Shattered Hearts: A Dark Romance (Bad Blood Book 1) Page 10

  “Okay,” I said, “this will have to do.”

  She sniffed. “Good, because it’s all you’re getting.”

  I still admired her attitude. Even with all of this going on, she still wasn’t completely giving in to me. I wondered if there was anything that could break her. Or had events in her life made her like putty? Not that she was soft, just that she could be molded to any situation and make it stronger.

  Not thinking, I put out my hand to help her to her feet. She frowned at my fingers as though she didn’t know what they were, then her gaze shifted back to my face. I snatched back my hand, internally berating myself. What had I been doing there, offering to help her up as though she was a friend? We were far from friends—quite the opposite, in fact.

  I closed the pad of paper, careful not to touch the sheet she’d written on. They’d learn who had taken her eventually, but not yet.

  “This will take longer to reach him than the photograph,” I told her. “More than a few days.”

  “And what happens between now and then?” she asked, lifting her head to look at me with those beautiful blue eyes, the whites tinged with red from crying. My chest contracted at the sight of her, and a stirring occurred in my pants. Damn it. I hated when she had this effect on me. It was something about the combination of vulnerability and bravery that went straight to my cock. In that moment, I wanted nothing more than to push her back on the floor, tangle my fingers in her hair, and crush my mouth to hers. How would she react if I did? Would I take her by surprise enough for her to kiss me back, if only for a second? Or would she immediately scream and batter at my shoulders with her fists?

  I didn’t plan on finding out. I had the feeling that kiss would be addictive, and once I’d gotten a taste of her, I’d struggle to hold myself back from wanting more. Besides, she hated me, just as she should, and I had to keep reminding myself that I hated her in return. We were enemies, the two of us, even if she didn’t know the full reason why yet.

  There was something else I needed from her, and I knew she wasn’t going to give it to me willingly. It was easier and faster if I just took it.

  I dropped to a crouch in front of her. She looked at me with wariness in her eyes and leaned away slightly. I crooked my finger and motioned to her. I fully expected her to tell me to fuck off, but to my surprise, she leaned closer. I lifted my hand and took a couple of strands of her hair between my thumb and forefinger and then twisted the strands around my fingers, holding them tight.

  “What are you—”

  She started, but I didn’t let her finish. I gave the strands a short, sharp tug and plucked them from her head.

  She reared back, sucking air in through her teeth and staring at me indignantly. “What the hell was that?”

  “I need these.”

  I got back to my feet and left her still sitting there and took the elevator back upstairs. I needed to get her letter to the mainland, and the island didn’t exactly have a postal service.

  As I walked toward my office, I pulled my phone from my pocket and placed a call.

  “Henry, I need you to fly to the mainland. Tell Javier to ready the plane. There’s something I need you to do.”

  My driver’s familiar voice came back to me. “Will you be coming, sir?”

  “No, not this time.”

  I hung up. Perhaps once upon a time I would have entertained the idea of going for the day, but I didn’t want to leave Jolie in case something happened. I had no idea what that something might be, but the idea of being miles away from her made me anxious. Of course, it would mean I was without the plane for a couple of days, but I figured I could manage. It wasn’t as though I had anywhere I needed to be. Getting the letter sent was at the top of my list of priorities.

  I’d done well in my promise to myself to stay away from her, up until this point, but I’d needed to do that part myself. I’d known sending Loretta down wouldn’t work. Jolie would never have responded to Loretta, and I didn’t want to give Loretta a reason to hurt her again.

  At my desk, still wearing the pair of leather gloves I’d bought specially for this reason, I tore the sheet of paper off the pad and folded it in half. On the desk sat an envelope, on the front of which I’d already printed out the address of the prison and her father’s name. The ink I used was one that could be bought in any Target across America and certainly couldn’t be traced back to me, and I’d made sure only Jolie’s prints could be found on the letter. I put the hair strands I’d yanked from her head into the folded letter and then placed them both inside the envelope. I wanted there to be proof she was definitely the one who’d written the letter. Finally, I took a clear plastic bag out of my desk drawer, sealed the letter on a water blotter on my desk, and place the envelope with its contents into the plastic bag. I didn’t intend for the bag to be mailed. I simply didn’t want the envelope to be contaminated by anything in my home.

