Davenport Harbor (Six Degrees Book 3)

by Statham, Mayra

  “What are you making for lunch?” She asked, her voice soft, her eyes still closed as if she was trying to reign in her control.

  “Asian chicken cups,” I responded and loved the comical way her eyes flipped open, wide and surprised.

  “You can make Asian chicken cups but not pancakes?” She asked incredulously, and I kissed her on the nose.

  “This is easy.”

  “Okay…” Her eyes drifted to my mouth, “Can I help?” I looked at her, my body wanting more. Like a junkie craving his next fix. Her body beckoned me, but this had to be in her time.

  “No.” Clearing my throat, I shook my head, “Go relax, I got this.”

  “You sure?” She asked, biting her lip, her hand caressing my face.

  “Yeah,” something about the gentleness of her touch and what it made me feel made my voice croak slightly.

  “Okay,” she said softly and I nodded, helping her down from the counter.

  ***

  We were sitting at the wooden table side by side in the kitchen, her body pressed closely to mine, the sinful moans escaping her lips as she bit into a chicken cup only adding fuel to the hardness in my pants.

  “This is good!” Her eyes were bright as she leaned towards Zoey, who was sitting in her high chair, eating the chicken mixture with her hands.

  “You like it, too, don’t you, baby girl!” I watched as she picked up another cup and took a bite, completely enjoying it.

  “John, this is so good!” Her eyes closed. I had my own cup mid-air, not able to take my eyes off of her. The way her hair was thrown up in a messy ponytail and a loose strand of hair had fallen on her beautiful smiling face beckoned me. My free hand went and tucked the loose strand of silky hair behind her ear. Her smile faded, but her eyes were still bright. She swallowed, and I watched her lick her sweet bottom lip. Her warmth, her scent, fueled the heat in my body.

  I swallowed hard, my mouth slightly dry at the sight of her tempting lips.

  “Here,” I lifted the cup to her mouth, her eyes on me, “Let me feed you.” Her mouth opened, our stares connected, and I could see the trust in her eyes as she opened, taking the lettuce cup and licking the tips of my fingers, her gaze warming up as she bit down. Her soft purring sounds were making me even harder.

  “You’re so damn beautiful, Kitten.” My voice was thick with desire. I took in the way she closed her eyes. “You are. You are so damn beautiful, Anne, I mean it. I promise you, Kitten, I won’t hurt you again. I’ll keep you and Zoey safe. I promise.”

  “John.”

  “Please, baby.” I’d never begged a woman, but right now, I would keep begging her until my last breath.

  “I told you I wanted to give that to you and I have…”

  “But?”

  “But you’re the one staying away, John.” She pulled slightly away and left me dumbfounded.

  “What?” My frowning face took in everything about her.

  “You come home early, we go out, make out, but then you go cold and run off to your room.” Her cheeks flushed, and I couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled out.

  “Kitten, I was letting you decide when you were ready to come to me.”

  “What?” She was the one frowning now.

  “I was giving you space and time to decide if you thought I was worth it.”

  “Oh, John.” A giggle burst out, and I thought I would always remember the way her face lit up with laughter at that very moment. How her body just came right towards me, how she wrapped her arms around my waist as I wrapped mine around hers. We both laughed at the misunderstanding between us with Zoey watching us, then joining us in our amusement. We stood and I picked up Zoey as Anne turned on the small kitchen radio and soft music started to play as we danced.

  Chapter Forty

  Anne

  Waking up just as sunlight started to stream into the study, John shifted in front of me, his beautiful body on his side, my hand on his waist. I took in a deep breath. His scent was sexy and spicy, and I was beyond content. Carefully, I took my hand off his waist, and standing, grabbed the white dress shirt he’d taken off after we’d gotten Zoey to sleep. I covered myself up and looked at him, my heart pitter-patting excitedly. His handsome face looked just as serious asleep, but since the night he’d told me about his past, he’d seemed more at peace.

  I shook my head, smiling at the stupid way we’d miscommunicated. He’d been giving me space and I’d thought he was playing head games. Three weeks, I’d been going crazy, not knowing if he really wanted there to be an us. But loving him the way I did, I had told myself to wait it out. I gently opened the door to the room next door and peeked in to see a still very sleepy Zoey in her crib.

