The Prodigal's Desire

by Valerie Lynne

  “Hello, Victoria.” Kelly St. Regis leaned her scrawny body against the archway that separated the kitchen from the living room. “You look surprised to see me.”

  “I am,” she answered, fighting the urge to panic.

  Kelly opened her leather coat wide, her fingers barely covering a jagged rip along its zipper. “Surprise!” she exclaimed, shrugging the coat from her shoulders. It fell into a heap on the floor, but not before Victoria noticed the large greenish-brown stain smeared along its lower portion.

  “How did you get in here?” Victoria said. “Did Henry let you in?”

  Bones protruding through the yarn of a much too large, pink sweater dress, Kelly stepped forward. She’d lost a considerable amount of weight since Victoria had last seen her at Riccardo’s.

  Kelly’s slick, red lips curled into an evil sneer. “I let myself in.”

  “Well, now it’s time you let yourself out.” Victoria gestured to the apartment door and then crossed her arms over her chest, making sure to tuck her trembling fingers beneath each of her elbows.

  Her gait unbalanced, Kelly sauntered around the perimeter of the room. As if on a seesaw, her weight shifted up and then down as she teetered on a broken heel. “I let the beast out. I never liked the slobbery mutt.”

  “Frederick,” Victoria gasped. “How could you? Henry loves him.”

  “Henrique doesn’t always use the best judgment. After all, he’s been frolicking around with you.” Kelly made her way to the center of the room, stopping to stand before the coffee table. She picked up the photo of Victoria and Henry, her finger caressing over the glass as she scrutinized it. “He never had a picture of me in his apartment,” she remarked bitterly. “That damn beast had to go—just like you do.”

  Victoria’s pulse raced. Henry, please come home soon. “Breaking and entering is a crime. You need to leave before Henry finds you here,” Victoria managed to say in a controlled voice.

  “He’s been waylaid,” Kelly answered casually.

  A shiver shot through Victoria. “Waylaid?”

  Kelly tossed her head back, her once shiny hair, now greasy, fell across her shoulders. She let out a diabolical laugh. “You really are such a simpleton, Victoria.” Her voice lowered. “Don’t you understand? You’ve taken something from me. Today is payback time.”

  Shoulders squared, Victoria fisted her hands against her thighs. She inhaled deeply, digesting Kelly’s menacing words. “Is Henry all right, Kelly?” Victoria asked, unable to disguise the trepidation lacing her voice.

  “Never fear. Henrique’s fine,” Kelly answered, waving her hand in dismissal. “A flat tire, that’s all.”

  Blowing out a breath of relief, Victoria studied Kelly as she paced before the apartment door, prohibiting Victoria from escaping.

  “Henrique loves me. He’s just infatuated with you because you’re a lusty slut who led him astray by acting all innocent. I know better. I know what a bitch you truly are.” Kelly’s mouth twisted into an ugly grimace, her agitation growing as she bolted back to the coffee table and picked up the picture frame, examining it again.

  “How dare you speak to me like that,” Victoria spat. “Get the hell out of here before I call the police. You’re not wanted here.”

  “Bitch!” Kelly threw the picture frame onto the floor. Miniscule shards of glass immediately embedded into the plush carpet. Next, Kelly picked up the coffee-table book Henry purchased the first day he’d come into the Literary Ladies’ Book Nook and Café. Brazenly, Kelly flipped through it.

  Anger momentarily replaced Victoria’s fear as she snarled, “Take your filthy hands off that book.”

  “Very well.” Roughly, Kelly ripped a page from the book. “I’ll take this with me. I might feel like reading it later,” she said, crumbling the glossy sheet and shoving it into her bra.

  Victoria’s face flushed crimson. “Get the hell out of here.” She pointed to the door and ripped the nearby cell phone from its charger. Fingers trembling, she began to press 911.

  Grunting, Kelly swung the coffee-table book toward Victoria, a hideous sneer curling over her lips as it hit Victoria squarely on the back of her head.

  The cell phone dropped out of Victoria’s hand. Instinctively, she reached up to the smarting wound. She tapped her fingertip over the sharp pang that rocked through her, horrified by the discovery of blood sticking to her fingers. “Get. Out!”

  “I’ll leave as soon as I watch you take your last breath.” Kelly made the sign of the cross. “God bless your soul, Victoria.”

