Her breaths stilled. “Andrew.” She grabbed his shirt, balling the material between her fingers. “Please, help me.”
“What’s wrong?”
She spun on her heels, her legs giving out beneath her, and scrambled toward his car.
“I thought you were sleeping.”
She gasped for air. “I have to leave, now. Can you take me?”
“What is it?”
Mallory searched behind her as Andrew searched for his keys and unlocked the door. Collapsing in the front seat, she held her head between her knees. He started the engine. A sharp cry hiccupped from deep within her lungs. “Please hurry. Don’t let him take me.”
Andrew sped out of the driveway. “Don’t let who take you? Who are you talking about?”
“I can’t go with him. Drive.”
As soon as he turned onto the main road, severe tremors claimed her.
“It’s okay.” He sped around corners, slinging her back and forth.
What if Jake went after them? “Call Nancy. Tell her not to go to the apartment. Call her … now.” The high-pitched, foreign sound coming from her mouth filled the small space. Why had she said anything about going to get her ring? He would go there searching for her.
“Sebastian. This is Andrew. Don’t let Nancy go to the apartment.” He threw the phone in the seat. “Okay, I called. You have to tell me what’s going on. Where do you want to go? Rachel’s?”
Her mind blanked. “I don’t know. What am I going to do?” She inhaled, but air wouldn’t come, no matter how she struggled.
Eric had two minutes to spare before his appointment. With a quick look toward the apartment, unease settled in his stomach as he searched the driveway. The same red truck that passed him earlier sat in the driveway.
That’s odd. Maybe the man was late for a job assignment with Mr. Chamberlain. But why was he parked over there?
Mallory would still be working. He rang the mansion’s door-bell and folded his arms.
“Hello, Mr. Matthews. Have a seat. Mr. Chamberlain will be right with you.” Sebastian guided him in, and as soon as he closed the door the bell rang again.
He started to open it, with a smirk. “Was someone behind you?”
“No. I don’t think so.” Eric’s question about the truck in the driveway lingered as Sebastian opened the door and a man in a black t-shirt pushed past him.
“Where is she?”
Eric staggered back.
“Excuse me sir, you can’t just barge …”
The man clutched at Sebastian’s collar. “You tell me where she is and I’ll be on my way, mister.”
Sebastian grabbed the man, spun him around, and twisted his arms until he had them bound behind his back. Eric moved to the side, mouth agape. Blood trickled down the man’s cheek and dripped to the floor. Tattoos covered his arms and neck.
“Who is it you wish to see?” Sebastian asked in a calmer voice than Eric had expected.
“I’m not here to see anyone. I’m here to get my wife.” The man’s face twisted in anger.
“I’m sorry, sir, but I believe you have the wrong residence.”
“Mallory!” he yelled, “Let’s go, now.”
A stabbing sensation sliced through Eric’s middle. “Mallory?”
His wife? Eric couldn’t move. Something was wrong—very wrong.
“Yeah, Mallory.” The stranger’s eyes darkened. “You know where she is?”
Eric’s pulse quickened. “What do you want with her?”
“I’m here to take her home.”
The world spun at the stranger’s words. Home. He was here to take Mallory away.
The sound of sirens broke the deadly silence. The stranger tried to escape from Sebastian’s hold when Mr. Chamberlain walked from upstairs.
“What’s going on out here?”
“Sir, Miss Mallory has an unwanted visitor. The police are here now to escort him away.” Sebastian released him as two police officers rushed through the open door and bound the stranger in handcuffs. “You sir, will not see Miss Mallory. Not today or ever again.”
They started to lead the man from the foyer when he turned and spoke directly to Eric, “She’s my wife and belongs to me. You won’t get away with this.”
Mr. Chamberlain followed the officers through the door.
Eric staggered toward the kitchen, his vision blurred. Nancy stood at the doorway, her eyes filled with tears.
“’Where’s Mallory?” He scanned the house, praying she’d walk around the corner.
“Andrew was the last person to see her today. He found her crying, but took her to our apartment.”
Crying?
Eric moved toward the back door, but Nancy stopped him. “She isn’t there.” Andrew called to warn me not to go over there.”
“Who is he, Nancy?”
“I don’t know.” Broken syllables shuffled through her voice.
“You know her better than anyone. You have to tell me what you know. He said she’s his wife.”
Nancy sniffed. “When I first met her she was running from someone. She was staying at a safe house for battered women.” Nancy’s gaze fell. “He found out Mallory was staying at the shelter and a girl I’d met brought her to me. She was trying to protect her. She didn’t give me any details, only that Mallory needed help. I was coming here the next morning and agreed to bring her with me.”
“Just like that? You didn’t even know her? Who was the other girl?” His stomach sickened at the thought of her having to run from anyone—of her being married to that monster.
“Stephanie. She worked at the center. I met her at church.”
“In North Carolina?”
Nancy looked at Eric, eyebrows raised. “Yes, I was living in Charlotte.”
