by Wendi Felter
“Let me hold you, Damon.”
“No!” He kept his hands on her arms, keeping her at arm’s length. Then he dropped his head so she didn’t see his face crumble. “I grabbed the gun, b-but he D-dad wouldn’t let go – and – and – and…” His entire body shook with emotion. His breathing grew loud and raspy. “It went off. The gun went off. Do you understand?” He lifted his head; no longer able to hide from her – she deserved to see just how much a farce he was – she deserved to see the extent of his shame.
She stared at him with horror in her eyes, but didn’t speak. Reaching out she caressed his cheek, looking at her finger in disbelief.
“He didn’t kill her.” His words came out in a harsh, forced strangle. “I pulled the trigger. I killed her! I killed her!”
She broke his hold and rushed to him, falling into his arms, pressing him to her, as he bent his face into her neck. Her tears mingled with his as she stroked his hair and whispered comforting things to him, and he felt too weak too fight her off and she felt too soothing to push away again.
They stayed like that for a timeless eternity, but eventually, if slowly, he pulled himself together, shuddered his last, wiped his eyes angrily and gently pulled out of her arms, rising.
She stood right after him, reaching for his hands. “Everything makes sense now. You mustn’t feel responsible or punish yourself. Let’s talk more about it.”
He turned away, emotionally spent. “No. No more.” He wanted to throw himself off a cliff, like he always did when he thought of what he’d done. “I don’t ever want t-to talk about it again.”
“You did your best. You were only a kid. I don’t want to leave you, Damon.”
Even now she would stay with him. Oh, how he loved her. “I don’t deserve you. There must be something about me – my D-dad beat me. My Mom didn’t protect me. Then I…” He shook his head. The rejection he’d felt as a kid consumed him. If he was honest with himself, he always had that unwanted little kid inside of him.
“I felt I deserved Gavin’s beatings at first,” she tried, her voice kind. “I think it’s just how you feel when you’re abused – you lose whatever self esteem you have.”
He closed his eyes and sighed. “I’m a murderer.”
“That was self-defense, Damon – and it just went wrong.”
“It always goes wrong with me.” He shoved his hair off his face.
“It doesn’t have to now. Give me a chance, Damon. I love you.”
He raised his eyes to meet hers and he could see the intensity of emotion she returned. He could feel her. Should he take a chance? Could he? Could even he have a happy ending?
“Marry me, Damon. Be a father to the babies. We’ll have a lifetime to talk about our pasts and a lifetime to erase the wounds. I love you with all my heart.”
“Even now?” He laughed in a cynical way, but never took his gaze off her.
“Especially now.”
Ninety percent of him wanted to run to her, lift her into his arms and take a chance. The ten per cent that didn’t blocked him. She could do better than him. The babies could have a better father. He let people down. What if he let her down?
What, God help him, what if he gave her his heart and in the end she left him anyways? That frightened him the most; he found it a likely scenario.
“Give me a little more time.” The words tumbled out. As soon as he said them, he knew they were, as usual, the wrong words.
They stared at each other and he saw her compassion change to devastation, then fury. That was the last thing he wanted and he knew he could change her expression with just a word, but he couldn’t say it. In truth, his hero façade didn’t work. He was the worst sort of coward, and he couldn’t make the commitment they both wanted so desperately. So he just kept on watching her while her face turned red.
“I hate you!” Her passionate response caused his body to jolt. “I hate you, Damon, apparently you don’t know or don’t give a damn just how much I need and love you, and I hate you for that!”
She turned and ran from the room, slamming the door after her, her lilac scent lingering behind. Her departure left Damon in shambles, shattered on the floor in pieces, wondering how he’d picked himself up or put himself back together.
He spit out a curse as he walked to his chair, planting himself on the spot where he and Heaven had just made love. Her scent lingered, along with the elusive aura of sex. He set one elbow on the arm of the chair and buried his head in his hand. He’d told her the worst, thinking that she’d run away. No, he hadn’t killed her on purpose, but he’d killed her – his own mother. A heavy weight covered him.
