Storming His Heart

by Marie Harte

  Imagine Buchanan trying to play him. Sean York. Even the name sounded false. Richard Glass was too good to fall for such amateur sleuthing. Not Richard, Richard is dead. The unfortunate reminder didn’t help. It only refreshed the pain of missing his brother. Of how long he’d spent alone. An entire year spent not knowing how to think or act, consumed by loneliness and grief.

  And all because of Rafe Savage. The bastard had killed him. Killed them. He would pay, and Richard knew just where to start.

  Walking to the kitchen table, he extracted a small vial and syringe. Richard carefully brought the needle to eye-level and made sure he had the correct amount before he shoved it into Thorne’s neck and pushed the plunger.

  Seconds later, the lying Buchanan groaned. Time to wake up and play.

  Richard withdrew the needle and tossed it away. He glanced at his watch, wondering if Lewis would succeed where Richard had once failed. Unable to bear the sight of Buchanan any longer, he took a walk outside to re-familiarize himself with the cabin grounds. He needed the time to think.

  The cabin remained in decent shape thanks to his continuous efforts to keep it livable. Since his brother’s passing, Richard visited every other week when not working to plan his revenge. The cabin had one bedroom, a kitchen and a bathroom that sat off the living room. Sparse of everything but the essentials.

  He liked simplicity, just as his brother had loved the complexity of things, two heads on opposite sides of the same coin. Whereas Richard had loved intricate plots and conspiracy theories, he had been satisfied with one shot, one kill. He liked a simple death when killing the enemy. Richard had had ample opportunity to kill both Savage and Storm, but he knew his brother wouldn’t have wanted that.

  Richard wanted to slit Thorne’s throat. Instead, he’d made do with drugs, threats and some physical punishment. Then he thought of how much fun he’d had stringing Jennifer along. He’d had honest enjoyment in her lush body, and the information she’d given him about Jurek’s men had been vital to his plans. He’d been smart not to kill her quickly.

  He wondered what she saw when she looked through her eyes now. Did the land of the dead hold as many mysteries as the land of the living? Excited at the prospect of finishing his time in this world and rejoining his brother, Richard took another look around him, satisfied he’d done all he could until the enemy arrived.

  The cabin sat unobtrusively surrounded by forest. Trees and lush vegetation on every side protected him from prying eyes, and behind the house the still waters of Lake Burton lapped at the shore. The nearest neighbor was at least four miles east. And if an unlucky bastard happened to snoop too close, boom.

  One of the many landmines he’d buried would take care of any interlopers.

  Pleased with his attention to detail, Richard returned to the house. Buchanan remained in the exact same position, his head titled forward, streaks of blood marring the ropy musculature of his body. Slices of pain the man had more than deserved, trying to hone in on his fun. No, not his fun, their fun. He suddenly felt an otherworldly presence.

  We are one, brother. Always one.

  Richard laughed with delight. “I am Richard. He is me. We are one.” He repeated the litany over and over. “I’ve missed us so much. So much.” Tears fell down his cheeks, and he crumpled into a ball on the floor, his emotions in turmoil. Because of his enemies, he’d lost himself. Yet through this act, by taking back what he was owed, he had a chance to be whole again.

  Flames of hatred licked at the joy he’d once again found with his brother. And with that rage stirred memories of the past. Their longing for a woman to complete them, for a father to fill that missing void. Hungers grew, overwhelming, thundering for satisfaction, a need the Glass brothers intended to fill.

  Storm and Lewis walked up the steps to the cabin. “Remember what we talked about,” she said in a low voice and gave him another mental nudge.

  He nodded, and a blank look fell over his features. He caught her arm in a tight grip and pounded on the door with his free hand. “Boss,” he yelled. “I have what you wanted.”

  The door flew open and banged against the wall.

  Storm stared at the face of a man she’d never thought to see again. His hair stood up in spikes, his clothes were wrinkled and the pale glow of madness shone in his face like a beacon of warning.

  Chaos reigned in the dark depths of his eyes. A twisted power, magnified yet muted, vibrated from Richard Glass like the discordant notes of a bad song.

