Beautiful Surrender (The Surrender Series Book Three)

by West, Priscilla

  Vincent twisted his head, spotting the cast iron array of pipes behind him situated below the window. “Okay. Okay.” He managed to keep his voice even but his movements lacked their usual ease. He slowly bent down keeping both palms open and in front of him. “I’m doing what you asked. Don’t shoot.” He brought one hand down and picked up the handcuffs, keeping his eyes trained on Marty—and more importantly, the gun in his hand.

  I stared. Stunned. Terrified. I was too scared to move as I watched the events unfolding before my eyes.

  There was a click. Vincent had cuffed one of his hands to the radiator.

  “This is crazy!” I cried.

  “Please, Kristen,” Marty said calmly. “Give me a chance to explain. I promise we’ll get through this.”

  Chapter Seven

  Marty directed me to take a seat on the couch. Tears beginning to blur my vision and my legs unsteady, I nearly stumbled into the coffee table as I silently complied.

  “Stay there.” His words were calm but they felt like a threat.

  Seated, I watched Vincent carefully as Marty approached him, gun in hand. Vincent remained standing on firm legs. He wasn’t shaking like I was but his dark eyes were wide and focused. A visibly beating vein along his forehead hinted at the adrenaline pumping through his system. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this, I was just supposed to have a conversation with Vincent.

  Vincent’s free hand twitched. Marty took a step forward, aiming the weapon at Vincent’s chest. Marty was close enough for Vincent to sock him across the face or reach for the gun in Marty’s outstretched hand. Images of heroic scenarios raced through my mind like scenes from an action movie. My fingers clenched against the cushion of the couch. I was gripped by dread that Vincent would actually try something risky—and fail.

  Both men stood facing one another, exchanging fierce stares, neither of them blinking. The moment wouldn’t last forever. Someone was going to make a move.

  Vincent’s body tensed. He swallowed hard. His hand curled into a fist by his side. He glanced at me.

  No, don’t Vincent! I pleaded with my eyes, unable to find my voice.

  Vincent returned his gaze to Marty.

  Marty raised the gun and pressed the nozzle into Vincent’s forehead. “Get on your knees.”

  “Don’t hurt him! Please!” I pleaded desperately, cupping my hands against my face. I was going to watch Marty shoot Vincent in the head and I was powerless to do anything. My eyes pricked. Tears streamed down my cheeks.

  “Please, keep quiet Kristen,” Marty said, his tone barely concealing his anger. He kept his eyes trained on Vincent.

  Marty reached behind his back and produced another set of handcuffs. He snapped one end around Vincent’s free hand and the other end around a different pipe on the radiator, ensuring Vincent wouldn’t be able to reach for something to throw or a cell phone to call.

  “If you try to get out or if your team comes barging in, I’m going to put a bullet through your head. Understand?”

  Vincent eyed him sternly.

  Marty grabbed his hair and yanked his head back hard. “I asked you a question, you piece of shit. Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” Vincent groaned through clenched teeth.

  “Good.” Marty jerked Vincent’s head down, making him wince in pain, then released his hair.

  Marty returned to the couch, taking a seat beside me. I shifted away, pressing myself against the armrest and curling my legs into my chest.

  “Don’t hurt her,” Vincent said, lifting his head back up. “This is between you and me. I’m the one who punched you, not her.”

  “Shut the fuck up. Sit still and be quiet. This is all about me and Kristen. There’s no way I’d hurt her. If you want to keep talking, I’m not against hurting you though. God knows you deserve it.”

  Marty turned to me. “Kristen, I’m so sorry it’s come to this.” He placed his hand on my shoulder.

  The sensation made me hug myself tighter. “Please put the gun down,” I said, tears wetting the denim covering my knees. “You’re scaring me.”

  He carefully put the gun down on the coffee table. It was out of his hand but not out of his reach.

  “Calm down, babe. Breathe. Tell me you’re okay. Please.”

  I tried my best to calm my nerves, taking deep breaths and hugging myself tightly. “What do you want?”