  John and I had definitely turned a corner. I wasn’t sure about the details of what he exactly wanted, but I was ready, more than ready, to try again. I’d been young and naïve when I’d fallen head over heels for the Prince every six-year-old girl dreamed of snatching up after watching Cinderella for the first time. Instead, he’d been a wolf in sheep’s clothing. A wolf that’d hunted and hurt me until I hadn't recognized myself.

  Now older and hopefully smarter, I was letting myself fly to see where this went. Somehow, the growly beast of a man had wormed his way into my heart and I was more than okay with it. Wasn’t it funny what love did to a person? I was about to step into the kitchen when a light knock came at the front door. Mike sometimes showed up on the weekends, so I didn’t think. I didn’t check the peephole. I let my guard down.

  Something I’d always regret.

  John

  I turned, and before I opened my eyes, I knew I was alone in bed. Grabbing her still warm pillow, I couldn’t help but smile. My smile vanished quickly when I heard a loud sound of something crashing and breaking on the floor. I jumped out of bed, my heart beating in my ears. The moment my feet touched the floor I heard her screams. Another loud crash sounded, and then I heard the sound of boots against the hardwood as I was rushing my ass down the stairs only to see I was too late.

  “No! No!” The sound of her screams coming from a black Ford Expedition driving away unhinged me. I wanted to jump into my car, but Zoey’s cries stopped me. Shit! No. No. This shit cannot be happening. I can’t lose her. Not her!

  I ran back up the stairs, taking three stairs at a time, grabbed Zoey from her crib, then went back to the room that smelled like her. Fuck! This cannot happen. I grabbed my phone and pressed my speed dial.

  “Bernadette.”

  “Mister…”

  “Get me the fucking Governor on the phone, and tell him he needs to call me. NOW!” Hanging up, I then called the man I knew could help.

  “Pierce? I need your help.”

  One hour later

  The security cameras fortunately had been able to capture Blake and a friend of his take Anne out of the house. She had fought until she got to the SUV where it looked like Blake had stunned her. Pierce’s security team had run the plates of the Expedition. Unfortunately—or fortunately—the SUV belonged to the Governor. The kid was beyond stupid.

  Before leaving Zoey with a very worried Sabrina, I held her. Her big, blue eyes were wide and she was clinging tightly to me.

  “Dada,” she said, making a knot form in my throat.

  “Yeah, baby. I’m your dada. I promise. I just have to get your mommy back home, okay?” The worry in Zoey’s eyes faded slightly as if she somehow understood, her chubby little hands caressing my face.

  “Dada.”

  “I promise to bring her back.” I kissed her forehead and left the Crown’s house with Belle Garibaldi and Matt Pierce next to me.

  Thirty minutes later

  “Governor.”

  “Davenport. Shit, son, what are you doing here? I thought our meeting was for later this week? What can I do for you?” The smug son of a bitch asked, leaning back in his brown leather office chair at Shine.

  “Your son took something of mine,” I told him, trying not to lose my shit.

&n
bsp; “Brian?” The asshole asked and I shook my head.

  “Blake.” He looked at me seriously and sighed.

  “What did the little son of a bitch do this time?”

  “He took my woman from my front door. Kidnapping is still a crime, even when you’re the son of a Governor, isn’t it?” The surprise in his eyes was evident.

  Sitting up and placing the cigar on his crystal ashtray, his face went pale.

  “You sure about this?” I nodded, handing him the flash drive that held a copy of the footage the security cameras had recorded.

  “He took Anne.”

  “Annie?” His face paled to a sickly white tone, his shoulder slumping over. “She's alive?” His tone was hopeful, and I watched him sigh in relief. Jesus Christ, the old bastard thought his son had killed her and hadn't done anything about it.

  “He took her from my home. From my front door. We’re engaged. She's going to be my wife.” I slightly lied, but I would make her my wife. I would keep her safe. I would beg her to say yes every day until I wore her down and she agreed. “I need to know where he is.”

