Beautifully Broken (The Broken Series Book 2)

by Ruff, K. S.

  Kadyn’s fists clenched and unclenched. “What are your intentions then?”

  Agent Vargas stood and walked behind his desk. He gathered some documents that had been scattered across his desk and shuffled them in his hands. “As soon as we receive embassy corroboration, the case will be closed.”

  Kadyn forced himself to turn and walk away.

  * * * * * *

  Kadyn was leaning against his motorcycle in the front parking lot when Mickey closed the lease office for the day. “I take it you heard about the affidavit?” she asked as she walked toward the bike.

  Kadyn didn’t say a word. He stood, arms crossed, staring at Mickey.

  Mickey fidgeted with her keys. “Look, Kadyn. I’m sorry. But I’m not willing to push for criminal charges. If it gets out that I let a man into a tenant’s apartment so he could kidnap her, I’d lose my job, and I’m not likely to find another one… not in this economy. I can’t afford to lose my job.”

  Kadyn tried to feel some empathy for Mickey, but he couldn’t. He spoke slowly, purposely articulating each word. “He bound your wrists, your ankles, and your mouth with duct tape and left you in that apartment all day. He threatened to kill thousands of people if you didn’t cooperate. I seriously doubt you would lose your job under those circumstances, Mickey.”

  Mickey shook her head. “Still, it’s not a risk I can afford to take. I’m sorry, Kadyn. I’m sorry I helped him get to her, but it sounds like everything worked out in the end. He’s in love with her. They’ve worked out their differences. Kri is safe, and she’s happy. She’s planning to marry him, and she’s not pressing charges. Why should I press charges when she isn’t… especially when neither of us was hurt, and it could end up costing me my job?”

  Kadyn’s jaw clenched. “Maybe he didn’t physically harm you, but that doesn’t mean you haven’t been hurt. He threatened and manipulated you and Kri. I don’t believe he has Kri’s best interest in mind, and God damn it, Mickey, what about me? I love her. I’ve been through hell and back for this woman, and you have now made it impossible for me to get her back. What the hell were you thinking when you signed that affidavit?”

  Mickey backed away from Kadyn. “I’m sorry, Kadyn. I don’t expect you to understand. I know you love her. I’m so sorry.” She burst into tears as she turned and ran toward her car.

  Kadyn watched Mickey drive away. He raked his hand over his smoothly shaven head and sighed. He was already regretting how hard he’d been on Mickey. He slid his helmet on, swung his leg over the bike, and turned the engine over. He gave the bike some gas and pulled away from the curb, determined to gain some distance from this place where everything reminded him of Kri.

  Chapter 25 – Just give me a reason

  The vomiting wouldn’t stop. I begged and pleaded with Michael to let me ride it out at home. That bought me one additional day before he hauled me off to the hospital for IV fluids. The doctors administered a new anti-nausea medication by IV and kept me overnight for observation.

  Rafael met us at the hospital on his way back from the airport. So, Michael, Rafael, and Jean all ended up staying in the hospital with me, sprawled out in chairs that had been crammed into the tiny room. I wondered what the nurses thought about so many men being crammed into one pregnant woman’s room, although it was rather comical the level of attention I received from the nursing staff. I suspected they were fawning over me to impress the men, more so than me. Eventually, Jean and Rafael began competing over who could collect the most phone numbers from the nursing staff.

  The physicians were pleased with my response to the medication, so they sent me home with that same prescription, only in pill form, the very next day. Two men and a rather petite woman were standing on the front stairs of the house when we arrived.

  Rafael and Jean stalked toward the guests. I was still pretty weak, so Michael and I trailed behind as he helped me climb the stairs. I watched nervously as Rafael and Jean began arguing with the three strangers in French.

  “Puis-je vous aider?” Michael interrupted. He was clearly annoyed by the unexpected guests.

  The woman’s eyes widened just as we reached the top step. “Madame Stone? Are you okay?”

  Michael switched to English. “She was just released from the hospital. She needs to lie down, so if you don’t mind…”

  The butler opened the door and looked from one person to the next. He glanced at Michael uncertainly.

