Solace: The Avengement Series, #2

By Caddy Rowland

The Avengement Series: Sometimes a person gets pushed too far.

Book Two: Solace (A Caddy Rowland psychological thriller and drama)

Where the hell is Brady?

It should have taken about a half hour for him to walk to town and back. As Tory heads out to walk the beach searching for him, a soft smile plays on his face. He can just imagine the ribbing Brady will give him when they meet coming toward each other. 

Instead, he comes face to face with his worst nightmare. There is his husband, lying in the water, bleeding and gasping for breath. Brady, petrified and struggling to stay alive, tries to tell Tory something about a boat. Then his frightened eyes stare into Tory’s as he manages to say “I love you” one last time. He’s gone before Tory can even tell him the same.

The police believe it’s a robbery gone wrong. Tory wonders if it isn’t a hate crime. He swears he’ll find the killer, even if the police give up trying. No one is going to get away with gutting the man he loved, leaving him like trash to die alone. Nothing will stop him from getting justice for Brady.

Not even murder.

(Note: Although there is an object tying these novels together, each gritty drama is a stand-alone psychological suspense thriller with a complete story arc.) 

Karma really can be a bitch—especially when it scores a willing partner.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Caddy Rowland
• Release date: Jul 8, 2015
• ISBN: 9781513073859

Caddy Rowland

The drama of humanity. We live, die, love, hate, win and lose in a never-ending variety of ways. Often those ways are heart-wrenching. Other times they are not. Why do people make the choices they do? Why do some abuse power? How do the powerless learn to survive? Why do a few dare to be different, while others conform—and why are so many disturbed by those who don't? These are the questions that have always haunted author Caddy Rowland. Those questions keep her pounding away at her keyboard, creating novels showcasing the sublime joy and bitter tragedy of being human. Caddy has always been a nonconformist. She likes to push the proverbial envelope when it comes to characterization and world building. Heroes have warts; villains have soft spots. Main characters don't always learn their lessons because all too often we don't, either. There isn't always a happy ending, but sometimes there is. Otherwise she'd be predictable. She writes for readers who like to think and feel; who like their stories to be raw, graphic, unpredictable, "real" and sometimes brutal. For readers who like their boundaries challenged; to be shown how rarely life decisions are truly black and white, but instead shades of grey. Think of a carnival midway with books instead of rides. She asks you make sure you're the minimum height if you plan on riding alone. You must also leave prejudices and inhibitions behind the entry gate. If you can’t, Rowland's reads might be a tad much for you. Don't worry. There are plenty of safer reads out there. Just step out of the line and find a more appropriate book for your reading enjoyment. No, Caddy Rowland's novels aren't for everyone. But then again, they just might be for you. Sign up for new book release information by copying and pasting this in your browser: http://eepurl.com/rfjaX

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Prologue

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The scarlet stilettos lay forgotten in the back of Jasmine’s closet. It had been seven long years since they’d seen action. Oh, she’d promised herself she’d wear them once in awhile, just to bask in the fact that she’d given her dead husband the justice he deserved.

But once the act was over, Jasmine found the peace she’d searched for, along with a new life. While she wasn’t joyful, she had found contentment and a sort of happiness. It was enough. She’d left the shoes untouched. Why open old wounds; old memories?

And yet she hadn’t thrown them out. Those sinfully scintillating shoes had been her ticket to closure. The least she could do was keep them, safely covered in tissue in their shiny black box. As time went by, the box moved further and further into the recesses of her closet. She hadn’t even opened the box to peek inside.

No matter. The heels had been content to lay waiting, knowing the time would come when they’d be called upon once again. Be it seduction or be it mayhem, they were made to do a job. As long as they weren’t destroyed, the possibilities were endless.

Possibilities? No, chance wasn’t involved. The opportunities were endless. All they had to do was wait patiently until someone, somewhere played the did somebody wrong song. They not only stood for sex and violence. They stood for retribution, for revenge.

For justice.

And now the time was near. So near they could feel the sorrow; the searing pain of loss as if they themselves were human. Ah, yes. The man’s heart would break. Not long after, he’d be looking for answers. When he got none, he’d be looking for avengement.

When he did, the ruby red pumps would be ready.

Heartbreak

I

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Tory impatiently looked out the window for the twentieth time. Where the hell was Brady? It had been an hour since he’d gone off to purchase more charcoal, so they could grill steaks on the patio of their rented beach house. It was only a ten minute walk along the beach to town.

