Malevolent

by Cassia Brightmore

  “How could I forget? You saved Brooke’s life.” After finally agreeing that she needed help to get away from Doug, Brooke had filed charges and was working at gaining back some of the confidence she lost while being with him.

  “Did Doug ever hit her in the face?” Sarah looked shocked at his abrupt question and he hurried to explain. “Sorry, I just have this theory in my head about a case and I need some insight. He did, didn’t he? I seem to remember her with a black eye on more than one occasion.”

  “He did, the bastard. He used to love seeing her wearing ‘his marks.’ God, I hate that prick,” she answered, anger evident in her tone.

  Brady nodded thoughtfully. “That’s what I thought, thanks Sarah.” He was right, Ava’s face being untouched was a key piece of evidence. Pricks that like to inflict pain, they don’t care where it is as long as they are exerting their power and dominance. Studying the photo of Ava again, he didn’t hear Sarah’s exit.

  He was onto something…now the question was—what? And how could he use it to get Ava the justice she deserved?

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Gwyn Woods’ life was irrevocably changed by one tiny piece of candy. Who knew such a small object could have such huge repercussions. All it took was that one piece of candy to bring Lawrence into her life, a life that he single-handedly dismantled in just three years. Her addiction to the sweet taste strawberry candy is what had her meticulously browsing the candy aisle in Walmart on that fateful afternoon. Lawrence had approached her and they had learned of their apparent mutual love of sugary sweets. He had seemed so harmless—so sincere. How wrong she had been, not only about him, but about everything.

  Shaking thoughts of the chaos and destruction she was leaving behind from her mind, Gwyn concentrated on the stretch of road in front of her. Her 1999 silver Grand Am wasn’t a luxury car by any means, but it was affordable and it got her from point A to B, which was all she needed to disappear.

  No one would expect her to be driving this car—her usual mode of transportation the bus or her bike. She could never justify spending money on a vehicle for herself when there was alternate ways to reach her destinations in the big city of Chicago. Now that she was leaving, that reasoning went out the window.

  The more miles that passed and the further she got from the nightmare that had become her life, she began to relax and breathing became a little easier. Rolling the window down, she inhaled the fresh clean air and sang along to Ellie Goulding’s Burn, her song of the moment. With no clear destination in mind, the fear of the unknown was a worry that she kept pressed just at the edge of her mind. Her spur of the moment decision to run was a necessary sacrifice—Lawrence had given her no choice.

  At twenty-four, her life in Chicago had been quiet and happy. Content in her job as a clerk in a flashy clothing store, love was the only thing that eluded her. Countless dates and numerous online hangouts had only lead to bitter disappointment and deflated expectations. When Lawrence came along, his good looks, charm and heart stopping smile were impossible to resist. Cringing, she pushed all thoughts of him and her naiveté out of her mind. Her only goal now was to find somewhere safe that no one knew her, a place that she could get a fresh start.

  Yawning, she glanced at the clock. She’d been driving for almost 14 hours and had barely stopped. Satisfied that she had put enough distance between herself and Chicago, she resolved to stop at the next motel for the night. A few miles later, she passed a sign for Durham Heights, Louisiana. Jesus, she was already in Louisiana.

  Taking the exit for the main street, she angled the car through a quaint town with rows of lush green trees and white picket fence houses. Brown bricked buildings, dirt roads, and white picket fences were all she took in before rolling to a stop outside what looked like an old-fashioned diner. Spotting the “Help Wanted” sign in the window, she shrugged. They might know the way to a bed and breakfast, she thought. While her funds were meager, from the looks of things in this town, a night at a bed and breakfast wouldn’t break the bank. Locking her car, she headed inside.

  An older woman was at the counter, chatting with a customer and running a cloth back and forth absentmindedly. Nervous, she approached with caution and took a seat on one of the stools as quiet as she could—not wanting to interrupt.

  The woman glanced over at her as soon as she sat down, offering her a warm smile.