This couldn’t be happening. He was in love with her, but she was married. He collapsed on the foyer bench and stared into space. Within minutes his whole world had been shattered. Nothing would ever be the same—ever again.
“Breathe in slowly, Mallory. You have to calm down. You’re safe. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
Her restricted airways relaxed as Andrew drove farther from the apartment. “Do you know Mary, Rachel’s Amish friend?”
“No.”
“Go toward Rachel’s.” She exhaled. “I think I can remember how to get there.”
If she could only get to Mary’s house, she would be safe for a while. Maybe Jake wouldn’t look in the deeper parts of Amish country.
Twenty-Two
Mallory stared through the window as Andrew took the curvy roads taking them miles from the Chamberlain’s. Glancing over her shoulder every few minutes, she made sure Jake’s truck wasn’t behind them. Tall, white barns led them down the narrow, country lane.
“There it is.”
Andrew pointed to Mary’s house then pulled to a stop.
Mallory opened the car door and Andrew grabbed her arm. “You have to tell me why you’re so upset? Who are you running from?”
“Don’t tell anyone where I am.” Fresh tears spilled over her cheeks, salting her lips. “Promise me.”
“You can trust me.”
“Please, just go. He might be looking for your car.”
“You want me to leave you here?”
“I have no choice.” She climbed over the seat and wrapped her arms around him. “I’ll never be able to repay you for this.”
The car rolled forward.
“What’re you doing?”
“I can’t leave until I know what’s wrong. Besides, I should wait until your friend comes home.” He nodded toward the barn and drove around the back. “No one’s here.”
“The man who took me in when I turned sixteen,” she flinched at the memory, “came to take me back. I can’t go with him.”
; Andrew shook his head, brows furrowed.
“He owned a tattoo parlor. I wanted a tattoo.” She wrapped her arms around her waist. “He waited until he finished to tell me how much it would cost.”
“How much did you owe him?”
“Only fifty dollars, but it was like a thousand to me. I worked for him on the weekends. He was nice at first, like a big brother. But that wasn’t how he saw me.”
“How old was he?”
“Twenty-two.”
“Did he hurt you?”
“Not until one year later when I turned sixteen. Not until I ran away to move in with him.”
Andrew leaned forward, his knuckles white from grasping the steering wheel. “You were sixteen and he was twenty-three when he asked you to move in with him?”
“My foster parents were abusive. I had to find a way out and the only way…” she paused, heaving through the pain. “He promised to take care of me. He said he thought of me as a sister, and I believed him.”
They sat in silence for several moments before Andrew asked the question, his expression grave. “How did he hurt you?”
“He’d come home drunk. I never knew what I did to make him so angry.” She paused to catch her breath. “I can’t go back with him. Please, you have to promise not to tell anyone where I am.”
He stared out at the open fields for a long time, his tormented expression falling. “I had no idea. What about Rachel? You should tell her. And Eric …”
“No, you can’t.” Mallory didn’t want to think of Eric, to think of what she’d found. The lump in her throat swelled. The pain it caused every time she remembered their lips touching strangled her. “No one knows. And no one ever can.”
“You can trust Rachel and Eric.”
“I never want to see Eric again.” She gripped her waist. To never see him again would slowly kill her, but she couldn’t. “Promise me.”
Seconds later, Mary arrived and stepped out from the vehicle. She waved as the driver backed out. Mary embraced Mallory when they were within reach.
“Hullo, Mallory.” Mary’s eyes searched the yard. “Weigeht’s-How are you?”
“I’m sorry I drove so far into your yard.” Andrew met Mallory’s gaze. “She needs somewhere to hide. She doesn’t have anywhere else to go.”
Mary wrapped a protective arm around her shoulder. “I don’t understand.”
A cry surfaced, but Mallory resisted it. “I don’t want to pull you into this.”
Mary looked toward the car. “No one knows she’s here, not even Rachel?”
“No.” Andrew placed his hand on Mallory’s shoulder. “No one can know.”
“I’ll talk to Thomas. If he agrees, we have a spare room upstairs you’re welcome to as long as you need.”
Mallory covered her face with her hands. She fell into Andrew’s arms. “Thank you—for everything.”
Squaring her shoulders, she turned. She had to let him go—to let everything go.
Sitting in the living room, hands twined, body hunched forward, Eric waited hours for Mallory to return. Chest tight, he rubbed his index finger with enough force to numb his wrist. The sound of someone entering the house from the back brought him to his feet. Andrew stepped into the hallway, crushing Eric’s hope. The man’s grim expression didn’t go unnoticed as he walked past Eric toward the stairs, without speaking.
The kitchen doors burst open and Mr. Chamberlain and Sebastian followed Nancy into the dining room. “Where have you been?”
Andrew stopped mid-step and turned to grab the railing. “I went out for a while.”
Mr. Chamberlain moved toward him. “Have you seen Mallory?”
Andrew focused on the banister. “Why? Isn’t she in the apartment?”
Nancy grabbed his arm. “You told Sebastian to warn me not to go there.”
Andrew glared at Eric. “Because Mallory was upset. She wanted to be alone.”
