Secrets and Scars: A Gripping Psychological Thriller (Fatal Hearts Series Book 3)

by Dori Lavelle

  He let out a breath close enough to touch my skin. “I don't know. It’s best not to think about it. This shelter will hopefully keep whatever’s out there out.” He closed the sack and lay down. I did the same, making myself small and trying not to touch him, which was almost impossible.

  “I hope so.” The shelter might keep some dangers out, but not the one that mattered most.

  “I know you’re scared,” Owen said. “But it’s been a long day. You must be exhausted. We can’t move on until I’m sure you have enough energy to carry on. And it could be dangerous to navigate this jungle in the dark.” He switched off the torch. “Get some sleep. I’ll stay up and wake you if I hear anything.”

  “I’ll try.” In spite of my fears, I turned my back to him and closed my eyes, resting in the small comfort that I was no longer alone.

  Chapter Four

  A nightmare transported me back to Alvin’s yacht, to his studio of horrors. The monster had tied me to a stripper pole, then whipped me with a thin metal chain that cut as deep as a knife. Each lash was like a stream of fire that raced down my skin, burning it, breaking it, tearing it apart.

  I glanced down at the fresh wounds on my stomach, seeing the white flesh moments before bright red tainted it.

  He laughed and swung his hand back, ready to strike again. My tortured screams fell on deaf ears as I slid up and down the pole, tugging at the handcuffs and begging him to release me, all the while knowing I would never win against metal, against him. After more skin-numbing lashes, I passed out from the pain.

  I felt his hands on me, shaking me awake. My eyes flew open.

  The cover of night was too thick to see through, but I felt Owen’s presence behind me, the safety he offered me.

  The bed rustled as he drew closer and wrapped an arm around me.

  I sobbed as he hugged me tight. The pain from my wounds awakened as he pressed me to his body.

  I pulled back, biting my trembling lip. “Hurts,” I murmured. A groan escaped my lips as I attempted to pull myself up on one elbow.

  I heard a click and then weak yellow light chased the darkness from the shelter.

  Owen’s hands moved to unbutton my shirt.

  I placed my hand on top of his. “What are you doing?”

  “Show me what he did to you. I want to see.” By the time he finished saying the words, the top buttons were already open, the shirt swept off my shoulders. The light shifted as he shone it on my back.

  “Fuckin’ bastard.” He ground the words between his teeth.

  “Don’t… don’t touch.”

  “I need to do something about these wounds, Chloe. We don’t want them getting infected. Don’t move.”

  I craned my head to watch as he removed from the sack a half-empty bottle of water, a small bottle of rubbing alcohol we’d also found in the depot, and a clean white cloth. “I’m not a doctor, but I know we can’t leave your wounds untreated.”

  As Owen cleaned and disinfected my wounds with the few supplies we had, tears slid down my cheeks. I wasn’t crying from the pain, but from the emotions that rose to the surface, brought on by someone showing me kindness.

  Memories of Jim tending to my wounds in the dungeon flooded my mind.

  “Thank you.” I pulled the shirt over my shoulders again, buttoning it with unsteady fingers.

  “Don’t thank me, Chloe.” He draped the blanket over me again. “Now get back to sleep.”

  Chapter Five

  At the break of dawn, we finished up the loaf of bread we had started eating yesterday, and washed it down with the rest of the water from the almost empty bottle. Unable to take a shower, we opened the second bottle of water and used some of it to wash our faces.

  “I hope you managed to get some rest.” Owen kicked dry breadcrumbs into nearby bushes, and turned to me with a tight expression. “I still can’t believe he did that to you.”

  “I started it—”

  “I don’t know what happened between you two in the past, but only a monster treats another person that way.”

  I picked up the empty bottle from the ground and stuffed it into the sack, avoiding eye contact.

  How would Owen react when he found out what I’d done to Alvin? Would he still defend me, or would he place me in the same category as Alvin? I wasn’t ready to find out quite yet—not unless I wanted to risk being left stranded in a jungle.

