by Angie Martin
She decided the drugs weren’t working fast enough and she needed to take further action if she was going to get away. She gulped down the rest of her beer. Her eyes watered from the bitterness on her tongue and she shivered. “Do you mind getting me another one?” she asked, as she started toward him.
Joe shrugged and opened the refrigerator. When he leaned over to grab another bottle, Rachel walked up behind him and broke the empty bottle over his head. He fell to the floor, unconscious. Kneeling beside him, she checked his pulse, and then kissed his cheek. “I’m so sorry, Joe,” she said, as if he could hear her. “I hope you understand that I had to do this.”
Rachel removed two bottled waters out of the fridge and ran down the hall to her room. She pulled a few sets of fresh clothes out of her dresser and threw them into her black duffel bag along with the bottled water. On top of the clothes, she laid down wire cutters and the baseball cap her dad bought her before he died.
She rushed into her bathroom and grabbed some personal items to add to the bag. From her closet, she removed a small compass and a penlight, and put both into her pocket. She also took her stethoscope that she used for safecracking.
Rachel checked the safety on her gun, and laid it down on her bed. That was a part of this life she was not taking with her. She would have to pick up a different gun for protection somewhere along the way.
With everything she needed to survive for a couple of days in her duffel bag, she raced upstairs to Donovan’s room with the bag slung over her shoulder and her stethoscope in her hand. She would need money until she could retrieve what Jonathan had given her, and Donovan kept money and valuables from recent jobs in a safe in his bedroom.
Rachel hesitated in front of his door. In over thirteen years, she had never set foot inside this room. She opened the door and flipped the light switch. It was a typical bedroom. She let out the breath she was holding. “What were you expecting?” she asked herself. “A coffin instead of a bed?”
As she looked around, the similarity to her own bedroom struck her. Both of their rooms had no more furniture than required. No paintings or photographs hung on the walls, no rugs or plants sat on the hardwood floor. It was as if he didn’t want the distractions of material possessions when he retired at night, and he longed for the same peace Rachel did when she retreated to her room to gather her thoughts.
There were three closed doors in his room, and she found his safe behind the first door she tried. On impulse, she pulled down the safe’s handle, smiling as the door opened to reveal money. He had forgotten to spin the dial the last time he closed the safe.
She put her stethoscope in her bag, and grabbed as many banded stacks of bills as her bag would hold. She closed the safe door, but didn’t spin the dial in case he left it open on purpose. She didn’t want him to know right away that she had taken anything.
On her way out of his room, she glanced back at his bed. On it laid the jacket he wore before he changed clothes for the Pierson job. She moved to the bed and lifted the jacket, despite the screaming objections inside of her.
She closed her eyes and pressed the material to her face, inhaling the warm, inviting scent that was distinctly him. It filled her heart as well as her lungs, and placed tantalizing thoughts in her head.
She didn’t have to leave. She could stay and it would be okay in the end. She could easily explain her actions to him and he would forgive her, as she had forgiven him so many times before. After all, he loved her and he was sorry this time for the way he had hurt her. He would change and it would never happen again. Maybe things could go back to the way they were in the beginning. Or maybe they would be better than ever before.
She opened her eyes and put the jacket back down, eyeing it as if it was the embodiment of evil. As good as it sounded, she knew it would never happen and there was still the matter of Jonathan. She had left him alive and Donovan wanted him dead. Donovan would be furious to know she hadn’t completed the job. Then there were those pesky feelings she had for Jonathan. It was better for her to leave and start her life over. No more rounds, no more jobs, no more guilt.
No more pain.
At the bottom of the stairs, she stopped to consider which exit to use: the front door, the back door, or a side window. She decided on a side window, knowing there would be security near the back entrance of the house, and the front lights were much too bright.
Without thinking, she entered the waiting room. As she moved toward the nearest window, she forced herself to not look at the cases on the wall. One of them contained the whip that marred her back. She pushed the curtain aside and unlocked the window. She threw her bag outside and followed it, closing the window behind her.
Rachel crept toward the back of the house. A security guard stood in front of her and another paced fifty feet to her left, ignoring the normal patrol patterns. Their incompetence outraged her because it impeded her plan. There was nothing she could do but wait for one of them to move.
The guard in front of her surprised her by walking over to the other security guard and starting a conversation. She ducked behind a tree next to where he had been standing. A branch broke beneath her feet. She held still, ready to fight anyone who came near her tree. After an agonizing moment, she peeked around the tree, but the two men had not budged.
Rachel used the shadows and darkness to transport her to the back of the property. When she reached the fence, she dug the wire cutters out of her bag and went to work, cutting several slits large enough for her to fit through.
She put the cutters back in her bag and climbed through the fence. Already exhausted, her muscles ached with tension. She glanced back at the estate through the fence, and battled the strong impulse to turn around and go back to the world she knew. She could still change her mind, no matter what consequences she would face when Donovan returned. No punishment could be worse than what he had already inflicted on her.
But she couldn’t go back. Despite her fatigue, exhilaration flowed through her veins. She was free.
