The stubbed toe in hand, close to tears, I angrily brush my hair out of my eyes.
I’d hoped having sex with me would ease his anger and soften him towards me, but it now seems as if it has only fired up the force of his vendetta against me.
My mind goes back to the time I offered myself to him … when he took me to a place that I’d never been. It was as though I was possessed. Or a different person. I had expected that the intensity of our passion together would make a difference, but this evening showed me nothing had changed. He hated me.
With a sob, I bury my head between my knees. My nails dig into my fisted hands.
Oh Daddy, I’m so very, very sorry I didn’t keep my cool. I’m so sorry I told you about the stupid kiss.
Chapter Twenty
Jake
As soon as I get home I go to the kitchen. I find my baby staring out of the window. She turns to look at me. I walk up to her, my arms open and she walks into them. I bend my head to inhale the scent of her hair, and my entire body tenses with shock. She has been using Liliana’s shampoo.
“Oh, baby,” I whisper and crush her to me. I feel so fucking helpless. For a few seconds neither of us move. I let the feeling of her flesh pressed into mine wash away the tiredness from my bones.
Then she tilts her head up. “Shall I make some food for you?”
I shake my head. “No, I’m not hungry.”
She frowns. “When was the last time you ate?”
“I … er … lunch.”
“Today?”
“Yesterday.”
“Oh, darling. You have to eat. She needs both of us to be at our best.”
“Yeah,” I say softly. Where the fuck are you, Liliana?
“So Shane’s tip didn’t work out,” she says sadly.
“No, it was someone else’s daughter.”
“I bet her parents were very happy to get their daughter back.”
“I guess so. One of the guys took her back.”
She sighs heavily. “What do we do now, Jake?”
“We keep looking. I won’t stop until I find her.”
“Do you think she’ll call again?”
“If I know her, she’ll try her damndest. Just be patient. Everything is hooked up. All you have to do is keep her on the phone for as long as you can. Keep talking. Don’t ask her questions about where she is or anything that will cause her captors to cut off the call. Talk about her sisters, how her dog is doing, how sorry I am for messing up her job. Inane things. As if we truly believe that she has gone to Spain because she is angry with me. We have one chance.”
She nods vigorously. “I’ve already practiced everything I will say.” She reaches into her jeans pocket and pulls out a folded piece of paper. “I’ve even got it all written down in note form so I don’t mess up and say the wrong thing.”
“Good girl,” I say with a smile.
She nods again. “We’ll find her, Jake. You’ll find her. No one can outsmart you for long.” Suddenly tears start filling her eyes. “They took my baby. I’ve already lost one. I just can’t lose another one.”
I pull her body against mine and hold her tightly. “We will find her.”
“I keep wondering why they have taken her. There has been no demand for money. What could it be? And they allowed her to call us. So it can’t even be human trafficking.”
I stroke her hair. “It’s me. This is about me.”
She presses her lips together. She is not stupid. She has already figured that out. She just didn’t want it to be true.
A bleep makes both of us freeze. Immediately, I pull my phone out of my jacket and look at the message.
Want her back? Come to Sturminster,
train station platform to London. 7.oopm today.
Don’t be late and come alone.
Lily’s eyes are huge. “You’re not going alone, are you?”
I nod decisively. “Yes, I am. If he knows this number, then he knows a lot about us. I can’t afford to take the chance he will not follow me to that address.”
She frowns. “That’s really strange. He knows all about you. Right down to this ex-directory phone number. Why didn’t he tell you not to come armed?”
She has a point. Something is not right, but I’m going anyway. If it is my life he wants in exchange for Liliana’s then so be it.
Chapter Twenty-One
Brand
Mark is by my side as I hunker down on the pedal of my BMW, our speed moving dangerously past a hundred and thirty miles an hour. I can see him sneaking concerned looks at me.
“Are you certain he is still on M3?” I ask, my gaze razor-sharp and focused on the road.
He looks down to his phone to catch the tracker on it. “He is, but he is heading towards Junction Eight now. I think he’s going to take the A303 exit to Salisbury.”
Good, he is on his way to Sturminster. This is good. This is very good. The worry over his daughter has made him careless. He would never have made this trip on his own otherwise. I head down the exit and increase my speed on the dark road. The moment I spot the Lamborghini Urus ahead of me I know it is him even before Mark makes the connection. Not that I need the confirmation as the name EDEN is written boldly across his plate. The arrogant bastard.
“That’s him right there,” Mark says, a note of reverence in his voice. After all these years he is still an awe-inspiring figure in the underworld.
There are only a few cars on the road, and I step on the gas, the engine revving to its limit as we fly into the night towards catastrophe, the trees on both sides zooming past like ghosts.
“Boss …” Mark shouts out in fear.
“Put on your bloody seat belt and shut the fuck up,” I snarl.
