No, you didn't? We'll see. Maybe your memory's cloudy, but eventually you will see that all this is your fault.

She wiped the tears from her bound hands. Xavier was not to return, nor his other friends. She had no idea what Xavier had done to have been expelled, only that she had been told all of them had left. He would not come back to Brooklyn. She'd been told that.

He'd been one of the favored boys. The spoiled little prince who could have anything he wanted. Only, she hadn't submitted to him. She'd fought him then, and she'd keep fighting him, step by agonizing step, until he was destroyed.

"What's he like now?" she asked.

"Ah, has curiosity got the better of you?"

She looked back over her shoulder. "I want to know what I'm handling. Exactly who I'm handling."

"I believe you do. Xavier's told me he hasn't changed much. He's grown older. A little harder, maybe. He's powerful. Rich. Any other woman would be delighted with the kind of notice he's paying you."

She was sick. She had no clue what Xavier would demand from her, unless he was doing it for his friend. "Please, take me home."

"Not going to happen."

"I didn't do anything wrong. I did what I was supposed to.".

He grinned. "I'm sure you did. You'd better take it easy. Where we're going, it won't get easier for you. Trust me, it's going to get absolutely hard. Xavier's been practicing for this meeting for years."

The radio was turned on, and she closed her eyes, letting the tears fall. She should have left Brooklyn when she had the chance. When her parents died and left her all alone.

She tugged at the rope, trying to get her hands loose, but it was no use. No way to combat this hold. She clamped her teeth together and pulled with all her might to yank one more time, trying to get a hold of the end. If there was even a chance they'd be on the road before they got to wherever Xavier was leading her, she'd take it. Would he be riding with Xavier?

She hadn't caught sight of him since that afternoon when he had stopped by her house unexpectedly. Her parents were working and she was home-schooled. There was no way she could possibly go to school anymore. Her locker had been ruined, and life was not bearable. She had no choice but to finish up at home.

He'd promised her. Gazed into her eyes and vowed there would be a day, he'd come back, and when he did, he'd make it right. They'd be even. All this time she'd been sure he'd be back, and she just hoped he'd never find her. This was where things were going wrong. She'd have to live with it, but why would Xavier have cause to want to harm her? She'd done nothing to him.

Standing out onto the view of his lawn, Xavier pulled hard on his cigarette, awed by the man-made beauty in front of him. An authentic garden wasn't tamed. It had no gnome baubles or sculptures of half-clad women. With a snap of his fingers, he could have real women, naked, willing to amuse him. He enjoyed the untamed, the disorder, danger to all the manicured and maintained lawns. The gardener had volunteered to stay, to help maintain the grounds in their finest. He'd sent him packing immediately. True beauty was the ability to see what hid beneath. For Xavier, it wasn't about concealing nature, but seeing it flourish. Seeing the real world, and being challenged by it. He was eager for grass to grow, for weeds to appear above the grounds, around their plastic gnomes and ceramic standing sculptures.

Flipping his cigarette onto the earth, he stamped on it, exhaling a further lung full of air.

Wrapping his arms around the cold cement railing, he breathed in the night air. It was well away from the city. No drifting poisonous automobile exhaust, or odor of decay. Walking along the sidewalk, he'd be able to sniff out some rich spoiled food, animal pee, and that distinctive reek of hopelessness. He couldn't get any of those things now.

The air was crisp, crystal clear. Much like his feelings. He was ready for what he was going to do. For twelve years he'd waited, training, getting stronger, shedding the chains that had restrained him, and claiming his rights. He wasn't in prison for something he didn't commit. The minute he stepped off the train, he made the Sheriff know who boss was. Prior to Xavier having put the old tenant out, he'd set the ground rules. Should the Sheriff even think about putting a stop to his plans, Xavier would make known to everyone what the Sheriff liked to do on the side. It wasn't his problem the guy liked to visit and observe gay bars, and also mess around with underage boys. Xavier remembered being in those bars, and the Sheriff had tried to entice him. He'd tried to blackmail Xavier, to get him to confess, and tried to intimidate him too. When the guy had tried to put his hand on his dick, even then Xavier had stood on his own. When he was eighteen years old, he'd been the biggest in his high school. No one could overtop him. He'd been a tank, unmoveable, unbreakable, but Dorcas, she'd brought him to his knees. She'd pushed him down, and now it was his turn to push back. Her lies and hatred had ruined his life, or ruined some years of it anyway. She'd had him in jail, punished for nothing. The town, according to all my research, wasn't on her side.

Nobody was going to rescue her. He smiled. This is exactly what he had been wanting.

If there was anyone in town who was interested in her, who wanted to rescue her, the Sheriff would look the other way, which is just exactly what Xavier hoped for. Everyone could do their thing the devil they pleased as long as none of them stood in the way of his designs.

The door opened, and he did not even look. There was only one man that would disturb him. His other men stood guard. Being strong brought a lot of enemies.

"She's in your office."

"She came voluntarily?" Xavier inquired.

"I wouldn't call it voluntarily, but she didn't put up much of a fight either."

Xavier laughed. He finally looked at his friend. Stephen was the kind of guy who jumped from one job to another. He worked only for the person offering him the most money. Xavier didn't need to hire the guy or pay him. He just saved the man's life. He had been beaten almost to death and dumped where he lay, broken bones, gunshot wounds. Rather than leaving him in the dumpster to die, Xavier had taken him home, and made sure that he was provided with the best of medical care and rehabilitation to help him. Breaking legs was no easy feat, and well, Xavier needed a man who could walk on both his legs, and Stephen was the right man to do it. There had been times he could have sworn the man didn't have a soul.

"That's not like her. Dorcas always struggled."

"She knew you were present," Stephen said to him.

"Of course she did. I went out of my way to be noticed in town. It's a small place."

"She was going to run. Were you prepared for it?"

“I’m disappointed she didn’t make this easier for me.” He stepped into the house with Stephen hot on his tail. He got to his office and paused. Every single year he’d been away, he had one of his men take pictures, to follow her for a couple of days a month. He hadn’t seen her in the flesh in twelve years.

“You’ll stay here,” he said.

"Xavier, is this really the best plan?"

"Yes."