  A knock came at my door.

  “Come.”

  My driver stepped through. I was aware the people in my employment had a relatively easy life for the vast majority of the time. I didn’t require much from them, but the few things I did require needed the utmost discretion, and I knew I could rely on them. I was paying for their silence as much as anything else.

  Henry stood, waiting for my instruction.

  I handed him the plastic bag containing the letter. “I need this mailed from the mainland. Wear gloves when you’re handling it.”

  He ducked his head in a nod. “Yes, sir.” And he turned and left the room, taking the letter with him.

  I sank back down into my chair and worried at a hangnail on my thumb with my teeth. I could have gone, if I’d wanted. There was nothing stopping me being the one on that flight and making sure the letter was mailed exactly as I needed. In fact, it probably would have been better than relying on someone else to do it. But the truth was that I didn’t want to leave the girl alone here. Not that she’d be alone—she had Loretta to take care of her—but if something happened while I was off the island, I wouldn’t forgive myself.

  Chapter Sixteen

  He’d forgotten to take the pencil with him.

  Hayden had been so focused on the letter that when he’d taken the pad of paper from me, he’d forgotten to pick up the pencil as well.

  I lifted my gaze to the corners of the room, unable to tell if he might be watching me through any of the cameras, none of which I’d yet been able to find. It was impossible to tell, but I didn’t want to take any risks. I was still on my knees on the floor, and the pencil was about a foot away to my left. Any sudden movements might get noticed, and then I’d be questioned about what I’d picked up, so I needed to be subtle.

  I put both hands over my face and jerked my shoulders up and down, trying to look as though I was still crying. To be fair, it wasn’t that hard to fake. The tears were surprisingly close. Acting as though I had no more strength in my body to hold me up, I slowly crumpled to my side, ensuring my body covered the pencil. I remained in that position, continuing to shake my shoulders, my hands covering my face. The hard line of the pencil pressed against my ribcage, and my mind turned over the possibilities of hiding places. I wanted to make sure I had my next move planned so I didn’t do anything stupid like fumble the pencil, dropping it, and so giving myself away. This felt like a gift, and I wasn’t going to mess things up at the first hurdle.

  I wore short sleeves, so I wasn’t going to be able to slip the pencil up a shirt sleeve, which would have been my first choice. The only two other viable options seemed to be inside my bra, or else the waistband of my sweatpants. I wasn’t sure when I’d get the chance to use it—I’d already decided I’d be better attacking Hayden than Loretta—but I’d need to have it someplace for easy access when I did.

  My waistband seemed like the best option.

  Wrapping my right arm around my waist, as though I was curled into a ball and hugged myself, I allowed my fingers to trail up to my ribcage where the pencil was loca
ted. I continued to pretend to cry, hoping the shaking of my shoulders would mask my other movement. I slipped my fingers under my ribcage, the tips making contact with the hard line of wood. It seemed crazy that I was pinning all my hopes on this simple little thing. It might not even work. He might see me coming and bat the pencil right out of my hand before I could do any damage with it, but I had to at least try. I couldn’t just sit down here, waiting for the next step in his crazy plan, until he finally had no more use for me and decided to kill me.

  Working slowly, I edged the pencil down toward the waistband of my pants. I hoped he wasn’t watching me, but I still needed to make sure I was covering myself, just in case. The pencil was trapped between my body and the floor, so there wasn’t any chance of it rolling away, or at least I hoped there wasn’t. It would be a disaster if it did. Finally, it reached my waistband. To create enough space to get it inside, I had to lift my hip. The motion was small but awkward, and if Hayden was going to get any idea I was up to something I shouldn’t be, it would be now. I had no choice, however. It had to be done. I lifted my hip off the floor and used the hand under my body to take one end of the pencil and push it into the waistband of my sweatpants. From there, I quickly pulled the bottom of my t-shirt up over it, hiding the top half of the pencil from view.

