Saxon’s Distortion by C.A. Rene
Saxon
One good thing about practically owning a whole town is: you know everyone and what they do inside of it. My mother has surveillance on every stop light and in the parking lots of most mall complexes. The best part of it all is seeing how the people who live next door to you behave, or what the quiet man who lives a street over is doing when they think no one is watching. My family is the big brother of Whitsborough.
I’m standing outside of the local grocery store, one of two in Whitsborough, and it’s owned by the Taylor family. Specifically, Jack Taylor’s parents, Joan and Abel. They sent their only son off to university in another city after giving him a firm slap on the wrist for assaulting a fellow student in his high school. That was me. The fucker held me down as Brian Cox made putty out of my face. But I digress, I’m not here for any of that. Jack Taylor knows quite a bit about what’s happening at the University, I’d fucking bet on it, call it good ole’ intuition. I got it in spades.
I walk across the parking lot and step inside the store. I have never been here. Grocery shopping has never been a chore for me, my parents take care of that, and I live at home. When I’m living at the compound in New York, there’s a cooking staff who takes care of buying the food. So, this is foreign to me.
The smells are what hit me first, rotting fruit, aging produce, and a slight scent of lemon cleaner. None of it is appealing but people are packed into every aisle, regardless of the smell. I walk to the back and stand in front of the deli. Jack Taylor spends his weeks at school in Toronto, but his weekends are here at home in his parents’ store, slicing an assortment of meats.
He doesn’t notice me as he scrolls through his phone and waits for a customer to announce their presence, but I’m not going to do that. I’ve got time today and I like to observe. He still has the shaved head, and large protruding brow. His thick, dark lashes frame brown eyes that are always looking for an easy way out of any situation. His mouth is small and surrounded by dark scruff, looking like he needs to shave. He’s not tall at all, I tower over him at six foot-two inches, but he’s wide and he keeps his physique maintained, in case he needs to hold someone down or rape a few girls.
The weight of my stare must penetrate that thick skull of his because he finally looks up from his phone and locks eyes with me. He looks surprised and he swallows rapidly, his protruding Adam’s apple bobbing against the thin skin of his throat. After the retaliation that put Brian in the hospital, I threatened Jack I’d be back for him. I bet that’s what he’s remembering now as he looks around frantically.
“Relax,” I soothe, “I’m not here to hurt you, although you deserve it. I’m here to find out about the shit going on at your school.”
“The rapes?” He raises a brow, “what would I know about that?”
“Should know enough because people are talking.”
“Talking about what?” his eyes widen.
“You, Jack. How shifty you look and how suspicious you act.”
“People are saying that?” He stands up straighter.
“Yeah,” my head bobs, “I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re named a person of interest soon.”
“I’m not though!” He exclaims as his eyes stay trained on mine and with worry written in his features.
Fuck, he’s telling the truth. At least I’m fairly certain he is, but who knows what a person is capable of. Some make lying a part of their skillset, like myself. But I don’t know if he has the intelligence to accomplish that, so for now, he’s telling the truth.
“But you probably have heard a few things, huh?” My fingers snap, the noise jarring him, “I know, you probably look suspicious because you know more than what you’re saying.” I tap on the counter and push off, “anyway, thought I would come by and tell you, because that fear in your eyes? Delicious.” I start walking back through the grocery store and out through the exit.
Today I drove the Mercedes with the need to be a bit more surreptitious. I climb inside and sit, tapping my fingers on the wheel. Jack doesn’t disappoint me when a few minutes later, he’s rushing out of the store. I love when a person lives up to the stupidity marker placed on them, the vindication feels so good. I rub at my chest and revel in the swell of pride. I was made for this life.
He jumps into his beat-up Ford pickup truck and burns his tires as he races out of the parking lot. I let him rush out and leisurely follow behind. There’s no way I can lose that clunky hunk of metal. Besides, I’m certain he’ll head to one of two places. His house or Brian Cox. Jack has never been one to do anything on his own and if he’s the rapist, I would assume Brian Cox is his partner. It’s not going to make sense to many people because Brian doesn’t attend university at the Toronto Campus. No, he’s taking college courses here at home because he’s still recouping. Bet that pisses him off.