Nobody had blamed him but himself. Oh, his father had tried telling the police his lies, but Aiden had told them the truth. Thank God he’d been such an articulate little boy. He threw his head back and stared at the fan on the ceiling. Logically, he knew he shouldn’t feel guilty. Emotionally, he hadn’t gotten past it. If he deserved punishment, though, hadn’t he suffered enough? Two years of being completely mute? Torn from his siblings during his teen years? An eon of loneliness?
He’d done all he could to help other people escape abuse. Others thought him a Saint. His eyes almost flooded again at the thought, but he controlled it this time. Could other people be at least a little insightful about him? Heaven loved him. And he loved her. Would they really hurt each other if they brought their love to its rightful conclusion?
Damon massaged his throbbing temples. The clock on the wall made him groan. He didn’t look forward to the long, dark hours that stretched before him. He knew he wouldn’t get any sleep. Instead, he had a lot of thinking to do.
Heaven felt dead inside. She’d slept on and off during the night, rising often to watch the babies, even when they slept. Now, as she watched as Kendra packed for a night at Aiden’s house, she said, “I can watch her. You don’t have to.”
Aiden, lounging in the doorway, arms crossed, one leg in front of the other shook his head. “You and Damon need time alone.”
Kendra looked up from the floor, where her duffle bag sat beside her, and smiled. “I want you two to get married,” she said.
Heaven knew Aiden and Kendra both hoped she’d patch things up with Damon, but it wouldn’t happen. Her patience level had broken and she couldn’t wait for him anymore. He didn’t want her and the babies enough if he had to think about it any longer, and she couldn’t stand waiting.
As if reading her thoughts, a shadow fell over her and she smelled the spicy scent of Damon. Although her body leaped to life, as she remembered the wonder of his touch, she refused to turn around. When he put a hand on her shoulder, she shrugged it off.
“Heaven, I need t-to talk to you.”
Heaven said nothing; felt nothing. Would he tell her he’d booked a flight to Toronto?
“I don’t have time now,” he went on and she could tell he strained to get out the words. “Unfortunately, I have t-to meet with a few politicians today – I c-can’t stay home.”
Heaven tossed her hair, still refusing to face him. “And I should care because…”
Although she felt him in her space, his aura sucking up her air, she crossed her arms and tried to act unaffected.
“Maybe you shouldn’t care,” Damon finally said. “But I hope you’ll g-give me a hearing. I made reservations at a nice restaurant t-tonight. We c-can talk then.”
Heaven felt a chill. So he’d take her to a restaurant to cushion the blow. A nice restaurant. She didn’t really think she could bear listening to him anymore.
When she didn’t answer he moved closer to her. She could feel his heat behind her.
“Please, Heaven. The worst that c-could come of it is a good dinner.”
His voice, his presence, his scent all hypnotized her. “Fine.” She surprised herself by her answer. “Whatever. What time do I have to be ready?”
“Seven tonight.” He sounded relieved.
She nodded without turning to look at him. She was too afraid.
She didn’t want to see his eyes.
“I’ll see you later,” he said. Then directing his attention towards his siblings. “Will Kendra stay overnight at your place t-tonight, Aiden?”
Aiden nodded.
Damon turned and walked away. She felt less secure; less protected, and emptier as she heard his footsteps descend the staircase. What the hell would he do tonight? She knew it would torment her all day. The realization angered her. Why should she live and die by his decision?
The day rolled along and so did Gavin MacKenzie. He’d just come from seeing his father and hearing again that the old man was cutting off his money supply. Gavin felt rage rushing through his veins as he drove.
“Tough love” he’d called it, castigating him for quitting his job and refusing to work for him or anybody else. Damn that bastard! He didn’t have time to work! He had to find Heaven. Of course, he could never tell this to his father – his father didn’t even know he’d gotten married and would soon be a father himself. It didn’t matter.
