by Dori Lavelle
True to his promise, there are no guards on the other side of the glass. I uncurl my fingers, which I didn’t even know were bunched into fists.
When I hear a loud laugh from somewhere on the yacht, I take it as a sign that Dax is really gone. No one laughs when he’s around.
This time I step through the door and search for anything that would give me access to the outside world.
Still terrified that someone is watching, I glance around every few steps, so distracted that I almost collide with Karl in the hallway.
“Sorry,” I say, breathless with nerves.
He’s carrying my breakfast tray and his smile seems brighter today. “Guten Morgen, Frau Pierce.”
Being addressed as the Devil’s wife causes a hard knot to form in my stomach, but I have to play this stupid game.
“Morning, Karl. Please take my breakfast to my cabin.” I use as many hand gestures as needed to get the message across while I wonder if he also secretly speaks English. I doubt it. His face is too open and honest.
He nods and we part ways.
The yacht is so big it feels like a freaking hotel. Aside from Karl, I don’t bump into anyone else.
Still waiting for the pin to drop, I make my way around several hallways, trying to get into cabins. Most of them are locked. No surprise there.
Dax would never allow me to roam the yacht without safeguarding anything that might aid in my escape.
After several locked doors, I finally come to one that’s unlocked. I carefully push it open. Inside is a beautiful, bright mahogany and steel kitchen with gleaming surfaces.
I take a few breaths before I step into it. When I do, the hairs at the back of my neck rise and bristle. Someone is behind me.
I hold my breath and turn around slowly. Please don’t let it be Dax.
Faith is standing before me with a small smile.
“Good morning, Mrs. Pierce,” she says. “Would you like a cup of coffee?” Since I caught her yesterday, she clearly no longer sees the need to pretend she doesn’t speak English. She speaks my language with no hint of an accent.
I move out of the doorway and hesitate.
She walks through the doorway. “Please, come on in. I’ll make you a nice cup of tea or coffee. Whichever you prefer.”
I can’t allow the chance to connect with someone slip through my fingers. I follow her inside and sit on a chair at a gleaming granite table.
“What were you looking for?” She turns her back to me as she fills a kettle before switching it on.
“Nothing,” I mumble. “I was just . . . looking around. Mr. Pierce—Dax—said I can.”
“Of course you can.” She throws a smile over her shoulder. “You are his wife. Tea or coffee?”
“Tea, please.” I cross my legs at the ankles.
Neither of us says anything more until she places my cup in front of me. “Thank you.” I gaze into the warm steam before looking up at her, unanswered questions on my tongue. I watch her lean against one of the two massive sinks.
Behind her, through the windows, the turquoise ocean looks calm and unthreatening.
“How do you do it? How can you watch another woman being abused and do nothing to help?”
“I can’t.” She turns to look out the window, arms crossed over her chest.
“Please . . . you’ve seen what he does to me. Help me get away. I’m here
against my will. He kidnapped me.” I swallow the sob inside my throat. “I’m not asking for much. I . . . I need to contact someone on the outside.”
“I said I can’t.” Her voice is hard now, but I can’t give up.
“I’m begging you. I won’t tell him you helped me.” A tear rolls down my cheek. I swipe it away. “Do you have kids?” I ask.
“Yes,” she croaks. “One.”
“How would you feel if someone kidnapped your child?” She’s a woman and if I
can try to reach the emotional part of her, maybe she will feel my pain and act.
“Dax . . . He is my son.” She turns to face me.
A hand flies to my tight chest. “Oh my God,” I whisper, my fingers clutching the edge of the table. “He’s—Dax is your son?”
She closes her eyes and opens them again. They’re now glistening with tears. “He’s my boy.”
“Dax told me his parents are dead.”
“His father is dead and buried.” Her hand grips her apron. “In his eyes, I’m dead too.”
“He’s a monster.” The words come out in a rush. I don’t stop long enough to think about the consequences that could follow them. “Your son is a psychopath.”
Faith turns away again and I watch her shoulders shaking. “He was my sweet, sweet boy. I did that to him.” Her words are drenched in tears. “I made him the person he is.”
“He’s a grown man. He’s made his own choices. He chooses to do all these evil
things to me, and to other women.” I’m so pissed off, I can’t stop myself from trembling with fury. “Do you know that he’s a murderer? He killed innocent women.”
“No.” She shakes her head. “I don’t believe that.” The hardness is back in her voice, but she still won’t look at me.
“He told me. He showed me the rooms in which he had kept them before they died.”
Does she really not know or is she pretending to be blind?
“He loves you,” she says. “He loves you.”
“No, he doesn’t,” I throw back at her. “He doesn’t even know what love is.”
She’s quiet for a long time, still crying softly.
In her fragile state, I decide to take the opportunity to push her over the edge. “When the cops catch him, he will be going to prison.”
“It’s not his fault,” she says above a whisper. “His father was an unkind man.” She encircles her throat with her hand. “His father used to hurt him. He hurt us both. Dax. . . he can’t help the things he does. Hurting people comes naturally to him. I was too scared to do anything. I couldn’t help my son.”