  Terror coursed through Victoria. She had to get away—now. Her body collided with Kelly’s as she bolted for the door.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Kelly’s blood-red lips curled into a vampirish grin. She lifted her foot, swinging it forward to render a nasty kick against Victoria’s shins.

  Legs buckling beneath her, Victoria doubled over onto her hands and knees. “You’re out of control,” she cried, wincing as the heel of Kelly’s stiletto boot ground down onto her hand.

  Victoria scrambled across the rug and grabbed the coffee-table book. Using all her strength, she hurled it at Kelly. It cracked loudly when it connected with her assailant’s cheek. Trying to regain her footing, Victoria braced her arms onto the side of the couch, crying out as her foot slid beneath her, knocking her off balance.

  A high-pitched battle cry echoed throughout the room. Leaping onto Victoria’s back, Kelly tugged on Victoria’s ponytail, wrenching her neck back at an awkward angle. Stars flashed before Victoria’s eyes. The pain was excruciating as Kelly dug her fingernails into her flesh. The razor-sharp talons ripped at her skin, tearing and clawing at Victoria’s upper arms as she tumbled helplessly onto her stomach. Tears clouded her vision as Kelly’s elbow spiked between Victoria’s shoulder blades.

  Henry...where are you? Help me! Victoria thought, using every ounce of her strength to flip onto her back. Reaching up, her fingers strained to secure a fistful of stringy hair and then pulled viciously.

  Kelly shrieked and frantically swatted at Victoria’s face.

  Somehow, she managed to secure Kelly’s head under her armpit as the lunatic bit and scratched, trying to free herself. Victoria bent her knee and propelled it into her attacker’s chin. The effort it took to deliver the blow caught Victoria off balance, causing her to tumble backward from the force.

  “I am going to kill you, bitch,” Kelly seethed wild-eyed. Lunging forward, she grabbed Victoria by the neck. Unrelenting, she squeezed Victoria’s windpipe, heartlessly pulling Victoria’s neck a few inches from the carpet before striking her head back onto the ground.

  Victoria’s nails dug and tore into the thin skin of Kelly’s clenched hands. Droplets of Kelly’s blood spilled into her mouth, and she spit the thick, metallic fluid from her lips. Wedging her toes under the small lip of the couch, she used the opening between it and the floor as an anchor. As hard as she could, she pushed her legs out, freeing herself from underneath Kelly’s body. Sliding her raw, bloody back over the rough carpet, hope soared within her. The unexpected movement gave her the opportunity to escape from the brutal onslaught.

  Before Victoria could crawl from the floor, Kelly sprang to her feet and delivered a deadly kick to her ribcage; the loud pop resounded through the room, leaving Victoria gasping for air. As if a thousand knives stabbed into her, pain tore through her body. She tried to shield herself, curling into a fetal position. Arms wrapped around her head, she lay helpless against the savage brutality.

  I’m dying, Victoria thought, her will gone and her body useless. Her life’s blood was surely draining from her body. Blood coated her throat. It hurt to breathe. Her temples pounded, and tears poured down her cheeks. What she’d do for one more night within Henry’s arms. One more touch of his lips. Eyes closed, she prayed for a quick death and then imagined Henry’s beautiful smile.

  Severely beaten and battered and crumbled among shards of glass, Victoria struggled to crack her eyes open. Throug
h burning slits, she watched as Kelly sauntered into the kitchen, returning a few moments later with her leather coat on and a matchbox in hand. Kelly knelt down beside Victoria and scrutinized her. “Oh, sweetheart, you are a sight for sore eyes,” Kelly cackled, finding her own sick amusement at Victoria’s expense. “You won’t be needing this where you’re going,” she said.

  “Don’t,” Victoria mumbled, her protest strained as she struggled to breathe.

  “It would be such a shame if it were lost among the ashes,” Kelly said, unclasping the diamond and emerald heart pendant from around Victoria’s neck. She struck the match, dangling the flint above her.

  “Please,” Victoria whimpered.

  Kelly held the small flame to the wooden leg of the coffee table. It only took a moment to ignite. “Rest in peace,” Kelly said smugly and then walked out the apartment door.

