The dark gave way to vivid reality striking over and over like lightening. Music. Memories. I saw her die. I saw her die. But I could feel her. Her presence was everywhere. Yet I knew if I opened my eyes, she wouldn’t be. It was just death playing tricks.
Love dares you…
I was back in the tent again. On that mountain. Waking to see him in the depth of sleep with eyelids fluttering against a dream. The scar on his cheek was impossible to resist touching… Luke? I traced a fingertip over it. Luke… please… if you’re real, open your eyes.
With my thumb on his lips, they parted with a sigh.
Then the music stopped.
“Espresso?”
I jerked awake at the question, completely confused.
“Do you want it or not?” A scratchy voice asked. “It’s getting cold.”
I bolted upright and came face to face with the old lady who threatened me and Marlene with the cattle prod. She was holding out two tiny cups. Questions slammed my head with the force of an atom bomb, but above all was—why two cups?
There was a body next to me…
My heart beat so erratically, I saw stars. Afraid that what I wanted so badly might only be the product of my imagination, I could barely breathe.
He moved.
I heard the air come in and out of him. Music started up again. A heavy sigh escaped from someone else in the room…
Heat. No mistaking the feel of it coming off his body. He was alive. Wide eyed. Lips parted in shock. Staring up at me with disbelief. I was barely aware of the old lady talking again.
“…sometimes coffee helps with the after-effects of the tranquilizer,” she said.
I looked down at my blood-covered chest, but a hand over my heart confirmed I was still whole and the extremely tender feeling there was the start of a very large bruise. Luke sat up slowly, watching me, then patted his own chest where a splotch of what I now realized was fake-blood colored his shirt.
“We’re not dead,” I said to him with a smile.
Hand shaking, he tentatively reached out to touch my cheek with disbelief clouding his eyes. When his skin met mine, his wariness fell away, and he pulled me into his arms. “I thought I’d lost you.”
I had no words. I clung to him. Fell over and under waves of relief and awe, burying my face in his neck and taking in my first full lungful of air in what felt like forever.
We held each other like we could never let go.
“I love you,” he whispered.
He did. I could feel it. I said it back, meaning it with every fiber of my being, and for one small and blissfully perfect moment there was no one else in the entire world besides us.
“No coffee then, eh?” the old broad croaked.
We pulled apart just enough to see beyond each other. Beneath us was a pink coverlet on a bed in what seemed like a girl’s bedroom. Next to the old lady and a ghastly floral wallpaper of yellow daisies, were two reclining chairs. Thomas was in one, and Oliver and Marlene were in the other. They sat before a crackling fireplace and a coffee table covered in plates of donuts. Everything about the decor was an attempt to instill warmth and comfort. But I knew this kind of room. I knew that behind the velvet drapes the windows would be barred. That in the bathroom not one thing could be made into a weapon. That the door locked from the outside and was manned by at least two guards. Heck, I knew a cage when I was in one.
The old lady was back, hovering now with bottles of water.
“Drink something,” she ordered.
Her hand got a little too close to Luke for my liking, and I instinctively slapped it away.
“Touch him and I’ll rip your arms off,” I warned.
She laughed and put the bottles on a side table. “Ha. Tougher than I thought. That’s good. Very good.” She ambled off, shutting the door on her way out, many locks clicking in to place from the outside.
Luke gave me a gorgeous wink, and it was then I noticed how beat up he was. A bruise had darkened his jaw, his lip was bloody, and his eyes were not quite stable in his head. It pained him to move, and around his wrists were bandages. He winced as he edged his legs over the side of the bed.
“Oliver, you all right, buddy?” he asked, his voice slow with the sound of exhaustion.
Marlene was curled up next to Oliver, and he pulled her closer. “Alive and well,” he replied. “Same with Marlene and…” Oliver’s eyes cooled into a glare when he motioned to where Thomas was hunched over, head in his hands. “Unfortunately, him.”
“Where are we?” I asked.
“I don’t know. They jacked me up with the same tranquilizer you two got hit with. Woke up in here with Marlene about fifteen minutes ago.” He stroked her hair away from her cheek while she remained motionless.