“You can make better choices now, before it’s too late. When he gets caught, he’ll go to prison for a long time. So will you if you—”
“I deserve to go to prison.” She spins around, her eyes dripping with tears. “I deserve to go to prison for what I did to him.”
“So you’ll just continue to watch until he kills me? Can you really live with my death on your conscience?”
“Dax is dangerous. If I do anything to help you, I’ll be dead too.”
“You’re his mother. I don’t think he’ll kill you.”
She gives me a bitter smile. “That means nothing. He murdered his own father.”
Her words are like a bolt of lightning hitting my chest, rendering me speechless for a while.
“No,” I whisper.
“He was eighteen when he snapped.” She reaches for a nearby napkin and blows her nose while I stare at her in shock. “His father loved snakes. In the end, he died from a snake bite. Dax attacked him with a poisonous snake.”
I’m too shaken to speak so I just listen as she unloads. It’s as if she’s been waiting years to speak up.
“I couldn’t stop it. I didn’t want to. That day was the end of the boy I knew. I watched him become a monster. He spared me but said I was no longer his mother.” She sniffs. “The only way I can be in his life is if I turn a blind eye to everything he does.” She inhales sharply. “Now I’m just an employee like everyone else on this yacht.”
“You’re the only one who can help me. I need to get off the yacht. My sister is terminally ill—cancer. She only has a few months to live. I need to be there for her, please. She has no one else.” I clasp my hands together, my tears dropping onto them. “She doesn’t even know where I am. The stress is not good for her. Please, do something.”
Faith stops crying, but doesn’t say anything for a long time. Instead, she pours herself a cup of coffee. She doesn’t say anything as she sips it. I don’t fill the silence, giving her t
ime to make the right decision. If she doesn’t help me, she’s as much of a monster as her son.
Finally she turns. This time she meets my gaze.
“He can’t know it was me.”
“Of course.” I nod vigorously. “I won’t tell him. You have my word.”
“Okay.” She purses her lips. “I’ll find a way to help you.”
“Can you get me a phone or something that will allow me to get in touch with someone that can help me?”
“There’s only one cabin with everything that allows access to the outside world. Only Dax has the key.” She rinses out her cup. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thank you.” I sigh with relief. “Thank you so much.” As I watch her wipe down the already spotless counter, I’m still in awe that she’s Dax’s mother. How did I not see that?
She picks up my untouched cup of tea. “Please leave. We can’t be seen talking.”
I return to my cabin and sit on my bed for a long time, still shaken but relieved that I discovered a window of opportunity. I pray that Faith will be able to help me without Dax suspecting a thing. I won’t be able to forgive myself if she dies because of me.
I eat my breakfast without tasting it. Then I go out for fresh air. I come across the guards, but they don’t pay me any attention. No one follows me around or gives me suspicious looks.
After lunch, which Faith and Karl serve me at the pool, I go for another look around the yacht. I come across another unlocked room.
When I open it, I see Faith on the floor next to a single bed, her shoulders shaking, and a rosary bead necklace in her hands. She’s praying, her words mumbled. Is she praying for her own forgiveness or her son’s forgiveness? Is she praying for the bravery to be able to do the right thing? Is she praying that Dax will never find out she betrayed him?
Giving her privacy, I go back to my cabin and lie on the bed. What seems like an hour later, Karl brings me a plastic bowl of fresh fruits. This time I enjoy every bite.
As I eat, I think of who I’ll call if Faith finds me a phone. It has to be someone who will be able to act immediately, someone with the resources to get to me fast. The only person who comes to mind is Curtis.
My mind takes me to when we had our last breakfast together. I remember his words. He told me he loves me, warned me that Dax is the wrong person for me, that he didn’t trust him.
Curtis could have been the one for me. Instead I chose a murderer. Would Dax have turned out differently if he had been brought up by a kinder, loving man? I doubt it. I truly believe that some people are destined to be evil. Dax Pierce is one of them.
Chapter Fifteen
I’m lingering in the doorway, waiting for Faith to turn around, to offer me anything that can give me a way out. Even though Dax has not changed his mind about me moving freely on the yacht, I’m still his prisoner. He pretends we’re husband and wife and insists on having sex with me every chance he gets. Some of the things he wants me to do are disgusting and often painful. When I refuse to give him what he wants, he threatens me with torture in the dungeon or death.
It’s been three days since my conversation with Faith. Since Dax has been around all the time, I didn’t get the chance to talk to her.
When Dax informed me last night that he’d be going away, my entire body collapsed with relief.
When I woke up this morning, he had already left. I didn’t waste time. As soon as I finished my breakfast, I came to find Faith.
Even without turning around, she knows I’m here. She knows what I want. I watch as her spine straightens and her shoulders tense.
“Faith,” I say, gripping onto the doorframe. My heart is lodged in my throat as I wait for her to look at me. What if she changed her mind? What if she decides to tell Dax that I’ve been asking her for help? I doubt it, though. If Dax finds out she helped me in any way, he’ll not only punish me, she will also feel the burn of his wrath. Worse, we could both end up dead. I’m almost tempted to call things off to save her life, but she speaks before I can make the decision.
