STARSTRUCK: A Dark Bad Boy Romance (The Destroyers MC)

by Zoey Parker

  I bit my lip, wondering if it was better to look around and try and find April on my own, or to just bite the bullet and call out to my stalker. Before I could make a decision either way, my cell phone went off. I cursed it and myself, realizing that I should have put it on silent. I yanked it out of my pocket and checked it. I’d gotten a text message.

  From April.

  That new bodyguard, Brody, asked me if you were at my house. I told him no, that I’d only just gotten back. So where the hell are you? Are you okay? He sounded worried.

  I knew then for certain that I’d made a grave mistake. April wasn’t here at all. She was safe at home, far away from this torn up little house. I didn’t get the chance to answer her because a second later the door slammed closed behind me and I was plunged into true darkness.

  I let out a cry of fear and surprise, dropping my cell phone to the floor in the process, but when I quieted I heard another voice.

  “Abby, my beloved. I knew you’d come.”

  A chill ran down my spine, because that was him. The voice I’d heard over the phone so many times now, threatening me, berating me, reminding me that my life was not solely my own, was coming from right behind me.

  “Oh god,” I muttered, swiveling around to face him.

  It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the darkness, but when they did, my heart jammed against my ribcage trying to get out. It was him. Red hair, blue eyes, pale skin. And freckles. He was the man I had seen, the one who had tried to come after me twice now. The man who had bludgeoned April to get to me.

  “Welcome home, my love.”

  I might have tried to run, realizing that I had been stupid, foolish to come, but I didn’t get the chance. Before I could react he swung at me with what looked like an old woman’s umbrella. There was a sharp pain at my temple, then everything went dark.

  ***

  When I woke up, my head felt like it was split open, and when I reached up to touch it with my hand, it was sticky. I pulled my hand back and through blurry vision saw that my fingers were tipped in red.

  “Shit,” I mumbled.

  “Now, cursing isn’t very ladylike, Abby.”

  I froze at the now familiar-sounding voice as it filled up the room. I jerked myself up, about to stand, but a sudden wave of dizziness threatened to knock me back down onto my ass. I put my hand to my head again, attempting to keep things steady. I managed to stay in a sitting position at least, though my limbs were shaking and I felt pale and cool beneath the skin.

  “What…what happened?” I managed to get out, my voice trembling.

  I looked around and found myself in a room that was windowless. The bed I was sitting on had old moth-eaten quilts on it and frilly bedding. Next to it was a pale white and pink side table with a lamp that looked like it belonged in a baby girl’s room. The walls were covered in peeling wallpaper with dancing ballerinas along the bottom and the top. The floors were hardwood, but there was a large throw rug covering the middle most portion of the room that was colored in the same whites and pinks as everything else.

  As I considered it, I realized that this room didn’t look like a baby’s room. It looked like a dollhouse. A chill ran through me and I felt like I might pass out again.

  “You hit your head,” James Austin, my own personal stalker, told me.

  My eyes narrowed. I knew that wasn’t true, and now that he’d said something I remembered the swing of his umbrella that had sliced into my skull. But even as I stared at him, I sensed that somehow he believed what he told me. Like my getting hit over the head was an accident somehow.

  I swallowed heavily. “Where am I?”

  His eyebrows, as red as his hair, shot up in surprise. “You’re home, of course. I was really worried that you’d get lost in all the rain, but I should have known that you’d be fine. My beautiful Abby. You’d never get lost.”

  I shivered at the word home. How could he call this place home? Was he crazy?

  He’s been stalking me for the last year, of course he’s crazy, I reminded myself instantly. But as I listened to him speak and tell me how much he’d missed me while I was off having my “little acting career” and how he’d spruced up my bedroom for me while I was away, I realized something about him. He wasn’t just crazy or stalkerish. He was delusional. As he spoke, it became clear to me that he honestly and truly believed that we were together, a couple. He believed that I lived here and that my showing up tonight was nothing more than me coming home.

  Which meant that I had absolutely no idea what he was going to do to me.

  What do I do? How do I get out of this?

  “I know that we’ve been distant lately, and I admit that part of that is my fault,” he continued, oblivious to my panic despite my trembling limbs. “I should have made more of an effort to keep in touch while you were away doing your little acting thing. I should have been more supportive. But you have to know how you hurt me!”

  I stared at him, panicked. Was I supposed to respond? If I was, I didn’t have any clue what to say. I didn’t even know what he was talking about. How could he think that I had hurt him? I didn’t even know him. I searched my mind for what I could have done, reminding myself that he believed that we were a couple.

  My boyfriends, I realized with a start.

  If he thought we were romantically involved, then of course he would perceive any other relationships on my part as cheating. And I’d dated several guys over the course of the last year. I wasn’t a serial dater—I’d had dry spells over the year where I just wanted to focus on me—but this last year I’d gone from man to man almost desperately. I never would have told anyone, but part of that had been a direct result of James Austin.