  The woman reached for my arm, but Rafael stepped between us. “Don’t touch her,” he warned in a low, menacing tone.

  I leaned against Michael and sighed. “I really need to sit down.”

  The woman reached inside her jacket and withdrew three business cards from a small leather case. She handed the cards to Rafael, then turned her attention back to me. “Madame Stone, I’m Vonnie Powell. This is Steven Rice and Adam Knox.” Both men nodded briefly as the woman continued. “We are with the American Citizen Services Unit, from the U.S. Embassy in Paris. We have been concerned about your well being, especially since you didn’t show for your appointment two days ago. I can see you aren’t feeling well. Do you mind if we come in and talk for a few minutes?” She glanced nervously at Michael. “We won’t keep her long.”

  Michael’s lips thinned as he clamped his mouth shut. He was obviously biting back the retort he’d been planning. It was admirable restraint, especially from Michael. He nodded to the butler, who then fully opened the door so everyone could file inside. Michael led me to a small couch in a formal sitting room adjacent to his office.

  The woman hesitated just inside the doorway. “I do apologize, Monsieur Garcia, but I need to speak with Madame Stone alone. Mr. Rice will stay to witness the conversation. Mr. Knox will speak separately with you.”

  Michael folded his arms across his chest. “Rafael is her bodyguard. He stays.”

  Ms. Powell’s voice grew firm as she stood her ground. “There can be no one else present. There can be no one in the room who might influence her willingness to speak freely or coerce her in any way… either intentionally or unintentionally. If this is not acceptable to you, we will be forced to take her to the embassy to ensure an environment where she can speak freely.”

  “Fine,” Michael gritted out. “You have fifteen minutes. If she is upset or harmed in any way…”

  “I assure you she will not be harmed. We will keep this short. It is clear Madame Stone is not feeling well. We just need to confirm a few things. Then we’ll be on our way,” Mr. Rice promised.

  Michael nodded. Jean and Mr. Knox followed him out of the sitting room and into the adjoining office. Rafael glared at Mr. Rice on his way out the door. “You are not to touch her, do you understand?”

  Mr. Rice didn’t bother responding. He simply stood and stared at Rafael.

  Annoyed and exhausted by the sudden influx of testosterone, I finally forced myself to speak up. “Rafael, no one is going to hurt me. I’ll be fine.”

  Rafael’s eyes met mine. “I’ll be right outside the door if you need me.” He strode out of the room.

  Mr. Rice closed the door behind him. He remained standing in front of the closed door.

  Ms. Powell sat in the chair next to me.

  “I’m sorry. They’re a bit overprotective,” I explained.

  Ms. Powell’s face softened as she quietly assessed me. “Why were you in the hospital, Ms. Stone?”

  “I’m pregnant. I couldn’t stop vomiting,” I admitted tiredly.

  Ms. Powell exchanged looks with Mr. Rice. “I assume Mr. Garcia is the father?”

  I looked down at my hands, uncomfortable with being interrogated. “Yes.”

  “And sex with him was consensual?” she inquired.

  I forced myself to meet her gaze. “Yes, it was consensual. I’m in love with Michael, and we are planning to be married.”

  She glanced briefly at my hand. “When he first brought you to Paris, was it with your consent?”

  I carefully considered the question. “
Although Michael lied and manipulated me in the beginning, I did come willingly.” I knew I was walking a fine line between honesty and dishonesty, but I felt justified in my response. I had willingly gone with Michael so that Kadyn and the other Pentagon employees wouldn’t be harmed.

  Ms. Powell leaned forward. She studied me intently. “How did he manipulate you?”

  I sighed heavily. As much as I wanted to protect Michael, I couldn’t bring myself to lie, not even by omission. “He led me to believe he was connected to terrorists and that he planted the car bombs at the Pentagon last June. He threatened to kill my boyfriend who works at the Pentagon and thousands of other people if I didn’t willingly leave with him.”

  Surprise flickered over the woman’s face. She quickly regained her composure. “He forced you to come by threatening to kill other people?”