“I know why you’re here.” She transfers the plate in her hands to the drying rack. Her fingers grip the edge of the sink as she gazes out at the ocean. “I kept my promise.”
She turns around slowly. Her skin is pale, her amber eyes red-rimmed and swollen. Eyes still on me, she reaches into the pocket of her beige apron and pulls out a phone.
I slip into the kitchen fast and close the door behind me. “You—”
“I always keep my promises.” She places the phone in my hand. The moment it comes into contact with my palm, my heart jolts. It’s not just any cell phone. It’s mine. “How did you—” My question is answered by the small label on the back of the phone with my name scrolled on it in blue ink.
My fingers tighten around the phone, warmth floods my veins. The phone is like a good friend that has come to rescue me. “Thank you.” I blink away the blur from my eyes. “I really appreciate it.”
She bobs her head lightly. “Quick, do what you have to do before someone comes.” She moves past me to stand in front of the door. “He can’t know. He can never know I did this. You promised.”
“Yes.” I give her a light nod. “I promise.”
As I watch her wringing her hands and shifting from one foot to the other, it breaks my heart that a mother would be so terrified of her own son. It’s not right. If we both make it out of this situation alive, I’ll do everything I can to help her.
“Is it possible to call from the yacht?”
“I’ve seen him do it.” She wraps her arms around her body. “Hurry, please.”
My fingers are trembling as I switch on the phone, praying I’ll be able to get a signal.
The phone flickers on, but the battery is low, only one bar left. I’m conflicted about who to call first. I’m desperate to hear my sister’s voice, to get confirmation that she’s alive, but I also know she doesn’t have the resources to help me. I’m also not sure I’ll be able to keep my tears at bay, which would make it hard to speak. The same could happen if I call Curtis. It’s best to call the cops.
I’m about to dial 911 when I stop. My gaze shifts to Faith’s terrified eyes. “Do you know where we are?” Knowing our location would speed up the process of my rescue.
“Um . . . no, I don’t.” She rubs her forearms as if she’s cold.
“Okay.” I swipe my palm across my forehead to erase the sweat. I’m so distracted by my heart racing it’s hard to think. I need something concrete to point the cops to.
“Do you know the name of the yacht or anything?” I chew a corner of my lip.
She glances at the closed door, then back at me. “It’s The Mamba. He calls it The Mamba.”
I nod. I’m not at all surprised that he named his yacht after a snake.
“Do you know anything else that might—”
“Yesterday I overheard him talking to the captain.” Her words come out in a rush. “Hawaii. He said something about Hawaii.”
“Thanks.” They could have been discussing something totally unrelated to our location, but every piece of information is gold.
As I look down at the phone, I change my mind about calling the cops. The battery could die while the operator asks me endless questions. I don’t have enough time to explain things from the start. Curtis already suspects I’ve been kidnapped. According to the article—which I had flushed down the toilet a few days ago—he’s already working together with the cops. He’ll know what to do.
“What are you waiting for?” Faith sounds hysterical now. “Someone will come.”
I pull in a quick breath and place my fingers on the screen, deciding to send a text instead of calling. A text might use up less battery power than a phone call, and might make it through a bad connection.
Three words into the message, my stomach drops.
“No. Please, no.”
“What’s wrong?” Faith asks, breathless.
“The battery, it’s dead.” I try to switch t
he phone on again, my mouth dry. “This can’t be happening.”
I can’t believe I came so close to getting in touch with someone on the other side and the phone dies on me.
Faith takes it from me and sticks it back into her apron. “I’m sorry, I have to return it.”
“No, don’t,” I bring my hands together to beg her. “Please get me a charger or another phone.”
“I can’t—” She shakes her head, blinking away tears. “I’m sorry. I tried.”
“I know.” I squeeze my eyes shut and reopen them again. “Thank you,” I whisper. It’s not fair of me to ask her to risk her life again. She could get caught next time. One of the guards might see her. On my way out of the kitchen, I touch her hand briefly, offering her a bit of comfort. She needs it as much as I do.
Faith puts her hand over mine and gazes into my eyes for a brief but intense second. “I’m so sorry.”
I nod, pull my hand away, and go to my cabin to come up with another solution. There has to be another way. This can’t be it. This can’t be how my story will end.
I spend the rest of the day inside my cabin, staring into space as Karl walks in and out, bringing me meals and snacks. I barely acknowledge his presence.
When the sun starts to go down, Otto shows up on the other side of the glass. As Dax had already mentioned, I can walk around freely during the day, but at night, my cabin is still locked, and the guards return to their station behind the glass.
Otto lowers himself onto the bench to start his shift. I don’t look away. I’m wondering if he could be the solution after all. I can’t prove it, but I have a feeling he’s the person who sent me the newspaper article. What I don’t understand is why he would do it. He knows what Dax is capable of.
Chapter Sixteen
When I closed my eyes what feels like only five minutes ago, my cabin was dark, quiet, the air undisturbed. Now my eyes are wide open, and he’s standing over me.
The light of the large burning candle in Dax’s hand chases away the darkness and causes shadows to flit across his face.