She pulled the compass and penlight out of her pocket and turned east. She looked ahead at the woods in front of her. The sound of Jonathan’s piano played in her head.
She ran.
Part Three
Chapter Sixty-three
It was impossible.
Maybe Paul was mistaken. Maybe he was talking about someone else, but not Rachel.
How many people did Paul say she had killed?
Mark closed his eyes. He thought of Rachel’s slender fingers, and the ability they had to send electricity through his body every time she touched him. He found it difficult to believe those same fingers could pull the trigger of a gun and end the life of another human being.
But as much as he tried to deny it, he knew it was true. Everything Paul said was consistent with the Rachel he knew. The pieces of the puzzle blended and completed the picture. He hated what he saw and was disgusted by his reaction to it. Something shifted within him, and for the first time in his life, rage filled him.
Rachel was not the target of his anger. He told her nothing could change his love for her and he meant it. He couldn’t hold her responsible. Raised a criminal, she had no chance at a normal life. She had been manipulated and broken by a man who controlled her with the slightest jerk of her strings.
Mark couldn’t understand how one man could have so much influence and control over other people. He thought of Paul’s seeming inability to interfere and help Rachel. He had been powerless to do anything but turn his back and ignore her muffled screams. Mark wished he could travel back in time and rip her out of that world.
And now she was back in it.
He looked up as Paul entered the room. Paul offered a stressed smile. “You don’t look so good,” he said.
Mark lifted his hand to his forehead. His eyes glassed over, and exhaustion tugged on every part of his body. “You just told me the woman I love killed people because that’s what she was raised to do. How the hell am I supposed
to look?”
“I know it’s a lot to sort through,” Paul said. “I wish I could have told you a different story.”
Mark thought the tension in his neck would snap his spine in two. He snaked a hand around the back of his neck and rubbed his muscles. The memory of touching Rachel’s scarred back flashed through his mind and his eyes flew open at the image. “She has scars on her back,” he said, not knowing where the words came from. “I don’t think she knew they were there until I asked her about them.”
Paul crossed his arms. “She probably did know, but didn’t want to, so she never checked. I lied and told her she wouldn’t have any scars. I thought it might help her heal emotionally if she didn’t think she would have them forever.”
He lifted his gaze to Paul and stared at him through red eyes. “Help her?” he asked. “You thought it would help her? You didn’t stop him.”
“If I had known what he was going to do,” Paul said, “I’d have killed him and buried him next to Eric.”
Anger boiled in Mark’s gut. “But you knew he was hurting her when he was doing it. You may not have known to what degree, but you said you could hear her scream while he—”
Paul didn’t let him finish. “And don’t you think it eats me alive every time I think about it? I hate him for what he did to her. I hate myself for not doing anything about it.”
“Then why didn’t you stop him? She’s your niece, your own blood! You could have stopped him.”
“And get us both killed? Or worse yet, get myself killed and leave no one for Rachel?”
“She might as well have had no one. I mean, what good did you do her?” Mark asked. “You were in a position to help her all those years and you didn’t.”
“If I could go back and do things different, then I would without hesitation.”
“That didn’t help her then and it’s not helping her now. It never should have gotten to that point. You should have gotten her out when you saw what was happening.”
“I know, Mark. I know how wrong I was.”
“You’re more than wrong,” Mark said, his voice filled with contempt. “You’re as guilty as he is.”
Paul tightened his lips and looked away. “You’re right. I have no defense. I didn’t tell you about her life because I’m seeking forgiveness for what I’ve done wrong. I don’t deserve that in the least, not from God, not from her, and not from you or anyone else who cares about her. But I also didn’t come in here to try and defend myself. I’ve sent Sean out on an errand. We only have about ten minutes, but I can sneak you in to see her, if you want.”
Mark snapped to attention. “Of course I do.” He followed Paul down a long, narrow hallway and around a corner.
Paul stopped in front of a white door and faced Mark. “I haven’t seen her yet, so be prepared for anything.” He pushed open the door.
Mark looked down and ran a hand through his hair. His mind and body were both spent. He wasn’t sure how much more he could handle, but he forced himself to move into her room.
Rachel’s eyes were closed, her body tucked under a white comforter with random splashes of red on it. Swelling, cuts, and bruises interrupted the serenity of her face. Her shallow, irregular breathing troubled Mark almost as much as the blood on the floor and on the blanket that covered her. His throat tightened and his hand reached for his hollowed-out stomach.
At Paul’s prompting, Mark stood away from the bed, next to the door. Paul sat on the bed beside her and uncovered her halfway. She stirred into consciousness. “Rachel? Come on, it’s time to wake up.”
She moaned and her eyelids rose to half-mast. “Paul?”
He smiled. “I’m here. Are you feeling okay?”
“I’m so tired,” she whispered. She grimaced, and rubbed her eyes.
“Why are you tired, honey?”
“The needles.”
“He drugged you?” Paul swore under his breath. “How much did he give you?”
Rachel’s eyelids fell shut again. “I wanna go back to sleep,” she mumbled.