Here we are, turning onto Brian’s street, and once again, my chest is expanding to twice its size. I can’t help it, I’m the Sherlock Holmes of my time, and Moriarty doesn’t stand a fucking chance. Yeah, it’s cocky as hell but tell me I’m wrong.
Jack quickly turns into Brian’s driveway, parking beside a black Jeep Cherokee, and Brian opens his front door as I’m driving by. His arms out at his sides, looking like he’s questioning Jack’s presence. I keep on driving, not needing to see anything further, and already having most of my suspicions confirmed.
“Does any of the security team have any connections to Jack Taylor or Brian Cox?” I ask Uncle Emmett while sitting in front of his desk. With each passing day, he’s looking more and more exhausted.
“We looked into the connection with Jack but why would we do it for Brian, Saxon?” He rubs the heel of his palm into his eyes, “I know what he did to you, but he’s been here in Whitsborough this whole time, he doesn’t go to school in Toronto.”
“Logically, most humans place blame on situations or other people they hate the quickest, it’s a biased world, but not me. Brian would already be dead if that’s what I wanted, there would be no need for a reason. I spoke to Jack, accused him of looking suspicious, and insinuated he could be called in as a person of interest.”
“What?” Uncle Emmett leans forward, “you can’t do that, Saxon!”
“Yes, I can. I’m a civilian and have a right to my opinion.”
He falls back into his chair and rubs his eyebrows, “what happened?”
“He professed his innocence and then I suggested maybe he knew the person doing it.” I lean onto his desk, “guess whose house he drove to not ten minutes later.”
“Brian’s?” his brows crash together, “they could’ve just been discussing how you’re stalking Jack.”
“Just for my piece of mind—whether I’m a stalker or not—can you please look and see if Brian has any connections with the security detail?”
“Yeah, I will.” He nods, and I stand.
“I’ll check back in with you next weekend, if anything comes up, call me.”
“Will do. Tell everyone I say ‘hello’.”
I walk out of the station and straight to the Mercedes. Uncle Emmett is concerned about my suspicions, understandably, but if I wanted lasting revenge on Brian, I’d slip into his house in the dead of night and paint his walls red with his blood. It would be much easier than planning this large elaborate scheme that isn’t even guaranteed to work. I want to solve the crime publicly and put someone behind bars for once. The town of Whitsborough needs to see the evidence that they’re cared for.
I settle in and begin the long trek to New York. This drive isn’t my favourite; I hate being in a seat for so long and get antsy as I mull over everything needing to be done, but instead the time is lost to a commute.
Amelia
I’ve been embarrassed to go back to the library. Saxon and his big mouth, spewing all the immature shit I did in high school. Remembering the petty person I used to be, only reminds me of how far I’ve come. My exterior was toughened from an early age because I had an older sister who would torture me on a daily basis. Charlotte was insufferable and as more time went on, my hardened exterior hindered me from letting anyone else get too close.
So yes, I was an asshole all throughout high school and when I fell in love with Saxon’s older sister Ivy, that exterior cracked a little, only to be blasted with more pain when she fell in love with my brother. Saxon had a front row seat and watched the spiteful woman I became. But when everything came out about Charlotte’s death and Ivy’s role in it, I vowed to change my ways, to be a better person.
Saxon’s been busy these last few years and even though we still see each other, it’s not nearly enough for him to see the changes I’ve made. He still sees me as a snobby girl he went to high school with and although I shouldn’t care about his opinion, I do. Too much. We’ve always had this strange connection. He draws me in because he’s so different and indifferent. He doesn’t judge, yet he’s always observing, and he’s always honest, no matter who it hurts. I respect him.
I’m standing in front of the library and watching as the security team installs new cameras. It’ll be a deterrent from the attacks happening here but it’s only a Band-Aid on the problem. There are plenty of other areas on campus where attacks can happen and right under people’s noses. I step inside and head to her desk. Cordelia is an enigma. She might like having me around, but she never says as much. I catch her looking at me for long periods of time, but she doesn’t seem to want to make a move.
She’s a lot older than me and pursuing her would be dangerous to her job, but she’s not a teacher. If I knew for a fact my feelings were reciprocated, I’d take the risk.
