by Angie Martin
“That’s my family,” Jonathan said. “Brothers and sisters, nieces and nephews.”
She noticed a black and white photograph in the center of the pictures. An older house was in the background, but the focus of the picture was a toddler standing barefoot on a gravel driveway. His too-small pants had holes over both knees, his shirt looked stained, and he had a smudge of dirt next to his unsmiling mouth. She stroked the glass over the boy.
“I was two years old in that picture. I keep it up there to remind myself where I came from.”
It was an interesting glimpse into the world of Jonathan Thomas. She wanted to know more, but there was no time for that.
Rachel spun around at his presence behind her. Her breathing rattled in her lungs, and she let him take the gun from her hands.
He placed the gun on the desk behind him and turned back toward her. “Do you have any concept of how beautiful you are?” he asked. He lifted her chin and touched his lips to hers. His fingers moved through her hair and the other hand traveled around to her back. His hand tightened on her back and he pulled her closer to him.
Pain zapped her out of her blissful state. She broke away from him, and tried not to cry out. The blood drained from her face and her muscles tightened.
“What is it?” Jonathan asked, his brow creased.
“This is wrong. We shouldn’t be doing this.”
“That’s not it. You look like you’re in pain. Are you hurt?”
“Nothing happened,” she said.
His expression became suspicious. “I didn’t ask you what happened. I asked if you were hurt.”
She wanted him to stop probing. She couldn’t let him find out what Donovan had done. “I’m not hurt.”
His eyes searched hers. “I don’t understand. Why are you lying to me?” His frown deepened when she didn’t reply. “You were okay until I touched your back. Did you hurt yourself?”
“I’m fine.”
“Stop lying to me.”
Rachel folded her arms and scratched at an invisible itch under her sleeve. “I’m fine,” she repeated.
Jonathan took her arm and pulled it toward him. Her right sleeve had shifted when she crossed her arms, exposing her chafed wrist. Jonathan pushed up her sleeve and examined the healing red circle around her wrist. “What in the—”
She snatched her arm back from him and pushed her sleeve down over her wrist.
“Rachel, turn around.”
“No.”
He took her arm again, but didn’t tighten his grip so as to hurt her. He stressed each word he spoke. “Turn around.”
Rachel bit her bottom lip and rotated. She closed her eyes and bowed her head. He took the sides of her shirt and raised it. He held the material up for a moment and then lowered it back down. She turned around.
His eyes shifted away from her, and rage boiled beneath the surface of his wavering voice. “Why?” he asked.
“It doesn’t matter anymore. It’s over.”
“Why?” he yelled.
“It’s over!”
“It’s because of me, isn’t it? Because of what I told King? Or did someone see us together on the estate? Is that what happened?”
His words made her uncomfortable, and she wished she had never come. “It doesn’t matter now.”
“It does too matter. A person cannot...he cannot do that to you.” He took his cellphone out of his front pocket. “I’m calling the police.”
“No!” She grabbed his arm. “You can’t do that. Promise me you won’t do that.”
“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t.” As soon as the words left his lips, understanding crossed his face, and he glanced at the gun on the desk. “Exactly what kind of work do you do for King?”
“I am security at the estate. I didn’t lie about that.” She ran her tongue over her dry lips, and guilt consumed her. “I’m also a thief. I can pick any lock and crack any safe.”
He returned his phone to his pocket. “You didn’t break in here tonight to steal something. Have you killed many people?”
“Too many.”
“I see.” He took a deep breath. “How long have you worked for King?”
“About ten years now, since I was thirteen.”
“You started picking locks when you were thirteen?”
“That’s when I was taught how to do it. I moved to the estate when I was ten, after my parents died. My uncle works for Donovan.”
“Let me see if I understand. After your parents died, you went to live with your uncle who happens to work for King. And King took advantage of that and trained you as a thief and a killer. Then he what, trained you as his mistress, too?”
“It was never like that,” she said. “There’s love.”
Sadness claimed his eyes. “What he did to you, Rachel, that’s not love. There’s nothing even remotely similar to love in what he did.”
“Jonathan, I’m a professional thief and a contract killer. Maybe I don’t deserve love.”
He brushed the tears off her cheeks. “Yes, you do. You deserve it more than anyone I’ve ever known.” He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her again. Breaking away from her, he lowered his head. “How long has he been hurting you?”
Everything Jonathan said confused her, and heartache sliced through her chest. She didn’t want to talk about any of this, didn’t want to admit that everything Donovan did to her was wrong. She had explained away his actions for so long that she believed it was okay for him to do those things, that she deserved all of it.
Her eyes moved around the room in search of something to focus on to avoid looking at Jonathan. “Over four years now,” she said. “Since I was nineteen.”
Jonathan’s eyes dampened, but his body remained tense with anger. “Is this the first time that he...that he did...” He gestured toward her.
“Yes,” she said. “That was the first time, and it’s the last time.”