“Marlene, are you okay?” I asked.
“Of course,” she hissed, then pressed her eyes tight against Oliver’s chest to block out the world—like I had done so many times.
“She’s just working things out,” Oliver said. “Give her a minute. This is a lot to take in.”
“What happened?”
“You mean after Thomas shot you and then turned the gun on Luke?”
Thomas—who had yet to make eye contact—cringed. “I’m sorry,” he said, head on his knees.
“Because after that, thankfully, it’s a bit of a blur,” Oliver added.
Noticing I was still in the white gown they’d dressed me in, I tugged at the low-cut part barely covering my chest. The fake blood made the fabric stick to my skin.
“Thomas. You—you shot me,” I said, fully understanding all at once what had happened.
Dark eyes full of remorse and guilt met mine. Thomas nodded and bit his lip, drawing a bead of red. He appeared broken. Completely and totally broken. I felt a tug of sympathy for him along with the sudden urge to flee. My breath caught again—with fear this time.
“I was forced to,” Thomas said, and there was an extreme shake to his hand when he rubbed at his bruised and puffy eyes.
I wanted to get as far away from him as I could, and the bedroom became way too small. I knew the reasoning behind what he did. I knew the logistics. But… but… Thomas had meant to kill me. He pointed a gun at my chest and pulled the trigger with the sole purpose of ending my life.
“I’m so sorry, Kaya. Please believe me. I didn’t know what else to do.” He raked his hands through his mussed-up hair.
“How could you?” I breathed, not sure what else to say. “And then you meant to kill Luke.”
“I made him do it,” Luke interrupted. “I made Thomas promise to not leave me alive in this world without you.”
A snarling sound came from Oliver. “Good thing the cowboy keeps his promises, ain’t it?”
Thomas paled. “I would never willingly hurt you, Kaya. He—John Marchessa—he warned me. He shot you.” Thomas pointed to the bandage I was now acutely aware of on my shoulder, and the wound began to sting. “He threatened to torture you. I couldn’t let that happen. I didn’t see any other way.”
“He really had no other choice,” Luke said to my surprise.
“I didn’t, Kaya. I’m so deeply sorry—”
Oliver angrily cut Thomas off. “That’s enough talking,” he warned, muscles tensing. “I have half a mind to get out of this chair and snap every part of you in half.”
Luke shook his head. “Oliver, what choice did he have?”
Thomas remained determined to defend himself. “I love her,” he said to both men, then stared hard at me. “I do. I love you.” He was so nervous he seemed about to snap. “I would never want to hurt you. Please, you have to know that.”
I did know that. I really did. All reasonable thought verified he was doing the right thing. But he looked different to me now.
Thomas stood, eager to make me understand. He took a few steps forward, hands out and pleading for forgiveness, and I felt my body instinctively inch away.
“Stop. Don’t come anywhere near me,” I warned, feeling my th
roat go dry.
But Thomas didn’t stop. The only thing I could picture was his hand raised in my direction and the steely determination in his eyes just before he pulled the trigger.
“Kaya, please—”
“Stop,” I said again, my voice pathetically weak.
But Thomas reached for my hand anyway, and my body froze in sheer terror.
Before any of us could even blink, Oliver was out of the recliner and in one swift motion had thrown Thomas clear across the room. “Better just stay where you are,” he warned, chest heaving.
I was shaking. This was ridiculous! All that I’d been through with Rayna and my father, and I was terrified of Thomas. My friend. Who was only trying to do what he thought was best for me.
“Oh my God,” Thomas stuttered, not bothering to pick himself up off the floor. “Please don’t be scared of me, Kaya, please.”
“Maybe just stay away from me for now, all right?”
A stunned silence fell over the room that was brought short by Oliver coughing again. His lips turned blue and were horrifyingly tinged with blood after. He was so weak his eyes rolled back in his head. This snapped Marlene out of her fog, and she got him back into the recliner, pillow under his neck, blanket over his legs. Eyes blazing with the ferocity of a mama bear, she stood next to him, ready to face whatever or whoever to protect him. With a nod at me and a glance in Luke’s direction, she wordlessly told me to do the same; Luke was weak as well.