“You need to stay awake for a little bit. Can you do that for me?”
She gave him a weak smile. “Did you miss me, old man?”
“Not enough for you to be back here. You know you almost killed Joe when you left.”
“Is that why he’s so mad at me?”
“I imagine that would do it.”
“Who’s the guy with the moustache?” Rachel asked.
“Sean. He’s a real shady private investigator. Donovan brought him on to find you.”
“Should’ve seen that one coming. There was a cop, back in Wichita. I can’t remember her name.”
“Officer Shelly Duncan,” Paul said. “She worked for Wilkes and called in when she saw you.”
“I thought something was off with her.”
“Sit up, Rach.” He took her arm and eased her into a sitting position.
She shifted a couple times, her eyes lowered to the blanket. Her fingers reached for her mouth and she pushed on the swelling on the side of her mouth. Her tongue ran over the split in her bottom lip. Mark’s heart ached as he wondered how many times in the past she had tasted her own blood.
Rachel raised her head and her eyes fell on Mark for the first time. Her surprised expression hardened. “What are you doing here?”
Mark started toward her. “Rachel—”
“Stop.” She looked at Paul. “What is he doing here?”
“Donovan is holding him here,” Paul said. “I brought him in here to see you. He needed to see that you’re alive.”
“Get him out of here, off the estate.”
“I’m going to get you both out of here tonight. For good.”
“No. I’m not going anywhere.”
Mark’s brow knitted and he stepped forward to the bed. “Rachel, you can’t stay here. You need to come with me.”
“I don’t need to do anything. I’m staying here.”
Anger rose inside Mark. “What are you saying? Why would you want to stay here?”
“Paul will get you out of here,” she said. “You don’t belong here.”
“Neither do you!”
“Yes, I do. This is my home.”
“Rachel,” Paul said, “you both need to leave. I’m not letting you stay here any longer.”
“No,” she said. “I’m tired, Paul. I’m not running anymore.”
Mark looked at Paul to intervene further, but Paul remained silent. He turned back to Rachel. “You have to come with me. I’m not leaving here without you.”
She dropped her head and stared at her hands twisting in her lap.
“Please, Rachel,” he said. “I love you.”
“I’m sorry, Mark,” she said, lifting her eyes, “but I don’t love you.”
Her words paralyzed him with a greater sting than he could have ever imagined. “I don’t understand.”
“It’s simple. I’m staying here, with Donovan. I love him. I should have never left to begin with. This is where I belong.”
Mark searched her face, but found it impossible to read her expression. “How can you say that? Have you seen yourself? Your face is bruised and swollen. He did that to you, and he’s done far worse in the past.”
“I screwed up, okay? I stole a lot of money from him and then I took off. It’s my fault—”
“Is what he did to your back your fault also? I’ve seen the scars, Rachel, remember? He used a whip on you. He tore your skin open, dozens of times. You can’t possibly think that you did anything worthy of that kind of abuse.”
Rachel’s eyes avoided Mark, and she stumbled over her words. “I deserved all of it. I made a lot of mistakes. I’m lucky I’m not dead.”
“Yeah, well, Danielle wasn’t so lucky. Did she deserve to be shot like she was nothing?”
Rachel stared at him. “What do you mean?”
“Exactly what it sounds like. Donovan had her killed. She died right next to me. She died protecting you.”
Her
hand shook as it moved to her mouth, and tears fell from her weary eyes.
Mark kneeled beside the bed. He looked up at Rachel, finding her eyes. “I’m not sure what’s going on here, but I know that you aren’t yourself. I don’t know if it’s the drugs he gave you or what, but you don’t mean any of what you’re saying. You can’t love him, not after what he’s done to Danielle and to you. And I know you love me. I know you do, the same as I love you. There’s no doubt in my mind.”
“You don’t get it. You have no understanding of what this place is or what is going on. You don’t even know who I am so there’s no way you can love me.”
“I do know who you are, Rachel,” Mark said. “I know and I love you, even more than before. Nothing will change that for me, ever.”
“I don’t love you, Mark. I made a mistake, and I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to leave without me. I love Donovan. I belong to him, I always have, and I am not leaving him again.”
Mark pushed himself up from the floor and away from the bed. She spoke as if she had been brainwashed. He didn’t know if her words were true, and he failed to understand the change in her. The shell in front of him was nothing like the strong woman he loved. Although he knew that part of her had to be in there somewhere, he didn’t know how to reach her.
“Can you get him out tonight?” Rachel asked Paul.
“Yes, I can,” Paul said. “Are you sure you don’t want me to get you out as well?”
“I’m sure.”
Mark couldn’t look at her. He knew what they had was real, knew without hesitation that they loved each other, but he didn’t know how to combat the influence that controlled her.
Rachel’s eyes started closing again, while her complexion drained of color. “I’m so tired.”
“I know you are. Lie back down and close your eyes.” She slipped down into the bed, and Paul covered her with the blanket.
“Wait.” She grabbed his arm. “I have to know something. Who did he send to kill Jonathan?”