by Julia Sykes
The carousel. This was it. My way out.
I took Sean’s hand in mine, and he looked down at our intertwined fingers in surprise. Giving him a gentle tug, I pulled him in the direction of the ride. “Come on,” I said, smiling. “Let’s go on the carousel.”
He stared at me. “Seriously?” He asked. “Aren’t you a little old for that?” But he began following my lead.
“Come on, old man,” I teased. “What are you, scared?”
He chuckled at me. “I know you’re trying to manipulate me, woman,” he said, amused. “But I’ll bite.”
“Thanks,” I beamed. My smile wasn’t forced this time. My stomach fluttered in anticipation; I was almost free.
I tried to keep from bouncing on the balls of my feet as Sean paid the four dollar admission fee. He glanced over at me.
“You’re really excited, aren’t you?” He asked, smiling. It seemed my joy was infecting him. If he only knew what was really making me happy, he wouldn’t be so pleased.
I carefully tucked my dress beneath me before straddling a beautifully-crafted palomino horse. Sean mounted the whinnying white stallion beside me.
“Ready?” He grinned over at me.
“Yep,” I said happily. But my gut twisted as guilt suddenly struck me. I forced it down.
The ride started, the carousel beginning to spin. Adrenaline began pumping through my veins as I waited to act. I let us run the circuit once, twice before making my move, hoping that Sean would be disoriented from the motion. Then I dismounted swiftly, jumping from the edge of the ride. I stumbled, almost falling as the world spun around me for a moment. But I had to move.
“Claudia!” I heard Sean call out to me as I began to run. I knew that I was making a scene as I felt the eyes of the crowd on me, but I didn’t care.
“Claudia!” His voice was closer this time, and I redoubled my pace. I was going to have to find a policeman, after all.
But his long legs carried him faster than I could run, and he closed the distance between us within less than a minute. I swallowed back a scream of frustration as his hand closed around my upper arm.
“Claudia!” He said my name angrily. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
“Getting away from you!” I fought to keep from shouting hysterically. Too many people were watching us already, and I still couldn’t bring myself to betray him.
“I can’t let you leave me, Claudia,” he said harshly. “You know that. Stop fighting me.”
I twisted in his grip, and his fingers dug into my flesh. “Never,” I hissed. “I will never stop fighting you, Sean. I will never stop trying to get away from you.”
Angry, frustrated, desperate tears were running down my cheeks. Sean was staring at me, wide-eyed. “If you care about me at all…” I choked on the words. “If you feel anything like what I… Please,” I begged. “I need my life back. I need myself back. I don’t know who I am when I’m with you. I don’t like who I am when I’m with you.”
His hand dropped from my arm, his eyes clouded over with such an intense cocktail of emotions that I couldn’t separate one from the other.
“Go,” he said softly.
I sucked in a breath, incredulous.
His muscles tensed. “Go,” he said more harshly. “Before I change my mind.”
I obeyed his command, turning on my heel and walking away from him as quickly as possible. I didn’t dare start running again lest it awaken the predator within him, goading him into pursuit.
I breathed deeply, but the scent of freedom didn’t smell nearly as sweet as I had thought it would.
Chapter 10
I got a taxi to take me all the way back to Yonkers, paying the cab driver when I reached my house; Bradley still had my purse. And my phone too. I supposed I would have to buy a new one, and I would have to cancel my credit cards. Not to mention that I had no idea how I was going to get my car back.
I enumerated the mundane things that I needed to take care of in order to fill my head with something other than thoughts of Sean.
But he was impossible to banish from my mind. I lay awake for long hours that night, unable to take comfort in the feeling of being back in my own bed. It felt cold and empty without Sean’s reassuring warmth beside me.