Jonathan clamped his hands together in front of his waist. “Well, you’re leaving him. That’s the most important thing. I guess I’ll work on getting you that money.” He sat behind the desk and worked on his computer.
Rachel kept her eyes lowered, not wanting to see the anger in his hard eyes and clenched jaw. She consulted her watch every few minutes to keep track of the time.
“What name do you want this under?” he asked.
“I don’t care. Make something up.”
“Make something up,” he repeated. He lifted his eyes and studied her face. “Of course.” He started typing again.
“What?”
“Angel Thomas.”
“Interesting.”
“I think it’s perfect.” After several more minutes of rushed typing, Jonathan clicked the mouse and the printer beside his desk responded. He leaned back in his chair and examined her, his face now expressionless.
Rachel tried to ignore his inspection of her. So many things he said made sense to her, and she questioned what she thought she had with Donovan. Part of her wanted to scream at Jonathan for trying to open her eyes to the truth, for shredding her life apart within minutes. The rest of her wanted to collapse in his arms for protection.
The printer stopped, and he removed the pages it ejected. Standing up, he said, “I created two accounts. One is overseas and has the bulk of the money. The other is in the States, and has five thousand in it. When you transfer money from one account to the other, always make the transfers less than ten thousand and make them at least a month apart. As long as you’re not transferring large amounts of money day after day, the government won’t trace it.”
Rachel stored away the information in the back of her mind. She had never considered that taking large amounts out at once could call attention to her movements. Once she left, Donovan would do everything he could to find her and get her back, and she needed to stay off his radar.
Jonathan handed the pages to her. “Here is all the information you need to get to the money.”
The first pa
ge showed the account with five thousand dollars as the balance. She turned to the second page, and her lips parted with surprise. The balance of the overseas account was five thousand short of five million dollars. “Five million dollars?” she asked. She read the balance again to make sure it was right. She raised her eyes to his. “I don’t understand.”
“I want to make sure you’ll be taken care of.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“You demanded one million dollars so I could live to see another day. The way I see it, I bought myself five days. But according to my accountant, I made an anonymous donation to a private battered women’s shelter. He’ll have a coronary working out the details.” He shrugged. “Or maybe I won’t tell him about this at all. That might be best.”
Battered woman. Is that what she was? She had never heard the term before, but she knew exactly what it meant. In that instant, every bruise, every punch, every backhand, and every crack of the whip came alive on her body at once.
With trembling hands, she folded the pages Jonathan gave her and shoved them into her pocket. “That’s very generous of you,” Rachel said.
“It’s not generous,” he said. “It’s the only thing that’s right, the only thing that will let me sleep at night. Knowing you’re safe and he can never touch you again.”
He handed her a business card and pointed to a phone number he wrote on the back. “If you need me for anything, you can reach me directly at this number, twenty-four hours a day. It doesn’t matter what I’m doing or how late it is, I will always answer your call.”
Rachel took the card from him. “Thank you.” She grew uneasy as he moved closer to her. “I have to go,” she said.
“You don’t have to leave, Rachel. You can stay here with me. I can help you and I can take care of you.”
“I can’t stay.”
“It’s King, isn’t it? Please don’t tell me you still feel anything for him.”
“It has nothing to do with him,” she said.
“I know you must be experiencing a lot of confused emotions right now. I’m sure he told you he loved you before and after he did those terrible things to you, and I’m sure you believed him. Because you’ve been there so long, you probably don’t know any better. You also must be terrified of him after what he’s done to you, but I can make it so he will never hurt you again. I can protect you from him.”
Her lips tightened. “No, you can’t. No one can protect me from him.”
Jonathan held his hands up in resignation. “Go then. If that’s what you have to do.”
“It is.” Relief flowed through her, and she realized she had been holding her breath. He was allowing her to leave much easier than she had anticipated. “I have to do this on my own. Well, as much as possible, that is. I, uh...” She swallowed hard. “I wish things were different.”
“I understand.” He moistened his lips and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Rachel, be smart about your moves. Don’t stay in one place too long, and don’t put yourself in a position where he can find you.”
“Okay,” she said.
“This money comes with the condition that you will keep me updated on where you are. When you settle in somewhere, call that number and tell me. When you leave a city, call me before you go and let me know where you’re headed. If you are even slightly tempted to go back to him, call me and we’ll talk about it.”
He was doing far more to help her than she ever dreamed. “I will, Jonathan. I swear to you that I will.”
“Good,” he said. “It’s important that you keep me updated. Since you’ve lived at his estate for so long, no one knows that you exist. Outside of him, I’m the only one who knows you’re out there. But unlike him, I’m the only one who cares, and I’m the only one who can help keep you safe.”
Rachel believed his words, that he did care about her and would help her however he could to ensure her safety.
“When you’ve had a bit time to yourself to sort through some of this, I’ll come get you and take you far away from everything. If it’s too dangerous for you here, we’ll go somewhere else. We’ll leave the country if need be, but as long as I’m around, he will never touch you again.”