She’s in the same spot she always is, and her cute little nose is stuck in yet another book. She’s an introvert and loves to lose herself in romance novels about the wild west. I love how quirky she is and was shocked to see how confident she was when speaking to Saxon. And when she said she liked him? I wanted to punch him in the face, I’ve been waiting for a sign from her like that. But for me!
She doesn’t move as I lean on the desk and wait, she knows I’m here, she’s not obtuse, she’s just not going to stop reading until she’s finished the scene.
“Hi, Amelia.” Her voice is like the softest purr from a feline, and it hits me in the chest.
“Hi, Cory.” She hates that name, I can see it in the wrinkle appearing between her brows. I continue to do it to get a rise out of her, but it never works. Cordelia has a lot of self-control. Too much self-control.
“How’s school been?” She finally looks up at me, “are you staying safe?”
I have a dorm room on campus, and have been keeping safe, not staying out beyond the sun setting. It’s stifling.
“Yes, are you worried about me?” I push.
“I’m worried about everyone.” She brushes me off and I exhale audibly, making one of my curls bounce on my forehead.
“Midterms are next week, are you here to study?” Her brow quirks, and I grin at her.
“I should be, but wanted to waste some time talking to you instead.” I’m laying it on thick this time, so much time has been wasted because of subtly.
“You shouldn’t,” she responds abruptly and lifts her book back up, “go study.”
The quick rejection has me straightening up and my chest heating with embarrassment. Maybe she’s straight and I’ve been wasting my time chasing after her. Usually, my gaydar is on point though and it was firing on all pistons for her. It’s the way she looks at me, the way she checks out females, and I even saw her on a date once, with a woman. It was that night I decided I was going to have her.
“Amelia,” she warns, “I’m at a good part of the book, go study.”
“Fine.” I slap the wooden top and stride to a table in the back.
She gets to face my back today, which I rarely do because catching her watching me is my favourite thing to do in this library. Making it obvious I’ve caught her, and watching the blush coat her cheeks is always worth it. This time, I don’t care to see any of it and to be completely honest, it’s time I fucking moved on. I’ve wasted nearly a year chasing this woman and it’s time to face the truth, she’s just not that into me. Maybe I should suggest setting her up with Saxon, she seemed to be all the way into him.
I settle in and pull off my jean jacket. It’s hard to predict the weather during springtime here and light jackets are needed well into June. I wore a V-neck top today, one with a very deep V for her, and now it’s wasted. I’ve seen her checking out my chest a lot, I have a great set of tits, and bought this top for her. Fucking waste.
The first textbook opened is Social Studies, after the turmoil my sister Charlotte went through, I’ve decided to make my major Social Work. I want to help children before they self-medicate and be the adult they can turn to when they have no other options. It breaks my heart to know Ivy lived with a mountain of guilt and let people blame her, just to protect my sister's memory.
Saving children like Charlotte who feel all alone is my motivation to study. More social workers are needed every day. Understanding ones, observant ones, and ones willing to risk it all to help. That’s going to be me. I open my book and grab a curl in my hand, wrapping it around my finger.
“Amelia?” Her buttery soft voice cuts up my reading and I lift my eyes to her ice blue orbs. “You should be leaving now,” she looks around at the few lingering students, all males. “It’s getting late.”
With a slight nod, I focus back on my textbook, “they have cameras installed now, Cordelia.” Full name, full irritation.
“They won’t be functioning until tomorrow night.” She gives it right back.
“I’m almost done with this chapter; besides, security has spent the majority of their time at the library. Nothing is going to happen.”
She huffs with frustration and stomps away, her heels clicking on the library tile. I feast my eyes on her as she leaves, her plump ass swaying and the silk fabric of her dress clinging to it perfectly. But I’m not the only one watching and it sets my heart into a quick hammer. There are three guys left in here and they all have their eyes on Cordelia. I swallow down thickly and close my book; she would make the easiest target because she leaves the latest.
I get it, it’s students who've been attacked, females younger than Cordelia, but there’s no mistaking her appeal, and she just threw a chunk of bleeding meat in front of sharks. There’s no forgetting her ass; it’s not often she comes out from behind the desk, but fuck when she does? Poetic.
I stare at the few guys who continue to watch her and sweat begins to form at my temples. I can’t leave her here alone. She leaves through the rear entrance because her car is parked at the back lot for teachers and staff.
