by Angie Martin
“Me. I made sure it was quick.”
“Thank you for not letting him suffer,” she whispered.
“Before he died, he asked me if his angel was free.”
She smiled and let go of Paul’s arm. She glanced at Mark and said, “Paul, please get him out. He shouldn’t be in this house.”
Mark crossed his arms. She didn’t belong here any more than he did, yet she refused to leave. Her voice sounded convinced that she needed to stay, that everything Donovan did to her was justified.
Paul came up beside him, and they walked back to the Mark’s room. Closing the door, Paul said, “I need to leave you alone for a bit so I can work on getting you out of here.”
“I’m not going anywhere without her.”
“You have no choice. She isn’t leaving.”
“Then I’m not leaving either.”
“I get that you want to help her, but you don’t appreciate the severity of the situation. Donovan fully intends on killing you due to your relationship with Rachel. If you stay here, you will die, just as Thomas died, except this time I won’t have the control to make it quick and painless.”
Paul’s firm words broke through Mark’s stubbornness, but he still had no intention of leaving Rachel behind. “I understand all that, but why didn’t he kill me back in Kansas, when he killed Danielle? Why bring me here at all?”
“I stopped speculating about Donovan’s motives for anything he does a long time ago, but you’re a threat to Donovan. No matter what he’s done, he does love Rachel and the knowledge that she ever gave you a second glance tears him up inside. He can’t stand the thought that you might have meant anything to her and he can’t risk that she would still have feelings for you. He needs to eliminate any and all competition.”
“I can’t leave her here so she can suffer even more than she already has,” Mark said. “He’s going to end up killing her one of these days. I can’t sit back and let that happen.”
“Do I need to describe to you how Eric died? It was the slowest, most painful death I’ve ever seen and it was all Donovan. The only thing I did was put the bullet in his head that ended his agony.”
Paul’s words should have scared him, but instead Mark mulled over what Paul had told him about Eric. “Did it feel good?”
“Killing Eric?” Paul cracked a smile. “Yeah, it did. After what he did to Rachel, it felt great. If you had it in you, you would have enjoyed it, too.”
Mark believed him.
“Now,” Paul continued, “I’m going to see what I can do for Rachel. I’ll try to change her mind, but I don’t know if it will do any good. I’ll come back for you tonight and somehow I’ll get you out of here. I know you don’t want to leave without her, but neither of us can force her to go. As soon as you’re out, go to whatever authorities you can and get her out of here. But to do that, you have to leave her here. You won’t be able to help her if you’re dead.”
Mark agreed, and he studied Paul’s face. Through the hardness, his eyes were weary, even guilty. Mark had felt so much anger toward Paul for allowing Rachel to live in such appalling circumstances.
Rachel, however, did not blame Paul, and Mark doubted that she ever once thought to. When they had been in Rachel’s room, he could tell she loved this man. She had come alive, and even glowed in his presence. If Rachel still loved Paul, then maybe Mark could forgive him.
A thought entered his mind. “I don’t understand something,” he said. “If you get me out of here, but you and Rachel stay, won’t Donovan know that you let me go and kill you?”
Paul started for the door, pausing before he left. “Like I said, you can’t help her if you’re dead, which is what you will be if you stay here much longer.” He turned around and faced Mark. “I’m counting on you to help her.”
A chill traveled through Mark’s body. Paul was putting his life on the line for him and Rachel. The ultimate sacrifice, and Paul was willing to make it for them.
After Paul exited the room, Mark slumped down to the floor. He wanted to help Rachel. He wanted to get her out of this nightmare forever, but who was he kidding? He was an average, ordinary guy who only left the state of Kansas because he had been kidnapped. He had never been in a fight, had never even fired a gun. He was exhausted, overwhelmed and in a world he knew nothing about. He couldn’t be more ill equipped to save her.
Rachel needed her Prince Charming. He was nothing more than the court jester.