Had he stopped to have a drink or something? It wasn’t like him to be thoughtless, and it certainly was unlike him to be late. He knew Tory had everything ready: corn husked, steaks marinated, baked potatoes scrubbed and wrapped in foil. Even the table had been set. When they discovered there wasn’t enough charcoal left to do the job, Brady had volunteered to go grab another bag.

I’ll go to town, Tory. It doesn’t take long to walk. Brady put his arms around his partner, kissing the base of his neck. He knew it was Tory’s weak spot. Don’t get all tense. The evening isn’t ruined. It’s just postponed until I get back.

I know. I just wanted to get the steaks ready. I’m hungry, and you have to be, too.

So we eat a half hour later. Big deal. He kissed the spot again. You’re just feeling unhappy our vacation’s almost over. I understand. I’d love to stay here forever, making love and playing in the ocean. Unfortunately, I have a trial coming up—and you have painting to do. You know you couldn’t be happy long without painting.

I could buy art supplies and paint here, grumbled Tory half-heartedly.

And give up Manhattan? Come on, sweetie, you know we’re city boys at heart. This is nice to escape to, but we could never live here.

Tory sighed. You’re right. Turning to his husband, he continued, You always know how to get me relaxed.

Oh, I’m only getting started. Wait until after dinner, promised Brady. You have no idea.

Tory gave him a nip. Oh, I think I do. After all, it’s been years. I know your methods, my dear.

Then you know a full body massage is right around the corner, followed by whatever your heart desires.

Mmm. Come closer.

Nope. I’m hungry. Whatever your heart desires will have to wait.

Just a kiss? Tory’s pouting lips made Brady laugh.

Just a peck. The sooner you let me get some charcoal, the sooner we move from dinner to other things.

Tory sighed, slapping Brady on the ass. Go, already! It’s still light. Hurry up. You know I don’t want to worry about you walking on a secluded beach in the dark.

It won’t be dark for a few hours. Chill. He kissed Tory softly before adding, I’ll be back before you know it.

Tory gave him a soft peck on the cheek. Hurry back.

As Brady started down the beach, Tory called out, Love you!

Brady turned around and waved. I love you, too! Bye!

Over an hour had passed.

Tory paced the room. Should he go to town and look for him? He could just hear Brady teasing him as they met walking toward each other on the beach. Brady was always telling him not to worry. He didn’t know why Brady failed to worry about all the ways a gay man could be hurt by others, simply for being who he was.

No matter where they were, or how careful they were, there was always the chance some bigot would see them, figure out they were gay, and beat the living daylights out of them, or worse. Especially if the bigot waited until one of them went out alone.

Neither one of them was fragile, but being ambushed meant strength wouldn’t matter—especially if a knife or gun were involved.

Tory shivered. Of course, the chances of something happening here were next to none. They’d only been to town for groceries and other necessities, electing to spend their vacation in solitude. The city gave them plenty of action. On vacation, action was the last thing they looked for. They’d only gone out to a bar one night out of the ten. And then they hadn’t danced, as they’d have stood out like two flamingos in a gaggle of geese.

They’d elected to sit in a corner instead, watching straight couples dance, while holding hands in the dark. Both men counted the minutes until they could return home to their cottage, where they could relax and be themselves. Neither were used to being in a small community were gay men weren’t present in as large of numbers as in certain areas of Manhattan.

He was going to find Brady. Being teased about his worrying was preferable to waiting here and thinking the worst. Grabbing the keys and his phone, he locked up and went in search of his partner.

As he headed down the beach, he breathed in the clean, crisp ocean air. This vacation had been good for both of them. He wouldn’t have believed he could fall even deeper in love with the man he’d married, but over the last several days he certainly had. Brady was ingrained into every part of him, and he couldn’t imagine a life apart.

Tory smiled to himself, imagining the ribbing he’d get when Brady saw him approaching. He already felt silly—until he looked down the stretch of beach and saw no one coming toward him.

Then he heard it. A watery groan, the harsh rasp of a man in distress. Hurrying down past some rocks in the water, he stopped short when he found who was making the noise.

There was Brady, sprawled out and bloody, the tide almost up to his face. There were abrasions on his chin, and the water around him was a rusty brownish red from his blood. Struggling for breath, Brady stared up at him, eyes full of pain and terror.

Brady! Oh, my God! Brady!

Tory fell to his knees in the water beside his husband. What happened?

Brady’s mouth moved, but a wheeze came out.

Stop! Save your strength! cried Tory, as he fumbled for his phone to dial 911. As the phone rang, Brady struggled to lift his head.

Boat, I... he gasped, looking frustrated. He...has a ...boat, I... Brady coughed, blood spewing from his mouth.