The guy closest to me is a fourth-year student and I know him well enough; I’ve been attending this school for three years; I recognize most faces. Besides the fact that I never see him in here, he’s a fucking jock. Trust me, I know they study, and I’m being a judgmental dick, but this one is never in here.
Jordan Ames wasn’t one of the guys on her list, though. So maybe he’s just appreciating the view. He does dip his head back down and begins highlighting the page again. But the other two are still watching, and fucking Cordelia makes it even worse when she bends over to grab something from her bottom drawer. Most of her ass is behind the desk, but we’re getting a beautiful view of her back as it dips down at her tailbone, then arches up over the most beautiful lady bump.
Brandon Cornell is watching her instead of the textbook in front of him and when he pulls out a cell phone to send a text, my stomach tightens with fear. She named him first and I’m sure there was a reason. Does he come in here often to watch her? Does she feel unsafe each night but too afraid to say anything?
I get up from my table and stalk over to her desk just as she sits back up, another fucking historical romance in her hands.
“I would suggest you fucking keep your ass on the chair,” her eyes widen at my tone, “you’re putting on quite the show for the men sitting here studying.”
She leans to look over my shoulder and then rolls her eyes, “if you’re worried about Cornell, don’t be. I’ve taken my taser out many nights to test its batteries, he knows I’m packing.”
“There are two of them, Cory.”
“I think I’m outside of their usual standards, don’t you?” She’s talking about her age and a rush of anger plows through me.
“You are fucking gorgeous!” I snap, “with a killer body and a banging ass. I can barely keep my own fucking eyes off you!”
“Oh,” she breathes and covers her mouth with her hand. Recognition dawning in her eyes. Fuck’s sake.
“For someone so intelligent,” I back up, “you really are stupid.”
I get back to my table and take a seat. It’s fifteen minutes until closing and Brandon is the first to pack up and leave, eyeing Cordelia as he goes. Then the guy who had himself sitting in the far, darkened corner packs up, and when he walks by her, he gives her a slight nod.
Now it’s down to me and Jordan, who’s deep inside his textbook.
“Five minutes,” Cory calls out and Jordan startles as he looks over at me.
He closes his book and puts it in his bag, taking his time to put his athletic jacket on. The way he’s taking his time is putting me off, and just as I’m about to call him out on it, he’s walking to my table.
“Amelia, right?” He has the lightest amber eyes I have ever seen. I’ve never looked at Jordan this close up before.
“Yes.” I nod.
He brushes his chin length, light brown hair behind his ear, and gives me a shy smile, “I was wondering if you’re doing anything tonight?”
I’m speechless as I peer up into his golden eyes, he’s asking me out?
“Studying?” It’s a question, as I hold up the textbook.
“Right,” he nods and looks around. “Could I get your number and maybe we can hang out another time?”
Her eyes are boring into the side of my head and I’m cursing her for being here to bear witness to an embarrassing moment.
“Fine.” I’m surprised when the words fall from my lips, “I’ll take your number.”
“Guys!” Cordelia calls, “closing! Amelia, I need your help with some returns.”
I roll my lips between my teeth to stop the smirk from appearing and then gaze back up to Jordan.
“I’ll see you around.”
“Okay,” he turns to look at Cordelia, “I didn’t know you worked here.”
“I help out,” apparently.
“Okay, I’ll see you around anyways, not like I don’t know where to find you.” Creepy. He grins and heads on out of the library, saying a quick goodbye to Cordelia.
Who looks on the verge of exploding.
Cordelia
Doesn’t she know any of these guys could be the rapist? Yet here she is humouring a boy who could very likely be waiting for her out front with one of his other jock friends.
Besides, didn’t she say she thought I was hot? Shaking the thought from my head, I remind myself I’m double her age. More than double actually, I’ll be forty-five next month. I’m not a cradle-robber and I’m not going to think of that ever again, it’s wiped from my thoughts. I won’t be caught dating a student here, nor will I ever date someone so young. A random Tinder date is good enough.
Jordan leaves the library, finally, and Amelia turns her amused reddish-brown eyes on me. She has beautiful eyes, framed by naturally thick black lashes and her mouth, it must’ve been sculpted by Satan because God would’ve kept her to himself. Satan wanted to unleash her to cause havoc on all our mundane lives. She’s beautiful inside and out and I've always been intrigued by her.
