These aren’t people you fuck with.”

  He knew who they were. They? Wavering, she scanned the café. Plenty of witnesses and this time she was sitting in the view of a very obvious surveillance camera.

  Relaxing by small degrees, she slowly lowered to her seat. “You don’t touch me. Ever.”

  “My apologies. It won’t happen again.”

  She nodded, keeping her hands on her lap, her chair now drawn back from the table. “How is it that you know about… About what happened to me? Did you—”

  “No. I swear it.”

  “Don’t be offended if I don’t take your word at face value, Mr. Lithe.” She wanted to make sure that was his last name so she used it to see if he’d correct her.

  “Understandable. But still, if you want me to lay my neck on the line, you’re going to have to show me your scar. The day I saw you in New Castle was chaotic and I want to be certain it’s what I think it is before I explain what I believe will help you a great deal.”

  She needed to know what information he was hiding. “Fine. But we’re going to do this quid pro quo. And if you go Hannibal Lector on me I swear to God...” She’d what? She thought of Jeremy and is enormous tree of a friend, Trenton Cole. Ty was a big guy too. “I know people. Scary people.”

  He nodded. “I don’t want any trouble.”

  She took a deep breath and yanked the collar of her sweater aside, turning her head, exposing her branded shoulder. “Satisfied?”

  “Yes.”

  She readjusted her collar and crossed her arms over her chest, sending him an impatient look. “Your turn.”

  He, too, took a deep breath. “Do you speak Latin, Jade?”

  She shook her head.

  “No? Okay. Well, there’s a group. No one knows who they are or when the group originated. It’s a society of sorts, a brotherhood. From what I understand you can’t request entry or be grandfathered in. Every member’s hand-selected.

  “I have no idea how one’s nominated, only that I was selected. I don’t know what qualifications I had that got their attention. I mean, I went to an Ivy League school, belonged to a fraternity, played some sports, but I was never told such a club existed. It wasn’t until I was up for review at my firm and being considered for partner that I was notified about my eligibility.”

  “Who contacted you?” She was intrigued in spite of herself.

  “It’s not that simple. I was in my office, just a random afternoon when my secretary brought me the mail. She usually opens the mail and shreds the envelopes. There’s a lot of confidentiality in the law business, so we don’t like paper lying around.”

  She arched a brow. “Of course not.”

  “I found something that, at first, I thought was a social invitation. It was in a heavy, pristine white envelope, the kind you find inside a wedding invitation. On the lip of the envelope was a wax seal. It was embossed with a stylized number four.”

  Okay, now he really had her attention.

  “When I opened the message, I realized it was an invitation, but not to an event. It was an invitation to join an exclusive group of professional men. They made it seem like an honor, to be accepted into this society. The letter explained that the group admitted only five members a year. It guaranteed entry into certain circles and seemed an appropriate invitation at that point in my career, but a little too good to be true. I researched it on the Internet, but I found nothing. They weren’t asking for a donation or anything along those lines, just proof of my loyalty.”

  “Proof?”

  She highly doubted something revolving around social prestige connected to her assault. Disappointment seeped in as her small flicker of hope faded, telling her this meeting was nothing more than coincidental symbols between her scar and a freaking stamp on a seal.

  “Yes, proof. The order was called Postestas Adimpleo Postestas Quattuor, which is Latin for the Authority to Perform the Power of Four.”

  Thoroughly unimpressed, she humored him. “The power of four? What is this, like a math thing?” This was a total waste of time.

  “Sort of. The number four has a lot of symbolism. It signifies completion, stability, and predictability. It also represents all earthly things. The logic of the number four flows from the previous three numbers. One represents the male principle. It’s raw energy and creativity.”

  She rolled her eyes, but he continued, ignoring her.

  “In the creative process, it’s the initial flicker of an idea, a scheme, perhaps, to form a secret society. Two is the feminine principle, the yin to one’s yang. It’s the gestational period in which ideas take shape, the earth into which the seed is sewn and impulses grow. Three is the synthesis of one and two. It’s the ideation and articulacy of one’s plan, the foundation itself, the finished idea. To put an idea to paper, it shows intention. An idea becomes a commitment and is somehow irrevocably made real.”

  It all seemed too calculated and rote. Too practiced. Yet, now she was listening intently, curious to know the meaning of four.

  He looked her directly in the eyes. “Four is the material manifestation of three, the physical fulfillment, the tangible achievement of the idea. It’s what happened to you, Jade. You were selected, studied, and conquered with such comprehensive preparation you never suspected a thing.”

  Holy fuck. Her skin pulled as her blood turned to ice. Her throat tightened, but she couldn’t swallow back the lump of dread choking her.

  What happened to her had been spontaneous—that’s what she’d told herself from the beginning. Her mind didn’t allow space for other possibilities. There was no deliberate, coherent plan. It had been nothing more than impulsivity.