  “I ...I don't know…” He stuttered, his hands slightly shaking.

  “I don’t believe you, Governor. By your reaction alone, I can tell you thought that little piece of shit had hurt her. You know what he did to Lucy Mack. Did you know the little shit threatened Anne? How he followed her?”

  “Davenport—”

  “He needs to be stopped.” I slammed my fist down on the table. The little patience and respect I had for this man in front of me evaporated. My stomach was in knots, knowing that my beautiful kitten was in the hands of a fucking junkie. I watched the Governor’s bright blue eyes that matched that of his granddaughter fall defeated.

  He knew what had to be done.

  “I'll make some calls, see if I can find him. But I'm not lying, John. I haven't seen him in over a year.”

  “Just because you haven’t seen him, doesn’t mean you don’t know where he is.” I called his bluff, watching his cheeks redden as he nodded.

  “I'll need you to let me know.”

  “Expect a call in fifteen,” he told me, and I stood, nodding. I walked the hell out of Shine and prayed my sweet Anne was okay.

  Hold on, baby. I’m coming.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Anne

  The shock of ice water splashing over me woke me up. The cold water ran down my body, and I realized I was sitting on a metal chair. My eyes tried to focus, but it was dark. With my eyes still closed, I tried to use my other senses to figure out my surroundings. I was sitting on a cold metal chair with my hands zip-tied to the bars of the backrest and my legs tied to the legs of the chair. Opening my eyes, everything a hazy blur, I looked into the same blue eyes as my daughter’s, except these eyes belonged to the owner of every nightmare I‘d had for the last five years. He looked different than when I last saw him at my apartment the night of the storm.

  Wilder.

  Crazier.

  His soulless stare left me feeling even more terrified than before.

  “Annie, Annie, Annie.” My vision cleared, and I noted his once sun-kissed skin now had an eerie greenish tint to it. His once muscled body was now gaunt and thin, but not in a Sexy-Adam-Levine way. He was too thin. He looked ill, unhealthy.

  “Blake…” I tried to move my arms, but the ties were too tight. Panic swept over me, and I tried to pull my arms, the zip ties digging into my skin.

  “Uh, uh, uh,” he chuckled, shaking his head.

  “I’ve missed you, Annie baby,” he told me, his eyes first on my face, then moving to my chest, all while he was holding a knife in his hand. My stomach churned. My mind was dizzy as different possibilities of what he was planning to do raced through me.

  “Let me go, please, Blake,” I stupidly pleaded with him and he shook his head.

  “Oh no, baby…you aren’t going anywhere.” He moved closer. Kneeling in front of me, his breath beyond putrid in my nose, his yellow teeth staring right at me, he fisted my long dark hair into his hands tightly, my head going back with his hold.

  “I don’t like your hair like this.” His voice was too calm, too relaxed. Whenever he spoke like this in the past he was like a patient snake in the grass, just waiting to strike.

  “I...I know…”

  “I like you blond, Annie baby.” There was an edginess to his words.

  “I… I know…”

  “Tsk, tsk, tsk,” he shook his head, his dilated eyes on my hair.

  “Too dark. I don’t like dark.” The hand holding the knife came up and started to saw at my hair haphazardly above my shoulders. The sharpness of the knife was evident in how easily he was chopping off my hair. Tears fell down my face. I glanced down at the dirty cement floor as my long dark locks of hair floated onto it. I stifled a sob from escaping, knowing that my cries would only excite him. He’d done this once before. He’d cut my hair off in my sleep before making me go to a salon to get it changed to blond.

  “Please, Blake,” I begged, trying to forget the memories of the past.

  “Shhh…” He whispered, a glazed look falling over his face. There was an evil smile on his mouth. I closed my eyes, trying not to move as he took away my long hair. Not that it was my hair I was crying about. I was crying because I didn’t want to think about what else he was going to cut with that knife. I was crying because all I wanted was to go back to Zoey and John.

  “What were you doing with Davenport?” He asked and I looked at him, realizing he was done cutting my hair. An expression I knew only too well was on his face.

  “Blake….”

