Sociopath's Revenge

by V. F. Mason

  SOCIOPATH'S REVENGE

  V.F. MASON

  Copyright © 2016 by V.F. MASON

  All Rights Reserved

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Edited by Hot Tree Editing

  Cover Design: Perfect Pear Creative Covers

  Photography: Lindee Robinson

  Models: Andrew Kruczynski, Alyse Madej

  Formatting: L.J. Anderson, Mayhem Cover Creations

  To the power of love.

  Still.

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Contact Me

  Damian

  Pain.

  Agonizing pain burning through my body woke me up. My lungs immediately filled with the smoke surrounding me.

  Fire.

  Shaking the fogginess from my head, I tried to get up but my legs wouldn't move. No matter what I did, they didn't respond. As soon as my eyes adjusted to the haze around me, I spotted a huge piece of wood pinning my legs. I sat up and tried with all my strength to push it away, but it was useless.

  Blood slowly dripped from my forehead to my cheeks and lips. My callused hands were covered in blisters. How could this happen?

  Sapphire.

  My eyes searched for her as the fire spread more rapidly. I saw her silky black hair lying across the bench. She appeared unconscious. The orange flames surrounding us moved dangerously closer, heading toward her body.

  No!

  "Sapphire." Her name came out as a hushed whimper. No matter how hard I tried to clear my throat, I couldn't speak any louder. After the accident five years ago, talking with more volume was a luxury I couldn't afford. How I wished to shout just then to make the woman I loved open her eyes so we could run with our little one.

  Then the terrified scream filled the air, and my body froze in fear.

  "Daddy!" Kristina cried out somewhere from my right. "Daddy, help me! He wants to take me away." She started crying and kept screaming my name. A man's laugh echoed in the warehouse, and the familiar sound of flesh being slapped created a burning rage inside me. My hands fisted and once again, with a loud cry, I pushed the wood, but it didn't budge.

  He couldn't have her.

  He wouldn't have her.

  My little girl.

  "See, boy? You can never win with me. Now your precious daughter will know what it's like to make me happy." Kristina whimpered, and in a second, I heard the door shut loudly, trapping us inside.

  My child.

  S had my child.

  No!

  "I'm sorry, baby girl," I whispered. "Daddy is so sorry."

  No matter what I did, she'd have those nightmares for the rest of her life.

  And unfortunately, I was powerless to stop them.

  North Carolina

  2016

  Sapphire

  "Mommy."

  "Yes, sweetheart?"

  "Don't be mad."

  My hands stopped typing another chapter of my book, and I spun around in my chair to face my four-and-a-half-year-old daughter, who wore a guilty expression on her face. Her long amber hair tied back in a ponytail had leaves in it as her sapphire eyes—just like mine—widened in anticipation for my answer. The pink dress on her thin body was covered in dirt, and her hands held a small puppy. "What did you do?"

  She blinked several times then raised the puppy in her hands to my nose. I came face-to-face with an adorable German shepherd puppy, whose tongue was hanging from his mouth as he studied my face, and then he gave me a quick lick. Wincing and cleaning my cheek with a nearby tissue, I glared at my child. "Kristina, what did you do?"

  "I found him in our yard."

  My brows furrowed in confusion. "In our yard?"

  She nodded then patted the puppy again. "He was running around the oak tree, and he is so cute, Mommy. We should keep him."

  Taking a deep breath, I held my daughter's eyes. "Honey, we can't keep him. He probably wandered around, and neighbors are searching for him."

  Kristina raised her chin stubbornly, and her eyes narrowed. "Then they shouldn't have left him alone. I'm claiming him, Mommy."

  My breath stopped for a second; it always did when she reminded me of her father. Seriously, a shout out to all single mothers out there who take care of their kids all alone, because it's a damn hard job.

  Once I signed the papers for the Witness Protection Program, Connor and Melissa gave me a new passport with a different name and identity. I was Katrina Jackson, orphaned at a young age, and a single mom who decided to move to the small coastal city in the southern part of the States due to the economy. They bought me a house, a second-hand car, and gave me some cash to get by. They found me a job at the local library, and since no one wanted the job, no one minded my pregnancy.

  They contacted me once a month to let me know nothing was over, and I suspected it never would be. The solitude allowed me to focus on my writing when I was going crazy from loneliness. I finally self-published my first novel, and surprisingly, my book did well and brought in good money.

  A year ago, my baby fell in love with a house near the beach, and it was impossible to refuse her. I had to stay low, and no one would come looking for me here. Everybody already thought I was dead. We had a little piece of heaven here, and for the most part, I was happy. My life was good. I even had some friends in town and we were part of the community. The only downer in the whole scenario was my inability to meet my readers, who sent me constant e-mails asking if I would be present at different signings. All this was too dangerous; so every time, I had to refuse and keep my identity, in this case, a photo, a secret.

  The nights held nightmares, but I learned to deal with them.