  “Ah, Lewis. You’re never a disappointment, my friend. We’re so glad you brought her.”

  “We?” Lewis stepped inside with her when Glass beckoned him forward.

  It took all Storm’s discipline not to dart to her brother’s side. Thorne sat in the middle of the room tied to a chair. He looked terrible, half naked, bruised and bloodied. But to her relief, she could see the faint rise and fall of his chest.

  “He’s going to kill me. Thinks he and Richard are the same person. Wants Rafe to suffer. Wants Jurek to love him like a father. Work with that,” came the weak message.

  “Hold on, Thorne. I brought help.” She hoped against hope that Rafe and the others were out there somewhere—if not outside, then at least close by. She focused her ability on Richard and pretended shock. “Richard, I’d heard you died.”

  “Storm Buchanan, in the flesh,” he said with relish. His dark brown eyes gleamed in the bright light of the cabin. “I’ve been so looking forward to this.”

  Her flesh crawled when he stepped closer. Lewis didn’t budge from her side. She worried that he pretended to be Glass’s man a little too well.

  Glass asked him, “Did she try anything?”

  “Yeah. But the blindfold worked. It was on until I jerked her a little too hard up the steps. Like you said, she can’t work you if she can’t see you.” Lewis tugged the blindfold that had supposedly fallen around her neck and pulled it up over her eyes.

  “Nicely done.”

  “Thanks, boss. She asked me a ton of questions about you.”

  “I can imagine. Did she pretend to be interested in me?”

  “Yeah. Tried to get me to believe she wanted to make a deal. To be partners,” he said on a snort.

  God, please tell me he’s acting. Because he’s convincing me a little too well.

  Lewis let go of her arm and a stronger hand grabbed her.

  “I’ve got her now. Keep an eye on Buchanan while I take Storm into the other room. She and I have a lot to talk about. Oh, and Lewis, if you hear anything from the bedroom that sounds suspicious? Kill her brother.”

  She could only pray her hold on Lewis’s mind was strong enough to see them through.

  Yanked into the bedroom, still blinded, Storm couldn’t see anything. She stumbled when Glass pushed her and fell onto a large bed. A few seconds later she heard the door close. Footsteps neared.

  She tried to rise and fell back when he slugged her in the stomach. Wheezing and trying not to vomit, she lay helpless. Seconds turned to minutes. Nothing moved.

  She jumped when the cold edge of steel grazed her cheek.

  “Good girl,” Glass praised. “Go ahead. Remove the blindfold. Make one wrong move, try to manipulate me with that deceitful mind, and I’ll shoot you, but not before you hear your brother die.”

  She swallowed hard, took off the blindfold and didn’t move.

  Glass aimed a gun at her chest and shoved it between her breasts, bruising her sternum.

  “M-may I say something?” she whispered. Rafe, where the hell are you?

  “So polite. We like that.”

  Again with that we. “I just want you to know that I only pushed you away because I was hurt.”

  The gun stilled against her. “Hurt?”

  “I was attracted to you. But I’d been taught Westlake was the enemy. And then you asked me all kinds of questions. I thought you were using me.”

  “Sure you did.”

  She swallowed hard, wishing love and affection i
nto her words. Any attempt to make Glass back away would fail. He’d clearly perceive distance as a threat. But if she could convince him she had feelings for him, maybe he’d believe.

  “I did.” Fear for her brother and Rafe easily filled her eyes with tears, and one spilled over her cheek. “I don’t have a lot of boyfriends. The only reason Savage was with me was because he thought you might still want me. I tried to tell him you never cared but he—”

  “He’s a motherfucking liar. Rafael Savage has never cared about anyone but himself,” Glass spat. “We wanted you, Storm. We would have had you. Would have kept you. But you never wanted us.”

  “I guess it doesn’t matter how I felt, now. You’ll do what you have to. You’ll probably kill me.” She wiped her eyes. “I just wanted you to know it wasn’t all lies.” Believe me. Believe my truth. Every word of it’s true. She concentrated so hard she felt dizzy.

