by Dori Lavelle
“Thank God I made it to you in time.” Adrian gives me a brief glance then rushes to Damien first. He yanks the tape from his boss’s mouth. “If I hadn’t been in your office for the final inspection I wouldn’t have seen the security video feed on your office computers—”
Office computer? Security video feed?
As I digest Adrian’s words one by one, I move my gaze from one corner of the basement to the next, searching for the hidden cameras. I don’t see any. Anger rises up my throat when I realize that Damien had not only locked me up in a coffin in his basement, he also watched it the entire time, from computers at home and at work. I force my anger down. How can I be angry when the very cameras I hate are the ones saving our lives?
“There’s a bomb,” Damien whispers hoarsely. “Get to it before it goes off.”
Adrian’s gaze lands on the bomb. He nears it. Without touching it, he studies it for a moment, eyes narrowed. Sweat pools into my armpits when he bends to pick it up. I pray he knows what he’s doing. He turns the box over in his hand, prods it with a finger before he glances at Damien with a soft chuckle. “This is fake.” He presses a few buttons and the beeping stops. He drops it to the floor.
I almost pass out with relief.
Adrian returns to Damien but Damien shakes his head. “Take care of Ivy. Get her the hell out of this place.” His voice is deep and dusty, firm. “Drop by the office. Get the briefcase for her.”
Adrian hesitates but nods. Within seconds he has freed my mouth and is trying to unravel the rope binding my hands together. His heavy breathing tells me he’s finding it hard to untie the tough knot. I lose patience and shrug him off. “Go to Damien. He’s bleeding.” I’m still better off than Damien. The bomb may be fake, but the clock is still ticking. Judson could return any moment.
We all freeze when the sound of footsteps upstairs catches our attention. He’s back. “Please—hurry,” I say. Tears hit the back of my throat and I swallow them.
Adrian’s gaze sweeps the room. He spots the knife Judson had used to cut my cheek. He uses it to cut through the tough ropes around Damien’s hands. Before he can do anything else, the footsteps get louder.
“Don’t worry,” Adrian whispers. “I’ll get him before he makes it down here.”
Adrian drops the knife and aims his gun at the top of the stairs, awaiting Judson’s appearance. Will he be able to shoot him before he shoots us?
Damien bends his body at the waist and tries to untie the knot fastening one of his legs to the chair. “Forget me. Go help Ivy. Whatever happens, she’s your priority now. Make sure he doesn’t get near her again.”
“Are you sure?”
“Do as I say.” The frustration is evident in Damien’s tone as he struggles to free his legs.
“Very well.” Adrian picks up the knife and dashes to my side the moment the key turns in the lock. Fear rushes in my ears as he cuts through the rope, succeeding to free me this time. He slides the knife across the floor in Damien’s direction and lifts me from the chair. My legs give way.
“Hold on.” He scoops me into his arms and hurries toward the hidden door as Damien frees one of his legs.
We barely make it to the door when the door to the basement bursts open.
“Drop her or I’ll shoot,” Judson orders.
Adrian’s steps falter. He hoists me higher in his arms to better aim his gun at Judson. “Not before I shoot.” With each word, Adrian takes a step back, toward the door.
Judson takes careful steps down the stairs, Adrian moves faster. By the time we reach the door, Judson is at the bottom of the stairs, a cloud of thunder darkening his face. “Don’t fuck with me.” He takes a few steps toward us.
“Back off, Judson. Lock the door behind you, Adrian.” Damien, who has finally freed himself, steps between Judson and us, holding the knife in front of him. When Judson doesn’t stop moving, Damien lunges for him, but Judson steps out of the way at the last second. Damien falls to the ground at his feet and the knife slides from his hand and out of his reach.
The last thing I see as we disappear through the secret door and into a dark tunnel is Judson’s gun aimed at Damien’s chest. The moment the door closes, a gunshot rings out.
A raw scream rips through me as Adrian fumbles with the lock of the door then runs with me in his arms.