He sits upright and buckles in for a crash. It happens in a flash, and despite Jake Eden’s desperate attempt to divert his vehicle from the impending collision, my SUV smashes right into the side of his car. It makes his vehicle somersault into the air, as mine spins continuously and endlessly on the highway. Moments away from claiming both of our lives, it comes to a stop just before we crash into an articulated truck.
My car is not badly damaged, but Jake Eden’s car on the other hand has been flung into the woods. Mark is moaning quietly. I unbuckle my belt quickly and get out. As I hear the hiss and poof of the dented bonnet, I feel something trickling down the side of my face.
I know it is blood, but I couldn’t care less. Swiping my hand across the wound and wiping the blood on my coat, I head into the woods in search of him.
I find the Urus upside down and damaged even more than my car.
I look through the window and see Jake Eden unconscious inside. A strange thrill of excitement flows through my body. This is it. This is the moment I take my revenge. It’s either him or me.
When I try the door, it is either jammed or locked. Breaking the window, I put my hand inside and start to jerk the door open. It is a feat, but eventually it budges and swings open. For a moment and with the light from the streetlamps, I stop to watch him. It has been almost a decade since I was last so close to the swine who drove my father to his death. I pull him out of the driver’s seat and drop him on the ground.
Mark is holding his head and hurrying over to me. “Is he alive?”
“Yeah,” I say, staring down at my greatest enemy, the man I hate with every cell in my body.
“The police will be here soon,” Mark said worriedly behind me.
“Pass me your knife,” I say without turning to look at Mark.
Without a word he produces the glistening steel and hands it over.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Brand
9 years ago
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A9hcJgtnm6Q
-nothing, nothing, nothing gonna save us now-
My father yelled so loudly the entire caravan shook. I’d never seen him that way and even more than her death—which shock had not allowed my brain to properly register yet—his reaction terrified me. His ey
es were blood shot and the pain so etched into the lines in his face that I almost could not recognize him. But more than sorrow he was furious. Inconsolably furious because she had gone so suddenly.
“Come back!” He shook her lifeless body mercilessly. “Come back and leave properly, you selfish little bitch. Come the feck back. Whitney Vaughan come the feck back, right now!”
He swore that he would never forgive her. Then I stood there staring at him blankly as he began to shatter everything around. I was afraid for my father. I was afraid he was going to hurt himself. I was afraid he had gone mad. He was banging his head against a wall and his hands were bleeding from breaking the glass cabinet where my mother stored all her precious red crystal. He had broken every single piece. Every time he broke one he called her to come back and stop him. The inhabitants of the other caravans had started to gather around our door. They did not come in. They knew better, but I could see their shadows outside the curtains.
“Da—“ I began, but he rushed at me and struck such a blow across my face I was flung halfway across the caravan. I crashed against the toilet door. Never in my life had I felt such a pain and for the longest of time I couldn’t even move. All I could do was feel, the deadly pain of what I was sure was a broken jaw, and its reverberation through my entire body. I was shaking as I tried to breathe, tears beginning to well up in my eyes.
“It’s you. It’s your fault. You killed her. If not for you none of this would have happened,” he roared, his face purple with uncontrollable rage.
Outside, someone began to knock on the door.
“Fuck off,” my father bellowed, whirling around like a dervish. Truly he had gone insane with grief. He grabbed a kitchen knife and began to wield it, slashing the empty air, screaming. Telling the people gathered outside that he would kill them if they entered.
Gypsies never call the police. They hate us and we refuse to give our faith or respect to them. So we would never willingly give them a foothold into our lives. No matter what our troubles, we solve them ourselves.
The men outside began to try to reason with my father, but the more they tried, the angrier and more out of control he became. Then, one of the oldest women in our community, a frightening hag, was called. She screeched out to my da that my mother was outside the door and calling to him. My father stopped in his tracks and ran out of the door. The men outside pounced on him and sat on him. It took six men to hold him down. When he would not calm down they punched his lights out.
When my father came around a few hours later he was a different person. He asked for my mother, but when one of the men told him she was gone, he gazed up at me. Stubble shadowed his cheeks and jaw, and his eyes were sunken and blank. He looked utterly haggard. It was an astounding contrast from the man he had been a few hours ago.
“Da,” I called, but he shook his head and sat up slowly.
He looked around him. “Where is she?”
“She is on the bed,” I whispered.
He got up and went to the bedroom and closed the door. For twenty minutes he stayed inside. We could hear him muttering and shuffling around. Then he came out and closed the door behind him. Without even looking at me, he went out of the door and walked towards his truck.
I ran behind him. “Da, where are you going?”
“Never mind that. You take care of your ma,” he said opening the car door. He hopped into the driver’s seat and closed the door.
“Da,” I called.
He turned his face and looked down at me. It was like I was a stranger. I knew then I was dead to him. He blamed me for what happened. If I hadn’t insisted on marrying Liliana none of this would have happened. I never saw him alive again.