  “Kristen, you have to understand. I wouldn’t be doing this if there was any other way.”

  “Marty, you have a gun. You can’t have a good reason for this.”

  “It wouldn’t have come to this if that asshole hadn’t beaten the hell out of me.” He pointed at Vincent. “I have to protect myself. And you. I need to talk to you.”

  “Okay,” I muttered, lips quivering. I kept my eyes on Vincent, trying to find hope in him. Vincent was returning my gaze, nodding slightly, silently instructing me to stay calm. “I’m listening.”

  “Please, look at me. Don’t be scared,” Marty said.

  I reluctantly turned my gaze toward him. The bandages covering what used to be a handsome face made him look menacing.

  “That’s better. Are you okay?”

  “Yes,” I lied, a tear running down my cheek.

  “I need you to hear me out. I’m not going to hurt you.” He studied me for a moment, ensuring I gave him my full attention. “This isn’t easy for me to say, Kristen.” He sighed deeply. “My life’s been complete shit since you left me.”

  Not knowing how to respond, I nodded silently.

  “It was so sudden. Why did you leave like that? I know what I did was wrong but you didn’t even break up with me properly. After two years together, it was just poof. Gone. How could you do that to me?”

  I swallowed hard, hoping my answer wouldn’t make him angrier. “Marty, you hurt me. I was afraid.”

  “We’ve been off and on before. I thought this was just another hurdle for us to overcome. I didn’t know you’d react that way. You’d always been so patient and understanding. Do you know what it’s like to have the love of your life just disappear from your world? I was heartbroken. When I went to your apartment in Boston, you were gone. But most of your things were still there. I thought you’d come back for them. I waited for you. Days. Weeks. I slept on your couch, didn’t go to work. I called you, sent you messages. You didn’t answer any of them.”

  He studied me for my reaction. I remained silent, sniffling.

  “You ran. It took me a while to come to terms with it but when I realized what had happened, I felt horrible. Like I was abandoned. Do you understand how that feels?”

  “I’m sorry you’ve gone through a rough patch.”

  “I fell apart, Kristen. You know my job as an investment banker? I got fired because I stopped showing up. Then I couldn’t get another job. Nobody would hire me. I was too depressed to even care. It wasn’t long before I stopped trying. Know what I do now? Or at least what I did until a month ago.”

  “What?”

  “I worked at a McDonalds. That’s what it came to after nearly two years of taking odd jobs since you left me. I kept getting fired. My coworkers would always make fun of me. They’d laugh at me. ‘Look at the Harvard boy. He’s no better than us.’ It made me so angry. I was just trying to do my job like everyone else but they thought I believed I was better than them. Which wasn’t true! It made me lose my temper.”

  “That sounds terrible.” As much as I hated Marty for hurting me, it didn’t make me feel good to hear about how rough his life had been the past two years.

  “Yeah, I don’t understand why people have to be such shitheads. I try so hard to be a good person but people don’t see that. They look at me like I’m rotten when it’s them. They’re the bad ones. Judging me. Accusing me of things that aren’t true. I know I make mistakes but really I’m a good person. You know that, right? Can you ever forgive me for what I did to you?”

  “I don’t know, Marty. You hurt me very badly.”

  “I
feel awful about it all. There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t regret what I did to you.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Is that what this is all about? You just want my forgiveness?”

  “That’s part of it. You mean so much to me. The other part is that I love you, Kristen. I’ve said it to you before and I meant it. I’ll never stop loving you. I need to know how you feel. Do you still have feelings for me?”

  “How can you ask me that when you just broke into my apartment with a gun?”

  “I told you, I had no choice. It’s that fucker’s fault. Vincent.” He turned to Vincent. “I know who you are. Billionaire, playboy, CEO of Sandworks—Vincent Sorenson.” Marty returned his attention to me. “Can’t you see he’s just using you? He’s going to break your heart. He doesn’t love you like I do.”

