Nowhere to Run (Stephanie Carovella)
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Nowhere to Run
By Nina D’Angelo
* * * *
Copyright © 2013 by Nina D’Angelo
Published by Nina D’Angelo
Cover Design by Scarlett Ruger (http://www.scarlettrugerdesigns.com)
Edited by Jennifer Roberts-Hall
Formatted by JT Formatting
First published, February 2013
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. 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 express written permission from the author.
Quotations may be used for the purpose of book reviews; and marketing if permission is granted by the author prior to use.
Please respect the hard work of this author. If you have obtained a copy of this book without purchasing it, or it was not purchased for your use only then please delete the file and purchase a copy legally. This novel is your enjoyment only and may not be resold or given to other persons. If you would like to share Nowhere to Run with others then please purchase additional copies for each individual.
Nowhere to Run is a book of fiction. The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Warning: Contains sexual references, coarse language, and drug use.
Table of Contents
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
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Dedication
This novel is dedicated to the memory of Sarah Metcalfe. Sarah, you were my best friend from the time we were 11. You lost your battle with cancer late last year. I lost an amazing friend and heaven gained a beautiful angel. Not a day goes by I don’t think of you. I miss you.
To my Grandfather Henry Salmon, who has always encouraged me to just be me. You taught me to appreciate fine art, to be proud of my heritage and to appreciate the beauty of Andrew Lloyd Webber’s The Phantom of the Opera. I love you Grandad.
Prologue
Angeline closed her eyes, her breathing shaky. With tears sliding down her cheeks, she slowly counted to ten. She clutched the kitchen knife in her hands, the handle slippery with her own blood.
This time he’d kill her. Of this, she didn’t doubt, but she also knew she wasn’t going to go down without a fight. She’d fight him to the very end.
She swallowed convulsively. How could he have found her? After all this time, how could he have possibly known where she was? She’d been so careful in covering her tracks - in erasing any trace of her past.
Her eyes flew open, hearing his heavy footsteps. Slow and steady, they moved along the polished, wooden floorboards. She crouched further down in her wardrobe, a silent prayer tumbling from her lips. She prayed for all her past sins, praying for anything to get her out of this nightmare.
Squeezing her eyes shut, she shakily wiped away the tears wetting her cheeks. Never again would she see her friends. Never again would she hold them close and let them know how much they meant to her. How much she loved them. They were the closest she had to a real family, but now she would never get the chance to say her goodbyes.
She gasped, panic rippling through her. Stuffing a fist into her mouth, she bit down hard, a sob escaping from her. Stephanie! She had to warn Stephanie. She had to warn her to stay away; to stay where she was safe. If he had found her then it would only be a matter of time before he found Stephanie too.
Hearing his footsteps moving towards her, she froze, her heart pounding rapidly. She could almost taste her own fear. This was the end for her. She was going to die. She knew she wasn’t going to be able to fight him off. He was strong – so much stronger than her.
Straightening her back, she took a deep breath. No more was she going to let fear rule her. Even while there was a part of her terrified of dying, another part of her was completely at peace with it.
Once it was done, he wouldn’t be able to scare her anymore. No more would she put up with the terror of never knowing when he would strike. He wouldn’t be able to hurt her anymore. She knew this. She’d finally be free; free from the hell he’d put her through. And, the truth was, she was tired. She was so tired of looking over her shoulder all the time.
She exhaled, hearing his footsteps stop. They started again, as he entered her bedroom. She watched him from the cracks of her bedroom closet, holding her breath in, fearing he could hear every sound she made – fearing he could hear every breath she took.
“Sweet Angeline, you’re being very naughty. Come out wherever you are. You can’t hide from me forever, my darling Angel,” he sang, spinning around the room.
Her grip on the knife tightened. She waited, her heart racing, watching the closet door handle slowly turn.
As soon as the door opened she pounced, a raw scream ripping from deep within her throat. Adrenaline surged through her as she tackled him to the ground.
She clawed at him, fury driving her. She raised the knife above her head, bringing it down in a vicious thrust.
He parried the thrust, catching her arm before she could make contact with his body. His other hand shaped into a fist, slamming into her jaw. He smiled coldly, watching her slump unconscious to the ground.
“I’m sorry my sweet Angeline. I didn’t really want to do that, but you left me with no choice.” he whispered, tenderly stroking her blonde hair.