  Chapter 30

  Henry

  She must think I’ve gotten lost, Henry imagined, angry that he’d left his cell phone at the apartment. They hadn’t eaten breakfast prior to his leaving for the convenience store, and Victoria had to be starving by now. He certainly was. At least the auto parts store had been within walking distance. Over a hundred dollars later, his tire was now intact and soon he’d be back at the apartment with Victoria.

  As he neared the apartment building, a slew of red, blue, and white lights blurred Henry’s vision. Several fire engines and police cars lined the street. Hands waving, a rugged police officer repeatedly blew into a whistle and motioned for curious onlookers to revert back onto the sidewalk. Heart hammering, Henry’s eyes darted around the chaos. He cursed, panic seizing him when he didn’t see Victoria among the crowd. Abruptly, he stopped his car and then jumped out through the he driver’s side door. Leaving the engine still idling, he raced toward his residence.

  The acrid scent of burning wood assailed his nostrils. Enveloped in a cloak of dense gray smoke, Henry elbowed his way through the increasingly crowded street, paying little attention to the lewd remarks spewed toward him as he pushed through the commotion. He hastened his pace. Clouds of billowing black smoke drifted from the rooftop of his building. Orange and red flames blazed from his third-floor window. Dear God. Victoria!

  Breaking out into a sweat, he charged forward. He slipped, ripping his jeans as he sprinted over the slick, icy pavement. Jumping up, he forced his way through the throng of people. Henry swore, his fists swinging at the policeman who gripped the side of his jacket. He didn’t have time for this shit. He had to find Victoria.

  “Sir, you cannot go in there,” the police officer said.

  “Like hell, I can’t!” Henry shouted. “I live there.” Freeing himself from the officer’s grasp, his heart pounded as he collided with a familiar face.

  “You cannot—” the officer began to repeat.

  “Give us a minute,” Andre said with authority to the other officer. “I know Mr. Santana personally.”

  Henry dodged around Andre, his pulse racing as he started to bolt.

  With little effort, Andre seized Henry by both arms, shoving them behind his back as he handcuffed him. Andre’s hand remained firmly on Henry’s bicep as he tugged him toward the police car.

  “What the fuck!” Henry bellowed, terror washing over him as his eyes darted around the cluster of people, searching for Victoria.

  “Look, man, I’d be upset too if it were my woman. But I assure you, we have some of the finest fire and rescue workers handling this. If Victoria is in there, they’ll find her.”

  Fury roared through Henry’s veins. “Take these fucking cuffs off.”

  “No,” Andre said with authority. “I don’t trust you to stay with me. You’re not thinking straight and the last thing the firefighters need is you getting in their way.” Although slightly shorter than Henry, Andre was incredibly strong, his body firm and bulked up from hours of lifting at the gym. “If you don’t cooperate, I’ll be forced to arrest you.”

  Henry elbowed Andre in the ribs, breaking free from Andre’s stronghold, and charged toward the fiery inferno. He licked his parched lips, unable to find comfort from the dusting of ash that coated his tongue as he drew closer to the blazing fire. His ears buzzed. His head pounded. People swarmed around him, their voices muffled amid the haunting sounds of burning wood as it cracked and whistled.

  Halting to a standstill, his eyes locked on a firefighter, watching as the man stomped down the flight of stairs, a blonde woman hanging limply in his arms.

  All color drained from Henry’s face. A sharp, stabbing pain shot through Henry’s chest as the firefighter continued on with his descent down the stairs. “No!” Henry bellowed and dropped to his knees. Drenched from the icy water of an outpouring firehose, combined with his own perspiration, his eyes burned with smoke and tears. Dear God! Not again. Agony tore through Henry as his worst nightmare became a reality. “No,” Henry’s voice cracked. A pitiful-sounding howl wrenched from his chest. Hunching over, Henry’s chin fell against his chest, his shoulders rocking as he began to wail.

  Chapter 31

  Henry

  They all looked the same. Doctors, nurses, orderlies—all blended together into a whitewall of chaos. Forming a united front, the grim-faced medical staff scampered about the emergency room floors. Their shiny shoes squeaked over the polished linoleum. Dressed in freshly starched and pristinely pressed scrubs, they reminded Henry of a militia of death.

  Slumped onto a worn vinyl couch, Henry closed his eyes, blocking out the all too familiar scene. Images of Victoria’s lifeless body flashed through his mind. He’d kill the bastard who’d done this.