  “You’re mine. Not his.” He scowled and shook his head, the knife crashing onto the cold floor making me jump.

  “You know that though, don’t you, Annie baby?” He asked, still kneeling in front of me, his hands caressing my face.

  “Bla…”His hands squeezed my face tighter and brought my eyes to meet his.

  “YOU KNOW THAT YOU’RE MINE!”

  “Ye…yeah,” I stuttered, his hold on my face hard.

  “I don’t share unless I want to!” He hissed through his teeth and I nodded, trying to get him to calm down.

  “WHAT WERE YOU DOING WITH DAVENPORT?” He roared into my face. His breath was putrid and spittle was falling onto my face. I closed my eyes, trying to make myself small like I used to when he’d got this way. More fear than I had ever felt in my entire life ran through every pore in my body.

  “I...I…I,” I stuttered, trying to think of something that would cause him the least anger.

  “Who’s the kid you watch?” He grabbed the short locks that were left, pulling my head back, my scalp burning with pain.

  “Aaaa...Blake, you’re hurting me…”

  “Who’s the fucking kid, Anne?” He repeated, fire burning in his eyes.

  “Ummm…” I nervously stuttered, trying to come up with something believable, “She’s his...I’m her nan...nanny.”

  His body moved in closer as his hands went over my breasts, gripping them painfully hard, then they moved down to my bare legs. I felt bile rising up my throat into my mouth. I shut my eyes tightly and tried to think about John.

  John’s touch would never hurt me. Blake's hands moved back to squeeze my face, and I opened my eyes to look at him.

  “Is the kid his?”

  “Ye...yea…yeah,” I stuttered, and he tilted his head to the side.

  One hand still held my face tightly while the other moved down the front of my body, squeezing my breasts roughly once more. Then his hands pushed my legs further apart, going to my center where they roughly cupped me and moved on to the edge of my panties. I wished I could look at him with cold uncaring eyes, but I couldn’t. I was crying. Silently. My face was wet, my breathing slightly choppy with fear.

  I hated being scared and weak.

  I wanted to somehow wake up and be back in bed with John, with Zoey just down the hall. Instead, his thumb hooked below the waistband of my
panties, tracing the scar that was left from my C-section. His soulless eyes were questioning me.

  “I ummm…”

  “Hey Blake, you home?” A deep voice boomed from the top of the stairs, and his hand thankfully disappeared, both hands now gripping my shoulders, his stare suspicious.

  “You got fat.” His lips twitched in disgust, and I swore at that moment I couldn’t hate him more than I already did.

  “I…”

  “Your hair and you got fat.”

  “I’m sorry.” My stare was downcast, away from direct contact with his.

  “You should be. What the fuck did you do?” He roared again and I flinched.

  “Blake? You here or what, man?” The deep voice upstairs asked again.

  “I’m...I’m sorry, Blake, I’ll fix it.” I stuttered softly, still not looking him directly in the eyes.

  “You will be sorry. Right now, you better act cool, you got me? If not, I won’t be happy and you remember what happens when I’m not happy, right?” His eyes narrowed, beads of sweat were building on his forehead. I nodded. “I swear to fuck, you mess this up, I won’t go easy on you.”

  He grabbed a dirty towel and dried my face roughly. Grabbing the knife off the floor, he cut the ties off, and without a second to spare, he dug his short nails into my forearm as he moved my body up. He dragged me behind him upstairs to what seemed to be the first floor.

  I’d been in a basement? Where the hell am I?

  “Pat! Fuck man, haven’t seen you in a long time! Sloan brought you, huh?” Blake said too loudly and too excitedly as we walked into a really dingy living room that had two main windows, one broken and the other boarded up.

  I looked at Patrick standing next to a very tall and dangerous looking man with shaggy copper-colored hair and an overgrown beard. Pat had stubble on his face, not much, but just enough to make him look rougher than he had the day he’d come to look for John at his house. Combined with the ripped jeans and the grungy looking tee shirt he had on, I wondered if he had somehow fallen off the wagon since the last time I saw him. A sick thought came to me. Was Blake his dealer? Had he sold me out? Had he told Blake where he could find me?