THE BRIDGE TO CARACAS (Volume 1 of The King Trilogy)

CHAPTER 35

Karen was relaxing with a magazine in the living room when Servito entered. She placed her magazine on the glass coffee table and glared at him, waiting for him to explain why he had returned more than a day late.

He moved to sit on the couch beside Karen. Without a word, he reached into the vest pocket of his jacket and removed the white envelope containing Lanotti's photographs. He smirked as he lifted them from the envelope and lay them on the coffee table in front of her, one at a time.

Karen stared at the photographs in horror. Who could have taken them? Even more terrifying—what would her husband do next?

"You goddamned slut!" Servito shouted, his face purple with anger. He leaned toward her and grasped the hair at the back of her head with his left hand. He stood, and she had to follow the sharp pain on her scalp upward. He hit her mouth as hard as he could with his fist. The next blow hit her right cheekbone. Blood flowed from her mouth as he flung her backward onto the couch. She leaned forward and covered her face with her hands; drops of blood oozed through the gaps between her fingers.

"I hope you enjoyed your little fling with King," Servito said, and then flopped to the couch beside Karen. "It's over. You're done. I'm going to be watching you. You don't even want to think about what I'll do to you if I find out you've been with him again. It won't be quick, baby. It'll be slow and extremely painful. Do you understand me?"

Karen held her hands against her face and nodded.

Servito stood and pointed his index finger at his wife. "I'm only going to tell you this once, so you better listen. You are my wife and the mother of my son. That's the way it is, and that's the way it's going to stay. The alternative is totally unthinkable. God help you if you forget it!" he snarled. He glared at her one final time before turning and marching from the apartment with a slam of the door.

When Karen saw herself in the bathroom mirror, she wept. Her face and the front of her nightgown were splattered with blood. The skin below her right eye had turned to a bluish red and the lid had swollen nearly shut. Both lips were cut and swollen. Her hands trembled as she cleaned the blood from her face with a damp washcloth. The throbbing pain in her eye was like nothing she'd ever—suddenly it occurred to her that her husband might be on his way to Mike's apartment. She raced to the telephone beside her bed and dialed Mike's number. "Mike, it's Karen!" she shouted before Mike had a chance to speak. "Listen very carefully! Jim may be on his way to your apartment as I speak!"

"Why?"

"He knows. He had someone following us this week. He just showed me a lot of photographs of us, including pictures of us at the farm."

"Did he do anything to you?"

"He hit me and said he would do all kinds of nasty things to me if we see each other again."

"Stay right there. I'll be there in twenty minutes."

"Mike, you can't. He'll kill us if he sees you here. He really means it."

"I don't give a damn if he means it or not. I'll be there in twenty minutes." Mike hung up and ran to the door of his apartment. He could no longer live in fear of what Servito might do to Karen or himself—his only thought was to get her out of there. He pounded the elevator button, desperately trying to think of a way to escape Servito's terrible psychological vise.

Karen was waiting in the hallway outside Servito's penthouse. "Aw, shit!" Mike groaned when he saw what Servito had done to her. Suppressing his anger and frustration, he took her in his arms and led her into the apartment, and then closed and locked the door. "I can't understand how he could do this. What kind of animal is he?"

"I'm really scared, Mike," Karen said, her head pressed against his chest.

"You've got to get out of here. It's insane for you live with that bastard."

"Mike, I love you with all of my heart. There isn't anything I want more than to live with you, but I can't. Jim doesn't think like normal people. He'll kill us both, and he'll do it without remorse. Even if he doesn't, we'll be looking over our shoulders as long as he's alive. I don't think I have any choice. I have to stay here until we can find some way to get him out of the picture."

Servito's vise was now Karen's vise, and Mike's frustrations magnified two-fold. Even though the pain of accepting Karen's logic was excruciating, he acknowledged that his demand had been impulsive. "I should kill him myself," he said, venting some of his frustration. "Meanwhile, I'm taking you to a hospital."

Karen tried to smile. "You don't like my new facial?"

"I love you even more."

She shook her head. "Don't worry about me. It hurts, but I'll survive. I just called Dan Lazari. He's a dear friend and the best plastic surgeon at Toronto General. He's on his way here now—he lives in the other penthouse."

"Then I'll stay until he gets here."

"You can't, Mike. It's too dangerous."

"I can't go. Leaving you now offends every fiber of my existence. I need—"

Karen placed the tips of her fingers against Mike's lips. "Go," she demanded. "Just think of it as an investment in our future."

Mike hated to leave. It offended every fiber of his ego, but he knew his continued presence endangered Karen. He had never experienced the level of anger he felt at that moment. He had always been able to navigate any problem, but this one seemed beyond his grasp. Was there nothing he could do?

He hugged her and kissed her gently on her swollen lips. "I keep forgetting how tough you are," he said, grinning bravely. "I'll go, but I won't be far away...I love you too much."

"Me too, you...be careful."