“Cory, what returns am I putting away for you?” She calls me out with that little flirty smile of hers. I hate when she calls me Cory, it takes my wonderfully feminine name and makes me sound like an adolescent boy.
I kick out the small cart on wheels from behind my desk and don’t feel an ounce of embarrassment when there’s only six books on it. The other problem with the verbal diarrhea spewing from my mouth? Amelia knows nothing about the Dewey Decimal system.
“Never mind,” I shake my head when she gives the six books a pointed look. “I’ll call security to come walk you to your dorm.”
“No,” she shakes her head, and another golden-brown curl falls from the messy bun on her head, “you can’t be here alone.”
“I’m always here alone,” I come out from behind the desk with my cell phone. Campus security has asked me to call them if there’s anything suspicious but I’m sure they could help a student back to her dorm.
“I won’t leave until I’m certain you’re safe, too.” Those cat shaped eyes of hers narrow on me.
I should be annoyed, and calling security regardless of what she’s saying. I’m old enough to be her mother and she shouldn’t have a say about how the library is closed up. Instead, I put my cell phone on the desk with a quiet, “suit yourself.”
I drag the cart down the first aisle and grab up Homer's Odyssey, slipping it into the proper spot. All along the aisles she follows me, quiet and observing. I like that about her, she’s bright and she watches. It’s what I liked about her friend Saxon, too. Smart kids, both of them.
“How long have you known that Saxon guy?” I ask as the final book is put away.
“I knew it.” She grumbles and I stop to look at her.
“Knew what?”
“You have a thing for him.” She huffs and rolls her eyes. “He’s younger than me, you know.”
“I do not have a thing for him.” I shake my head and push the cart back to my desk. “You’re sounding like a child.”
She gasps and I cringe at the sound, maybe that was a little harsh.
“I guess I am a child, huh?” She grabs up her bag, “are you almost done here? I’ll walk you to your car.”
“Yeah, and I’ll drop you off at your dorm.” I reply and smile when she doesn’t argue. At least she has some trepidation about the situation. I don’t want to learn she’d been attacked because she thought it could never happen to her.
I lock up the front door and peer out of the window into the darkened path. The trees are overgrown here, and the path is so narrow, it needs to be cleared. Security cameras aren’t going to do much if they are obstructed by large pine trees.
“Do you see something?” Her soft voice appears to my right as she glances out the window.
“No, that’s what worries me. This area is completely covered with trees.”
“Hmm.” She says as she tries to see by cupping her hand around her face. “It certainly is hard to see anything.”
“I’ll speak to the faculty tomorrow; I don’t see how the cameras will do much.” I step away from the door, “they should’ve taken that into account, but I’ll talk to them anyway.”
I don’t understand how they didn’t look through the trees and determine a camera won’t see if someone is yanked between them. The students who were attacked weren’t done so on the front path. They were hauled off into the trees. There’s a pit forming in my gut, and I can’t shake it, those cameras won’t stop anything.
“You look pale,” Amelia’s rich sepia skin is a startling contrast to my pale one as her hand wraps around my wrist.
“I don’t get out much,” I shrug, and she laughs.
“More than usual, Cory.” She murmurs and looks over her shoulder to the door again. “What were you thinking about?”
“Those cameras aren’t going to do shit,” I answer her truthfully, and her head swings around quickly to look at me. “I need you to be careful Amelia, no more coming here late at night.”
“I’ll be coming here every night to make sure you get out okay.” She says softly as she holds my hand.
It’s instantaneous combustion, or an internal explosion, whatever it is has me tugging her closer, and dropping my gaze to her lips. Her tongue snakes out to run along the smooth surface, and I can hear the hitch in my breathing, my chest inflating.
“Cordelia,” my full name said in a breathy tone, has me stepping into her, our bodies touching. Her warm breath fans against my mouth as I lean in, needing to see if that internal explosion is warranted.
It is.
When our lips brush, every inch of my skin erupts with pleasure, and I grip her hand tighter. She moans, pressing in harder, and I open on a gasp, surprised when her tongue flicks against my lip.
I pull back, my heart pounding, and rub my thumb to my lips. Her other hand slips from the column of my neck. When did it get there?