When I went back into the bedroom, I saw that he had dressed my mother in her favorite blue dress. He had combed her hair and put a tiara in it and tried to put lipstick on her lips, but it was all smudged. I wiped the lipstick away and carefully reapplied it. Her skin was warm, but there was something frighteningly still about her. It made the hairs on my neck stand. I kissed her cheeks. I could smell the faint whiff of mayonnaise from her hair.
It did not seem real. This was just a nightmare. She couldn’t be dead. How could she be dead when she was so alive an hour ago? I lay down next to her and listened carefully, but I could not hear her heart beating. It was always so steady. She said she wanted to see my grandchildren. I closed my eyes and held her still hand. My chest felt as if someone was sitting on it.
“Ma,” I called as if she would magically come alive if I called her.
She didn’t come alive. A few hours later, the flashing blue lights of police cars came onto our site. My father had given himself up at the police station. They took me into the care system. The hellish care system for orphans and vulnerable children.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Brand
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OpQFFLBMEPI
The moment I arrive back at the house, I dash through the front door, and up the stairs. I unlock the door of Liliana’s room and throw it open. She is standing by the bed, her feet shoulder-width apart, knees bent, and her face wary and watching.
My heart races as I casually take a seat on one of the armchairs. I pop my feet on the coffee table and smile. “You can sit back down,” I drawl. “I know you think I am a self-absorbed jerk, but I have a present for you.”
She says nothing, her head is slightly cocked and watches me suspiciously.
“What’s the matter? Don’t you like presents? Don’t you want to know what I got for you?”
She frowns. “What is it?”
Taking my legs off the table, I reach into my jacket and retrieve the ziplock bag. Holding it up in the air, I let it drop down on the table.
At first her eyes narrow in incomprehension, not quite sure of what she is seeing, but when it registers, all the blood drains away from her face. She stares at it as if it were a serpent. “What is it?” she asks as if she cannot believe what she is seeing.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I apologize, “perhaps you need a closer look.”
I throw the transparent bag to her and she catches it with both hands. I swear that I can almost feel her heart jump the moment she recognizes what is inside the bag. I lean back again into the chair as she sinks to her knees, unable to hold herself upright any longer. She opens the bag, takes out Jake’s lion head ring, and looks at it in disbelief.
Which is weird, because my intention was to bring the ring attached to Jake Eden’s middle finger, but as I crouched next to his unconscious body I had hesitated. I looked at him, bloodied and breathing shallowly from the crash, and even then, he was something special. He was that thing that caused men to speak of him as if he was a god or a demon. Even a ruthless killer like him was willing to sacrifice his own life for love. I had no love in my life, but I was entranced by the idea. Love was indeed the most powerful force that exists.
If I took him down this way I would always know I was not better than him. That I had not fought him fair and square. I had done the cowardly thing. I was no coward. I bent down and pulled his ring off and brought it to his daughter as my bargaining chip.
Trembling with fear, and full of disbelief, Liliana looks up at me. Her eyes are completely devastated. “You bastard,” she swears. “You’re … y-you’re insane.”
I accept the endearment wholeheartedly, but a strange discomfort I can’t shake off takes hold of my insides. I did not expect such grief from her. It is only his ring. Not his finger. I only wanted to show her I could get to her father and to force her to obey me.
“What have you done to my father?” she demands in a whisper. “This is the ring my mother gave him on their first wedding anniversary, and I have never seen him without it. He would never have given it to you. How did you get it?”
I watch her, the pain in her eyes.
“What did you do to him?”
I sit up suddenly angry with myself. Why am I letting her make me feel bad? What about the years I fel
t like shit? “I crashed my car into his Urus and it somersaulted into the air, multiple times before finally landing in the woods.”
Her jaw drops. “What?”
“For the most part he is going to be fine, one would think so anyway, since he seemed to have hardly any injuries, but he should count himself very lucky. I was going to cut his middle finger off so he won’t be able to fuck the world up any more.” I lean back into the chair. “Damn, my personality is gold, how can I be so entertaining?”
Liliana charges me suddenly. I see her flying at me and it is quite amusing. It takes less than a medium grip around her arms to break her attack.
“Woah!” I say cheerfully. “You’re getting feisty too quickly. I’m not finished with my report.”
I push her away, watching as she staggers backwards and falls on her delectable ass.
“I don’t know why you are so upset. Surely, this was a long time coming,” I ask. “You might not know the details, but you must have suspected the real businesses he ran behind the scenes. The ones that fueled all your father’s other companies. No doubt he tried to keep it from you, his little princess, but it would be very disappointing if you were that easily fooled.”
She raises her chin. “You’re wrong about my father. Yes, circumstances forced him to spend his youth on the wrong side of the law, but he gave it up when he met my mother.”
“Awww … that was his big excuse. Circumstances. Well, I had ‘circumstances’ too, but I’m not going to hide behind that bullshit. I’m a bastard because I want to be one. It’s far more fun.”
A Kiss Stolen Page 9