Sebastian cleared his throat. “You sounded so panicked, I called the police. And a few minutes later, a man arrived demanding to see Mallory.”
“Did the police take him?”
“Andrew!” Nancy’s voice broke. “Who was he?
Andrew’s jaw clenched. Something wasn’t right. He gaped at Nancy, his eyes vacant. “Did you go to the apartment?”
“After the police left. There was a broken vase in the hall and Mallory’s bag was on the bed, overflowing with her things.” She clutched her elbows with white knuckled fingers, her voice strained. “What made you call?”
Eric searched Andrew’s gaze as his eyes darted from one thing to another. Nancy hadn’t mentioned that. A stabbing sensation tore through his muscles. Andrew didn’t answer.
What could’ve happened? They’d had such a good time yesterday. When he dropped her off last night, he walked Mallory to the door, resisting his desire to kiss her again. Instead he took her hands and kissed her fingertips.
Eric’s resolve to stay quiet broke. “You were the last person to see her.”
“This is none of your business.” A disapproving tone rang through Andrew’s voice.
“You know where she is.” Eric’s voice rose.
Tight lines formed across Andrew’s forehead. “Why don’t you tell everyone what happened?”
Eric flexed his fingers. “What do you mean?”
“Why was she crying?” Andrew jumped from the step, coming face-to-face with Eric. “What did you do to her?”
Mallory wasn’t sure how long she’d slept, but her head pounded when she opened her eyes. It had taken hours for her harsh tremor to dissipate—for her to finally relax. Dark curtains kept light from entering the room. She heaved the Amish quilt up to her waist.
Memories of yesterday came flooding back. Her lungs squeezed, taking her breath. Nausea swept through her as she sat up and hugged her knees to her chest. She rocked back and forth. Burying her face in her hands, thoughts raced backward in time—a time where she never allowed herself to go.
Mallory walked away from the woods, the thrill of dragonfly’s kiss invading every inch of her heart. He wanted to take her away. She would go—she never wanted to live without him.
On Saturday morning, after sneaking out of her foster home, she walked straight to the tattoo parlor. Only fourteen, legally she wasn’t old enough to get inked and didn’t have a lot of cash. She’d saved her spare lunch money from the beginning of the year. It had to be enough.
Straightening to her full height, she stepped through the door, glancing casually at the tattoo paintings on the wall. She dodged the pool table in the center. Only one man stood at the back of the building. He wasn’t very old. Maybe she could fool him.
“Good morning, good looking. What can I do for you?”
She inhaled. The stench of cigarette smoke filled the small space. “I’m here to get a tattoo.”
“Really? How old are you, young lady?”
Mallory picked at her fingernail, lifting her lips to a smile. “How old do you think I am?”
“Unfortunately, you’re not old enough to go out with me. Not yet anyway, but that’s all right. I’m a patient man.”
Heat rushed to her cheeks.
“What’s your name, beautiful?”
“Mal,” she blurted before thinking it through.
“So tell me, Mal, what kind of tattoo are you thinking about?”
Was he for real? He was going to give her one and not even ask her age?
“How much are they?”
“They start at fifty.”
“I want a butterfly and a dragonfly spinning around each other.”
“Sounds interesting. I like a girl who knows what she wants. Here’s a sample book. Pick the ones you want. I’ll be right back.”
Mallory breathed out as he walked away. She flipped through the pages and found a perf
ect design. When he returned, he leaned over her as she pointed to the pictures. He stood too close, his body pressing against hers. She shouldn’t have come. But it was too late. If she chickened out, the guy would be suspicious of her age. This was her only chance. And she wanted this so desperately, a permanent symbol of her feelings for Dragonfly.
“Where do you want it?”
“On my ankle?”
He slung his long, blond bangs out of his eyes. “Anything for you, darlin’. So would you like the dragonfly above the butterfly, like it’s flying around it?”
“That would be perfect.”
“Lie on the table and let’s get started. I’ll put the dragonfly a little higher on your leg, like this.”
Climbing onto the table, she stretched out, her stomach in knots.
He rubbed her leg in small circles. She cringed against the touch of his fingers. He was definitely touching her more than he needed to. But she would go through with this, to show Dragonfly she would love him the rest of her life.
She winced at the never-ending pain as he drove the needle through her skin.
He slowly moved his free hand higher up her leg. “Am I hurting you?”
The urge to jerk away from him sharpened, but she held her ground. “No. It’s fine.”
“You’re a tough girl. Just the kind I like.”
Tiny tentacles tightened around her stomach. She stared across the room at an abstract tattoo sample of a cross with stars hanging above it.
Finally, the drilling into her skin stopped, and he taped a large bandage to her leg.
“You need to keep this on for two days.”
That would be perfect, because she wouldn’t see Dragonfly until Monday.
“That will be one hundred dollars.”
The lump in her throat swelled and dropped through her chest, landing in the pit of her stomach. “I thought you said fifty. I don’t have that much.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out the crumpled bills.
Broken Butterfly Page 16