  To her astonishment, he lowered the gun and cocked his head. “Storm? You can’t mean… We were so lonely. So sad. I—we—never knew you cared.” He looked confused.

  She didn’t move, wanting him to believe. Scared witless, she waited with bated breath, not wanting to spook Glass out of her carefully crafted manipulations.

  Thorne’s voice filled her mind, and she couldn’t help her quiet sob of relief. “Storm, Lewis Greene freed me. We’re gone. Everyone else is out front, ready for your go-ahead. I’m wide open, honey. Talk to me.”

  “Give me a minute. I’m working Glass.”

  Glass narrowed his eyes on her but didn’t raise his gun again. Did he know he’d lost Thorne as leverage?

  She concentrated on him. I’m here for you, Richard. I believe in you. It’s just us against the rest of them. If only Jurek were here to help us. “Richard? Are you all right?”

  He didn’t answer, and then he rubbed his eyes. “We’re so tired all the time. No one to help us. No one to guide us. That slut Jennifer meant nothing, you know. She was a means to an end.”

  “I know.”

  He sat next to her on the bed and held tight to his weapon, so she made no overt move to interfere.

  “Would it be all right if I held your hand?” she asked timidly.

  Glass blinked at her in surprise. “We’d like that. But make any sudden moves and you’re dead.” He lifted the gun to her forehead and tensed his forefinger.

  For a moment, she wondered if she’d pushed too hard, if he knew what she’d been doing to him.

  Then he removed his finger from the trigger and lowered the gun to his side. A trickle of blood dripped from his nose, and she pushed him again.

  He frowned. “Not right. We can’t understand. Something we should know…”

  She hurried to stop that train of thought. “Did you know Jurek kept asking about you? In our meetings, he was very concerned that you might still be alive. He was excited. Hopeful.”

  “Oh?” Glass’s gaze centered on her lips.

  “But every time he mentioned something good about you, Savage distracted him. Bad-mouthed you at every opportunity.” She sniffed. “When I mentioned I thought you might not be the bad guy they painted you out to be, Savage reinforced that you had conned me. That you only ever wanted me to further your career at Westlake.”

  “That’s not true. Savage is a fucking liar,” Glass sneered. His face relaxed and he paused. “Jurek asked about me?”

  The hope and innocence in his voice almost moved her to pity. For all that this man had done to her and her family, he might be a good person underneath his psychoses.

  She landed flat on her back under him and rethought her assessment. “If you care so much, Storm, show us. Give us a taste of what we missed.” He leaned closer then froze, tense. He tilted his head, as if listening to something only he could hear. “But not here. We need a little privacy for what I have in mind, away from all your friends outside.”

  Shit. Before she could warn the others, he clamped hard on her neck, and she passed out.

  Drops of water hit her forehead. Damp cold made her shiver, and the sound of Richard Glass crooning a lullaby echoed around her. She worked hard to gather her wits, thoroughly creeped out by Richard’s high-pitched song.

  “Ah, there you are.”

  She blinked into candlelight. Shadows danced over stone walls, illuminating what looked like a deep, dark cave. Where the hell was she?

  Glass helped her sit up with a solicitousness that unnerved her. She was poised, waiting for him to strike again when she least expected it. Except she couldn’t stop herself from swaying. Her throat felt bruised, her mind fuzzy.

  “That’s a good girl.” Glass rubbed her throat, and she winced against the pressure. “Don’t bother working on me, Storm. You’re as helpless as your brother was right before I gutted him.”

  It wasn’t possible. Yet when she tried to call out for her family, she felt nothing but a wall of silence in return. No Thorne, no Uncle Max, if he was even near.

  “Where are we?” she managed to whisper. Tears of pain crawled down her cheeks and she coughed, disturbed that her voice was nearly gone.

  “Underground. No one knows about our secret place.” Our again.

  Glass smiled, and she noticed the glittering depth of rage he tried unsuccessfully to bank. Madness and violence would be sure to follow. She had to get free. Had to find her brother and get the hell away. But she thought she recalled Thorne telling her he’d gotten free…?