I had never cried so much in my life, not since my parents had died. I cried in anguish, in anger, in hatred. He had broken me, and I couldn’t forgive him for that. How could I have been so foolish as to give into him? How could I have actually wanted him to take me, wanted him to beat me? Thinking back on it now, the memories didn’t quite feel real. The thought of me submitting so completely, so meekly giving myself over to a man was so jarringly different from my normal self that I could hardly believe what I had let him do to me. The disparity between my two selves was made excruciatingly evident now that I was back in my own life. I had always loved the protection of my solitude. But not anymore. Now I felt empty, unfulfilled. And it was all his fault.
It was nearly three in the morning when sleep finally pulled me under. But my dreams were haunted by him: his fierce gaze, his cocky smile, his erotic touch. I felt far from rested when I awoke the next morning at seven AM.
I was going back to work today. Surely returning to my normal routine would help me rebuild my life, would allow me to gather up the pieces of myself and force them back together. Mechanically, I took a shower and got dressed, feeling oddly confined by my slacks and high-collared shirt. I pinned my hair back in its usual tidy bun, but it felt tight against my scalp.
This is who you are, I told myself firmly. You are Dr. Claudia Ellers, not some little woman who lets a man dress her up as it pleases him.
I was distracted from my thoughts when my doorbell rang. That must be the rental car service; I had ordered one the night before.
But when I pulled open the door, I found a sharply-dressed man wearing a pair of aviator sunglasses. He was tall, about six-foot-two. His strong jaw was clean-shaven and his dark blonde hair carefully styled. He certainly didn’t look like someone who worked for the rental car company. Peering around him, I saw only one black sedan parked in the street, with no U-Rent van in sight.
“Claudia Ellers?” The man asked, his voice a deep timbre.
“Yes,” I replied hesitantly, utterly confused.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a black leather wallet. He flipped it open to reveal a card with an official-looking stamp emblazoned upon it.
“I’m Agent Clayton Vaughn, FBI,” he said in a brusque, business-like voice. “Can I come in?”
I blinked at him, taken aback. FBI? Could he possibly know about my abduction? I bit my lip, not wanting to tell him about Sean. But how could I refuse him without raising suspicion? I stepped back to admit him.
“Come on in, Agent Vaughn,” I said courteously. I led him over the foyer and into my living room, gesturing towards an armchair. “Please, have a seat,” I invited as I positioned myself on the couch across from him, my back ramrod straight. “What can I help you with?” I asked as casually as I could manage once he had settled himself down.
“I’m here to ask you about Sean Reynolds,” he said bluntly.
My heart sank. How could he possibly know?
“Oh?” I said, trying to keep my voice cool and steady.
He took off his sunglasses, and his light blue eyes regarded me seriously. “You were seen in Central Park with him yesterday,” he said. “You seemed to have some kind of altercation. What were you fighting about?”
“It was nothing,” I said quickly. “He’s my boyfriend, and we just had a disagreement,” I lied.
Agent Vaughn’s brows drew together. “Your boyfriend?” He asked, clearly skeptical. “How does a well-respected doctor from Yonkers end up with a drug dealer for the Westies?”
My heart stopped. “What?” I asked faintly, my mind refusing to process what he had just said.
He looked at me sternly. “Are you telling me that you seriously didn’t know about h
is criminal activities?” He said disbelievingly. “You were seen leaving the apartment that he shares with Bradley Smith. We’ve had them under surveillance for a week. And you were never seen entering the premises in that time. Do you honestly expect me to believe that you spent more than seven days in his home without suspecting anything?”
“Sean…” I choked on the words. “Sean is one of the Westies? He’s in the Irish mob?”
It couldn’t be true; this couldn’t be happening.
But Agent Vaughn didn’t let up. “I have to admit that I’m surprised at you, Dr. Ellers,” he said reprovingly. “We know that your parents died as a result of mob violence. What are you doing with a man like Sean Reynolds?”
My head was spinning; I couldn’t seem to draw breath. My heart was shattering. My parents had been gunned down in the street for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. And Sean was a part of that world? How could I have let him touch me? How could I have ever felt anything for him other than disgust?
I hugged my arms around my stomach, suddenly feeling sick as the world blurred around me.