  She gripped the table and shut her eyes, trying to level out her breathing. Her skin tingled as though a thousand voyeurs watched her, their gazes crawling over her like spiders, each one with multiple eyes. She closed her arms over her chest, shrinking into herself. If what he said was true, there wasn’t a single sacred place left for her to hide. She’d been fucking stalked, chosen for some fucked up ritual. And… My God, they ruined me.

  Nathan weighed her reaction. “Shall I go on?”

  She nodded, unsure if she could hear much more.

  “Four represents mastery. It’s a self-righteous and narcissistic belief when applied the way it is to Postestas Adimpleo Postestas Quattuor. It’s the freedom of life, to do as one pleases as if by the will of God. It’s absolute power. Then there is the Negative meaning.”

  “You don’t consider everything you just said negative?” Jade asked incredulously.

  “I’m speaking numerically. Of course, I find this entire notion despicable and vile. I know you don’t think much of me, but I’ll tell you how contemptible I find it in a moment. First, I want to make sure you comprehend how intricate that simple symbol on your shoulder is. The meaning of a negative four is stagnation, fossilization, paralysis, rigidity, or stubbornness. Were you awake?”

  “No,” she quickly answered. “I was drugged.”

  “So you can understand how the negative is relevant then.”

  “I don’t understand any of this.” Her voice cracked and she fidgeted to avoid making a scene. She fought the urge to scream, to clear the table of its contents with a swing of her arm, anything to change this reality.

  “There’s one more factor. That tiny slash above the four on your shoulder changes its meaning from that of a number to a character that can be traced back to ancient times, a character that defines the ultimate violation of a female.”

  His brow creased and something shifted in his eyes. Regret? He glanced at the table and Jade lost her patience. “Look at me and tell me what it means.”

  His jaw ticked as he swallowed. “It’s the ancient character for rape.”

  This time it was her who had to look away.

  They sat in silence for a long while, n
either able to make eye contact. That was it in a nutshell.

  Some old boys formed a club, recruited a bunch of men who had God complexes, then they formed an idea, a way to demonstrate the ultimate show of power and authority in their minds. Each member selected a victim, studied her, learned her, and brought their plan to fruition when they finally attacked her.

  She reached for her cup but saw how badly she was shaking and curled her fists in her lap instead. She wanted to rail at every despicable man who ever contemplated taking what they wanted without asking.

  Her vision narrowed as she lifted her gaze and glared at him, seething. Voice low, a volatile mess of emotion swirling inside of her, she prepared to attack, quite certain she could seriously murder someone in that moment. “Are you a member?”

  Backing up as much as his chair allowed, he rapidly shook his head. “No. I swear. I was telling you the truth. I have nothing to do with them. I—”

  “Then why were you invited to join them?” she snapped. “How do you know all of this?”

  Self-consciously scanning the café, he leaned in and whispered, “I don’t know why I was invited to join. They only told me only the basics in the first letter, nothing about what was expected. I filled out a form that added up to a resume of sorts and sent it back in the enclosed self-addressed envelope provided. There was no mention of anything besides prestige in the first message.”

  “Where did you mail it?”

  “It went to a P.O. Box in Upstate New York and, like I said, my secretary had already shredded the outer envelope of the original message.”

  “Original? So there were more.”

  He nodded. “About a month after that, I received another letter. I told my secretary I no longer wanted her to shred the envelopes until I saw them, but the outer envelope had no return address and came as certified mail, sender undisclosed. That letter told me I had to reach step four to ensure my membership, but they didn’t say what that entailed. I was instructed to identify a desirable female. I didn’t know why. I thought they were asking me to pick someone I thought would make a suitable wife, just to see what kind of choice I’d make, but I’m a divorce lawyer. I wouldn’t get married if my life depended on it.”

  “So you didn’t pick someone?”

  “Not a real person. I lost interest in joining the group, but my curiosity was piqued. I couldn’t find even the thinnest evidence to prove the society existed and that intrigued me even more. The letters were coming from somewhere. So I sent back my reply with a made up name. I had to give a description of what she did, where she lived, whom she was associated with, and how well I knew her. I made it all up.”

  “Did they respond?”

  “About a month after that, I received another letter. This one had a package with it. That’s when I was given a seal. I guess even organizations dating back however long as this one does, still modernize. It was just a sticker. It all suddenly seemed silly and juvenile. I was told to place it on the woman’s home or car. But there was no woman, so I put the seal on my own car. I was curious and didn’t realize the final outcome of the test.”

  She drew back, her blood running cold as her muscles tensed as chills rushed from her ankles to her shoulders. “Son of a bitch.” Her entire face numb. “Someone put one on my car last year.”

  He rushed on as if he wanted to leave as much as he wanted to finish his confession. “A month after I received the seal, another letter arrived. I was to wait anywhere between six and eighteen months. Time, I was told, to learn her routines, her quirks. I was to make no move until I became a master. Once I was ready, I should then send them back another envelope telling them I studied the woman and was prepared to complete stage four without the chance of error.

  “I still considered this all some hokey way to measure a man’s respectability, as if all of this was for the purpose of finding a suitable wife, someone to accompany me during social gatherings and such. By no means did I consider ever actually marrying someone to be a part of a club.”