Chapter Ten
“You’re going to be okay,” Adrian promises, hurrying me through the dim tunnel. “I’ll take you to a safe place.” Silent pauses fill the spaces between the words, which tells me he’s not sure if we’ll be able to escape Judson’s wrath, that he’ll be able to keep the promise he made Damien. Judson could find us at the other end of the tunnel.
I suck in the moldy air and damp wood smell, biting back tears.
When I last checked the time, before Damien had gone down for a drink, it had been 1:00 a.m. Whether Adrian and I will live long enough to see the break of dawn is in God’s hands. Or Judson’s. If I survive, how would I ever be able to stop replaying what happened in the basement? How would I forget the sounds of the shots fired, the haunted look in Damien’s eyes, the taste of blood and dust on my tongue, the smell of gin? How will I forget the sensation of Damien’s penis inside me?
At last, we emerge from the tunnel onto a beach with miles of sand and pebbles stretching out ahead of us. Waves rumble in the distance.
Whether this private beach belongs to Damien’s mansion or if we’re off his grounds, I can’t tell. Why did Damien have a secret tunnel built on his property in the first place? Did he live in fear of Judson?
Right now it doesn’t matter. What matters is that it got us the hell out of there.
I take a breath, replacing the stale air with fresh sea air.
A shiver ripples through me when a blast of cool air—carrying water droplets—sweeps over my skin, penetrating the thin material of my negligée.
Adrian doesn’t lower me to the ground as he turns onto a dark path leading away from the beach. Is he worried I’d slow our pace? The long dry reeds framing the path tickle my dangling legs. His breathing comes in short, quick gasps by the time we climb the steps on one side of the promenade and descend on the other.
His car is parked behind a closed hot dog stand.
When he bundles me inside, I flop to my side, where my butchered cheek meets the leather of the backseat. He does his best to fasten the seatbelt around me without my having to sit upright. The moment he shuts the door, my tears come. The salt stings my cheek but the pain is welcome. It makes me feel a different sensation apart from numbness.
Adrian gets behind the wheel and drives us to what I hope is safety. Since arriving at Damien’s mansion, all I wanted was to escape. Now I have and I still don’t feel free. In fact, my heart is heavier than it had been in the past weeks.
Adrian is on the phone, talking to someone in fluent Spanish. I hope it’s the police and a paramedic. Maybe someone will make it to Damien in time to save his life. And Judson has to be stopped. The thought of him traveling around the US, pretending to be a professor so he can get his hands on innocent girls to defile and then sell, fills me with dread.
I’m not sure how long we drive but the car eventually comes to an abrupt halt. Adrian exits the car and comes to carry me from the backseat, where he finds me in the same position he had left me. With me in his arms, he kicks open a metal gate and walks me to the door of a one-story house. The door opens before we reach it and Hanna emerges, the light from the house making her white nightgown glow.
“Heavens, what did he do to her? Adrian, she’s bleeding.”
“I’ll explain later.” Adrian carries me into the house and shuts the door. “Get the first aid kit. I think she’s in shock.”
He lowers me onto a camel corduroy couch and I close my eyes; the soothing familiar sound of Hanna’s voice calming my nerves.
“Sweetheart, don’t be afraid,” she coos. “I’ll take care of you.”
I lift my eyelids to see her face. The loos
e hair around her shoulders makes her face softer than I remember from when she worked at Damien’s mansion.
She touches my unbruised cheek then stands. Throwing Adrian a look, she pushes past him and walks up a short staircase. She returns with a first aid kit and tends to the cut on my cheek.
“It’s time you tell me everything, Adrian Peters. What did Damien do to the poor girl? I’m tired of the secrets.” Hanna doesn’t look at Adrian as she cleans my cut.
Since we arrived, Adrian has been pacing the room, twisting his handlebar mustache between a thumb and forefinger.
“It wasn’t Damien. It was Judson.”
Hanna pauses but her hand remains on my cheek. “The psychotic twin brother? Isn’t he locked away—in the US?”
