“I can do that,” I agree.
“And I can write a check for a generous amount to get you settled.” Mr. Bradley pulls out his dreaded checkbook again.
“No.” I’m not yielding on this. “I don’t want your money. I don’t want to take anything from your family into our new life. As matter of fact, I have something for you, Caleb.”
I reach into the front pocket of my jeans, remove the engagement ring Caleb forced on me, and slide it across the table with such force it skips across the hard surface and lands on the floor, repaying his earlier disrespect.
Caleb’s cheeks mottle with emotion. The corners of his eyes tighten.
“Yours, I believe.” I rub at my ring finger as if it’s contaminated.
Mr. Bradley slips the checkbook back into the inside pocket of his jacket. “We’ll draw up the papers tomorrow, and—”
“I want the papers today.” I gather my things and the tiny scraps of self-respect I’ve recovered and turn toward the door. “Instructions for delivery are in the folder. I’m leaving town tomorrow.”
“Where are you going?” Caleb demands. “Where are you taking Sarai?”
“You heard the terms, Caleb,” Maury interrupts. “If you don’t want to lose everything and find yourself in a well-earned prison cell, you don’t get to know, and you don’t get to follow. Regardless, you’ll need to find yourself a new agent.”
Maury grimaces, taking in the gruesome images of my pummeled face and body. “Iris, are you sure you don’t want to press charges? He shouldn’t get away scot-free.”
A bitter laugh precedes my answer. “I press charges and what? He gets a slap on the wrist? Probation? A year for what he’s done by the time his lawyers whittle it down? And still can get joint custody of my daughter?”
I glare at Caleb before going on. He blanks his expression, looking deliberately bored, like I’m wasting his time.
“Should I live looking over my shoulder, waiting for him to decide he wants me back?” I continue. “Or wants me dead? Is that the justice you want me to seek? No, thank you. I’ll make my own justice. It’s not perfect and it may run out one day, but it’s the best I can do right now for Sarai and me.”
I shake my head. “I’ve taken the things from him that matter most: access to me and my child. Forgive me for being more concerned about our freedom than whether or not he is ‘scot-free.’ The only thing he wants to do more than hurt me is to protect himself.”
“Well then let’s get on with it,” Maury says, standing and extending his arm for me to precede him through the door.
I’m walking out when Caleb snatches me by the arm, his touch setting off an alarm system in my body, red lights flashing, sirens blaring, and sprinklers spitting water. Shackled to him again, protest roars through me.
“Get your hands off me,” I ground out.
Maury pushes against his chest, but Caleb won’t let go, his fingers tightening painfully over my bruises.
“Iris, don’t leave me.” Desperation fills his eyes and some sick kind of sorrow, but no regret. “I . . .” His gaze dips to Maury’s face and then to his father, who stands by, disgust and disappointment marking his expression.
“I need you, baby,” he whispers. And I know it’s true. He needs something to control, to manipulate, to toy with when the pressure is too much, but I’m not his punching bag. I’m not his anything anymore.
“Get your fucking hands off me.” I jerk at my arm, but he refuses to let go. “Or the deal is off and your precious endorsements and your career—they’ll all be over.”
For a moment, just a flash, maybe a trick of the light, I think he’ll refuse. It looks like holding onto me means more to him than all I hoped he held more dear, but then the frigid calculation, the ruthless cannibal who ate my heart and nibbled on my soul, shuts off all emotion. The monster is back.
“You stupid whore.” He laughs, releasing my arm and sliding his fists in the pockets of his pants. “Like you can do better.”
A smirk tickles the corner of my mouth, and I can’t resist thrusting a sword through the one spot where I know he’s weak.
“Oh, you and I both know I can do much better, Caleb.” Butter wouldn’t melt in my mouth when I smile.
Seeing the smirk fall apart on his face is small comfort, but any comfort is better than nothing. I won’t be seeking out August anytime soon. I can’t. Not feeling stained and smudged and shamed the way I do. Rationally, I know what happened to me was not my fault, but shame doesn’t reason.
Where I’ll go, I don’t know yet. Caleb’s a demon constrained to hell with chains of gossamer. It’s a fragile exile I’m making for myself, but I’ll l take it and run for shelter while I can. And if he breaks free, I’ll run again, maybe for my life.
I slip on oversized sunglasses and a hat to cover my bruises, looking like a Lifetime movie cliché, I’m sure.
In the lobby, Lo holds Sarai in her lap. She looks chic, her long braids tucked into a snood. She wears skinny jeans, a leather blazer, and ballet flats. Caleb rushes past me, headed for Sarai. Before I can put myself between them, Lo points a slim finger at Caleb and squints one eye, as if she’s peering through a telescope. I wonder if she still sees the shadow on his soul because I may not have seen it then, but I can attest that it’s there. There’s latent power in her eyes, in the strong, slender arrow of her arm aimed at him.
“You’ll have to pay,” Lo says.
Caleb breaks stride, like her voice sprouted tentacles that slithered through the air and locked around his ankles. Something ominous hangs around Lo, and goosebumps pepper my skin.
“What the hell are you talking about?” he mumbles but doesn’t step closer.
A knowing grin blooms on Lo’s pretty face, and she opens her fist, revealing her gris-gris ring.
“These are your days.” She blows over the ring, eyes clinging to his face. “Scattered, and lost, and falling to the ground like dust.”
“Are you threatening me?” he asks, only half-laughing. I bet if I peeled his sleeve back, his arms would be covered in gooseflesh, too.
“No. A threat you see coming.” The smile drops from Lo’s face. “It’s not a threat. It’s real justice, and by the time it reaches you, it’ll be too late.”
Caleb pales under his tan, but while he stands there, no doubt considering the cryptic message Lo delivered, I rush past him and scoop Sarai into my arms. He approaches, but Lo interjects herself.
“Walk while you can, Caleb,” she says, her words in a lower register that sounds laced with danger.
With one frustrated look at me and Sarai, he moves on. The breath trapped in my lungs releases in a rush. His father and Maury emerge from the conference room, their heads bent together. They glance at me, and I don’t know if it’s pity or respect in Maury’s eyes, but I’ll take either as long as it means he executes the papers and keeps Caleb away from me.
“So what now?” Lo asks.
“What was that all about?” I ignore her question.
“What was what all about?”
“Um, the powerful voodoo priestess act.”