Chapter Four: The Bitter Taste of Doubt
Rosamund was foolishly laser-focused on staying alive to consider what leaving the perceived safety of the rundown hotel offered as Tig released her hand and she squatted down to retrieve her thrown heels.
As Rosamund shoved her feet back into her pointy-toed heels and forced herself to walk stiffly to the poorly hidden sedan to retrieve her hastily packed belongings and stolen money, back in Charming, Gemma passed Clay back his home.
"He's going to my father's, give him a couple days to get over this, I'll check in with him regularly baby," Gemma soothed.
Clay nodded stiffly as he grumbled like a grouchy bear and nursed his refilled glass.
As Gemma smirked at Clay and refilled her own glass, back at the crappy hotel, Tig walked behind Rosamund to the black paneled van.
He opened the passenger door and felt his awareness rise when Rosamund froze as he held open the door.
Rosamund pressed her lips together and felt her breath slow as Tig nodded his chin towards the passenger seat. "Don't make a scene, get in the van," he demanded in a grave tone, his eyes glittering with the energetic anticipation of a conflict.
"Please," she whispered, "please just leave me here."
"Rose?" Tig called until he had her complete attention and held her in paralyzed stasis under the weight of his penetrative gaze.
"Rose, please," Tig murmured easily, his capacity for ferocity was barely restrained in his spoken syllables.
She walked as though she was on stilts the small distance to climb into the passenger seat, she flinched when Tig gripped her elbow to help her into the high seat.
Tig pulled the seat belt across her and deliberately fumbled to click it into place, leaning incredibly close and violating every sense of space she had. "Stop stalling and fucking drive," Rosamund hissed and reached down for the seat belt, desperate to click it into place.
Tig gave a dissatisfied grunt as he latched the belt and went around the front of the van to slide behind the wheel. He couldn't keep his smirk to himself, his blue irises dancing in delightful amusement as Rosamund crossed her arms over her chest and stared straight ahead.
She had no idea how much time passed as she looked out through the dirty windshield. Tig kept the radio volume too low to discern the song and the only sound was the tapping of the misfiring spark plugs from under the matte black hood.
As Tig tried to keep his eyes on the road and not stare at her, back in Charming, Clay's phone rang from where it was resting on top of the bar.
Clay blew out a heavy exhale as he saw Jacob Hale Jr.'s number flash across the caller ID.
Hale's slimy voice was oozing as soon as Clay accepted the call before he could even bring the phone up to his ear.
"Did you find her yet?" Hale squawked.
"Nah, not yet," Clay mumbled and heard Hale wind up like a toy car, filling with air like bagpipes before speaking in a higher and higher whiny keen.
"Wasn't she at the hotel?"
"Nah, she'd already cleared out of there, I got someone closing in," Clay started to say before Hale interrupted with his teakettle whistling tone.
"Do I need to send someone else?" Hale snipped.
Clay stared down at the tops of his swollen hands and sighed heavily as Hale finished his frustrated rant.
"I'll get your fucking niece back," Clay barked, his tone making Hale shrivel over the phone, turning him into a pointless one-inch cock.
As Hale glared down at his phone long after Clay abruptly ended the call, growing even further away, Tig pressed the accelerator to the floor, the large engine gulping gasoline as he passed a slow-moving semi-truck.
The miles on the speedometer clicked by at a steady pace as Tig kept the van moving with the flow of traffic. The amused shine of Rosamund's sulking lost its glow before Tig broke the silence.
"Do you have proof of what Hale is trying to do in Charming?"
"It's all buried in the numbers, he's always in contact with this Swiss bank too, you'd need someone really good with numbers to find it. Do you have a forensics accountant handy?"
Tig immediately thought of Chuckie. "I might," he said vaguely.
"He has another safe in the closet at home," Rosamund said, trailing off as she referenced home. "Where is my home now?" she thought to herself, her forehead pulling into a frown.
"What's in it?"