  “But it was never about marriage,” she supplied, hating him, hating that he was the only person she could trust to help her understand what had happened. He seemed to pick up on her increasing hostility.

  “Jade…” His eyes turned pleading. “I also never considered it might revolve around brutalizing another human being. If you believe anything, please believe that.” He leaned forward and whispered, “I know I’m a prick. I’m a lawyer for Christ’s sake. But I also love my mother and my sister and would never purposely hurt a female or anyone for that matter. I could never do what they wanted and never would’ve gotten involved had I known what would eventually be expected of me.”

  “But eventually they told you. Somehow you figured this out. How?” He had to know something. Gritting her teeth, she said, “Tell me the part that will actually help me.”

  “Six months later I got another package. It included very specific instructions and a small metal stamp. The second I understood what was actually expected I cut all ties. I tore the seal off my car and shredded all evidence of ever having an association with such despicable people.

  “They tell you, in the first letter, the group’s not for the meek. They use words to describe themselves as above common law. They consider themselves demigods who are not to be dicked around, pardon my French.”

  Touching her cup, but not bringing it to her lips, she fidgeted. “They said that?”

  “It was implied. Any man willing to accomplish all four stages and provide proof of the crime proved to be a member capable of entrusting the brotherhood with a piece of their soul. Somewhere out there, there’s the coordinator of all this, and he holds enough evidence to incarcerate each and every member and destroy their lives. He also, I imagine, holds enough evidence to blackmail his members into assisting others and that’s why there’s so much influence that comes with the affiliation. With a simple note, he can demand one member do whatever needs to be done to get another member out of trouble. It’s absolute power.”

  Dropping her gaze to the table, she covertly counted the men in the room. There were seven, including Nathan. There were only three women and one was herself. As improbable as such a society seemed, it also made strange sense. There were probably lawyers, police officers, politicians, government officials, and more involved in this boys’ club. Each one obligated to anonymously help the other members in exchange for omnipotence.

  It was absolute corruption of power. There was no way of knowing how many of them were out there pretending to be members of polite society. She could go to the police and end up reporting her assault to an actual member, who could ultimately be the man who raped her, who could then send another member to finish what was started and kill her.

  As if he read her thoughts, Nathan said, “They’re dangerous, Jade. You need to understand that. I feel for you, I do. But the best thing you can do for yourself is nothing at all. If you start sniffing around for clues, they’ll find out and they will retaliate. Forget what happened. Just worry about protecting yourself from here on out. When your baby comes—”

  “There is no baby.”

  His focus shot to her face, his eyes wide and his mouth trembling. “I thought—”

  “I miscarried three weeks ago.”

  His expression shifted from puzzled to empathetic. “I’m sorry, Jade. You already suffered so much. I … there’s no excuse for what they did to you. I’m sorry.”

  Jade swallowed, forcing back her tears. Hurt gripped her chest like a vise, strengthening her resolve. Shaking her head, she rejected that forgetting what was done to her was her best option.

  “I’m not going to just walk away. I’m not going to let fear control me. Yes, your story scares me, but not enough to run and hide. When I lost the baby I promised I’d do everything in my power to—”

  “Jade—”

  “No,” she cut him off. “You were on the other side. You have no idea what my side feels like, what I’ve been through physically
and emotionally. I’m not going to let some old boys’ club scare me into silence.”

  Panic contorted his face. “You’re making a mistake getting involved with these people.”

  “Why?” she hissed. “For all we know those letters came from one sick fuck. You don’t know for sure how many members are out there.”

  “No, but I guarantee you there are more of them than there are of you. They. Will. Hurt. You.”

  “They already did.”

  His insistence faded as his gaze lowered in resignation. “Remember how I told you about the symbolism of negative four?” His voice suddenly sounded riddled with shame. “Well, consider yourself lucky, Miss Shultz. I was not unconscious when they found me. I was beaten to a point that I thought I’d never be curious again. As far as victimization is concerned, we have more in common than you realize.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  He looked to make sure no one was watching and slid his tie to his shoulder. His fingers moved to the buttons of his shirt, loosening the top four as he pulled his shirt apart.

  Her breath left in a whoosh. There, on his chest, was a branded four, about six times the size of hers.

  He closed his shirt, quickly fastening the buttons and lowering his tie. “I didn’t come here to help you catch them. I came here to protect you from making the same mistakes I did. Don’t underestimate their power. Put it behind you and try to move on.”

  Her vision blurred. Glancing at the table, a tear splattered on the smooth surface. “I can’t.”

  “Then I can’t help you,” he said, regret clear in his voice.

  Seeing his mark didn’t have the effect he likely expected. It only proved she was not alone. How many more times would this happen to some unsuspecting woman if no one ever tried to stop them? “Sometimes doing what’s right takes precedence over common sense.”

  Shutting his eyes, his shoulders lowered. “You can’t use my name. I’m sorry.”

  She met his gaze and recognized genuine regret in his eyes. He was afraid and she had to respect that, no matter what. “I’m sorry too.”