  “Let’s go. I’m pretty sure he didn’t stop searching all night.”

  Before we continued our journey, we dismantled the shelter and made the area look as undisturbed as we could. Alvin would only need to spot a few crumbs or an empty bottle to help him figure out where we were headed.

  Owen picked up the sack, threw it over his shoulder, and glanced at me. “Should I take another look at your back?”

  “No.” I ignored the itch of my wounds. “I think what you did last night helped. I feel better.” The truth was, each second we stood in one place brought us closer to danger, and I didn’t want him to waste our supplies. Who knew how long we still had to go?

  “If you’re sure.” Owen started walking, pulling out the map he’d found in Alvin’s notebook.

  He slowed down so we could study it together. I was never much good at reading maps, so I left it to him.

  “Want to know how far we are from the yacht?”

  “Not really. Just tell me when we’re close.” In some cases, not knowing was better. Less room for disappointment.

  This time, as we jogged, Owen didn’t take my hand. I was stronger than yesterday, better able to move without support.

  A soft drizzle had fallen overnight, and a coolness lingered in the early morning air, which smelled of damp earth and wildflowers. In another place and time, I would have reveled in the smell. But not today. So many things I had loved before had been taken away from me, so many moments I had enjoyed had proven to be lies. Everything I had lived for was an illusion. Once I arrived home—if I ever did—I’d have to completely reinvent myself. Again.

  Before any thoughts of the HIV could pop into my mind, I forced myself to snap out of the negativity and deal with it later.

  At least I had my life back, for now. If it was worth saving, it was worth living.

  When the air started to warm in the sun, we slowed again. Panting, I tipped my head back and gazed up at the sky through the opening in the canopy. I so wished to be out in the open, to walk on the beach, to watch the waves instead of just hearing them. For a sliver of a moment I pretended everything was fine, that Owen and I were on a hike, not on the run from certain death. But the moment was brief. Alvin pushed himself to the edge of my mind, but before he could penetrate it, Owen yanked me out of my thoughts.

  “Fuck!” he growled, as branches snapped below his feet and he began to fall into a pit in the ground.

  Fortunately I had been walking close, and I lunged forward, falling to the ground and gripping his hand. I inched forward as he clung to me, almost pulling me into the trap.

  I used my free hand to grab a protruding root. My hand and skin stretched as I moved forward, my breath hitching inside my throat. My back screamed as the cuts that had started to heal cracked open again.

  “Hold on to me.” I squeezed my eyes shut and gritted my teeth. I would not let him fall. I would not let go.

  Owen tightened his hand around my fingers, which threatened to snap under his weight.

  With a loud groan from both of us, he hauled himself higher and grabbed onto the wooden rim of the pit, relieving me of the pressure of his weight.

  “Thanks.” He took several deep breaths, then climbed back out, sweat pouring down his face.

  “Phew.” I rubbed my aching hand and wrist. The relief coursing through me made me want to hug him, but I stopped myself.

  “That was close,” I said instead. “Are you okay?”

  “You have no idea.” He dropped the sack at his feet—thank God it had not fallen in—and dusted himself off. His white t-shirt was dirty. “He’
s close.”

  My heart slammed against my chest as he helped me to my feet. When he took my hand and we hurried forward, I asked him the question that burned at the back of my mind.

  “Why are you doing this? If you knew he could be dangerous, why come all the way here to risk your life? Why didn’t you wait for the cops to do their job?”

  “Like I said earlier, they weren’t moving fast enough.” His voice was strained. “Let’s not waste time. We’ll talk later, I promise.” He tightened his fingers around mine. “We have to be more careful. He probably left more traps like that one.”

  Chapter Six

  Owen was right. We did come across more traps, but he was able to detect them in time. He made sure to walk slightly ahead of me so he could assess the danger before it was too late.