“Let’s go,” she smiles. While she drags me behind her, I turn off all the lights, and we stop at the back door, looking out into the pitch-black parking lot.
“You do this alone each night?” She looks at me incredulously.
“I did,” I shrug, “now security comes around if they get the chance.”
“Never again.” She grits her teeth and tightens her hold, “get the taser ready, just in case.”
I pull it out of my purse and hold it in my other hand, not occupied by Amelia’s warm grip. She pulls open the door and holds out her hand, “keys.”
The library’s backdoor automatically locks once it’s shut, so it’s imperative I make sure my belongings are all with me, or else I have to walk around to the front to get back in. Amelia grips my key fob and presses the lock button, making my car’s lights illuminate. The beep is loud and shrill in the heavy silence around us. There’s no chirp of a bird, no cricket stridulation, and not even the rustle of leaves. Nothing.
A bead of sweat rolls down the back of my neck, slipping down toward my tailbone. I swallow thickly and let Amelia quickly lead me straight to the car. Silence has its own sound, it’s a low hum vibrating your eardrums and igniting your heart, sending it crashing into your ribcage with resounding thumps. It echoes out of your chest and into the space around you, bringing your fear aflame. It burns hot inside of you, making your skin slick and your mouth dry. Your whole body catches like dry kindling, and you lose all thoughts as the pain of your fear drives you.
My breathing becomes rapid, and my eyes lose focus, as the pitch-black around us closes in. “Almost there, Cory.” Amelia says, but her voice is drowned out by the loud silence blanketing us.
There’s a loud crack of a twig snapping, and Amelia suddenly stops, causing me to plow into her back.
“Keep moving,” I growl and give her a shove.
“I think I see someone.”
“Amelia,” I push her again, my chest ready to explode with fear, “go!”
And she does, she takes off, her hand still firmly in mine. Our feet hit the pavement just as another snap sounds and the soles of our shoes bang along the concrete.
“Almost.” She’s as frantic as I feel, and when she lifts my keys to unlock the car, they drop from her fingers. The sound of them crashing to the pavement is loud and the rattle startles a short scream from me. She bends to grab them, but I hear footsteps right behind us.
I turn just as a large hand lands on my shoulder and I scream so loud the shrill noise echoes into the distance.
“Miss Cordelia,” the panting security guard steps back and holds up his hands. “Sorry to scare you. I came to make sure you get to your car; you’re not supposed to leave without giving us a call.”
“Sorry,” I hold a hand to my rattling chest and shoot a quick look at Amelia. She looks on the verge of passing out, “you startled me. Yes, I will call you from now on.”
“I’ll wait here until you get to your car.” He says and gives me a small smile.
“Thank you,” I murmur and grab Amelia’s shoulder, turning her around, “let's get you back to the dorms.”
We get inside the car, and I lock it quickly, both of us breathing heavily in the silent car. We watch as the security guard disappears around the side of the library, and I finally let out a small chuckle. Amelia’s hair has fallen out of her bun and it’s cascading down her shoulders and back in a curtain of brown to golden ombre curls. She looks at me in shock and then belts out a laugh, the sound having me join in.
“Why are we laughing?” She asks as she tries to gather her breath and wipes the moisture from the sides of her eyes.
“A reaction from our adrenaline crashing.” I shrug as I pull out of the spot and drive her to her dorm.
“I was petrified.” She nods.
I stop in front of her dorm, and it’s lit up with multiple lamps illuminating the short walk to the doors.
“I’ll wait here until you get inside.” I whisper as she continues to stare at me.
My gaze flicks between her eyes and her mouth, both so sinful.
“I’ll be back tomorrow night.”
Before I can protest, she leans over and kisses me on the lips, just grazing my mouth, but again I lose all sense. My fingers slip into her curls, and I bring her closer, my tongue seeking entrance at the seam of her lips. She opens, her tongue eagerly searching out mine and for the first time in my life, I make out in a car.
Her hand skims down my throat and over my chest, settling on my breast. I feel my nipple tighten as she grabs a handful, her thumb flicking over its hardened peak.
Then as fast as it starts, it’s over, as she gets out of the car and jogs up the steps to her dorm.
Nothing good can come from this.