“You wondered why I wanted you, my Angel. You’ve got spirit. You’re a fighter. I like that in my woman.”
He lovingly ran his hands over her body. “You’re the key. You’re what will bring her back to me. It’s why I chose you,” he whispered, gently caressing his lips against her cheek.
Straightening up, his expression turned cold. He slid the knife blade across her cheek, drawing blood.
He spoke to the silent room. “Now, it’s time to get this party started.”
Chapter One
Stephanie
Carovella opened her eyes slowly, briefly disorientated. Taking a deep breath, she collected her thoughts. She was on a plane, miles above the ground and far from anywhere.
Glancing down at the Rolex on her wrist, she shifted restlessly. It was almost two in the morning in London. It felt like a lifetime since she’d caught the red-eye from Heathrow airport, but in reality it was only six hours ago. In less than two hours she would touch down at L.A.X.
She glanced around at her surroundings. Passengers around her were asleep, lost within their own dreams. She wished she could do the same, but hers were only troubled. Dreams of her past and her unforeseen future haunted her. Tugging open the window blind, she stared out into the nothing. Soon she would be back in Los Angeles.
Los Angeles, The city of Angels; where dreams were supposed to come true, but more often than not, where they were shattered. The last time she’d been in L.A was six months ago. She’d buried Dominic Delaney, her husband.
Dominic had been her best friend. She’d loved him with a fiery passion and at times hated him with the same soul-consuming passion. They’d had a tumultuous marriage, both of them equally stubborn and hot headed. He was from a past she wanted to leave behind, but one she could never forget.
His dying was the catalyst; the driving force behind her decision to completely cut her ties with L.A.
When Dominic died, she vowed nothing or no one could make her step foot in that God forsaken city again. Leaving wasn’t as hard as starting all over again. L.A held nothing but broken dreams, lost memories and a scatter of friends who’d become strangers to her.
Yet, despite her vow, here she was; sitting on a plane, a million miles from anywhere, heading back to a city and a past she had thought she’d put behind her. Returning to attend the funeral of another she’d loved dearly.
Closing her eyes, a sense of loss and dread washed over her. Angeline, or Angel to those who knew her, had been raped and murdered from within the safety of her own home.
She’d built herself a fortress, one which had become her prison in the end. Tears sliding down her cheeks, she thought back to the last time she’d spoken to her best friend. Angel seemed so happy and finally appeared to have her world back on track. She’d mustered up the courage to go back to university, and had a new man in her life.
A man she genuinely loved and who loved her back. She’d started to turn her whole life around and was finally putting the ghosts of her past behind her.
She opened her eyes, blinking back tears; she wiped the remnants away from her face. Angel had been 28. She was too damn young to die. Their friendship was at its strongest, despite their ups and downs. Dominic’s death had placed a deep strain on it and the last few months had been rocky ones. There were times when Stephanie hadn’t been sure their friendship would survive. When Dominic died, instead of supporting each other and mourning his loss, they’d turned on one another.
She’d blamed Angel for Dominic’s senseless death, and Angel had blamed her for walking away from Dominic, just when he needed her the most. They’d both blamed each other but, finally, they’d put aside their differences to mourn him.
She bit back a harsh laugh. No, correction, she’d put aside her differences with Angel so Angel could mourn him.
It took time for them to rebuild their friendship but they did and it had grown from strength to strength.
Now, here she was, preparing to bury her. It just seemed unfair- unfair and senseless. She wanted answers. She wanted to know why her best friend was left so unprotected and she wasn’t going to stop until she got them.
Leaning down, she picked up the carry bag by her feet. Unzipping it, she removed her laptop, booting up.
Tapping her fingers impatiently, she waited for her laptop to start up. A faint smile touched her lips. She’d get her answers. She’d be a royal pain in someone’s ass until she found out exactly what had happened to Angel.
Jesse didn’t tell her much, only that he’d found her dead. Raped and murdered. Her throat slit, and her own panties shoved deeply down her throat.
Stephanie took a ragged breath. Angel had always been the life of the party and for her to be killed like this was almost too much to bear.
Opening MS Office, she started typing notes, her thoughts racing. Whoever killed Angel wanted to show his dominance. He’d wanted to prove he was stronger, more powerful than she was, and to show he was in complete control. The killing was precise, careful, and controlled.
