Rush and Restraint

Chapter Fourteen

Oliver's eyes snapped open and he just stared at me.

"I heard a gunshot and I looked up just as the man started to run toward the opposite wing. Val was right behind him with his shot gun. He and Claudette were two bedrooms down from me at that time and my scream roused them along with Marg who was in a room next to theirs. Val chased after the man. Claudette and Marg ran down to help me."

With Oliver warily following behind me, I started to continue along the hallway past the stairs, toward the other wing of the house where another set of six bedrooms lined up. I stopped by the last window just before the bedroom at the end of the hall. It was quite tall and encompassed nearly the full height of the wall from floor to ceiling, looking out into the serene countryside. I gingerly touched the window sill, shivering slightly at the coolness of the stone.

"This window and part of the floor were being replaced during the huge restoration I'd ordered to be done to this place right after I purchased it," I said. "This area was closed off to anyone but the construction workers. The man plowed through the temporary boards and hurtled down the open wall supported mostly by scaffolding. He cracked his head on the pile of discarded stone and brick pieces being collected on the ground below."

Oliver's gaze glinted with sheer menace. "I don't know what kind of man it makes me but I resent the fact that he died too easily. There should've been no bone in his body left unbroken. He should've been conscious for far too long to forget, even in hell, the pain he more than deserved for touching you, for hurting you, for breathing the same fucking air you did."

If there was anyone who would feel the pain of this even as the fires of hell burned his bones clean, it would be Oliver.

I could see it in his face—the guilt, the punishment, the suffering he would convince himself he deserved.

And he hasn't even heard yet the truth that nearly destroyed you.

I came up to him, cupping each side of his face with my hands to try to ground him back. "It's okay, Oliver. He can't hurt me anymore. That's all I care about."

Oliver yanked me hard against him, his face pressing against my hair, his breathing growing ragged. "Who was he, Vivienne? Who's the son of a bitch I can't kill anymore?"

I pulled away just enough to look at his face. "I didn't know him at all. Val and the local authorities identified him as Jonas Morin. He was in his late thirties, single, moved from one odd job in town to another. He was known to drink heavily and keep to himself. He'd gotten work as part of the construction team doing the restoration. We mostly employed locals during the project and usually had about twenty people working rotations. Everyone went home at the end of each day though. No one saw him steal back into the grounds. I don't even remember ever running into him."