  I sank back onto the couch. My head hurt just thinking about it, so I closed my eyes and wished it would all just go away. “Yes,” I whispered. “He promised not to hurt them if I left willingly. He asked only that I give him six months to prove his love for me. We dated briefly once before, and I broke things off when he proposed on the fourth date. He wanted time to prove he loved me and to prove he could make me happy. He has recently confessed that he is not involved with terrorists and had nothing to do with the car bombs. He heard the story on the news and saw an opportunity to manipulate me.”

  “A home grown group of anti-government extremists planted the bombs,” she confirmed softly. “Has he manipulated or hurt you in any other way?”

  My eyes flew open. “No. Never.”

  Ms. Powell’s eyes locked on mine. “You are no longer being coerced to stay? You are free to leave at any time?”

  I leaned forward and nodded. “Yes. He said he would let me go. I want to stay. I want to marry Michael and raise our child here, in France.”

  Ms. Powell grew quiet as she continued studying me. It was some time before she spoke. “Ms. Stone, have you ever heard of Stockholm Syndrome?”

  I slowly shook my head. “No.” The term sounded vaguely familiar, but I wasn’t sure why.

  “Stockholm Syndrome is a form of traumatic bonding. It is not uncommon in kidnapping cases for women and children to bond with their captors. It’s a psychological response, a form of self-preservation really. Hostages will protect themselves from harm by bonding with the person they fear.”

  My heart beat erratically. I forced myself to breathe. I couldn’t believe that was what this woman thought of my relationship with Michael. I wasn’t a hostage. I had never really been a hostage… had I? I clenched my hands as they began shaking. Then I sat on them. I wasn’t sure who I was trying to convince when I responded, but my voice grew firm. “That’s not what this is. I don’t fear Michael. He hasn’t hurt me. He would never hurt me.”

  Ms. Powell gave me a sympathetic look. “Not physically,” she prompted, “but emotionally?”

  I continued shaking my head. “No,” I said more firmly. “He hasn’t hurt me physically or emotionally.” I knew what abuse was. I’d endured it for nine long years. This relationship with Michael was nothing like that.

  “You’ve been kidnapped before,” she noted.

  My breath caught. This woman had clearly done her homework. “Yes,” I admitted hesitantly.

  “And that man hurt you?” she persisted.

  Tears pooled in my eyes. “Yes.”

  “And you don’t think there was an emotional impact when Mr. Garcia threatened to kill your boyfriend and thousands of innocent people, then forced you to endure yet another kidnapping?” she inquired softly.

  My heart stalled. I thought about my reaction to Rafael in the safe room. Still, I couldn’t bring myself to admit she was right. “I’m here willingly,” I insisted. I swiped angrily at my tears. “I want to stay.”

  Ms. Powell leaned back in the chair and brushed at some nonexistent piece of lint on her dark blue skirt. “Why don’t you take some time to see your family in the states? They’re worried about you. They need to know you’re okay. Give yourself a few weeks, then come back if you still want to marry Mr. Garcia.”

  My eyes flitted toward the clock. I didn’t think I could take much more of this woman pressuring me to leave Michael. “I’ll be calling my family within the next few days. I just sent letters to let them know I’m safe. I plan to invite them to the wedding, but I don’t want to go back to the states. Not just yet. Besides, I am in no condition to travel right now. I’m too sick.”

  Ms. Powell’s gaze shifted to Mr. Rice, who was still leaning against the door. She sighed heavily. “Steve, what do you think?”

  He pushed off from the door as he joined us. He knelt down just a few feet in front of the couch and studied me. “I don’t know. She doesn’t fear him. He hasn’t harmed her or threatened her beyond that initial threat. She obviously has feelings for him, although who’s to say if that is the result of traumatic bonding? She understands she was manipulated, at least initially. And she clearly wants to stay. I agree that she isn’t in any shape to travel. Why don’t we plan to check back with her in three weeks?” He addressed me then. “Would you be willing to come in and see us in three weeks?”

  I nodded. “Yes, of course.”

  Mr. Rice stood. He shrugged his shoulders as he glanced at Ms. Powell.

  She slowly rose from the chair. “Ms. Stone, I must admit that I feel very conflicted about this. You can stay, for now. But, I want you to report to the embassy in three weeks.” She handed me her business card. “If anything comes up that you would like to discuss before then, please don’t hesitate to call. We are here to help.”