His father played by the rules, as he was told he’d always done before his head injury. His father would never approve of or understand his need to kidnap Heaven. Well, screw his father. He’d find another source of money later. He put his father out of his mind. Murderous thoughts impacted his driving.
Gavin liked to drive near Damon’s house. He didn’t dare go down the exact street—by all the reports from his private investigator friend, Damon was sharp and intelligent. There was no way he could drive up and down his street, or park at the corner of his block, and not expect the man to notice him.
He could, however, drive back and forth on the highway a few blocks away, hoping to catch him on the road. He’d seen him a few times, once when he’d followed him to the mall. He could get lucky again. Under no circumstances had he given up his plan to snatch Heaven. He’d just lain low to make the stud boy and his wife complacent. Once he had her again, never would he allow her out of her chains.
The rage he felt towards both of them caused him constant grief. The headaches he’d had since his head injury were worsening. He could feel one coming on now. Often they hit him quickly and with an agonizing violence. His father wanted him to go back to his doctors, but he knew they couldn’t help him.
How many doctors had he seen right after he’d emerged from the coma? Not one had restored his memory or stopped his anger or sated his migraines. He was finished with doctors. Screw them too.
Gavin seethed as he thought of how close he was to Heaven. If only Damon didn’t have a security system and the damn watchdog…if he had to drive back and forth every day on this strip, he’d do it. She must be close to delivering the baby. Maybe he could use the brat to his advantage. “As long as I’m alive, I’ll try to get you,” he whispered to himself. Then he suddenly saw flashes of light and his head exploded. Cursing, with every four-letter word he knew, he pulled off the road and buried his face into his arms. When he experienced these sudden, excruciating, blinding headaches, a buzz seemed to sound in his head adding to the pain, creating a pressure that made him dizzy enough to vomit. His eyes felt like pincushions, needles sticking him in every direction.
Chapter Thirty
Gavin heard a voice through his window and tried to ignore it, but the man wouldn’t go away. Through the noise in his skull, he heard, “Are you all right? Can I do anything?”
A Good Samaritan. Just what he needed.
“I’m going to call for help.”
That did it. Gavin, even in intense pain, feared having anybody being called. No doctors. No cops. Nothing. With considerable effort, he lifted his head, seeing spots in front of his eyes. His shaky fingers pushed the button to lower his window. “Thanks for stopping, man,” he managed, his voice hoarse. “Don’t call anyone. It’s just – a migraine.”
The man, tall, blond and mustached, leaned against the door to speak to him. “You look terrible. Why don’t you leave the car here and come with me? I’m going to visit a friend – really nice guy – you can sleep it off at his place. I’m sure he won’t mind.”
Gavin didn’t want to go, but sleeping off the migraine sounded too good to pass up. “Thanks,” he said. He turned off his car, locked it up, and let the larger man help him to his feet. He felt the ground tilt as he staggered to the other car. Once inside and on the road, Gavin rested his head against the window and closed his eyes. The next thing he knew, he felt somebody shaking his shoulder.
Gavin mumbled and cursed. Where was he? Oh, yeah. His migraine. He noticed it had gotten a lot better.
“We’re here,” the man said.
Gavin forced his head up. It throbbed a bit, but felt a lot better and the flashes of light were gone. “Where are we?” he mumbled and attempted to focus on the surroundings. Gavin blinked, his heart speeding up. No, it had to be a hallucination.
The man slid out of the car and, through the open door, leaned down and said, “I’ll come around and help you to the house. You better?”
Gavin swallowed hard. “Not really.” He could barely breathe. The gun jammed into his jeans, suddenly felt very heavy. And powerful. He kept up his pretense of a migraine and allowed himself to be helped up the walkway.
When they reached the door, the man knocked on the door. “It’s Dave, Slug!” he called in a good-natured voice. “Let me in, Damon.”