"More cash, but he has a stack of photos from people he's been blackmailing."
"Oh, yeah, what kind of photos?"
Rosamund chuckled, "a lot of council members, some business execs in 'compromising' positions, he's been leveraging people to get permits through faster, cut a lot of the red tape."
"How much money did you take?" Tig asked when she stopped volunteering information, thinking of the weight of the duffle bag when he'd pushed it further into the back of the van.
Rosamund shrugged. "I didn't stop and count anything, there's a lot of it though," she chuckled, covering her delighted smile as she thought of her uncle finding the square note and empty shelves. "I grabbed a few stacks of paper too, I haven't looked at it but I'm sure I could find something in there that's fraudulent," she added, her thoughts on the tiny, velvet jewelry box she'd also tossed in the duffle bag.
Rosamund dropped her eyes to her lap and absently twirled Tig's heavy ring around her finger. She pictured the delicate ring inside the squeaky hinged box, nestled on a pad of cotton, hiding amongst the stolen cash. Rosamund had become frozen to the spot in her uncle's office as she had been able to see the ring again after nearly ten years. The simply designed wedding band had been her mother's and the last time she'd seen it was when her uncle had slid it off her mother's dead finger when he had to positively ID the body at the morgue.
Tig glanced over and watched her play with his ring, the one embossed with a sharp-featured skull. The metal was dull from time and obtrusive on her slim finger. He glanced down at the odometer as the miles clicked off and knew it was still awhile north until they reached Nate Maddock's house.
Tig had released a huge breath he hadn't even known he was holding when Gemma revealed the house was still empty. He hadn't realized she's taken it off the market after the last two escrows had fallen through.
Tig let Rosamund remain in silence, her eyes moving between staring out the window or down at her lap and twisting the ring nervously around her finger. As the climbing miles on the odometer clicked by, back in Charming, Hale paced his office, his eyes kept coming back to the empty safe.
He wished to any worshipped deity that Rosamund would've just stolen the cash and taken back her mother's ring, he could feel hot tears of anger sting the backs of his eyes as he thought of the stack of paper she'd taken along with the cash.
What Rosamund hadn't known as she slipped the paper into her duffle bag was that there was a thin, manila envelope tucked in the center of the stack, like the pea nestled in the mattresses that bothered the princess.
Inside that sealed envelope was a half-inch by half-inch square plastic memory card, the same kind of simply designed plastic cards that were currently used in international espionage.
As the half-inch plastic square stayed hidden within the pages of paper, time passed for everyone. Bobby had gotten ahold of Juice and told him and Chibs to come back, Hale continued to pace his office before grabbing his jacket and marching to another of his sedans in a huff as Tig arrived at Nate Maddock's former residence with Rosamund a stone mute in the passenger seat.
The large house had recently been touched by the gardener's grooming touch.
Gemma had told Tig the code for the garage door-opener and where the key to the rear kitchen door was hidden.
Tig pulled the van into the three-car garage and cut the engine as the door closed behind them, concealing them from sight.
Rosamund stayed silent as she watched him tug the keys from the ignition and unclick his seatbelt before turning towards her.
Rosamund looked over when she felt the weight of his gaze land on her, a heavy cloak from his piercing blue gaze.
She surprised Tig by speaking first.
"How long do I have to stay here?" Rosamund bluntly asked and fought to keep from squirming in the space of silent scrutiny before Tig somewhat answered.
His lips pulled into a small smile, not really having heard her words as his eyes instead danced over her face, wanting to know what she tasted like as he finally spoke. "A couple days at least."
"Then what?" she pressed.
Tig looked at her until she blinked first and looked away. She could feel his eyes on her profile, feeling his eyes memorizing her as she looked back over and met his gaze. Rosamund didn't notice Tig fall forward into a state of entrancement when his eyes zeroed in on her full lips.