Images of Angel’s crime scene hit her. Kodak images lodged in her brain. Images, she would never forget. Opening Photoshop, she loaded the crime scene photos, studying them intently. As a crime reporter for the L.A Times, she’d seen more than her fair share of bloodied crime scenes, but they’d never affected her until now. This one was different. This time the killer had made it personal.
Angel’s body was staged and positioned to show power, strength and domination. A Dominatrix dominated. The message had been clear to her as soon as she’d seen the crime scene.
Thanks to her old connections within the L.A.P.D she’d gained access to the crime scene report and the photos. Gena Evans was the leading Detective assigned to the case. She smiled slightly at the irony.
At one time, the three of them had been inseparable. Gena loved Angel as much as she did. They’d been Sorority Sisters to the very end. But time had changed them all. It had made them all a little tough, even a little harder. Eventually they’d begun to drift apart.
The last time she’d spoken to Gena was at Dominic’s funeral, and even then they were words of anger. Old wounds were reopened and new ones festered to the surface.
Gena had spoken to her as if she hated her. In response, she had lashed out – channeling all her pain and grief towards Gena. Within days, she’d left L.A altogether, determined to never look back.
She grimaced. She wasn’t looking forward to crossing swords with Gena, and Gena certainly wasn’t going to appreciate her sticking her nose into the murder investigation.
She wondered how Jesse was dealing with everything. She knew him well enough to know he blamed himself for Angel’s death. He believed he should have been there to protect her.
Stephanie’s lips curved into a smile. Leaning back, she pictured Jesse Carlisle in her mind. A staunch Texan, proud of it and his country to the core, Jesse Carlisle was a man with a killer smile and equally killer body to match. They’d been lovers up until Dominic’s death. When she’d left L.A, she’d left him behind.
Jesse had been her first serious relationship after Dominic. Dominic’s best friend, it was Dominic who had encouraged them to date, giving them his blessing. She grimaced – or at least as much of a blessing as he could have given.
She’d truly hoped Jesse would be the one to ease the ache inside her heart and make her forget about everything. Forget about Dominic. Three simple words from him were the reason she was on this plane tonight. I need you.
Those words were enough for her to swallow her fears, break the vow she’d made to herself, and return to the very city that had almost destroyed her.
She shivered. Now there were only three. Three of the original gang left. Now it was just Jesse, Ben, and herself. Absentmindedly, she wondered if Ben had flown back to L.A yet.
The last time she’d spoken to him was four months ago. He’d been on tour with his band, Destroyer, in the South of France. He’d been so angry with her – angry she’d left without so much as a goodbye to him.
The words were just too hard to say. She laughed mirthlessly at the irony of her, a writer, unable to express how she really felt.
Jesse told her Ben’s reaction to Angel’s death was to throw a TV out of a 30-storey window. Her smile widened, the image flickering through her mind. She’d bet the hotel where he was staying wasn’t thrilled with his reaction.
Ben was the very opposite of rock star stereotypes. Usually a gently and placid person, he rarely got angry and never had the rock star tantrums that he, sometimes, was entitled to
. His reaction showed how deeply his grief for Angel went. It showed how deeply all their grief ran.
She’d missed him, she realized. At one time, he’d also been her lover. They’d been lovers briefly before and after Dominic. They both knew nothing between them would ever last, and accepted this.
Stephanie smiled again, thinking how similar Ben and she were. Both had been burnt by love, and both were too afraid to give their hearts completely to one person.
They were both also very good at keeping secrets. Her smile faded, a shudder running through her. She wondered what her friends would think of the dark secrets she’d kept from all of them. Secrets, she vowed they would never know about.
In some ways Ben and she were perfectly suited, because they knew where they stood with one another and had always known when it was time to let go.
They’d never tried to make their relationship work. It would never have lasted; his quiet demeanor was the completely opposite to her fiery disposition. Instead they’d shared brief moments of needed oblivion and then let each other go.
He’d found a lover closer to home – in the arms of his drummer, Ana, and she’d met a man with a stubborn streak as long as her own. She could just imagine how Jesse and Ben were going to react to Leigh. Grimacing, she realized she was unsure of their relationship. It still felt completely foreign to her.