  It had been a while since we’d had something to drink, and my mouth and throat were drying up fast. Hunger wasn’t much of an issue. Thanks to Alvin’s one-meal-a-day policy on his yacht, my body had become somewhat accustomed to holding on without sustenance. We still had one bottle of water in the sack, but we’d made a pact to hold on for as long as possible before drinking again.

  After at least two hours of walking, we sank onto a fallen tree to take a break.

  Owen turned to me, squinting, his blue eyes shrouded with worry. “I think I know why he trapped this mountainside.”

  “Isn’t it obvious? He wants to stop us from getting off the island.” Though the traps had probably been set for me long before Owen entered the picture.

  “That’s part of it, but there’s more.” He shifted his weight and turned toward me. His knees touched mine. His touch was comforting in a way I couldn’t explain. “On my way over to Miles’s yacht, I spotted some kind of farm or village on the far side of the mountain.”

  “You think Alvin is trying to keep us from getting to it?” I dropped my pounding head into my hands.

  “I’m sure of it. If we make it there, whoever owns it could hide us.”

  “And you think we should stop there, not head straight to your yacht?” I lifted my head and ran a hand through my tangled ponytail.

  He looked down at the map again and folded it. “It might be a good idea. This journey seems to be taking longer than I expected. We need supplies.”

  “It could also be risky, though. What if the land belongs to Alvin?”

  “At this point we don’t have too much of a choice. If we run out of food and water, we’re done. We don’t know what lies ahead.” He swept a hand across his forehead. “But you do have a point. There’s a chance the land is his, but I doubt it. On the map, he had circled part of this island. That land was not included.” He shrugged. “To be safe, we’ll try not to come into contact with anyone. We’ll get there, grab whatever we can find, and run.”

  I pursed my lips and nodded. “Okay, let’s do it.”

  Chapter Seven

  The sun hung high in the sky now, its heat beating down on us. The last bottle of water we had was empty.

  I glanced at Owen. He was trying to be strong for both of us, but exhaustion had wrung him out. The tension in his features was unmistakable, and his shoulders slumped forward as he walked.

  We both slowed down with each step we took. My feet barely moved anymore. But stopping before we reached the village was not an option. The thing that worried me was the distance. Would we make it there before dehydration killed us? Would we need to spend the night in the jungle again? My stomach cramped at the thought.

  Owen had long stopped assuring me about the proximity of the village. I figured he had miscalculated the time it would take us to reach it, and he did not want to disappoint me.

  The thought that it would be a long while until we got there weighed me down, but I could not give up. I would not let Alvin win.

  On several occasions we stopped to rest, leaning our backs on rough bark, panting as we dropped onto fallen tree trunks, boulders, or dry earth.

  At one of our stops, I closed my eyes and rolled my head, loosening the tension in my neck, listening to the leaves rustling and creatures chattering. The scurrying of animals in the underbrush startled me, and I lifted my eyelids again in time to see a lizard scramble up the tree trunk on my side.

  I pushed myself away from the trunk, heart racing. As a child, I’d had a paralyzing fear of reptiles. That fear had not left me, apparently.

  “You okay?” Owen eyed me suspiciously.

  I got to my feet, scratching my arms as though the lizard had crawled onto my skin. “Yeah, I just don’t like lizards.”

  His lips curled up at the corners. He also got to his feet. “You do know most lizards are harmless to humans, right?”

  “Maybe, but that doesn’t stop me from being afraid of them.”

  “Would it make you feel better if I told you that lizard was probably more scared of you than you were of it?” He dusted himself off.

  I looked up at the tree, following the path the lizard had taken. “You could be right. Should we get going?”

  “We’d better.”

  After about fifteen minutes of walking, I inhaled deeply, searching for hope in the smells of wildflowers, wild herbs, and damp earth.

  I stopped for a moment, eyebrows knitted. The breeze had brought something else to my nose—something familiar.

  “What’s wrong?” Owen asked. “Did you hear something?”

  I raised my head to the sky and drew in a deeper breath. “I smell… I think it’s food.” My stomach rumbled. “It’s a meaty smell. Do you smell it too?”