  I was too afraid to be alone.

  I was saved from having to answer the crazed man in front of me when he continued on his rant. “First that damn Trevor and then Roberto! How could you do that to me, Abby? I have been nothing but faithful to you this entire time and then you run around with all of these men—only to have them be just as unfaithful as you!”

  Trembling in fear, I tried to come up with some way to get out of this. Behind him was the only door—even the closet didn’t have a door, the hinges still hanging where it had once been—and I knew that if I wanted out, I’d have to go through there. Unfortunately, he was standing right in front of it. More than that, as he gestured with his hands while speaking, I saw the black butt of a gun tucked into the waistband of his slacks.

  How was I supposed to get past him?

  “I…I’m sorry,” I tried out carefully. Maybe if I played along, indulged in his fantasies, I could distract him long enough to run. Maybe I could get out and to my car before he reached for his gun. “I never meant to hurt you.”

  His brow furrowed slightly, like maybe he hadn’t been expecting that response from me. But quickly, his brow smoothed out and he smiled almost placidly at me. “I know you didn’t. We’re in love and sometimes people in love make mistakes, but they always come back to one another.”

  I forced a smile to my lips. Think of this as a role. A role in a really bad horror movie. “Yes, you’re right. Of course you’re right.”

  He seemed to swell with pride at that. But then a second later, he deflated. A scowl settled across his features, making him look dangerous for once. Up until this point, he looked like a nobody. Someone to lose in the crowd. But now, he looked like the truly deranged man he was.

  “What about that newest guy?” he demanded, his voice dripping with venom and accusation. “Eh? What about that asshole with the bike? Kade.”

  Tension struck through my body. “It…it was nothing. You know you’re…the only…” I had to pause and take a breath because my heart was trying to jump up into my throat and choke me. The thought of Kade left me strangely vulnerable, and I dared to think he’d come for me despite telling me all of those horrible things. “Only one for me,” I finally finished in a whisper, hoping that despite my stuttering I was convincing enough.
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  The man smiled at me, a crooked deranged smile. “Yes, I am. I knew you’d feel that way. I always knew. And now that you’re here, you’re finally mine again. Mine to do with as I please. Don’t worry, baby, I’ll make it feel good for you. I always do.”

  Bile rose in my throat as panic swelled within me.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Kade

  I rode alone to the house down in the valley. The weather had turned to shit almost as soon as I left, but I didn’t let it detour me or slow me down. I had to get there. God knew how long James had already had Abby. I trusted Brody to raise the alarm—and Jon, too—which made me feel confident that the other Destroyers would be there soon.

  You’re not a Cruel Angel anymore, I reminded myself grimly, a seed of doubt wiggling its way into my mind.

  I told myself that it didn’t matter. For Abby’s sake, they’d be there anyway.

  People were driving for shit because the roads were wet and people never could seem to remember how to drive in the rain, despite having to do it time and again. I had to swerve several times to avoid being hit and finally I said screw it after waiting ten minutes in traffic that didn’t seem ready to move. So I split the lanes and gunned it. I sped through the standstill traffic, weaving through the cars and dodging as they tried to switch lanes, until I found the exit. I got over in a hurry, cars honking their horns at me, and prayed that I’d made good enough time.

  I prayed that I wasn’t too late.

  The house looked like it was falling apart. Shutters blew in the wind, threatening to come off or maybe break the windows they were trying to protect.

  That was not encouraging. It made the place look abandoned, which meant there was a good chance that Abby’s stalker wasn’t living here—and if he wasn’t living here, would he take her to this place?

  I didn’t know.

  I was beginning to second guess myself, ready to call the guys and tell them to go to the other location to check for her, when I caught a glint of white in the rain. It was a car parked around the corner of the house covered by the low hanging branches of a tree weighed down by rainwater.

  In the process of dialing Brody again, I went over to the car to check it out. It, unlike the rest of this mess of a home, looked new and relatively well taken care of. No chipping paint, no rusted metal. When I got close enough to see the license plate, I knew.

  “Abby.”

  It was one of her cars. Brody picked up the phone then and I told him in a serious, grim voice, “Abby’s here. The residential address, the house. The one in the valley.”

  “Wait for backup,” Brody told me urgently, as though sensing what I was about to do. “They’re on their way. Give ’em ten minutes!”

  But I was already ending the call. Ten minutes was a short amount of time under normal circumstances, but these circumstances were anything but normal. Abby was here, inside that dingy old house, held captive by her stalker.

  God knew how long he’d had her, what he was doing to her.

  No, I couldn’t wait ten minutes.

  Not bothering to hide my motorcycle or to wait for the others to arrive, I headed to the house, swallowing down my nerves. She’s fine, she’s fine, I told myself over and over again. I had to believe it, because no other option was acceptable.