  “Well, hi there sugar pie, and who are you? I don’t recall seeing you in here before.” The lady’s tone was welcoming, however her question got straight to the point. With a shy smile at her and the man seated beside her, she answered, “Um, I’m just passing through. I was hoping you might know of a place I could stay for a couple nights?”

  The man to her right was wearing a blue and white plaid shirt and simple blue jeans. His ball cap was pulled low enough that it covered most of his face, but his short sleeves revealed well-toned arms adorned with a few tattoos peeking out from his collar. Catching her studying him, he grinned. Tipping the brim of his hat up, she sucked in a breath at his intense green eyes. Whoa. Nerves coiled in her belly, causing her to fight to stay in her seat, to not put hundreds of feet of distance between him. Handsome men were the enemy; that was a lesson she had learned well.

  “Well, darlin’, I can recommend a place that would be mighty inviting for a pretty thing like you.” He probably thought he sounded charming, but Gwyn knew better. Before she could form a reply, the woman behind the counter swatted him with her dish rag.

  “Oh stop that nonsense, you’ll scare the poor girl to bits with your ideas. Go on now, get out of here and home to your Anna.” Standing up from the stool, he towered over Gwyn’s 5'1" frame, leaning close. She stiffened as he whispered in her ear, “See you around pretty thing.” With that parting comment, he strolled out the door.

  Joan watched the exchange with interest, noting the young girl’s unease at being so close to a man. She was definitely frightened, and she sought to soothe her—covering her hand with hers.

  “So, you need a place to stay? I may be able to help you with that. What’s your name?” The blond girl raised cautious brown eyes to hers. She must have seen something that caused her to trust her, as she replied, “Gwyn. Gwyn Woods. I’m from Chi-er, Dallas. I’m from Dallas.” Joan picked up on the lie right away, but decided to let it slip, not wanting to make the girl anymore uncomfortable.

  “Well, Gwyn from Dallas, I have a room above this here diner that’s vacant at the moment. It’s not much, but it’s clean and furnished. You’re welcome to it if you like,” Joan explained, watching as Gwyn’s eyes widened in shock.

  “Really? Just like that, you would let me stay here?” Gwyn was skeptical, this almost seemed too good to be true. Peering around the woman she searched the kitchen for a hook handed man or leather-face lurking in the shadows. Not seeing anything out of the ordinary, she considered the offer. A furnished apartment would mean she could possibly stay a little longer than a few days.

  “You seem like you could use a little help. Name’s Joan, and I run this diner with my husband. The place is yours if you want it, sugar pie,” she patted the girl's hand in assurance.

  “I would be very grateful. I can pay…” She thought about the few hundred dollars in her purse. It wasn’t going to get her very far, she needed a job and fast or she would be in serious trouble.

  “Tell you what, you have any waitress experience? I’m short one and could really use the help around here,” Joan nodded to the sign in the window.

  Shit, I have no experience as a waitress. But really, how hard could it be? You carry plates and pour drinks. She answered without another thought, “I’ll take it.”

  Joan smiled, pleased. “That’s great dear, we’ll be happy to have you. We can get started tomorrow morning with some basic training.” Gwyn was quick to agree. “Of course.” She nodded. “Training.”

  Relief was like a familiar blanket as it washed over her. Crossing her legs and settling in, she sent the kind woman a grateful
smile. Finding a place to stay and a job were her two top priorities and she was pleased that she had managed to find both without any trouble. The town didn’t seem like too bad of a place to stick around for a while. With its southern charm and welcoming environment, she knew she would feel comfortable and safe. The fact that Lawrence would never think to look for her in a place like this, was just an added bonus.

  “Let’s start you off with something to eat,” Joan ordered her. “You need some meat on those bones, you’re far too skinny.”

  Gwyn managed to contain her eye roll at her motherly comments, but she was right. The weight of the past had been heavy on her shoulders, chasing away her sleep and appetite. A fresh start in a new town was just the ticket to regaining who she used to be. She’d taken to avoiding mirrors lately, avoiding the sight of her lack luster blonde hair and dark circles under her brown eyes.