Chapter Sixty-four
Mark wasn’t sure how much time had passed when his door opened again. Expecting Paul to come in with a master plan to help him escape, Mark stood up, only to see Donovan walk through the door.
“I’m glad we have an opportunity to talk,” Donovan said. He held a gun near his waist, and raised it to make sure Mark saw it pointed at him.
Thick air filled Mark’s lungs with every step Donovan took toward him. The walls closed in around him, though he had never been claustrophobic in his life. He saw what Donovan did to Rachel, and he claimed to love her. He also witnessed how callously he snapped his fingers and extinguished Danielle’s life. What was the man willing to do to Mark, someone who had dared to love Rachel?
Despite his panic at seeing Donovan, Mark had to pretend he’d never seen Rachel and that Paul had never spoken to him. Paul was their only chance of getting out, and saying the wrong thing could prove fatal for both he and Paul. “Where’s Rachel?”
Donovan stopped walking in the center of the room. “She’s here. She’s fine, now that she’s back home with me.”
Mark was incredulous. Rachel had been beaten and drugged and he thought she was fine. “This isn’t her home,” he said. “If it was, you wouldn’t have had to force her to return.”
“Rachel made a mistake and she’s learned from it. She knows where she belongs and who she belongs with.”
Mark’s jaw tightened. “The only mistake she made was not leaving sooner than she did.” He narrowed his eyes. “She told me all about you. You’re under the delusion that it doesn’t matter what you do to her or how far you push her, she’s always going to love you. You’re wrong. She’s been running away from you for three years, and she never wanted to come back. Rachel doesn’t love you.”
Donovan smirked and moved toward Mark. “Rachel would never sleep with someone she doesn’t love.”
Mark recoiled and the blood drained from his face. It wasn’t true. Rachel would not be intimate with this monster, not now, not after all he had done. At least not willingly. If she had indeed slept with him, it wouldn’t be because she loved him, but because she had been forced to, or beaten into submission.
Mark snapped when Donovan reached him. Ignoring the gun, Mark tried to hit him, but Donovan evaded his fist. The gun caught the side of Mark’s head and knocked him to the ground. Mark rolled over on his side and tried to get up, but a loud ringing in his ears kept him down. Vertigo washed over him, moving the room around him like the ocean’s waves.
“Why would you do that?” Donovan said. He kicked Mark in the stomach. “Why would you try to come after me when I have a gun? Your friend died right in front of you, so you must know I’m more than willing to kill you right here. You can’t possibly think you can hurt me.” His foot flew into Mark’s stomach again.
Nausea overcame Mark as he clutched his abdomen. Fighting for breath and consciousness, he rolled onto his back to stem the assault, but Donovan kicked the side of his ribs several times. When he stepped back, he straightened out his jacket and regained his composure.
A fit of coughs racked his body and Mark gritted his teeth against the pain. His head lolled to the side. Risking another kick to the ribs or worse, Mark managed to speak through his gasps for air. “Rachel doesn’t love you. She never loved you.”
“I understand your reluctance to accept the situation,” Donovan said. “I can tell you love her and you desire her love in return. Rachel is not only a beautiful woman, she’s astonishing.”
The ringing in his ears began to sub
side. Mark caught his breath, but his side flared with pain when he dared to pull air into his lungs. “Yes, she is,” Mark said, as he sat up.
“It’s impossible to know her and not love her, so I suppose I shouldn’t blame you for falling in love with her. Except that I do.” Donovan smirked and his eyebrows shot up. “Blame you, that is. Your downfall in life is that you believe someone like her would fall in love with someone like you.”
“I know she loves me.”
“No,” Donovan said. “She’s much smarter than that. She wants someone who can take care of her, all of her needs, her desires. You can’t seem to take care of yourself. At first, I thought I would kill you right away, but maybe I should keep you around so you can find out how things really are with Rachel.” He glanced around the empty room. “This would be a good place for you to sit and think about how you shouldn’t have fallen for Rachel, not when she’s mine.”