  Henry peered up, focusing his eye on the clock. Time seemed to stand still as he watched a minute slowly tick by. Dammit! He jolted from the couch. I can’t take this anymore. Henry stormed to the front desk. “How is she?” Henry asked the receptionist.

  The woman stopped typing and exhaled in exasperation. “Mr. Santana,” she said, her jaw set firmly. “As I explained last time you asked, I am unable to discuss Ms. Hathaway’s condition with you. You’re not recorded as the next of kin nor do you possess power of attorney. Therefore, by law, I cannot provide any information about the patient’s treatment.”

  “That’s bullshit! I couldn’t care less about the law. I could buy the entire fucking police force if I wanted to.” Henry pounded his fist on the reception desk. “Now, tell me how the hell my girlfriend is!”

  “Sir,” the receptionist hissed, “you must calm down at once. If you don’t, I’ll be forced to alert security.”

  “Where is she?” Jennifer yelled, an oversized handbag slung over her shoulder, hitting her at the waist. She ran toward them, her heels clicking across the waiting area’s floor. Dressed in his uniform, Andre followed behind her.

  “I’m Jennifer Jordan. My friend, Victoria Hathaway...” Jennifer took a huge breath, then continued on. “Is she okay?”

  “I’ll need to see your identification, Ms. Jordan,” the receptionist replied.

  “How are you holding up?” Andre asked, placing a hand on Henry’s shoulder.

  Henry shook his head, unable to speak.

  “Mr. Santana has my permission to be present when the doctor comes out.”

  Relief flooded through him. “Thank you.” Henry’s voice broke.

  “Andre told me what you did.” Jennifer’s aqua eyes filled with tears.

  Andre wrapped an arm around her. “Let’s take a seat, baby,” he coaxed. “You, too,” he added, gesturing for Henry to follow.

  SEVERAL HOURS LATER, Henry stood before the bathroom mirror. Grayish-white ash powdered his jet-black hair. His olive skin had taken on a ruddy appearance, its ordinarily smooth surface now cracked and peeling beneath his unshaven chin. As if pelted by sand, his dry, burning eyes squinted back at him through a web of red squiggly lines. Dark shadows framed his eyelids. He began to unbutton his shirt. Encrusted with sediment, the soft cotton was coated with dirt and grime and reeked of smoke. “Fuck!” Henry bello
wed. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” He tore the sweat-stained shirt from his body and slammed it along with his fist onto the sink. “Shit!” he swore, his teeth clenched as painful spasms shot through his hand. Enraged, he repeatedly kicked at the cabinet’s door. Chest heaving, perspiration dripping down his soot-streaked face, Henry slid down the bathroom wall. A deluge of tears flooded his vision. His chest wrenching with mournful wails, he collapsed onto the cold, hard floor.

  Although a heavy dose of medication was being administered to keep Victoria comfortably sedated, Henry had been reluctant to leave. He’d only agreed after Jennifer promised to contact him immediately should there be any changes to Victoria’s condition. Being of similar stature, Andre had returned to the hospital with a bag of clothes, insisting that Henry borrow them.

  Worn out and sore, he turned on the shower and stripped off his tattered jeans. He stepped into the steamy hot water, the steady stream soothing his aching back. Vigorously, Henry scrubbed his skin of its smoky scent. A river of black soot streamed down his legs, puddling into a swirl of dirty water as it ran down the drain.

  Guilt consumed him. What right did he have to be bathing in the luxurious Gilded Seashell Hotel while Victoria lay clinging to life in a hospital room? It wasn’t fair. It should be him in that hospital bed, not her. Why hadn’t he taken her with him when he’d gone to the convenience store instead of leaving her in the apartment alone? She’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time; the attack had surely been meant for him. Not her!

  He couldn’t shake the feeling that his father had been behind the ruthless attack. But would Diego Santana really attempt to kill his own flesh and blood? Had his father been referring to himself when he’d warned Henry that he couldn’t trust those closest to him?

  A half hour later, he took one last look at his reflection. He still looked like shit, just cleaner. He ran his hand through his damp, mussed hair, slicking it away from his face. Dressed in an oversized, hooded sweatshirt and baggy sweatpants, he shoved his feet into the half-size-too-small sneakers. His toes pinched as he limped out the door, anxious to return to Victoria.