In the very moment before her pink tongue darted out and moistened her dry lips, he was transfixed. Tig's heart was momentarily paralyzed before adrenaline flooded his system. His chest tightened and for a second he forgot how to breathe, emotions infiltrated his system and filled each cell until they threatened to burst. "I'll do anything you ask to have you," Tig thought as his gallbladder released bitter bile and the bottom dropped out of his gut as Rosamund spoke.
"Did you say something?"
Tig's eyes dilated as her full attention stimulated each of his ropy nerve endings.
"Fuck, did I say that out loud?" Tig thought, questioning himself.
Tig felt like he had been sucker punched when he felt doubt began to threaten to poke his eyes out, he was at once the Roman general Marcus Licinius Crassus.
General Crassus said that doubt was the true enemy of man.
"Then what?" Rosamund repeated louder, her voice amplified in the closed van.
"Look can we just get inside?" Tig interrupted as he tugged on his door handle, not waiting to hear her reply as he slid from behind the driver's seat and fetched the key that was hidden atop an old can of a sunny yellow interior paint.
Rosamund was soon looking at his once occupied now empty seat and reluctantly pulled herself from the van. She waited at the head of the van, heat coming from the engine through the hood as Tig gathered the duffle bag of stolen goods in addition to her designer backpack and matching rolling suitcase.
Tig held the door key out towards her until she quickly snatched it from his fingertips, not wanting to make contact with his skin. Tig watched her open the kitchen door and follow her inside to the brightly painted kitchen and all the free-flowing natural light from the large window over the sink.
Rosamund advanced slowly through the house, examining every closet, corner, and shelf, Tig was a looming shadow behind her, a bloated storm cloud filled with electric energy.
As Tig stayed close to Rosamund as she made her inspections of Nate Maddock's house, back in Charming, Hale stomped into the Club house in his alligator boots and marched up to where Gemma and Clay had their heads close together in conversation.
"Why haven't I heard from you Clay?" Hale shouted and slapped his palm on the bar.
Gemma glared daggers and Hale felt his macrophallic cock shrivel even further as Clay sighed raggedly and grinned, unfriendly and all teeth.
"Look Hale, I don't know any more than you do, my guy's looking."
Hale took in a deep breath through his congested nostrils, the sound whistling through his allergy ridden sinuses. "A bonus for you Clay to get this done quicker," Hale murmured, sliding back into his political, vote for me tone as he set a fat, cash-filled envelope on the bar and slid it towards Clay.
"What do you want Hale, a fucking body now?"
"Provided a simple request is met, then yes," Hale stated.
Clay raised his eyebrows. "What happened to bring her back quietly?"
Hale cleared his throat, unable to explain that a lot of the pipeline deal was dependent on some documents on the memory card Rosamund had stolen. Hale also couldn't disclose that the pipeline would displace Teller-Morrow.
"Just some loan collateral Clay," Hale finally said and spun a political nugget composed of bullshit, deflection and moon beams about loan documents and foreign accounts concealed on the card that Rosamund had stolen.
Clay picked up the envelope of cash, "must be some collateral."
Hale nodded stiffly after Clay essentially dismissed him after stating he'd made a few calls.
After Hale left, Clay looked over at Gemma, "what's that slimy fuck up to, there's more than loan documents on that card."
"Call Tig and get him to question this girl, get some kind of proof," Gemma murmured and pressed her lips to the side of Clay's unshaven cheek earning her a pleased rumble from his broad chest.
As Tig continued to be Rosamund's in plain sight stalker, his phone rang from his rear pocket. He looked down at Clay's name on the caller ID and answered it as he paused in the doorway after Rosamund walked into the master bedroom.
"Yeah?" Tig answered and made agreeable sounds as Clay outlined Hale's impromptu visit and envelope hemorrhaging cash as well as Rosamund not needing to be alive anymore if it meant the memory card made it back to Hale's reptilian paws.
Tig ended the call after Clay charged him with first finding this alleged memory card that was worth more than Rosamund's life as well as proof of the fraud and financial crimes she accused Hale of committing.