The sofa shifted beside me, and there was a large hand firmly stroking up and down my back. “Breathe,” a deep voice ordered. I gasped, forcing air into my lungs before my panic could take me completely. The room began to materialize around me again as my breathing slowly returned to some semblance of a normal rhythm.
I glanced up to find Agent Vaughn looking at me pityingly. I hated that look.
“I’m sorry to have been the one to break the news to you,” he said gently. “But I had to be sure.”
I nodded numbly, my mind barely processing his words.
“Now that you know,” he continued on. “Would you be willing to give us a statement about his activities? You may not have noticed anything suspicious, but there might have been some signs that you didn’t pick up on.” He looked at me earnestly. “You could be a great help to our investigation, Dr. Ellers.”
I didn’t answer; I was unable to formulate any words.
“After what happened to your parents, I would think that you would want to help us,” he pressed.
The man was mercenary. It was too much; everything was happening faster than I could process. And my pain was back, as keen and cutting as it had been on the night that I had found out that my parents were dead. Only now there was another layer of agony as I learned what Sean truly was.
“I would like it if you left now,” I told Agent Vaughn coldly. I couldn’t handle this right now, not right when I was so desperately trying to put my life back together. I was tired of hurting, tired of hating myself. This stopped today.
He regarded me for a moment, his eyes searching my face. Finally, he stood. I walked him to the door, my movements stiff and jerky. He paused at the threshold, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a business card.
“In case you change your mind,” he said. I took it from him automatically, just wanting him to go away.
My doorbell rang again, giving me the excuse that I needed to break eye contact. I pulled the door open gratefully, and Agent Vaughn silently stepped around the rental car deliveryman. I didn’t watch him leave.
I signed the papers for the car blindly, hardly feeling the man pressing the keys into my hand. I almost fell apart all over again, but I wanted nothing more than to put off the moment when I would have to face this fresh agony. Maybe I would never have to, if I just made my walls strong enough. Resolutely, I pulled them back up as I walked out to my temporary car, ready to return to work and my real life.
Work passed by in a haze of cut knees and little coughs. My co-workers murmured condolences for my dead foster mom, and I forced myself to thank them for believing Bradley’s lie that he had used to trap me. Every comment, every pitying look, was like a hammer blow to the walls around my heart, threatening to break through my resolve by reminding me of my captors. So I focused on what I loved most about my job: helping kids. But even my smiles at my little patients felt forced, and I couldn’t quite feel the joy that I usually did; I was expending too much effort trying to make myself numb.
I stayed in the office late, trying to catch up on the cases that I had missed. And using it as an excuse to put off the moment when I would find myself alone again. But eventually my eyes became bleary, and I could no longer focus them on the words in my files. I let out an involuntary yawn. It seemed that staying longer would be fruitless; it was time to go home.
My car was the only one left in the lot, and I walked to it slowly on leaden legs. I was so absorbed by my exhaustion that I didn’t hear him coming until he was on me.
My back slammed against the SUV, jarring me. I parted my lips to let out a shocked scream, but his hand was over my mouth, muffling my cry. He was wearing a black ski-mask, and all I could see were his cold aqua eyes.
“Are you Claudia Ellers?” He asked in a low, gravelly voice.
I didn’t answer. How did he know my name? I was afraid to admit who I was.
There was a clicking sound and a flash of silver as he flicked out a switchblade.
“I won’t ask you again,” he said menacingly.
My eyes were wide and terrified as they focused on the knife. I nodded jerkily, too scared to lie to him.
Never taking his hand from my mouth, he slowly brought the knife up to my face. I tried to finch away, but he held me firmly as he pressed the flat of the blade against my cheek.
“I have a message for Sean Reynolds from the Latin Kings,” he said coldly.
I whimpered as fear overwhelmed me. This man was going to hurt me, and I didn’t understand why.
“Shhh,” he said, leaning into me. “I’m not going to kill you, chica. I’m just going to cut you up a little.”
