The Pawn (Shattered Series Book 1)

by Ashton, Chloe D.

  Sixtyish, plump face pinched in concern, grayish black hair plastered to her head, and dressed in a staid grey blouse and skirt, the Hispanic woman studied her closely. “Take it easy. Relax,” the woman soothed her quietly, brushing the hair from her forehead with a cool hand. “That’s it. Yes, that’s it.” Turning away from her slightly, the woman spoke harshly to someone in the room. “What are you waiting for? Andale, andale! Get the doctor, right now!”

  Before she could see who the other party was, they were scurrying out the door.

  “W-where am I?” she stammered, lifting her head from the pillow, and then she fell back against it weakly as fatigue won out. The tears blurred her vision. “T-tell me, please. Where am I?”

  “Shhhh…you’re going to be okay, now,” the strange woman reassured her, patting her hand before moving away from the bed. Scurrying to the far side of the huge room, she stopped at the cart that was laden with towels and other accessories. Though plump, moving fast, the woman hurried back to her, and she carried a glass of water and medicine cup filled with tiny blue pills. After placing the items on the nightstand, the woman moved to help her sit. “Come on, let me help you. Grasp my shoulders, and I’m going to pull you up.”

  Though weakened, confused, she nodded before complying. After sitting up in the huge four poster bed, she stared around the room.

  No doubt, the quarters were elegant. The silver drapery was drawn back from the balcony doors and touched the floor. A chaise lounge rested at the far corner of the room, complete with velvet pillows and adornments.

  She winced against more pain.

  Raising a shaky hand, she took in the IV tubes strapped across the back of it, and already small purplish bruises painted her skin. “What’s happened to me?” she asked in a hoarse voice, staying the woman as she grasped her hand, and couldn’t dispel her anxiety. “Why can’t I remember anything or who I am?”

  When the door flew open, they both turned.

  A man stood in the doorway. “Rosa, I’ll need a moment alone with her,” he stated firmly. “And we are not to be disturbed under any circumstances.”

  “Yes, doctor,” the woman said, pulling away from her, and without sparing her a glance, she fled the room, leaving her alone with the strange doctor.

  Tense, eyes widened, she watched as the doctor strode in, and in a few quick strides, he was standing alongside the bed. Short, stocky, complete with a shock of grayed hair, the physician exuded a kind and calm nature as he plugged the stethoscope in his ears. After giving her a quick check with them, he snapped them around his neck. Then, passing her the water and pills from the table, he watched as she downed them. With a shaky hand, she passed the empty glass back to him.

  “Olivia, I’m Dr. Joseph Roma,” he muttered in a clipped tone, and a smile crinkled along his wizened blue eyes. “It’s great that you’ve decided to join the land of the living, I must say. You’ve given a few people quite the scare.”

  “Why am I here? What’s happened to me?” she pleaded, distraught, tearing up again. “I can’t remember who I am. I can’t remember anything!”

  Dr. Roma’s voice was calm. “You’ve suffered a horrible accident, and because of it, you’ve been in a coma for the past two months.”

  “A coma?” she asked, confused. “I-I don’t understand.”

  Brows pinched together in a frown, he ignored her statement. “Olivia Lange, twenty-eight years old, native of Charleston, Georgia,” the doctor continued on while shining the pen light in her eyes. Satisfied, he clicked it off before shoving it into his white lab coat. “But, you’re recuperating far away from there---worlds away from it---Laramie Rock to be exact.”

  “Will this be permanent?” she asked, staring at him with shiny, teary eyes. “I mean, me not being able to remember anything?”

  “It’s hard to say, and while I don’t want to frighten you, I don’t want to fill you with false hope either,” Dr. Roman sighed. “After more definitive testing, I’ll be able to render a complete diagnosis. But, for now, just celebrate the success that you’ve come out of the dark fog.”

  As he turned away, she called out. “Wait.”

  Frowning again, Dr. Roma returned to her. “Yes, Ms. Lange?”