  "Honey, you can't claim someone else's puppy."

  "Yes, I can."

  "No, you can't—" The doorbell rang loudly, stopping me midsentence, and I gestured for her to sit on the couch. "This conversation is not over." She sat down on the floor instead—thank God, it was wooden—and put the puppy, who kept on licking everything that came in contact with him, in her lap. Was he thirsty? Great, now even I started to care for the animal. As a kid, I dreamed of having a dog, but it quickly died when my parents refused to let me have one.

  No. I shook my head. Memories of the past didn't belong in my new life.

  Making my way to the door, my eyes wandered around the living room, appreciating the view surrounding me. The overall color theme of our home was purples and whites, while photos of Kristina and me in different stages of her life decorated the walls. The kitchen was large with a round, wooden table in the middle covered by a purple tablecloth. The windows in there faced our yard, which allowed me to always keep a close eye on Kristina.

  The breakfast bar opened up to the living room, with a huge couch, two chairs, and a flat-screen TV. While the furnitu
re was white, numerous variations of purple blankets laid over them along with purple rugs. Roses in several vases were placed around the room. Their smell calmed me. Upstairs, we had three bedrooms and two bathrooms. We had a guest bedroom but rarely did anyone stay there.

  While Kristina's princess-style room had all purples, my room had the same color theme as the rest of the house. Annie, my best friend, told me I was crazy to have all the white with a small kid who made it her mission to get dirty on a daily basis. While it was the truth, I wouldn't have it any other way, and I refused to decorate my house differently. The house was our home, part of the real us, and I wanted it to be perfect.

  Finally, I opened the door to a man who stood there with his back to me, and something inside me stopped.

  No men came over.

  Ever.

  "Hello?" I asked curiously, and his shoulders tensed. He slowly turned around, and my breath hitched. For the last five years, men had been the last thing on my mind. I never dated, never wanted to date, let alone notice if anyone was handsome. The Witness Protection Program and a small child didn't exactly provide the best circumstances for dating. I hadn't sworn off relationships. Someday, I wanted to get married and to have a father figure for Kristina, but it was too soon. Plus, every man I'd met here never sparked anything inside me. They were handsome, but they somehow appeared not dominant enough for me and lacked the strong masculinity my tastes preferred.

  But this stranger was nothing but manly. He was tall with broad shoulders, ripped and muscled, and I seriously had no idea a shirt could stretch so much. His face was covered with a beard and he had a shaggy haircut. The sunglasses on his face didn't allow me to see the color of his eyes, but mine didn't miss the scars around his neck, as though someone had sliced his throat open. His hands were in his back pockets as we faced each other, and an odd feeling washed over me, reminding me of the past.

  Before he could answer, Kristina crashed against my leg and gazed at the stranger with interest in her eyes. The puppy followed her shortly and, to my surprise, sat down beside the man's leg.

  "Lucky!" Kristina's voice held outrage.

  "Lucky?" I asked dumbly.

  My daughter nodded and pointed at the dog. "That's his name."

  I closed my eyes and prayed for some kind of strength to deal with my kid. "Honey, you can't name a dog that doesn't belong to you." Then I looked up to the stranger, whose attention oddly focused on my daughter, studying her, and then he squatted down on his haunches in front of her and picked up the puppy, who immediately calmed down in his arms.

  "You like the puppy?" His voice was low, hoarse, and slightly scratchy. As if he learned how to speak all over again. Maybe those scars on his neck made him lose his original voice. Kristina nodded, and he put the pup in her hands as her mouth widened in a smile. "He's yours." She hugged the damn dog close.

  "Really?"

  "Yes, he is mine, but I think he prefers to live here more."

  She squealed, unexpectedly threw her arms around him, and hugged him close with all her might. The man froze, and then gently, his hands returned her hug. He let go of her then and stood up. Kristina jumped excitedly.

  "Mommy, we get to keep him." I opened my mouth to correct her, because no way had I given my permission to the man who disappeared from view, leaving us on the porch alone. "We do, right?" Kristina tugged on my pants irritably, and with a heavy sigh, I nodded, but my hands took him away from her. With a stern look in my eyes, I pointed at the bathroom. "Wash your hands and face, lady. Then change into clean clothes. I'm going to give Lucky a bath. And no running around in the house with the dog if his paws are dirty."

  She pouted, but it was something I wouldn't budge on, so she followed my instructions.

  As I was walking to the bathroom, I wondered how in the hell in the span of ten minutes I ended up with a puppy and met my new neighbor.

  Or more importantly, why it still bothered me he left so abruptly, without saying a single word to me.

  Later That Night

  After finishing my bathroom routine, I went to check on Kristina, and to my relief, she slept soundly, with Lucky on the corner of her bed. Shaking my head in amusement, I covered the pup with a small blanket and left the blue bedside lamp on so she wouldn't be afraid of the dark.