  “Soup and a sandwich? If it isn’t too much trouble?” Gwyn’s reply earned her a glare from Joan. Shaking a wooden spoon at her that had materialized from nowhere, she firmly rejected Gywn’s choice of dinner.

  “Nonsense. You need more than that for your supper. You’ll have chicken and potatoes. Apple pie for dessert.” Nodding, she turned on a huff without giving Gwyn a chance to protest.

  Left on her own, Gwyn studied the diner, her gaze taking in every inch of her surroundings. The homey feel was welcoming, making her feel safe, as though she had been there for years, rather than just a few minutes. With ten booths and eight round tables of six, it wasn’t a large diner by any means—she knew she would have no trouble waiting the tables with ease.

  Spotting a jukebox in the corner, she rose from her seat and wandered over, careful to avoid the eyes of the other male customers. Don’t make eye contact, don’t make a connection. She repeated the words in her head as she made her way over, her curiosity getting the best of her. It was one thing to engage with Joan, the older woman’s welcome had filled her with an instant feeling of peace and safety. But men…attention from them was not something she was looking for.

  Fidgeting with the hem of her loose fitting tank, Gwyn silently perused the titles, brightening when she saw the I Love Rock n Roll cover by Joan Jett and The Blackhearts, it was one of her favorites. Fishing a few coins out of the pocket of her worn jeans, she had almost made the selection when the door clanging open had her leaping out of skin.

  Whirling around, she stared wide-eyed at the man that walked into the diner. There was a loud roaring in her ears and her heart thudded so loudly in her chest, she was sure everyone in the diner could hear it.

  Glancing around uneasily at the other customers, she backed closer to the wall. Please don’t come over here.

  As if he read her thoughts, the man turned his head in her direction and pinned her in place with his intense stare. God, he’s so beautiful. Gywn blushed at her thoughts, and couldn’t help drinking him in from head to toe, despite her nervousness.

  His uniform was tight in all the right places, and she felt her mouth begin to water against her will at the sight of his rippling muscles. He’s some kind of officer, she mused, lost in thought. Even from across the room she felt drawn to him, his crystal blue eyes acting as magnets. His close-cut sandy brown hair gave his appearance a more gruff feel, and she knew instinctively he was not a man to be tangled with.

  Realizing she had been staring with her mouth gaping open, she quickly shut it and shuffled her feet, turning her back on him. Cheeks flaming, she chastised herself. Jesus Gwyn, get a hold of yourself. One look from a hot guy and suddenly you’re ready to hand your panties over like the treat of the week?

  Hearing footsteps behind her, she squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath. She knew without looking it was him coming over. Staring blindly at the jukebox, she steeled herself to face him.

  “Looking for a song?” Shit, even his voice was sexy.

  “Um, no. Well—yes, I was. I mean, I found one.” Oh God, she sighed. Just kill me now. Hearing his chuckle only added to her mortification. He leaned in close and she caught a whiff of his cologne, it was intoxicating, spicy and male. Her recent fear of men evaporated with that one inhale of his scent, instead replaced with an aching burn of desire.

  “Oh come on, I don’t even know you, but surely you have more sense than that,” his comment had her throwing her gaze to his, insulted. Her breath caught; up close his blue eyes were electrifying. They shone with a deep crystal blue intensity that darkened the longer she stared.

  “What? This song is a classic!” She pointed at the jukebox to prove her point. How could he not be a fan of Joan Jett?

  “Please, everyone knows that song is such a cliché,” he grabbed her hand, sending a spark of warmth through her body. He gestured to a song with her hand, smiling at her triumphantly. “Now, this is a classic rock and roll song.”

  Frowning at him, she glanced at his selection and let out an unladylike snort. “Every Breath You Take by The Police? And my song is a cliché?” Exasperated, she sent him a scowl. “Give your head a shake, buddy.” Her comment caused him to grin, frustrating her.

  “Your pick has been in so many movies, I bet no one, including you, even knows who the original song maker is,” he challenged, finally letting go of her hand.