  “Why am I here? Why am I not at a hospital? Where’s my family? Anyone that knows me?” she asked, clutching her head with unsteady hands. In a rush, the blinding pain shot through it, and once more, she struggled to focus. “I-I can’t remember. I can’t remember, and it hurts. It hurts,” she sobbed uncontrollably. “Please, help me.”

  “Sshhh,” Dr. Roma said, easing her down with great care. “Don’t over exert yourself---you’re not quite out of the woods yet. Right now, your first priority is taking care of your health. As scary as things are for you, not getting better should be your worst fear.” After tucking the bed covers around her, he gave her a firm look. “Everything else, all the things that you ask me, they will come later. I promise. Now, get some rest.”

  Swallowing back more tears, she nodded.

  When the door closed behind him, she released the pent-up sobs. Curling up into a tight ball under the covers, she embraced the misery.

  Moments later, tears spent, she sat up in the bed.

  Though it was still day, the heavy curtains were drawn, leaving the room with barely any lighting.

  She stared around the semi-dark room dejectedly.

  If she’d been comatose for two months, why weren’t any elated family members visiting her? Certainly, wouldn’t her awakening be worthy of a celebration? But, except for the good doctor and housekeeper, she hadn’t seen anyone. Besides that, the place was too quiet.

  As she lifted an IV-strapped hand, she winced as pain shot through her arm down to the elbow. In the semi-darkness, the purplish bruises didn’t seem as terrifying as before. Her gaze shot to the nightstand on the left side of the bed. An oval hand mirror lay flat against it. With a badly trembling hand, she picked it up and stared back at the shadowy reflection.

  The long black tresses touched her shoulders, and her skin was pale, but regaining some color. Light brown eyes, high cheekbones, and full lips, she mulled, shaking all over.

  “Who are you, Olivia Lange?” she whispered.

  Not even the silence held the answer.

  ***

  “Duke Addison has half of the city officials on his payroll, not to mention the moles in the Atlanta PD. That’s how the bastard always manages to stay one step ahead. But, in the meantime, he has been neutralized. I’ve made my move. How he responds is up to him, but I’ll be ready,” Jarrod said coldly, staring out the window at Sabatino Imports, later that afternoon on the northern side of Atlanta, Georgia. Swiveling in the office chair, he faced his friend again. “When Addison and that whipped-ass, punk son of his are bleeding crimson red, I’ll be satisfied.”

  “We need more than an amnesiac to make that happen. I’m still not exactly sure how she’ll help us build a strong case against him.” Lounging in the high back chair, best friend Marc Angelo gave him a direct look. “And how does Olivia Lange fit into all of this? This facet of the vendetta is nothing but personal on your front.”

  Eyeing his friend, he lifted a quizzical brow. “Haven’t I been clear as to what my intentions are where she’s concerned? She’s the pawn---”

  “For fuck’s sake, Jarrod, stop being so damned cryptic and say what you really mean,” Marc let out an exasperated breath. “The woman is in a coma and has been for the past two months. What do you propose to do with her?”

  Tapping the pen against the desk, he pushed back the pang of momentary guilt. “Damn it, Angelo!” he muttered irritably, hurling the pen down. “I’m not responsible for the woman’s accident. That part wasn’t my doing. I’m capable of many things, but blowing up a church is not one of them!”

  “Of course, I know that, you stupid fool!” Marc explained, rising up in the chair. “It’s just that---”

  “What in the hell do you want me to do?” Frustrated, he
stood up from behind the desk. “Take her straight to Addison so that she can continue to be one of his victims? No, as far as I’m concerned, I’m doing the woman a favor---saving her from a private hell that no one deserves to live.”

  “Talk to me, dude, what’s going on with you? You’re more on edge than you’ve ever been,” Marc added, studying him close. “Has this revenge thing against the Addison’s taken over your entire life?”

  “Because of those bastards, I’m the man that I am today,” he said, numbed, facing the outside world again as he stared out the window. “Whatever piece of humanity I had left, they’ve killed it. Crippled me into this meaningless nothing, and even I’m too ashamed to look at him in the mirror.”

  “You’re human, Jarrod. Like everyone else, you’ve made mistakes,” Marc sighed heavily. “But, this thing with Olivia Lange---someone’s going to get hurt.”