  Closing the door behind me, I rested my back against it and took a deep breath. As exhausting as it was to raise a child on your own, the moments when she went to sleep somehow seemed the worst, because quietness overtook the house, and there was no running away from memories or demons. I went to my room, and to my surprise, the curtains were flying high from the wind as the room brightened in the moonlight. My hand removed the pins from my hair and allowed it to cascade down my back as the soft breeze ran over my skin, and the fresh, beach smell filled the air. Still wearing a towel, I grabbed body lotion and raised my leg on the bed as I applied it.

  Suddenly the air changed around me, and instantly, the presence of another person registered in my mind. Strong hands grabbed me from behind, one covering my mouth to prevent screaming, and the other hand removed the lotion from my hands and threw it across the room. We both were breathing heavily, and from the strong chest pressed to my back, I understood it was a male. He spun me around, and to my shock, it was the stranger from the porch tonight. He pushed me against the wall, trapping me with his body and still covering my mouth with his hand. The position allowed me to have a better look at him.

  His eyes, the ones he hid from me.

  Amber eyes.

  Once I stopped struggling, he removed his hand from my mouth as my whisper echoed in the room.

  "Damian?"

  Somewhere in Russia…

  The tall man stood on the balcony, admiring the view in front of him as people partied downstairs. He was completely naked, but he didn't seem to be bothered by it as he sipped his whiskey; the sound of ice clinking was the only noise that filled the room. His hands and back were covered in various tattoos, leaving barely any gorgeous tan skin to admire. He had a massive and ripped body, and rarely anyone looked at him without fear. The man's shoulder-length black hair lightened by the moonlight created a mysterious vision.

  He tensed as a soft hand touched his sweat-soaked back, and she gently ran her fingers over the tattoo that represented the Gemini sign. Any touch that didn't include sex as a physical release repulsed him and made him want to rip the hand away from his body. He was always up when the need came to wet his dick in any willing pussy; looks or anything else didn't matter. All women were faceless bodies that he used from time to time. The man's restless mood urged him to go for round two, which he rarely did, but the woman made the mistake of touching him, although he specifically instructed her not to. A jerking session under the shower would have to do.

  "We're done," his low and growly voice said, and the hand on his back twitched as the woman took a step back from him and, without another word, gathered her clothes. In a minute, she was gone, leaving him alone. He already hated the smell of her overly applied perfume.

  His phone beeped inside the hotel room, putting a stop to his solitude. He threw the empty glass on the rumpled bed, grabbed his cell, and opened up the message.

  He's alive.

  His heart stopped beating for a moment and then started pounding rapidly as his eyes closed in relief.

  "Damian," he whispered, and his hands, as always, touched his very first knife wound, which always reminded him of his brother.

  John fired the gun, and in a second, I was flying down the cliff, not even feeling the pain of the bullet that stayed inside me. With a loud thud, I ended up in the water. My spine hit it like a motherfucker, and my body went down.

  Nothing but silence greeted me.

  I had to swim to survive but couldn't, not while waiting for John to make sure he'd killed me. My chest burned. Everything in me tried to ignore how fucking cold the water was and for some reason, my right arm fell asleep and didn't want to move. Finally, I swam underwater
as long as my oxygen-deprived lungs allowed me, and then as quietly as possible, I surfaced and inhaled some much-needed air.

  With nothing but water around me, my body started to shiver and grow numb from the cold. My blurry eyes noticed the shore not too far away, so, taking a deep breath, I started to move toward it. Out of nowhere, my head hit a huge rock and piercing pain assaulted me. Blood slowly dripped into my ear then into the water, merging with the small, red circle around me created by the blood leaking from my chest. I could barely keep my eyes open.

  All this, along with the pain in my chest and my injured arm, allowed the dizziness to overtake me. Everything faded away as oblivion greeted me.

  I'm sorry, Sapphire. Even I'm not that strong.

  Sapphire

  This couldn't happen.

  He was dead.

  I saw his body sliding down the cliff as my father fired at him, and my heart shattered in tiny little pieces. He had to be a figment of my imagination.

  Before I could ask any questions, his lips crushed against mine, and he took my mouth in a bruising kiss as his hands palmed my face, not allowing me to move.

  At first, I struggled, wanting to get away from him. How could he come here and expect me to kiss him while he'd kept the fact he was alive a secret? Where the hell was he all those years?

  He bit my lips, making me gasp in pain, which gave him the perfect opening to push his tongue inside my mouth. An electrified feeling ran through me as my eyes closed and my body leaned toward his. Our kiss was passionate, raw, and deep, but also clumsy as our lips learned anew to recognize each other. His hands slid down to my arms then to my waist, where he squeezed me hard. He reached my ass and picked me up, allowing me to circle my legs around his hips. His erection pressed against my towel-covered core, and a needy whimper escaped my mouth.

  "Mine," he whispered against my cheek, trailing his lips down my neck to bite it painfully, for sure leaving red marks.