“She’s not yours,” Mark said. “She’s not a piece of property. You can’t do whatever you want to her.”
“But she is mine,” Donovan said. “She always has been, and always will be. She’s agreed to marry me, to have children with me. We’ve already gotten started on that. Maybe you would be more understanding if you saw it for yourself. I could put a camera in our room, so you can watch how much she doesn’t give you a second thought when she’s in bed with me. She sure didn’t think about you when she was touching me, calling my name, begging for more.”
Mark looked away from Donovan. Tears spilled out from his eyes and his stomach bottomed out.
“You can sit here and watch us together, while you barely hold on to what’s left of your pathetic, worthless life. While you’re struggling to take just one more breath, you can see how much she loves me.” Donovan crouched beside Mark, and put his gun next to Mark’s head. “You can watch, day after day, month after month, as her belly grows with my child inside of her. How does that make you feel, Mark? To know that as we speak, Rachel might already be pregnant?”
Mark closed his eyes, his trembling lips unable to utter a single word. Donovan’s words were far more torturous than the pain in his side, far worse than any physical pain Donovan could inflict on him.
Donovan rose to his feet. “Of course, I’d have to keep you alive for quite some time. A little food and water here and there, just enough to keep you breathing while our lives unfold in front of you. How long do you want to live for, Mark? How long do you want to see Rachel love me? At what point will you break and beg for me to kill you?”
“You’re sick,” Mark said. “Rachel will never love you, no matter how much you beat her into thinking she does.”
“As much fun as it would be to keep you around, it might be a bit arduous with you in constant denial. Maybe we should just ask Rachel who she loves. She’ll let you know you’re wrong.”
Chapter Sixty-five
Sleep cradled Rachel in a warm blanket and enticed her to stay tucked beneath its comforting covers. Her eyelids stayed shut most of the time, but she fought against sleep’s beckoning darkness. She had already slept so much since coming back to the estate, with only fleeting moments of consciousness, usually filled with the sight of Tony.
The two times Tony came into her room, stoic-faced and armed with a syringe, he didn’t speak a single word to her, as if she was a complete stranger. The shots he gave her were in different locations on her arm, and she thought she would soon look like a pincushion.
She didn’t battle Tony when it came to the shots. Donovan wanted her to be sedated most of the time. It was his way to retain control over her until he could trust her again, and she complied the best she could with his wishes. She had a long way to go until they got back to where they were before she left.
The door to her room swung open, and Mark came through the door, followed by Donovan. Her eyelids struggled to stay open, and she forced herself to slide out of bed. She struggled to take full breaths, and her eyes seemed out of focus. Despite her body crying out, begging for more sleep, she remained standing.
Mark walked to the center of her room, and Donovan went straight to her. He removed his jacket and laid it on her bed. He then turned his attention to her, and kissed her with more passion than ever before. It was no doubt an attempt to demonstrate to Mark his vast power and control over her.
Though Rachel had no desire to hurt Mark any more than she already had, she didn’t dare break away from Donovan. She ignored Mark’s presence and gave every part of herself to Donovan in that kiss, so he wouldn’t know how much Mark affected her.
It wasn’t until his mouth pressed down on hers that she realized Donovan had something in his hand, something he transferred to her before releasing her from the kiss. From the cold shape of the object in her hand, she knew without looking it was a gun.
Donovan moved away from her and leaned against the wall. He crossed his arms and said, “Mr. Jacobson seems to have a problem understanding you are no longer part of his life. I would like you to clarify that for him.”
Rachel lowered her eyes to the gun. Her old gun, the third one she had owned. The last time she saw it was when she left it on her bed before fleeing the estate three years ago. Her hand operated the slide without thinking about her actions and she caressed the familiar contours of the gun, her fingertips cold and numb against the steel.
Her mind traveled back to the day when Donovan gave her the gun, and a smile tweaked the corners of her mouth as the past intertwined with the present. Memories of better times flooded her mind, and she remembered Donovan watching with excitement while she untied the ribbon and tore apart the wrapping paper.