Tory, frightened out of his wits, dropped his phone—which promptly became saturated with water. Fuck the phone, Brady needs me, he thought. Throwing the phone in frustration, he scrambled even closer to his partner. His own shorts were soaked, but he didn’t even feel the wetness. The leather sandals he wore slipped off and floated away, unnoticed.

Don’t talk! Brady, save your strength. I’m going to make you better. Oh, Brady, you can’t die! I’m going to make you better! He moved to check Brady’s mouth, to see if he was choking on something.

Brady’s eyes grew huge, tears pooling, as he gasped. I love you, Tory. Brady managed to speak those four words clearly before choking. Then he whispered, Boat! He wheezed. I—. A tear spilled down his cheek, and the light disappeared from his eyes.

No! No, you can’t die! Damn it, Brady, I love you! You can’t die! screamed Tory. Frantically, he began doing CPR. Screaming at the top of his lungs, he cried, Help me! Somebody help me! Oh, God, a man is dying out here!

Tory kept doing CPR and offering breaths to the corpse of Brady for twenty minutes until someone coming along the beach heard him yelling. When the man approached, he called for an ambulance and then took over with the CPR.

Both knew it was in vain. Brady was dead, and Tory hadn’t even said goodbye. Tears spilling down his face, he tenderly kissed Brady’s lips before closing his eyes. His hand shook as he did so, after looking for the last time at those beautiful blue eyes. The long, thick lashes of his partner were clumped together from the water, making them seem even darker.

We have to move him, the water is going to cover his face! pleaded Tory to the man administering CPR.

I don’t think we’re supposed to move a dead body. As soon as he said it, the man realized the harshness of his words. I’m sorry. I don’t think he’s going to respond.

Tory pulled on Brady’s body. You can’t know for sure. There’s always a chance. Oh, God, please help me. Please!

The man and Tory pulled Brady away from the water. As soon as they had, the wounds all over his torso and arms could be seen. They continued to weep blood, overflowing.

The man had been beaten and stabbed several times. The worst was a large gash to his stomach area, opening him so his intestines had partially come out. They were bleeding, too. Whoever did this must have surprised Brady from the rocks. He hadn’t stood a chance.

All he’d worn were some cut-offs and flip flops. The flip-flops were long gone, probably floating away just as Tory’s leather pair had a few moments ago.

Harsh sobs spewed forth from Tory’s mouth as he saw what someone had done to his husband. His beautiful, kind, generous husband gutted, and left to die alone.

I can’t, oh my dear God, I can’t...please! Oh, God, please, no!

The stranger put a hand on Tory’s back, rubbing him gently.

I’m so sorry, sir. He-he’s gone.

Tory’s head snapped around, and he growled at the man offering comfort. Shut up! You don’t know! You just don’t kn— A guttural cry replaced Tory’s words as he bent over in agony. Gathering the dead body of Brady in his arms, he held him like a mother holds her child: close to his chest in a protective embrace. Brady’s head hung limp and lifeless. Blood soon covered Tory, running down to flow into the water, continuing to merge Brady with the sea.

As sobs racked through Tory’s body, the man simply continued to rub his back in silence. There were no words he could offer to help ease the pain. Nothing would change the fact this man had obviously just lost the person he loved.

Pretty soon the sound of sirens filled the air. As an ambulance screeched to a halt, Tory continued to hold the dead body, burying his face in Brady’s neck. His sobs were muffled, but the shuddering of his body let anyone seeing him know his tears were far from over.

What happened here? asked a red-haired woman who appeared to be the lead person on the rescue team. She stood patiently, waiting for Tory to look up. When he did, his face was smeared with blood, snot, and tears.

Help him. Tory drew a shaky breath, his eyes full of panic. Thank God you’re here, I—help him!

The woman glanced worriedly at her partner before focusing her gaze once again on Tory. Her short curly hair for some reason reminded Tory of a circus clown, and he began to laugh hysterically. Nodding silently to the short, stocky man assisting her, she placed a hand on Tory’s shoulder, gently shaking him.

Sir, my partner here, Don, is going to take—what is his name? She didn’t want to hurt him further by simply calling the man he mourned the body.

Brady. His name is Brady, gasped Tory between sobs. His grip tightened around his partner.

Don must take Brady from you now. I’m sorry. When she got no response, Don moved in to remove Brady from Tory’s arms.