  “You don’t know anything about me,” Vincent growled. “I’d never hurt Kristen like you did. You’re a monster.”

  “Look at my face,” Marty said to me. He unwrapped his bandages, revealing black and blue swollen skin. “You know who did this? Tell me who’s the real monster.”

  I shook my head. “You’re upset, Marty. Even so, you’ve never gone this far before. Have you been taking your meds or seeing the psychiatrist?”

  “I want to but I can’t afford those things. They’re too expensive.”

  “Can’t your family help you?”

  “Not really. You already know I dropped out of law school. That pissed my dad off. When I refused to return to law school, he disowned me. My mom tried to talk some sense into him, but she ended up killing herself last month by taking too many sleeping pills.”

  My stomach dropped. His mom had been a person with serious issues, but any suicide was a sad situation. “Oh my god.”

  “Yeah.” He paused, his eyes beginning to water. He turned his head, blinked away tears then returned his gaze to me. “It made me realize I need you, Kristen. My life’s a mess without you. You’re my rock. I can’t keep going on without knowing if my only chance at happiness is still out there for me. Can’t you see how much I care about you?”

  I began to play with my necklace as if I’d just discovered I was wearing it. “This isn’t right, Marty.”

  “Let me see your hand.”

  The image of Marty twisting my finger flashed through my mind. “W-What are you going to do?” I dropped my hand back down and began to hug my knees again instinctively.

  He shifted his seat closer to me, backing me against the armrest of the couch. Leaning over, he reached for my hand and gently pulled my arm away my knees. He brought my pinky up to his lips and kissed it tenderly. I felt like I was going to throw up.

  Vincent struggled against his cuffs. “Good lord man, what are you doing? Kristen, he’s manipulating you. You have nothing to feel guilty about. He’s the one who should feel guilty.”

  “Stay out of this,” Marty spat.

  “You make me sick,” Vincent said. “Look at yourself, using a sob story to keep Kristen attached to you.”

  Marty picked up the gun and aimed it at Vincent. “I said stay out of this.”

  “Marty don’t! Put the gun down!”

  Marty huffed a few times then relaxed. “He’s trying to brainwash you, Kristen. Can’t you see that? I don’t blame you for what happened, and I’m not trying to guilt trip you. It’s not your fault. You’re just like me.”

  “What are you talking about?” I asked, frustrated and scared.

  “Think about it, Kris. You ran away from me. From us. You have to admit that’s not normal. You should’ve talked to me. We could’ve worked things out like we always do. That’s what couples do. They work things out together.” He kissed my hand again. “I have a theory. And please bear with me on this. Remember how we found out I had borderline personality disorder? Well, I did a lot of research and even talked to Dr. Perkins about this. We think you might have an anxiety disorder.”

  My head swirled. “What?”

  “You’re afraid of the unknown, of taking risks, of failing. Remember the anxiety you would get before tests?” Marty chuckled brightly. “I would massage your shoulders for half an hour before the exam then hold you after you finished because you thought you bombed it.”

  “I don’t have an anxiety disorder.”

  Marty rubbed the back of my shoulder. His eyes were warm and his voice was light-hearted. “Come on, Kris. Don’t be so stubborn. It’s better if you admit it because then we can do something about it.”

  I remembered how I had suffered from test anxiety numerous times back in college. Marty had been there to comfort me. Maybe I did have a problem. I ran away from Marty. I ran away from Vincent at the restaurant. I basically ran away from my parents. I was thinking about running away from having my baby. I was afraid of taking risks, afraid of the consequences, afraid of getting hurt, of failing. Riley had said so. Vincent had made me aware of it as well. Now Marty was saying the same thing.

  Even with all that, he had no right to try and diagnose me. “No, Marty. Don’t tell me I have a problem.”

  “Shh, shh. I know it’s hard to admit. I had trouble admitting I had a problem myself. But it’s okay, Kris. I get it now. I understand why you ran away. I just want to help you.”

  “You seem to be forgetting you invaded your her apartment with a gun,” Vincent said, struggling against his restraints.