When she saw the gun, she had placed the package down on her dresser and wrapped her arms around him. She forgot about the gun and concentrated on him. That night he fell asleep beside her, though he woke long before morning and left to return to his own room. She had enjoyed those few hours of him holding her, like she had always wanted.
Now, her smile vanished as she relived the empty feeling of him leaving her that night. She no longer wanted to touch the gun, afraid of the other memories it would bring.
Brought back to the present, her immediate predicament confronted her. Two different worlds had collided, and she needed to eliminate one of them.
She glanced at Donovan. Her life revolved around him for so long that his presence dominated her. As long as he lived, she would belong to him. The scars on her back proved that to her.
The gun she held could end that possession, but she knew she could not end his life. Nor did she want to. Being with him hadn’t always been a bad thing. He could be gentle, wonderful, loving. She could learn to love him again, as she had before. She could change herself to be more acceptable for him, so he wouldn’t want to hurt her again.
Sensing Mark’s stare, Rachel shifted her gaze to him. Pain drenched his face and his eyes pleaded with her. She hated that he was here at the estate. What had she done? Why had she included him in her life when she knew that it could only end like this? The love she had for him, what they had together, was real, just as he said earlier.
But that was in a different time, a different place. She was home now, the only place she ever truly belonged. She had left once and Donovan found her. Jonathan and Danielle, the two people who did everything in their power to help her, had both died because of her. Mark was next on that list. This was her home, and it was where she needed to stay so she couldn’t destroy anyone else’s life.
As she stared at all the might-have-beens in Mark’s eyes, she knew there was only one answer to solve the dilemma in front of her.
Before she lost the courage, Rachel raised the unusually heavy gun and pointed it in Mark’s direction. The walls pulsed in her vision, blurred with tears at what she had to do. The carpet floated beneath her bare feet, and her finger twitched against the trigger. “I’m sorry, Mark,” she whispered. “I really do love you.”
Don’t think, just act.
Rachel turned the barrel of the gun
toward herself.
Chapter Sixty-six
“Rachel, no!” Mark leapt forward and stumbled. His hand flew toward the weapon. The gunshot deafened his ears, and the back of his hand smacked against hers. The gun jerked out of Rachel’s hand, bounced off the side of her bed, and thudded to the carpet.
Rachel’s expressionless face remained unchanged, as if she did not know, nor did she care that the gun left her hand. Her large, glazed eyes remained fastened on Mark. Her lips parted, but no words emerged.
Fear tightened Mark’s throat, and the sound of his racing heart roared in his ears. “Rachel?”
Rachel fell, and Mark’s arms barely reached her before she hit the ground. Donovan ran up on the other side of her and slid his arms underneath her body. They lowered her to the floor and she curled up on her side.
Glancing over Rachel’s body, Mark saw no blood pouring from a gunshot wound. His eyes scanned the room, until he saw the bullet hole in the plaster above her bed. In his peripheral vision, Donovan rose to his feet and ran for the door, calling Paul’s name.
Satisfied she did not shoot herself, Mark rolled her over onto her back. She was unresponsive to his questions, and he couldn’t figure out what was wrong with her. Mark placed his index and middle fingers on her neck and tried to find a pulse.
Mark moved his fingers to various areas on her neck. Panic swelled in his chest when he could not feel her heartbeat under his fingertips. He gave up on her neck, and lowered his right ear to her mouth and nose. Shallow puffs of warm air touched his skin, and tears sprang to his eyes.
Mark brushed back the hair from her eyes. He cupped the sides of her face and willed her to be okay. “Open your eyes, Rachel,” he said. “Just open your eyes for me.”
Rachel laid unmoving on the ground. Mark rubbed his hands over hers, but couldn’t warm her chilled skin.
Paul ran into the room, with Donovan right behind him. Mark let out the breath he was holding. “She’s cold, but she’s still breathing,” he said.