Tig spoke to Rosamund's back as she leaned close to some family photos in their faded gold wall frames.
"Where's this proof of what Hale's doing?"
Rosamund turned towards Tig and found him leaning in the doorway, subtly blocking the exit. She shrugged as she sank to the cushioned bay window seat. "Maybe in there," she said pointing towards the duffle bag he was holding.
"Start looking," Tig said in a tone just shy of demanding as he tossed the duffle bag to land in the center of the king-sized bed with its floral bedding.
"I don't know what I'd be looking for."
"You wouldn't?" Tig asked and raised an eyebrow, knowing she knew a lot more about her uncle's operating tactics than she freely admitted.
Rosamund shook her head and restrained herself from rolling her eyes as she walked to the side of the bed and unceremoniously dumped the contents of the duffle bag to the center of the sunflower printed on the cotton bed linen.
As Rosamund dug through the stacks of cash and rifled through the stack of papers, Tig quickly lost interest in whatever Clay told him to find as his eyes moved over her body. He began to practically salivate as she pushed brushed an errand lock of hair off her forehead before continuing to scan the pages of numbers with cryptic notes in the margins.
Rosamund turned over the next page, her fingertips landing on the small envelope with the memory card that was more valuable than she knew.
She looked up and found Tig's eyes already on her, his expression made her flinch, the envelope slipping from her slim fingers to land soundlessly on the bed as he lazily smiled at her, everything he was thinking about her tight, wet center washed over her. Rosamund quickly retrieved the fumbled envelope and shakily tore it open.
Tig watched her tilt the envelope and the small memory card land in the center of her clammy, shaking palm.
"Did you know that was in there?"
Rosamund shook her head, "I don't know what's on it. Is there a computer around here?" she added.
It was Tig's turn to shrug, "let's go find out," he murmured and nodded back towards the hall that led to the main part of the house.
Rosamund squared her shoulders and walked stiffly to where he continued to lean in the doorway. She paused a couple feet from him, hoping he would move entirely or at least give her more space to pass. He initially did neither.
"Come on," Tig said easily and turned towards the hardwood floor of the hallway.
Rosamund didn't see his act of deception until she had closed the distance to the door when Tig stopped dead in his tracks and pivoted quickly enough to force a startled squeak from her.
"What are you doing?" Rosamund asked as Tig's large hands fell to her narrow waist and patted her pockets.
"I never bothered checking you for weapons," he growled as he slid his hands up her sides, feeling the supple flesh sliding under his fingertips, wishing there were no fabric between his rough fingertips and her bare skin.
Rosamund laughed harshly, "weapons?"
Tig nodded and suppressed a groan as he pushed her backwards until she was stopped by the edge of the bed. "There's absolutely no reason for this," Rosamund spit angrily as she pushed futilely at his chest.
Tig watched Rosamund's wide eyes dart around the room, knowing there was nowhere to find the solace in escape. "Where do you think you can go?" Tig asked, his voice dripping with venom as he forced her back onto the mattress, capturing each wrist as she first clawed and then followed up with a punch.
Tig stared down as Rosamund's ethereal face became etched with fury, he felt the sudden, overwhelming weight of meeting the eyes of a goddess. It was too much for him to handle and his fragmented chromosomes became penitent. He clenched his teeth until his jaw popped as he shifted his hold on her wrists to one of his large hands, letting his free hand cup her jaw, his thumb tracing across her lower lip.
"Where do you want to go?" Tig rasped as he lowered his face until his lips hovered just over hers, a breath away from touching.
"Away from Charming and now from here," Rosamund managed as she grew still, afraid any movements would cause their lips to touch.
"You won't ever have to go back to Charming," Tig murmured on a low moan as he trailed the rough pads of his fingertips down the front of her throat until he traced small circles between her breasts over the bony prominence of her sternum.
"And here?" Rosamund asked breathlessly as he danced his fingertips down to tease the glossy top button of her pants.