  I slunk around the house, drenched by the rain. I tried to see inside, but the windows were either boarded up or so damn grimy that I couldn’t see through them. Deciding that going around the back was my best chance for a surprise attack, I headed around the house following the trail of the car.

  I was going to keep going until I rounded the back, but something just on the other side of the car caught my eye, forcing me to stop.

  Two huge doors built into the ground.

  A storm cellar.

  And unlike everything else on the house, these looked fairly new and maintained. Like someone was actually using them.

  Sucking in a quick breath, I screwed up my courage and shoved my foot through the door, breaking it into pieces and revealing a set of stairs that went down to the cellar. I hurried down them and found that there was a second door at the bottom of the stairs that was built in like any normal door, theoretically leading to the cellar beyond.

  I reached for the door, moving slowly, listening for any sounds that might tell me I was going in the right direction—difficult given the constant pounding of rain overhead—but when I finally heard something it kicked me into overdrive.

  Abby was screaming.

  I tried the knob, but of course it was locked. Throwing my shoulder into it, I had to crush myself against it several times before it burst open to reveal a room colored in white and baby pink. And lying on the bed with her shirt torn to shreds, her bra half tugged down, was Abby. She was crying and struggling, and the redheaded man that I now knew as James Austin was on top of her, clawing at her clothing desperately.

  “Mine, mine,” he kept saying over and over again, not even seeming to notice me.

  I roared, a sound of pure rage as I rushed him. I grabbed him by the back of his shirt and yanked him away from her, throwing him to the ground beside the bed. My fist connected with his face until I felt something break—my hand or his face.

  He’d stopped moving, but I pulled back to punch him again—blood was spurting from his nose—but then I heard her sob.

  “Oh, god!”

  I released the man, letting him slump back to the floor into unconsciousness. Maybe he was dead. Still on the bed was Abby. She was clutching her arms over her chest, trying to cover herself up, tears marring her pretty face. The tatters of her shirt clung to her arms and shoulders, telling me it had probably been long sleeved.

  She stared at me with blue eyes that were huge, looking like I was the best thing that had ever happened to her. I couldn’t leave her sitting like that. I ran to her, scooping her up into my arms and holding her against me like she was everything. Like she was the only thing. She sobbed into my shoulder and I couldn’t even shush her. I was just so relieved.

  I held her to me, thankful that I’d gotten there in time, thankful that James was dealt with. Even if he was dead on the floor, I would deal with whatever consequences that entailed.

  “Kade! No!” Abby cried suddenly, using her bodyweight and gravity to pull me down on top of her. I was startled and didn’t know what to make of it, but then I heard the crack of a gun. A bullet lodged itself in the wall at the same level where my head had been a second earlier.

  “She’s mine!” screamed the lunatic holding the gun.

  I turned to see him. I’d thought I’d put him down, but James had managed to pull himself back up, his face looking like a bloody piece of hamburger meat, but he’d done it. He was aiming the gun at me still, his eyes wide, his hand shaking. I saw him squeeze the trigger before I could react and did my best to cover Abby with my own body—the only thing I could think to do. She screamed as he yanked on the trigger.

  But nothing happened.

  Surprised, I looked back to him and saw that he was slapping at the gun as though something was wrong. It’s jammed, I realized and took that moment to leap up from the bed, pushing to get to James.

  His eyes widened further until they looked ready to spring from his sockets. He hadn’t planned for this, apparently, because he stumbled back at my charge. He nearly tripped as he stumbled out the door, but he managed to slam it in my face before I could reach it.

  “Damnit!” I cried out angrily, trying the knob and shoving at the door. It budged slightly, but wouldn’t one hundred percent give.

  “This isn’t over!” I heard a muffled sound coming through the door. It sounded like it was farther away and through the slight crack I’d made in the door, I saw that James was at the top of the stairs, still fiddling with his gun. He was pale and wild looking, shaking all over and I didn’t think it was from the rain.

  I looked back at Abby, her terrified face reminding me that I had a decision now. Get Abby out of here or go aft
er James.

  I can’t let James escape. He’ll only come after her again, I realized. But I needed to get Abby out of here, too.

  “Go, get out of here. Get to your car, or take my bike, and go. The others will be here soon, but I can’t let him get away. You know he won’t stop, not now.”

  She worried at her lower lip, reminding me of every vulnerable moment she’d shown me, of every smiling moment and happy one. Of every time she had shown me the real woman beneath the makeup and the money. She was wonderful in ways I had never imagined and even if this was the last moment I would get with her, I’d be complete for at least having known her.

  “I don’t want to go without you,” she murmured. “Please, let’s get out of here together. Come with me!”

  But I shook my head firmly. I knew I was right and somewhere deep inside, she did, too. My heart ached at the knowledge that she wanted me with her, even though I knew it was because she was terrified and I’d just saved her. All the same, I hoped. Even though I had ended it, even though Caleb had forbidden me from seeking her out, and reminded me why, I hoped that she still wanted me.