Her watch beeped, reminding her to leave, but she couldn’t stop herself from leaning into him and kissing him again. He put his hands on her arms and avoided touching her back, much as Donovan had done the day before. His kiss was much softer than Donovan’s, and she found it near impossible to stop kissing him.
She realized there was more waiting for her out in the world. Here she stood, kissing a man who promised to take care of her and to never hurt her. She didn’t know that was an option before tonight. She had been taught to believe that love and pain were synonymous.
Jonathan was right. She needed some time to sort through what she was feeling, but she would still do everything he asked of her, and make sure that he always knew where she was. When he did come to find her, she would go with him and trust him to keep her safe. She wanted to stay with him now, but Donovan would soon find out what she had done. This would be the first place he looked for her.
She ended their kiss, knowing she had to leave before Joe came in after her. “Listen to me, Jonathan. He wants you dead, and when he finds out you’re still alive, he’s going to come after you.”
“Don’t worry about me,” Jonathan said. “Only worry about yourself and getting somewhere safe.”
She thought about giving herself so freely to Donovan yesterday in the conference room for the purpose of convincing him to give her this job. “You don’t understand. I sold my soul to come here tonight.” Tears formed in her eyes, and she whispered, “Please don’t let him kill you. I don’t want you to die.”
“I’m not going anywhere, and I’m not going to die, not when there is so much to live for.” He touched her cheek. “It’s not too late for you to stay with me.”
“I’m sorry.” She picked up her gun from the desk. She gave him one more kiss before saying, “I’ll call you soon.” It took all her strength to turn and leave the room.
Chapter Sixty-two
“I’m going to get a beer. Want one?” Rachel asked Joe once they were back in the basement of the estate.
“You’re in good mood,” Joe said.
She was in the worst mood of her life, stressed she had gone too far to turn back, and anxious to finish her plan. Her thoughts rested with Jonathan, and she prayed he had enough sense to run before Donovan found out he was still alive.
Instead of displaying her real feelings, she smiled at Joe and said, “Of course I’m in a good mood. Donovan will be happy with our work tonight.”
“You’re right,” Joe said. “He’s wanted to eliminate Thomas for some time now.”
“So how about that beer?”
“Might as well.” He followed her into the kitchen.
Rachel took two beer bottles out of the stainless steel refrigerator and handed one to Joe. She opened the bottle and leaned forward on the island countertop. “One of us should check in with security and make sure they’re okay.”
He regarded her with suspicion. “You know I’m not supposed to leave you alone.”
“Come on, you left me alone at the Thomas house for almost an hour. If I was going to do anything, don’t you think it would have been then?”
“I don’t know,” he said.
“All you have to do is go grab your radio and call them. You’re going to leave me standing here by myself for five minutes, max. If I was going anywhere, I’d have to go all the way upstairs and right past you to get there. Besides, what can I possibly do in the time you’re gone? Finish this beer?”
Joe relaxed and laughed at his paranoia. “I guess you’re right. I’ll check in with security, since it is their first time out here. Need to make sure the estate is secure.” He left his beer on the counter and walked out of the kitchen.
Rachel reached into her pocket and removed five of the oval pills Paul gave her, saving
the rest for her to take later as needed. She took a butcher’s knife out of a drawer and rested the blade on top of the pills. She pressed the palm of her hand against the blade and smashed the medicine into a fine dust.
She gathered as much of the dust as she could and shoved it into his beer bottle. The liquid fizzed with the addition of the pills. “Dissolve, damn it,” she whispered to the bottle. She wiped the knife clean on her jeans and put it back in the drawer.
The last bubble floated to the top as the door opened and Joe came in. She was leaning against the counter again, smiling with her beer bottle next to her lips.
“Everything’s okay with security,” Joe said. “I think I’m going to finish this beer and then see if I can help outside.”
“Good idea.”
They stood in silence for a few minutes. Rachel tried to focus on her escape, but she could only think about Jonathan. She shouldn’t have left him behind unprotected. Donovan would go to him first to look for her, and he would not allow Jonathan to live. As soon as she made it away from the estate and found her way to a phone, she would have to call him and convince him to leave.
“You know, Rach,” Joe said, “I’m sorry about that whole thing. I didn’t want any of that to happen to you.”
She waved her hand. “It’s okay. You were doing your job.”
“I feel bad,” he said. “I’ve always considered you a friend, even when you were an obnoxious little rug rat. Well, maybe you weren’t that little.”
Racked by guilt over drugging him, she faltered. Joe was not responsible for Donovan’s actions, yet he stood between her and freedom. She recovered before he detected anything was wrong. “Don’t worry about it. It’s over now.” She looked at the level of his beer. Three-quarters gone. He was drinking much faster than she could have hoped.
Joe put a hand to his head. “Man, this is something else.”
“What’s wrong?”
“This beer is starting to hit me. I probably should have eaten more today.”
“Shouldn’t drink on an empty stomach. Do you want something to eat?”
“No, I should be okay.” Joe tilted the bottle and finished it. He walked to the other side of the kitchen to throw the bottle away.