"Is it that bad of a place?" Tig asked, having the fleeting thought of picturing himself with a mortgage and paying property taxes on the spacious house and large lot.
"Please stop the game playing, just tell me what you want," Rosamund practically pleaded.
"I'm not playing games doll."
"Then what are you doing? What're your long-term plans here?" Rosamund frantically stumbled over, still terrified to squirm with how close his lips were to hers.
Tig deliberately dragged his heavy gaze down the front of her body, making her skin break out in goosebumps.
"Why don't we just play it by ear for a bit?" Tig growled and dropped his face to the curve of her neck, pressing his lips to her flushed, warm skin.
He felt her tense, less surprised than she was when she chuckled. "We? Play?" she lamely asked.
Tig abruptly stopped teasing her pants top button and gripped her chin, stopping her amused chuckle as he nodded.
Rosamund narrowed her eyes, despite the spine-weakening sensation of his closeness. "It sounds like I'd be trading one prison for another," she spit and roughly tried to tug her hands free.
Tig tightened his grip on her chin until she stopped struggling, her refusal fanning his flames of arousal.
"Not a prison," Tig murmured quickly before he crushed his lips to hers.
Rosamund protested against his pressing lips, unable to escape him from shifting and insinuating himself closer to her intimate center. He lifted his lips briefly as he yanked her closer with his free hand, forcing a startled sound from between her lips as he returned his lips to hers.
"What do you call it then?" Rosamund panted when he lifted his lips and let her catch her breath.
"A new start, new life," Tig groaned as he slid his hand down the smooth span of her belly until he cupped his hand over her covered femininity at the apex of her thighs, rhythmically squeezing his large hand over her clothed center.
"Stop," Rosamund frantically shrieked as he resumed tugging at the plastic button, yanking more insistently.
"Come on doll, it's no different than servicing rich guys," Tig meanly rasped and ripped open the top of her pants, angrily ruining the zipper.
"I told you I wasn't that kind of escort," Rosamund retorted and uselessly bucked her hips as she added in a rush. "I just went to social events and gave them empty promises provided they signed whatever my uncle wanted."
Tig gritted his teeth as he shoved his hand in the space he'd made from ripping open her pants and slid his hand over her panty covered intimacy. "I'm sure you've fucked your fiancé once or twice," Tig growled as he teased his fingertips along the edge of the thin layer of cotton.
Tig's hand froze as Rosamund shook her head and flushed until she was a bright, becoming shade of fuchsia.
"No?" he asked, astonishment clear in his single spoken syllable.
"No," Rosamund confirmed. "That was all a contract I ran away from," she added shakily.
"Then someone your uncle doesn't know about? One of your rich guys? Poor guy?" Tig suggested, his tone growing thick in time with his cock as it began to grow uncomfortably hard behind his zipper.
Rosamund looked away from Tig's penetrating gaze and affixed her eyes at a spot on the ceiling past his shoulder. "There hasn't been anyone," she admitted in a voice barely above a registerable whisper.
Tig paused his fingertips at her whispered admission. "How'd that happen?" he asked after a small pause.
"I guess I just didn't find the time," Rosamund chuckled.
"There's plenty of time now doll," Tig rasped, his thoughts returning to a baser need as he resumed pulling at her clothes.
Rosamund's eyes widened as she weighed the gravity of his words. "Then give me some time to breathe, to think," she said sharply, trying not to beg.
"Are ya going to try and take off?" Tig asked in a strained voice, trying to appear calm while inside he was full of conflicting emotions, an explosive battle of primal needs and wet wants.
Rosamund shook her head and released the breath she'd been holding when Tig reluctantly stopped teasing the edge of her panties and smoothed his hand up the front of her body until he could smooth an errant lock of hair behind her ear, his fingertips lingering to trace the smooth cartilage of her ear lobe.
"Yeah?" Tig asked as his lips pulled into a small smile.
"Yes," Rosamund said, trying in vain to keep from returning his smile.