He applied the lightest pressure, and I felt the blade’s cruel edge make a long, shallow cut in my skin. I sobbed, but it didn’t hurt much. Yet.
There was a savage growl and a large hand closed around the man’s wrist, jerking the knife away from me. He tightened his grip, and my attacker cried out as the blade dropped from his hand, clattering to the asphalt. He was pulled from me, thrown to the ground. I heard his skull crack against the pavement.
My savior bent down, scooping up the knife before advancing on the man. Dropping to his knees beside him, he raised the blade high before driving it down into my attacker’s shoulder. The man screamed, a high, piercing sound. But my savior wasn’t satisfied. He twisted the knife cruelly, tearing at the man’s flesh. Another scream rent through the silence of the night.
“Sean!” I cried, horrified by his actions. “Sean, stop!”
But he didn’t seem to hear me. He reached out and ripped the mask over the man’s head, revealing his identity. Even through his tanned skin, his face was pale and taut with pain.
“If I ever see your face again, you’re a dead man,” Sean snarled, fury rolling off of him in waves. “Understand?” He twisted the knife again for emphasis.
“Sí!” The tortured man cried out. “Yes! Please…”
“Sean!” I screamed his name this time. “Stop!”
His head swiveled to me, and his eyes honed in on the thin red line that marred my cheek. His face twisted into something savage and terrible. He wrenched the knife from the man’s flesh and stood. Then he brought his foot down hard on my attacker’s injured shoulder.
The man’s broken cry made my stomach turn.
“Let him go, Sean!” I demanded shrilly, disgusted by his violence.
He turned to me again, his enraged, maddened eyes burning into mine. But I held his gaze, and slowly, his expression melted into one of concern.
He lifted his foot off of the bleeding man, who pushed himself upright and fled into the darkness, cradling his injured arm. But Sean didn’t watch him go; he only had eyes for me now.
“Claudia,” he said my name like a prayer, striding towards me.
I brought my hands up quickly, my palms facing out as though warding off a rabid animal. “Don’t come near m
e,” I said shakily.
He paused, confusion flooding his features. “Claudia, I-”
“Leave me alone, Sean!” I shrieked. “I know what you are!”
His brows drew together, suddenly angry. “You don’t know anything, Claudia,” he ground out, his hands clenching to fists.
“I know that I hate you!” I hurled the words at him. “I never want to see you again!”
His eyes went wide, stunned and hurt. But they quickly filled with ire once again
“Fine!” He snapped. “Next time I’ll just let them torture you. Is that what you want?”
“It’s your fault that I was attacked in the first place!” I shouted. “You’re like poison, Sean. And I’m going to purge you from my life if it’s the last thing I do.” I clenched my jaw and lifted my chin at him defiantly.
His expression turned blank. “If that’s what you want,” he said coldly. “I won’t be saving your life again. You’re on your own now, just like you like it. Alone, isolated. Go back to your life of solitude that you love so much.” He said the words harshly, and they tore at me as though he was driving the switchblade into my gut repeatedly.
I swallowed hard, but I refused to let the hurt show on my face. I stared at him for long moments, keeping my expression
schooled to a hard mask.
Jerking his hand through his hair, he turned from me with a curse, striding away from me. I watched him until the darkness swallowed him up, fighting down the feeling of abandonment that was clawing at my heart.
Fumbling with the keys, I sought refuge in my car, locking the doors as soon as I was inside. I tried desperately to make my mind go blank, but the images of Sean torturing the man played in my mind over and over again.
That was his life; that was who he truly was. The cocky, sweet, sometimes vulnerable man who I thought I had been falling for was nothing but a hardened, heartless criminal. I shuddered at the memory of that horrible, twisted look of vindictive satisfaction on his face as he had made the man scream.
I came to a decision. I needed to get to a phone. Gripping the steering wheel hard to still my shaking hands, I drove home as fast as I could. I flung myself from the car and ran for my front door, scared that there might be more sadistic men waiting for me, lurking in the dark.