  “I can always sense the danger. From childhood, that ability to survive has always been there.”

  “Why was that, Richard? Was it dangerous when you were growing up?” She had no choice but allow him to prop her against the cold stone wall at her back. I feel like a damn doll. I’m about as useless as one. She sent another mental shout out to her brother, wishing like hell he’d answer. Because if Glass had actually killed him, she’d lose it.

  A vicious slap stole her breath away.

  “I told you I can sense danger. I can feel you projecting energy, like spiders over my skin, prickling and biting. I don’t like it. Do it again and I’ll kill you.”

  Good Lord. How powerful was this guy?

  “I’m sorry, Richard,” she apologize, inserting a note of meekness to placate him. “But you know what it’s like to lose a brother. It’s so hard for me to believe.” Real tears, the sadness mingled with fear that Thorne might actually be dead, proved better than acting.

  Apparently she’d said the right thing, because Glass’s anger disappeared under a wave of surprising compassion. “Yes. I know how hard it is to lose your other half. Like dying but having no way to go free. Stuck in a rotting corpse that doesn’t know it’s past due.”

  Shit. Glass had gone beyond crazy into fucking nuts. She laughed inwardly, more than slightly hysterical. Trapped only God-knew-where with a madman with an ax to grind. Talk about one hell of a social life.

  “Storm? Storm, where are you?” Thorne and Max seemed to shout before they quieted, buffered by Glass, she assumed.

  The relief in hearing Thorne made her lightheaded. That or Glass’s roughness had pushed her past her limits.

  “Wake up. Stay here.” He yanked her wrists together and bound them with coarse rope, then tied her to the post of the bed she lay on. A bed in a dank, dark cave somewhere below the surface of his land. They couldn’t have gone too far, not with Thorne and the others waiting nearby the cabin.

  She tried to think but had trouble. Glass moved away, and she tracked his movements as he climbed a ladder and disappeared from sight. Yet no matter how hard she tried to once again contact her family, she found nothing but silence for her efforts.

  The bastard. The small sense of compassion she’d felt for Glass, seeing his grief and insanity, paled next to her rage at being involved in this in the first place. If the asshole hadn’t been so busy trying to be Mr. Popular at Westlake, none of this would have happened.

  Determined not to give up and to make use of her short separation from Glass, she tried again. “Thorne! Uncle
Max! Glass has us underground somewhere. A cave. He’s got me tied up and he has a gun.”

  Her uncle answered. “We’re close, Storm. I think Jurek’s team just found the entrance to a tunnel underground. We never saw him leave with you, so he must have another passage from the house.”

  The pounding between her eyes increased. “I think I’m losing you. He’s shielding himself and me somehow.”

  “I know. It’s taking me and your brother to get through.” He grew muffled, then returned in a stronger voice. “We’re coming. Sit tight, sweetheart. And don’t make him angry. Do whatever he tells you.”

  Glass returned, and when he drew closer, the candlelight flickered over his smug expression. “They have no idea where to look.”

  She cried harder, letting herself use the pain from her throat and temples. “I’m so sorry, Richard. I never meant to hurt you. I swear. I wish I could have met your brother.”

  He frowned at her and tapped the gun against his leg. “We’re the same person, Storm. Don’t you understand that by now? You met him. You met me. We’re fucking one,” he ended in a shriek and she curled into a ball, as far away from Glass as the rope would let her, prepared for a beating.

  But he didn’t beat her. He dropped his gun and leapt onto the bed, flattening her beneath him. “Enough talk. They’re stupid, but even they’ll figure out we’re no longer in the house soon. Why don’t you give me what you’ve been holding back? What you gave Savage?” he sneered.

  Glass mashed his lips against hers, mauling her while he stole her ability to breathe.

  Go easy, gently, she forced, but after using so much of her gift and enduring his abuse, she started to tire.

  His enthusiasm grew, as did the urgency of his body. The asshole was getting off on hurting her. He pressed harder against her, leaving her in no doubt of his intent. When he encircled her neck with his hands and began to squeeze, she struggled in an instinctive bid for survival.