  “You don’t understand!” Marty cried. He turned to me. “How can you be falling for this guy, Kristen?”

  “You don’t know anything about him,” I said.

  Marty threw his hands up in frustration. “I know he’s a smooth-talking player who thinks you’re the flavor of the month.”

  His words hurt me. Although Vincent and I had resolved the miscommunication over Ariel Diamond, the issue had still been lingering on my mind. “Why do you keep saying that?”

  “‘I have some ideas for some new positions we could take at our next meeting’; ‘If you’re touching yourself right now, it’s only a fraction of the pleasure I’d give you’. Give me a break. He’s a douchebag. Just like those frat guys we used to make fun of in college—the ones with baseball caps turned backward and popped-collars. I know how smart you are Kristen. That’s why I’m surprised you’ve been falling for this guy’s bullshit.”

  Hearing Marty recite bits of private conversation between me and Vincent made the blood drain from my face. “How did you know about those things? How did you see the text messages he sent me?”

  Marty sighed. “Your phone. Remember I have access to it? I can see your texts and hear your conversations.”

  “What the hell are you talking about? I never remember agreeing to that.”

  “Yes, you did. We said we would share passwords. You use the same password for your email as you do for your phone.” Seeing my phone resting on the coffee table, he picked it up, tapped at it a few times, then showed me he’d passed the security input to reach the home screen. He smiled. “The word of the day is: waddles. You changed your password on your email and Facebook accounts but I guess you forgot to do it for your phone. You have an app that lets me access your phone through the internet. It’s how I’ve known where you’ve been all this time.”

  “What the fuck,” I said, shocked at the invasion of my privacy. The signs had been there. Repeated warnings from my service provider about going over my data limit. My phone sometimes randomly turning on at night. He’d been watching me all this time.

  “This is so twisted,” Vincent said. “You’ve been stalking her. That’s how you knew I was coming over here.”

  “And you don’t think it’s twisted putting a tracker on my car? Hiring goons to live in the apartment next door. You’re the monster here. What’s sick is how you’re brainwashing Kristen with your charm!”

  “Wait,” I said, still reeling. “If you knew where I was, why did you wait two years before showing up at my doorstep?”

  Marty’s eyes became tender. “I was afraid. I didn’t feel like I deserved to
see you after what I did to you. I thought you’d come back to me on your own when you were ready. I thought I could be a better man by then and we would be a stronger couple. But things didn’t go the way I planned.”

  I tossed my hands up in the air. “You’re not making any sense.”

  “You were going through a phase. You needed to date other guys and then eventually you’d realize we were meant to be together. That’s fine. I’m patient. You dated a few guys but it never got far. It was just a matter of time before you came back. But you went further with Vincent. I was afraid for you. Can’t you see why I had to step in? Vincent is bad news.”

  “You know nothing about me,” Vincent said.

  “I know you’re a charmer. You’re a CEO who doesn’t have time for personal relationships, never mind giving Kristen the kind of love she deserves. You’re just like my dad—wealthy, selfish, egotistical; only thinks about his business. He made my mom so miserable she killed herself. I’ll be damned if I let Kristen end up like that.”

  “I’m not your dad. I’m nothing like your dad. Or you. What the hell’s the matter with you?”

  “Ask yourself. Who beats someone up like this?” Marty pointed at his face.

  “Someone who hates men who abuse women,” Vincent growled.

  “Don’t call me an abuser. It was one time. I have a disorder for god’s sake, what’s your excuse for what you did?”

  “I know guys like you. My sister dated one. You’re a piece of shit abuser who doesn’t deserve sympathy.”

  “You know nothing about me! Calling me an abuser is bullshit. I hurt Kristen a little bit one time, and I feel awful about it. You have no right to beat me to a fucking pulp when I try to apologize to her.”

  “Marty,” I said softly. “Vincent and I talked about that. But it doesn’t justify you coming into my apartment with a gun.”

  “Kristen, I told you, I didn’t want to do this! What else can I do?”