“Not anymore. He escaped.” He lets go of the mustache. “Look, honey, I’ll tell you everything later. There are a few things I need to get from Damien’s office first.”
Honey?
“Where’s Damien now?” Hanna brushes back my hair, unsticking it from the blood on my cheek.
“Judson shot him as we were getting away.”
“Jesus.” A shocked breath shoots from Hanna’s mouth and cools my damp cheek. “He’s dead?”
“I don’t know. Possibly. There’s something he asked me to do. He made me promise to take care of Ivy and that’s what I intend to do.” Adrian hurries back to the door. “I won’t be long.”
“Are we safe here? Did you call the police?” Hanna’s voice comes out choked.
“I think we’re safe for now. I called the cops on the way here.”
Adrian pulls the door open and disappears into the night.
“I’m so sorry,” Hanna says when we’re alone. “You poor, poor girl. I won’t let anyone hurt you again.”
I swallow my tears. I think it will be a while before I’m able to speak again.
Chapter Eleven
I wrap my hands around the mug of coffee Hanna gives me and close my eyes for a moment, still trying to shut out the pictures that will forever torment my mind. It doesn’t help. To distract myself I gaze into the hot liquid, studying the surface for images which aren’t there.
I look back up at Hanna, who had not been able to sit still since handing me the coffee. She’s moving around the room, wringing her hands and pushing the curtain back several times. Her lips are moving as though she’s saying something no one should hear.
I want to say something to her but I can’t find the words. So I wait for her to start the conversation. She comes to a stop and stands for a few seconds in the middle of the room before settling next to me. She raises her hand and touches the Band-Aid on my cheek with the tip of her fingers.
“I’m ashamed.” She purses her lips. “I’m sorry I didn’t see what he was doing to you. I . . . Perhaps I didn’t want to.”
I’m surprised that she’s focusing on what Damien had done to me instead of his much more evil brother’s crimes. But I don’t stop her as she continues to talk. She needs to say whatever’s laying heavy on her chest and I need the distraction.
“I’ll never forgive myself for choosing to be blind.” She brings her hands together in her lap and clutches them. “He wasn’t always bad, you know. He—He did some good things in his life. Maybe that’s why I overlooked his sins.” She pulls an embroidered handkerchief from the pocket of her nightgown and blows her nose. “If it weren’t for Damien, Adrian would not be alive today. Five years ago, Adrian needed a liver to save his life. Damien didn’t even think twice. He gave him the gift of life. After that, our loyalty was to him. We had no idea how to repay him otherwise.”
“I didn’t know you and Adrian are married?” I ask, saying my first words in what seems like hours. My swollen lips throb with pain.
“We like to keep things professional at work.” She pauses. “Fifteen years last month. He was my first love. We both worked for Damien and Judson’s stepfather.” She purses her lips. “That man was pure evil. The things he put those boys through . . . despicable. And the mother was never around to set them on the straight path after he corrupted them. As the help, we had no choice but to turn the other way, to pretend we didn’t see. Judson suffered less only because he became like him sooner. He became the favorite son.”
“And Damien resisted?”
“The poor boy paid dearly for it. It was only a matter of time before he, too, turned into the monster his stepfather was.”
My heart aches as I recall Damien telling me about how his stepfather had forced him to do things small boys should never be subjected to. An uncomfortable thought niggles at the back of my mind. I wet my dry lips and put it into words. “How was he punished when he misbehaved?” I’m unable to raise my voice above a whisper.
Hanna shifts her gaze away from me.
“Hanna, how was he punished?” I ask again, my voice stronger.
“He was locked up for days on end, sometimes longer. The man did to Damien what Damien did to you.” She exhales. “But instead of being locked up in a room, he got the dark basement. And he was sometimes tied to a pole.” Hanna blows her nose again, her hands trembling. “To this day I still remember the sounds of his screams.”
No wonder Damien built that tunnel. His childhood fears had followed him into adulthood. My heart bleeds for him, for the broken years of his life. But as much as my mind wants to dwell on his pain, I can’t think about his life or his death. Not now. The only person who should matter now is me. The splinters from his broken life have pierced me too.