Now wasn’t the time to let fear take hold.
When the door lock clicked, I stood in front of Luke, and John Marchessa marched in followed by a guard and a trail of expensive cologne. His suit was polished and pressed, and a freshly lit cigar dangled between his fingers. There was a nervous twitch tugging at the corner of his eye when he scanned the room to focus on me.
“This was supposed to be Lenore’s room,” he said, not bothering with hello. “I always imagined one day she would come back here and enjoy it. Too bad your father killed her.”
He was blunt, but I was not surprised. The man I had hid from for years had no warm fuzzies for the Lowen family. I didn’t have any for him either.
“Yup,” I said, more casually than I felt. “Henry filled her full of experimental drugs, watched her lose her mind, and when she didn’t give him a child, he shoved her off a balcony. I heard she didn’t die right away. Sixteen broken bones. Yeesh. It must have been excruciatingly painful.”
A nervous tick. Flaring of the nostrils—had I gotten to him a bit?
“Be very careful, young lady,” he said.
“Why?” I challenged, and I felt Luke tense behind me. “Are you going to kill me?”
Another flinch. A barely imperceptible sign that John Marchessa had a conscience. I would roll with it. “You don’t have the guts to kill me anyway,” I continued, ruffling feathers. “You’re a coward.”
Not a flinch this time. Nothing.
“You don’t know me well enough to make that assumption, Miss Lowen.”
Oliver pushed the blanket off, his breathing ragged as he sat up and curled his hands into fists. “How ‘bout you and me get to know each other, right now?”
Luke and Thomas both snarled their agreement. Marlene crouched like a cat about to pounce.
“Just to be clear,” John said straightening his shoulders, “I am well protected. There are six men outside this door, and the grounds are surrounded by guards and electric fences. You’ll all be dead for real if you lay a hand on me. In fact, I would welcome one of you to just make a move, and then I could claim self-defense and not lose sleep over all this.”
Marlene put a hand on Oliver’s shoulder, easing him back into the chair.
John took a puff of his cigar and exhaled my way. The disgusting smoke curled around my cheeks, and I held back a gag.
“Anyway,” he continued with a heavy sigh, “I came to talk to you, Miss Lowen. I think I owe you an explanation since you are the child of my child.”
I contained my desire to dispute that.
“I’m sorry it came to this.” He paused. Scratched his beard. “I intervened back at that cabin, so Henry wouldn’t gain the upper hand. Opportunity presented itself, and I took it. As for the dramatic death? I think it was rather brilliant if I do say so myself. How I would love to be a fly on the wall when Henry pushes play on that video. It will kill him. Kill him. Maybe he will feel some of the same pain I did when he realizes he’s lost his one and only daughter.”
“He won’t,” I said flatly. “He doesn’t love me.”
John’s eyes flickered with a fleeting emotion I couldn’t decipher. “Yes. Anyway, you should be grateful that I rescued you from your father.”
“Uh, thanks?” My anger was simmering, and I had to keep it controlled. “But your idea of rescuing is pretty messed up. You shot me.” I motioned to my bandaged shoulder.
“Shot you?” He laughed. “I have exceptional aim. That was a little flesh wound necessary so Thomas would believe I would actually torture my own granddaughter.”
“You mean you wouldn’t have?” Thomas asked, voice breaking.
John shook his head. “Good Lord no. I mean really. What kind of sicko would torture someone? Especially his own flesh and blood? Oh wait. I have the answer to that.” John’s eyes narrowed. “Henry. And torture is what would have happened to you, Kaya, if I hadn’t stepped in.”
When none of us said a thing, he went on.
“Anyway, I thought the staged death would look realistic if the ‘jealous ex-boyfriend’ was caught on tape going on a murderous rampage. It will keep the Feds off my door. Don’t worry, though, I left clues so Henry will know who really did it.”