  “What do you think I’m going to do to her?” he demanded, whirling around. “I’m a lot of things, Angelo. But, I’d never take my hand against a woman.”

  “But, you’re not above manipulating this situation to your advantage, right?” Marc challenged. “Stop evading the question. What are your plans for Olivia Lange?”

  “She appears to be innocent, but she has to know about these unsavory dealings and this secret merger that Addison’s involved in.” A calculating look crossed his face. “But, that’s not all, my friend. I’m going to take the very thing that Addison’s prodigal son wants to possess---Olivia Lange.” With a quiet look, Jarrod sat down. “Through her, I will get revenge. How? By being the total exact opposite of him. I’m going to seduce her---be anything and everything that she wants. And I want her to come to me on her own terms. When she does, I’m going to prove to her what kind of monster Matt Addison is, and then, in a grand show of epic proportion, I’m going to reveal her to the insidious bastard. By then, she’ll be so disgusted by him, and she won’t have anything to do with him. And that end result will be like a gilded sword lancing his monstrous heart.” He leaned back in the chair. “I’ve done my homework. If it’s anything or anyone that’ll make Matt Addison crawl, it’s her.” Sighing, he shook his head. “Again, we’re doing Olivia Lange a huge favor by revealing the truth. When it’s all over, she’ll have her freedom. Then, we’ll go our separate ways and never see each other again.”

  As he said the last words, hollowness rang.

  Hadn’t he been grappling with that very fact for months, he mulled, distracted by the haunting thought.

  When Marc spoke again, he started.

  “And things are going to be that simple? Addison loses, and we win, for once?” Marc probed with an arched brow.

  Fighting against the irritation, he frowned again. “Trust me, on this Marc, it’s going to work.”

  “Only one problem,” Marc suggested, leaning forward. “What happens when she wakes up? How are you going to explain yourself? Do you think that she’s going to willingly stay with you, a stranger, a man that she doesn’t even know?”

  He resisted the urge to squirm in the chair.

  But, wasn’t it time that he dropped the bombshell?

  “Olivia and I already know each other,” he added hesitantly, meeting his friend’s gaze. “As a matter of fact, we’ve grown close.”

  The incredulous shock registered along Marc’s face. “What? Why didn’t you tell me that you two already knew one another?” Amazed, he shook his head. “Son-of-a-bitch…talk about careful omissions. I’d say that’s a glaring one!”

  “Do you take me for a fool? Of course, I’ve been laying the groundwork for awhile. For well over a year, I’ve been frequenting her art gallery, and we’ve become,” he said, hesitating, “friends. We’ve spent time together, and on occasion, we’d gone out to do things. While she was involved with Addison, I’m not a fool. Though she tried to hide her attraction for me, I sensed it, and several times, she came close to embracing it. But, being the kind of woman that she is, she didn’t act on it.”

  Liar…

  How convenient that he’d left out that one close encounter that they’d shared, just before the eve of her wedding.

  The true implication of the moment…

  And what they’d felt---

  It’d left them both reeling.

  Thrown off by the thought, he scribbled notes on the first paper in the stack, but still found it difficult to concentrate. To his chagrin, it wasn’t enough to end Marc’s probing.

  “And you?” Marc asked, intrigued, raising a brow. “Are you immune to her charms, or do you hold the same dangerous attraction?”

  “We’re not talking about me, are we?” he quipped tightly, and just why the question bothered him so, he couldn’t decide. But, he didn’t feel anything for her; so, why did falseness ring to that notion, he thought uncomfortably, clearing his throat. “What’s important is that she already trusts me.”

  Marc frowned. “And when she awakens, how will you explain things?”

  “When the time comes to cross that bridge, I’ll cross it.”

  “You arrogant bastard,” Marc muttered, shaking his head. Then, he studied him closely. “So, what happens if she falls in love with you? What then, Romeo?”

  “Things won’t get that far because I don’t plan on letting her get too close,” he stated firmly, tenting his hands together. “Keeping an emotional distance---I’m the master at that.”

  “Damn it, Jarrod, no good can come from this.”

  The intercom buzzed in the upscale office.