  “Thank you,” I whispered softly. “I appreciate your concern and your time. I’m sorry for causing so much trouble.”

  Her head tilted with interest. “You aren’t the one who caused the trouble, Ms. Stone. I do hope you realize that.”

  “Yes,” I responded meekly. I didn’t want to get into another debate. “If you don’t mind, I would really like to go upstairs and get some rest now.”

  She nodded, then joined Mr. Rice at the door. “You remember what I said. Call if you need anything. I expect to see you in three weeks.”

  I nodded, too tired to speak.

  Michael entered the room as soon as the door was open. “Are you okay, mon amour? Do you need anything before I take you up to bed?”

  I stood shakily. “Seulement toi, Michael. You are the only thing I need.”

  Michael helped me up the stairs while the butler showed the embassy staff to the front door. As soon as he reached the room, Michael stripped me down to my panties and bra, shed his own clothes, then tucked us both under the sheets. He held me firmly against his chest, whispering softly as my eyes closed. “Je t'aime, Kristine. Tu es mon cœur… mon amour… ma vie.”

  * * * * * *

  The new anti-nausea medicine quickly turned things around. I was able to tolerate small meals, water, and tea the very next day. Sadly, I still had an aversion to coffee. Bacon, chocolate, and Nutella quickly joined the list of foods I couldn’t tolerate.

  I called my parents, Cenia, Kimme, and Lexie a few days after being discharged from the hospital. Every single one of them begged me to reconsider the engagement and come home. Each person eventually asked, “What about Kadyn?” It was the one question I found impossible to answer.

  Lexie agreed to fly to Paris to spend time with me over Thanksgiving and again at Christmas, so she could attend the wedding. I was relieved when she agreed to serve as my matron of honor despite her concerns that I was marrying Michael. No amount of pleading would convince my parents to come.

  Dan was less accommodating. His exact words when he ripped the phone out of Kimme’s hand were, “Get your ass home, Krissy. Don’t make me come over there and get you, because I’ll kill Garcia with my bare hands if I do.”

  I didn’t bother telling anyone I was pregnant. I thought it best to leave that bombshell for another day. Baby steps… or so I thought.
<
br />   Michael took me to see an OB doctor later that same week. I’ll never forget the look on his face when he heard the baby’s heartbeat. He nearly fell from his chair. He gave the doctor an overzealous hug before asking to run the Doppler over my stomach himself. Then he bought the machine right out from under the doctor so we could listen to the baby’s heartbeat at home. He was beaming, clasping hands, and kissing everyone on the cheek when we walked out of the office.

  Michael resumed his regular work schedule the following day. He crept down to his office in the morning, which allowed me to sleep in. We ate lunch together, but then he’d leave for meetings or random errands in the afternoon. I was never sure if his outings were related to work, our wedding plans, or the renovations he was planning for the room next to ours. Regardless, Michael was a man on a mission. He was constantly showing me pictures on his laptop to get my feedback on the new nursery.

  I began discovering bridal magazines scattered throughout the garden terrace, the library, and our bedroom. A number of pages were bent, indicating the dresses Michael liked best. Like me, he leaned toward dresses that were simple and elegant. He kept encouraging me to choose a dress and warned me repeatedly that we were running out of time. Before I knew it, it was the first of November. Less than two months remained before the wedding.

  Michael decided to take matters into his own hands. We were eating lunch in the garden terrace when he made the announcement. “I asked one of the bridal stores to send their staff by the house this afternoon so you can try on wedding dresses.”

  “What?” I screeched. “They’re bringing dresses here? This afternoon?”

  Michael laughed. “Is that a problem, mon coeur? Are you worried it might interfere with your nap?”

  “I can’t help that I’m tired all the time,” I whined. “I’m growing a baby for crying out loud. It’s fatiguing!”

  Michael refilled my glass with sparkling water. “The dress, ma chérie, focus on the dress… at least for one afternoon.”

  I shook my head as I resumed eating the salad. “I don’t have a clue what kind of dress I want. They’re all so expensive, and what if I start showing before the wedding? I don’t even know what size to choose.”