  Owen placed a hand on the small of my back, urging me forward. “I do detect something in the air, but not food. I think it’s smoke. It’s faint, though.”

  “You smell smoke, I smell food.” A flicker of hope fluttered inside my chest. “Maybe someone’s cooking. The village could be close.”

  “It’s definitely not food.” He laughed, but didn’t confirm my suspicion about us being close to the village.

  “Are you calling my nose a liar?” I chuckled. Sometimes when you’re faced with the impossible, the best thing to do is laugh it off. Either that or cry.

  “That's not what I said.” Owen kicked at a small stone with his boot. “But I agree there’s something in the air.” He turned up his nose to take a sniff. “Either Miles is setting fire to the island, or we’re close to the village. I choose to believe the second option.”

  I whirled toward him. “You really think it’s possible he’d set fire to the island?” That would be the easiest way to get rid of us. But then again, the island was huge. Should fire break out, we would still have a chance to escape by racing for the beach. Unless, of course, he anticipated our movements and knew we would try to get to the water.

  “It’s a possibility.” Owen turned to glance behind us. Was he worried his own suspicions might be right? “You know what, let’s not think about it. The best thing we can do right now is keep moving.”

  “I don’t think he’ll try to kill us from a distance.”

  Alvin was demented and obsessed. No way would he let me die without being there to watch my pain, to enjoy every moment. He would never forgo the pleasure of murdering me in person, with his own two hands. Thirteen years of preparation for my murder had shown me the extent of his patience.

  He’d planned his revenge meticulously, and even though he had not expected Owen to show up, no doubt remained in my mind that he would carry it out to the end.

  “You seem to know his mind well. I—” Owen’s sentence was broken by the sound of something whizzing past us and exploding. Another explosion followed almost immediately, splitting the air between our bodies.

  “He’s shooting,” Owen said while I reeled from the surprise attack. “Come on.” He pulled me behind a large boulder. We squatted, trying to hide.

  “He’s going… to kill us,” I stuttered. He was probably headed for us right now. What did we have to protect ourselves? Nothing but a stone.

  His footsteps grew louder, crun
ching the ground beneath him, heavy and vengeful. The wind carried his harsh, unsteady breathing.

  Owen placed a finger on his lips. Holding me in place with one hand, he shifted his body to take a look around the boulder.

  “Don’t do that, don’t look,” I whispered furiously. Fear seized my body. He’d get himself killed. He didn’t listen.

  Another shot rang out. The bullet hit the boulder, missing Owen, as he moved his head quickly out of the line of danger.

  “He’s not that close.” He turned to take another look. “He’s hiding behind a bush.”

  “Can he see you?”

  “Shit, he just did... I think. He’s looking straight over here, but he looks confused.”

  Another bullet, and the sharp smell of gunpowder in the air. But Alvin hadn’t aimed this bullet at us. From the sound of it, he had aimed for the sky.

  “What’s going on with him?” Owen asked. “He’s acting all crazy.”

  I knew then with every cell in my body what was going on. From Owen’s description of the situation, only one thing could be happening: Alvin was indecisive, sending up false alarms even when he was well aware of our position. He could come for us now, shoot our brains out, but he wasn’t doing that. Something had distracted him.

  Wrong. Someone had distracted him, and I knew who: Miles.

  The next bullet hit the boulder, close to my side. The gunpowder infiltrated the air around me, shooting up my nose. Needles of fear pressed into my skin.

  Miles didn’t stay long. Alvin had regained control. Damn.

  We had two choices: stay, or run for it. Running would be suicide, like walking willingly into the barrel of a gun.

  I grabbed on to the last straws of my serenity, trying not to freak out and get myself killed. My body screamed for me to run, to save myself. My mind disagreed, urging me to stay put. Owen’s hand on mine did the same. I had to continue trusting him. He saw what I couldn’t see. He was watching Alvin.

  I closed my eyes and prayed Miles would show up again before Alvin killed us.