  “Mr. Sabatino,” the receptionist said. “You have an important call on line one.”

  “Julie, I specifically asked you to hold all my calls,” Jarrod said, fighting to hide his irritation, and he ignored Marc’s burning stare from across the desk. “For the next half hour, I don’t want be disturbed, do---”

  “Sir, its Dr. Roma, and he said that it was of the utmost importance.”

  Shell-shocked for a fast moment, he finally responded. “Thank you, Julie. I’ll take it.” Then, raising a fast brow, he inclined his head at Marc, and he watched as his friend strode across the office. Turning his attention to the call, tensing, he answered. “What’s happened?”

  “Olivia has awakened.”

  At the news, the air expelled from his lungs, and he forced himself to breathe normally. Leaning closer to the desk, he sat forward in the chair and was gladdened by its support. “When did it happen?” he asked stiffly.

  “Just a short while ago,” Dr. Roma hedged. “And it’s worse than I feared.”

  Stiffening, he demanded. “What do you mean?”

  “Olivia is suffering from amnesia. She doesn’t remember anything.”

  He stared across the open space.

  A tense silence followed.

  “Jarrod, are you there?” Dr. Roma muttered on the other end.

  He gripped the phone tightly. “Is her memory loss permanent?”

  Dr. Roma sighed. “At the moment, it’s difficult to say, and without further assessments, I’m not ready to render judgment yet. Getting her back on her feet after the coma is of the utmost concern.”

  “Of course,” Jarrod agreed, already standing. “I’ll be seeing you shortly. I’m taking the next flight out of Atlanta, and I should be there by morning. We’ll catch up then. Goodbye.”

  After ending the call, he found Marc sitting in the chair across the desk again, and so preoccupied he’d been, that he’d missed his return.

  “Well, well, well…it seems like that time has come for you to cross that bridge,” Marc suggested, tenting his hands together, and his dark brown eyes showed his apprehension. “What in the hell are you going to do now?” He bit back another curse. “This thing with Addison is going to send us both straight to hell.”

  “If you weren’t determined to see this thing out to the end, you should’ve stayed out of it!” he exploded, pounding a fist against the desk. “Tell me, now, Angelo. If you want out, just say so.”

  “Damn it, think! Agai
n, consider the long term ramifications, why don’t you? I mean, Addison has been neutralized, and he thinks that Olivia Lange is dead. Frankly, I don’t think that she should ever have to face that bastard again, regardless of circumstances. Things have calmed down. Don’t you think that it’d be good to end this charade before someone else gets hurt?” He blew an exasperated breath. “Get her a fake identity and let her live a life, for goodness sakes! Better yet, tell the woman the truth and let her go.”

  “No. I’m determining all the plays in this game. When the son-of-a-bitch is fully broken,” Jarrod said coldly, snapping the pencil in two. “I’ll be satisfied. Then, and only then.”

  “And you feel that involving Olivia Lange was the way to make that happen?” Marc inquired again “Sometimes, I wonder if there wasn’t a better course--”

  “What’s wrong with you, Angelo? Doesn’t your soul burn with the same vengeance?” Jarrod demanded, eyeing him across the space. “Have you forgotten what he’s cost you?”

  A pained look crossed his friend’s face. “Of course, I haven’t. I’ll never forget what that bastard did, and believe me, I understand your rage better than anyone,” Marc replied before hesitating. “But, Olivia Lange, she’s innocent in all of this, and we’ve made her a part of this war with Addison.”

  “What’s that old adage---bring your enemies closer? Well, Olivia Lange is my means to do that,” Jarrod quipped tightly. “In the art of war, there’s always collateral damage, and she just happens to be it. Yes, I know that I’m coming off as a cold-hearted bastard, but maybe that’s what I am---”

  “No, you’re not a cold-hearted bastard, even if that’s the way that you see yourself, or better yet, it’s the image that you want to project to the rest of the world,” Marc disagreed firmly. “But, I know you, man. For years, we’ve been close friends because of family connections, and since we were old enough to shit in diapers, I’ve known the kind of person you are. Somehow, you’ve built this façade, this careful apparition that you portray to everyone.”