  “So has yours!” she shot back, bristling. Why was she letting him get under her skin so easily? Normally, she avoided all contact with the opposite sex, but this infuriating man had strolled right over as though they had known each other for years.

  Before she could stop herself, she poked his shoulder with her index finger, ignoring the thrill she got from feeling his hard muscle under her hands.

  “And I do know who the original song maker is. You, however, clearly need help when it comes to the classics. Good thing I’m here to teach you a few things,” she said smugly, realizing too late how her words sounded.

  Raising his eyebrows at her comment, he stepped closer. Forcing her to crane her neck back to match his stare. The heat between them was thick, crackling. Her gaze moved down to his lips and she couldn’t help wondering what he tasted like. His head lowered towards her and she began to rise up on her tiptoes…

  “Sheriff Brady James! I hope you aren’t harassing my new waitress!” Joan’s stern words had the two jumping a foot apart like guilty teenagers.

  Dazed, Gwyn looked around, embarrassed by all the eyes on them. What had gotten into her? Almost kissing a man she just met…Shaking her head as though to rid herself of the lingering feelings of lust, she started to tell Joan that he wasn’t harassing her, but stopped.

  Wait, did she say Sheriff?

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The man had watched her with the calmness of a predator. His eyes had tracked her every flinch, savored her every scream of terror. Eyes that were pools of black, the real color long forgotten— replaced instead with the doorway to Hell. There was no humanity in him. No redemption. No compassion. He was a true evil being, cloaked in a disguise of a handsome face.

  How long have I been here? Three days? Four? Time had ceased to exist for Claire Baxtor. Chained to a wall in a pitch black room will do that to you. Shaking off the memory of the sick fuck that had lured her into a living nightmare, she counted her blessings that she had been left blissfully alone for what she thought was a few hours. Licking her dry, chapped lips, she wished desperately for a glass of water. She was caught between her need for nourishment and her gratitude at being left alone. That man, the things he did to her. Shuddering, she shifted, uncomfortable with the memory of his hands on her skin. Invasive. Painful. Possessive.

  How did she go from being on a date with a sexy as fuck, charming man to being chained up in a dank, dark, freezing cold basement? Shaking her head, bewildered she replayed the events in her mind. Slainte’s was one of Shreveport Louisiana’s most popular pubs, meeting for a blind date there seemed smart at the time, a crowded, public place.

  The night had been off to a great start. Claire was more than attracted to her date, and th
e longer they talked, she had been thrilled that they had more in common than just a mutual sexual pull. He was intelligent, charming, and could carry a conversation without staring at her tits. A definite check in the plus column.

  A few hours and a steamy make-out session in the parking lot later and they were back at her place. Claire had never been one to fuck on the first date, but there was something about this guy that had her throwing the rules out the window. He was special, and scorchingly hot. She could barely keep her hands off him in the car ride over; she was like an eager, horny teenager—anxious to give him head in the car.

  Her past taste in guys hadn’t been stellar, which usually caused her to be more cautious, but with him— she just couldn’t. She wanted her legs wrapped around his trim waist, his fists locked in her mahogany tresses and his cock driving into her heat.

  The last thing she remembered was mentally browsing her lingerie choices while pouring them each a glass of red wine. When she was next aware, she was chained to a wall in an unfamiliar place—a dirty, cold basement of some sort—barely clothed and frozen in fear. Every instinct was screaming at her to break free and run; to get the hell out of there as fast as she could. Days later, she still had not been able to accomplish that goal.

  Since then, the horror she had lived through, the demeaning acts she had been forced to perform—not only for one but two psychos was unspeakable. They were demented—both of them—obsessed with salacious acts and the taste of blood. Fingering the deep gash from her shoulder to wrist, she trembled with terror. With a deep breath, she steeled herself. Stay strong, Claire. Fight back, do not give up.

  The creak of a door and heavy footsteps alerted her that one of them was coming back. Wrapping her arms around her knees, she tried to maintain some sort of modesty. Ridiculous given what had happened to her, but her strength was all she had left to hold onto. She would not make it easy for them. No way in hell.