Damon emerged from the library, tired and aware he’d be poor company. He’d wanted to speak to Heaven since coming home from the Shelters, but his few attempts had been met with a wall of stone. It hadn’t helped that the babies had been fussy and both of them had to tend to them. He asked her once if he could speak to her, but she’d shaken her head and walked away, Angela pressed to her breast. She’d refused all eye contact. He’d wished he could blurt out all that festered inside of him, but her reaction to him had clogged his throat, making it hard for him to speak. In the end, he’d given up. They still had reservations at the restaurant in a few hours. She had to sit there then and at least hear him out. In the meantime, Dave was always a good diversion.
He put his hand on the doorknob.
“You awake in there?” Dave called from the other side of the door.
Damon grinned. He hoped to have a man-to-man talk with his long time friend. Usually he handled everything himself. But, hey, how would it harm him to get Dave’s feedback about his situation with Heaven? Other people shared. He could try. He swung open the door and Dave stepped inside along with another man.
Damon froze, shooting an accusatory at Dave, but could tell right away that Dave didn’t have a clue. The breath seemed to leave his lungs and he couldn’t react as Gavin narrowed his eyes on his, a nasty smile on his lips.
Dave, oblivious, shut the door and said, “I found this guy on the side of the road. Has a migraine. Thought he could sleep it off while I’m here, then I’ll take him back to his car…” Dave’s face suddenly sobered. “Damon, is anything wrong?”
Ignoring Dave, Damon reached for Gavin, ready to pound him to the ground, when his opponent suddenly pulled something shiny and black from under his jacket. His grin split his face as he cocked the trigger. “It’s over, Steele,” he said. “Give me Heaven or she’ll die, too.”
Dave, shock written all over his face, grabbed for Gavin, but the gun turned towards him and he backed off. “Who the hell are you?” he asked.
Damon felt his throat working. “Put that gun away, Gavin.” He took a step forward, but Gavin instantly swung the gun in his direction and he halted, his fists balled.
“Such good fortune.” Gavin grinned and rambled off how he’d ended up in his house. “Fate must be on my side.” He cocked the nose of his gun. “I know Heaven’s here. Hand her over to me, Steele.”
Damon stiffened while his heart banged against his chest. By the blank look in Gavin’s colorless eyes, he could tell that the man had checked out.
Gavin stepped closer and shoved the barrel of the gun to his head.
“Don’t give me an excuse to ki
ll you, Steele. I’ve wanted to, since I realized you and my wife were lovers. Hell, I may kill you just for the hell of it, but I’ll do it for sure if you don’t get Heaven.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Damon saw Dave move forward, but so did Gavin. He swiftly whirled the gun at him. “Get down, Bastard! Hit the floor, hands over your head or I’ll blow you away first! You’re a liability to me – a witness!”
Dave ground his teeth then looked over at Damon, his eyes bitter. “I have a wife and kid, man. Sorry.”
Damon nodded. He couldn’t blame him.
Gavin had the gun pointed at him again. “Where is she? Call her. She’ll come if you call for her. She doesn’t know I’m here, and she better not know.”
Damon would have easily taken a bullet to keep Heaven safe. The problem was Heaven would be at Gavin’s mercy if he were shot. Only Dave would stand between Heaven and the man who’d tormented her for a year. Dave wasn’t tough; no match for Gavin. In the end, Gavin could kill Heaven just as easily as him. He had to stall for time and rush at the man when he seemed vulnerable.
Hopefully, Heaven would stay put in her bedroom with the twins. Unfortunately, she had no phone in her room. If she’d heard Gavin’s voice, and he bet she had, she couldn’t call for help. His room had the land phone and his cell phone too. Damn, why hadn’t he let her and the twins move into his room with him? Well, it was too late now.
“If you put the gun away,” Damon said, trying to stay calm and keep his stammer at a minimum, “I’m sure she’ll c-come to you on her own. She still loves you. She knows you were only trying to protect her – since she’s mentally ill.”
“So you believe me now?” Gavin’s gave him a smug close-lipped smile.
Damon could barely breathe, but he knew he had to remain in control. “Yes. I do know it. You were right.”