I raise the mug of coffee to my lips and sip the sweet, hot liquid, following its journey over my tongue and down my throat, enjoying its comforting warmth. As soon as I drain the mug, Hanna springs to her feet and brings me more, glad to have something to occupy her. When she returns from the kitchen, she finds me with my hand over my cheek.
“Don’t worry. The cut wasn’t too deep. I’m sure it won’t take long before it heals.”
I lift my gaze to her face and give her a bittersweet smile. My physical wounds are the least of my problems. The pain and the scars do not concern me. The wounds that matter, the ones that won’t stop bleeding, are the ones hidden within.
In our momentary silence, we hear the distant sound of a police siren blaring. Hanna gets up and goes to the window, pushes aside the green printed curtain.
She gazes out for a moment. “It’s been over an hour. What’s taking Adrian so long?” She allows the curtain to fall back in place.
“I don’t know.” The knot inside my stomach is tightening with every second as I wonder if Judson had escaped the mansion after all and got to Adrian. I can’t imagine what he’d do to the man that destroyed his plans.
“Do you know what he went to get from the office?” Hanna sinks into the couch. “I can’t imagine what can be so important.”
“I—No.” I place a hand on my belly, guilt gnawing at my stomach lining. Damien had asked Adrian to go to the office for me, to get something for me. Perhaps something that will aid in my escape. I can’t possibly admit to Hanna that Adrian went out there because of me, that if something happens to her husband it will be my fault.
Swallowing my guilt, I do the only thing I can do. I pray for Adrian’s safe return to his wife and life.
Adrian walks through the door at 3:00 a.m., carrying a vintage leather briefcase. He finds both Hanna and I fast asleep on the couch, exhausted from waiting so long for his return.
“Where in God’s name were you?” Hanna almost trips on the blanket draped over her legs as she stands and rushes to Adrian. She throws herself into his arms, both relieved and furious. She pulls back and places shaking hands on both sides of his cheeks. “You weren’t answering your phone. Do you have any idea how worried I was?”
“I should have called. I passed by the police station to ask if they had any new information. If they arrested the son of a bitch. The place was packed and loud. It took ages to get someone to talk to me.”
“And?” My heart jams into my throat. I
unclasp my hands and lift my lethargic body from the couch “Did they get him?”
Adrian turns his weary face toward me. “I’m afraid they were not very generous with their information. They wouldn’t quit telling me to return in a couple of hours.”
“Did they at least mention . . . is Damien dead?”
Adrian nods and lowers his gaze, hiding his pain at the loss of his boss or perhaps avoiding seeing my emotions. “They refused to say. But I read between the lines.”
He says something more but due to the rush in my ears, the words that reach me are nothing but gibberish. My stomach hurts so much, as though there’s a hand in there wringing my intestines. But allowing myself to crumble now is not on the cards. I can’t let myself go until I’m sure of where I’ll go from here. I bite back tears as I watch Hanna sink into a nearby armchair and bury her head into her hands, crying softly.
Even if I refuse for it to show, I grieve for the man who has transformed my heart in so many different ways, the man who had done terrible things but also opened the window to a part of his heart that was flooded with light instead of darkness.
The person who deserved to die was Judson, the man with a stone for a heart, the person who started the engine of the train to hell that we all ended up on. A man with no flicker of light inside his soul. The murderer.
Adrian lowers himself onto the couch next to me, balancing the briefcase on his lap. He flips it open and gazes into it for a while.
“What did you have to get that was so urgent?” Hanna asks.
“A few things to help Ivy get back home.” Adrian looks up at me. “Damien wanted to give this to you before you left for the US.” He pauses. “He had come to his senses in the end and did plan on letting you go … doing the right thing.”
My breath catches inside my throat at the sight of the crisp dollar bills on one side of the briefcase. While I’m struggling to get my mouth to close, Adrian shifts around the other contents of the briefcase before giving up and handing me the whole thing. It’s heavier than it looks.