“Oh good. I was worried about that,” I said with as much sarcasm as I could. “The daisies were a nice touch.” I tugged at the fabric clinging to my waist. “And what I assume is Lenore’s wedding dress? Classy.”
John glanced at everyone in the room now. “Henry isn’t stupid. He would see through acting. All of your friends’ reactions to your ‘death’ is what’s going to really sell it to him.”
“You don’t have a body,” Marlene said, her voice sharp as a knife. “That’s sort of a crucial factor.”
John clucked his teeth. “It won’t be hard to get one.”
I felt the world tip as Luke protectively stood and pushed me behind him. The guard flanking John Marchessa readied his gun.
“All right, everybody relax. I’m trying to do this diplomatically,” John said, waving his hands for emphasis.
“I don’t understand.” I came out from behind Luke, needing to face my grandfather on my own. “If you want me dead, what are you waiting for?”
There was a sadness in his eyes, the same kind of sadness Lenore had in her expression in the painting that hung in the estate. The resemblance was striking. “I’m not a savage. For me, your death will not be easy.”
I had to laugh. “Ah. A killer with a conscience. Which is hilarious because what you did to us was sick and cold-hearted and just as savage as anything Henry has ever done.”
John sighed heavily. “I guess it might appear that way. But you must understand, all this is necessary. I can’t let Henry continue. I know what he is researching. I know the effect it will cause on this earth. And if you all have to die to stop him, I’m sorry.”
My anger shot to the surface. “Sorry? You’re going to kill me and my friends, and you’re sorry? I’ve lived in fear my entire life because of you,” I said, holding back tears of rage. “Locked up in a cage. Bodyguards. Never going to school, never being normal. Maybe if you would have backed off in the first place and not put so many conditions on Lenore’s inheritance, Henry wouldn’t have had to resort to this! Maybe she would still be alive. You poisoned the earth with your chemicals, and Henry’s mind with your greed, and you go on about needing to stop him? I call bullshit. Complete and total one-hundred-percent bullshit. You just want your money back and revenge for your daughter’s death. If you really gave a damn a
bout this planet and its people, you wouldn’t have knowingly sold cancer-causing pesticides to every farmer on this continent. You are a lying, sadistic, narcissist who thinks money can buy forgiveness. You are vile and disgusting and no different than Henry.”
My rant caused John’s jaw to drop. Chest rising and falling, more words balanced precariously on the tip of my tongue, but I held them back.
Our eyes locked, John blinked first.
“You might have a point,” he said after a while. He tipped his head side to side to stretch his neck, then toyed with his beard. “But this is bigger than you and me, Kaya. The only way to stop a man from setting fire to the world is to take away his ability to make a flame.”
“Yeah. And thanks to you, I’m a damn torch.”
He nodded. “I may be many things, but I am not a murderer. I won’t kill you in cold blood. I will give you time for goodbyes and let nature take its course.”
“Dehydration and starvation,” Oliver said intuitively. “Is still murder, just the same.”
John showed no reaction.
“You only need me anyway,” I said. “You can just let them go.”
He shook his head. “What I need is Henry’s daughter, her jilted ex-boyfriend, and her bodyguard and lover to make this plan work.”
I challenged him. “No, what you need is a better plan.”
His head tipped to the side as if he found me suddenly amusing. “And what might that be?”
The room turned ice cold. “We can all hide’” I said, trying not to sound as desperate as I felt. “Henry will never find us, I promise. If you want to send the video to stall him and keep him busy, go ahead. That will buy us time to get far away. I’ll stay out of sight until I’m twenty-one. On my birthday, I will sign everything over to you and walk away. Think of it. If you rely on that video, Henry will tie everything up in so much red tape that by the time the smoke clears, the playing field will be scorched. You know how the legal system works, and Henry has more law on his side than you can imagine. Six, seven years? That’s probably about how long it will take for everything to come back to you in case of my death, if it all goes in your favor. But if I can sign it all over to you in two and a half years. Well, isn’t that sort of a no-brainer?”
Rhapsody Page 30