Tory, eyes wild, snarled, Don’t you dare take him unless you promise you’re going to fix this. You fix this! It’s what you’re paid to do, right? You know what to do, I know you do, he—I... Tory stopped dead, all the strength and righteous fury draining out of him. As his shoulders slumped, he handed Brady over to the balding man with the kind face. He’s not coming back, is he. It wasn’t a question so much as a statement. He’s...I-I won’t ever see him smile at me again.

I’m afraid not, sir. I’m sorry. If it’s any comfort to you, even if a doctor had been on the scene immediately I doubt he could’ve done much. The wounds—they look too savage to be anything but fatal. He shrugged. I know those words sound harsh, but you deserve to know none of us—not even you—could have saved him, no matter what.

He took Brady’s lifeless corpse from Tory, gently placing it on a stretcher. You can ride beside him, if you wish. Perhaps his spirit will hear whatever last words you want to offer him.

Just then a police cruiser pulled up. As the officers shambled over to where the medics were standing with Tory, the one with the last name Prichard spoke up, What’s going on here? Is that a dead body?

No shit, mumbled the red-head, a disgusted look on her face.

Officer Prichard’s eyes drilled into the medic. What’s that, Brenda?

Isn’t it obvious we’ve got a dead body? Could you be less considerate of the grieving man who’s also here?

Prichard gave Tory a cursory glance. Oh. Sorry.

Tory stood silent, the tears still trailing down his face.

Wow. Your people skills amaze me, as always. Brenda put an arm around Tory. Sorry, sir. He’s not good with humans.

Regardless, who was the genius who moved the body? He glared at Brenda. Why am I guessing it was you?

Glaring back, she replied, This gentleman was already holding the body when we got on the scene. It was too late. The evidence had been tampered with.

Prichard frowned, drilling Tory with his harsh eyes. What were you thinking? Why hold a dead man in your arms?

Tory swallowed, his eyes focusing. He-he was my husband. I found him here on the beach. He died just a minute afterward.

That still doesn’t explain why you were holding him.

Tory snapped, Because I fucking loved him, okay? I fucking loved him, he had died, and CPR didn’t work. We tried for over a half hour, but it didn’t work. When I realized it was over, I just—I wanted to comfort him. He was dead, but I wanted to hold him, let him know I was with him during those last seconds. He-he didn’t d-die alone. I was th-there.

Or you killed him. Prichard’s voice was flat and emotionless. Lover’s quarrel, perhaps? I know how easily you gays get in a tizzy.

Tory stared at him open mouthed. Not only did he have to deal with Brady dying, he did to deal with a homophobe, too? Really? You must be gay then, if you know so much about us. After all, we’re all alike, righto?

Officer Prichard puffed up. No, of course I’m not gay. I’m a policeman.

Tory, in spite of his sorrow, laughed. Well, that certainly reassures me. We all know there isn’t a gay amongst the ranks of the men in blue. He rolled his eyes. Jesus. I myself balled a couple street cops in my younger days.

And now you had someone else you were banging, and things turned ugly. Am I right? Prichard had taken out a notepad and was scribbling notes. Care to give me details?

Tory marched over to the officer and shoved his face right up to the cop’s. I’ll give you details, you stinking bigot. My husband decided to walk to town for charcoal. It’s our last night here, and we were going to grill steaks. Only trouble was, we were low on charcoal. When too much time had passed by, I decided to go looking for him. I figured he maybe stopped for a drink, got to talking or something, and time slipped by.

The cop moved away, almost as if afraid Tory’s gayness might rub off. All right. I’m listening.

I heard someone groaning in pain. I walked over to this area, which was hidden because of the rocks, and found him. He was practically covered by the tide. Only his face was above water.

Why didn’t you call for help?

I tried. I dropped my phone into the water. When I retrieved it, the damn thing wouldn’t work.

Let me see your phone.

I think I threw it. Go look for it yourself. It’s somewhere over there.

Prichard nodded at his partner. Go look for it, Dennison.

The kinder looking cop took off, looking embarrassed by his partner’s attitude.

I was on my knees by him. He-he looked so scared. His eyes-I’ll never forget the look in his eyes. He was frightened out of his mind.

Did he say anything?

Yes. He mentioned a boat. A couple of times. I kept telling him to save his strength; told him he was going to make it. I— Tory’s voice shook and a sob once again escaped. I thought I could save him! I didn’t see all the damage, as he was covered in water, and the water was rusty with his blood. I was concentrating on his face, trying to keep him from slipping into unconsciousness.

What did he say about a boat?

"Not much. Just the word boat. Both times he tried to continue, to tell me something about him and the boat. Or a person in the boat...I don’t know. Then, when I told