  I froze, waiting, half-expecting for the elevator doors to slide open and for Hayden to come storming out, drag me to my feet by my arm, and demand I hand it over. But nothing changed, and after a few minutes, I allowed myself to breathe.

  On shaking limbs, I pushed myself to sitting, wiped at my face as though to swipe away tears, and then got to my feet. The pencil felt like a log of wood at my side, and I felt sure it would be easily seen, but when I risked glancing down, there was nothing that gave it away. I couldn’t stop my body trembling, however, and I knew I wasn’t going to be able to make my escape in this state. I needed to bide my time and be strong and focused. That was easier said than done, but if I hesitated or showed any weakness, I’d be done for.

  I also realized I would need to get close to Hayden before I attempted anything. He couldn’t suspect what I was up to or see me coming. He was far larger and stronger than I was and could easily knock the pencil from my hand. If I was going to stab him somewhere that would be enough to slow him down, I was going to have to already be up close and personal with him

  I swallowed hard, and something deep inside me shivered. I knew what that meant. In order to put my plan into place, I was going to have to seduce him. I’d already seen the way he looked at me—a darkness and hunger in his green eyes—and though he’d barely laid a finger on me, I thought it wouldn’t take much to get him to cross those boundaries.

  I consoled myself with the idea that I’d have to act before he tried to get me undressed. If I wasn’t wearing any clothes, I wouldn’t have anywhere to hide the pencil, and I also didn’t want to attempt my escape while naked. It might help my swim to not be dragged down by any waterlogged, heavy clothing, but I didn’t much like the idea of running through the forest in little more than my panties.

  No, I didn’t need to have sex with him, I just needed to get him close and off guard enough that I could stab the pencil somewhere it would hurt. I knew the exact place, and a plan formed in my mind. It would allow me to stay dressed while he’d be the one who was vulnerable. Could I bring myself to do it? Yes, if it meant my escape, I thought I could.

  The problem I had now was simply getting him down here. He’d only made an appearance every couple of days so far, with the housemaid coming during the times between that.

  Throwing myself down on the bed, while careful not to dislodge the pencil, I covered my eyes with my arm and took a moment to gather myself. I wished there was a way I could take Loretta out of the scene, but the woman was as sharp as a row of shark’s teeth. If I was able to take Loretta down, I wouldn’t need to be considering what I planned to do with Hayden. I consoled myself that at least he was an attractive psychopath. If he’d been three hundred pounds, with acne, and bad personal hygiene, this would be a whole lot harder.

  My thoughts turned to my father. What exactly was Hayden trying to achieve? Was it simply to torment my father, as he must have tormented the women he had killed? The man was in a high security prison—it wasn’t as though there was much he could do to help me. Unless Hayden knew something I didn’t. Because of the letters and photographs, the police would involve my father in the investigation into my abduction, so maybe his security would be relaxed during those times? I didn’t know. I didn’t know how I felt about the possibility my father actually cared about me after all these years. More than anything, I wanted to not care. The man was a fucking murderer, and I hated him with every fiber of my being. Yet there was still that little girl inside of me who longed to have a parent she loved and relied on. I wished I had someone I could pick up the phone to when things weren’t going well and know everything would be all right simply because I had someone on my side. I hated my mother, too, for what she’d done. I guessed some part of me thought my father was sick and hadn’t been able to stop himself from killing those women, and that despite all of that, he’d still chosen to be a good dad to me and my brother. But my mother’s reaction at what happened had been her choice. She’d known she had two children who were reeling from everything, and who needed her more than ever, and she’d chosen the easy way out. She hadn’t been able to face the shame of it all, and perhaps her love for my father had been so great that she hadn’t been able to bring herself to accept what he really was, but that didn’t mean she got to check out as our mother.

  Except she had. She’d drunk a bottle of whisky and had swallowed a bottle of sleeping pills, and had driven our SUV into a nearby lake, leaving us at home with her sister. We’d been sleeping, albeit not peacefully, in our beds, only to wake up and discover our worlds had shattered for the second time in as many weeks.

  Tears filled my eyes as memories washed over me, threatening to catch me in their rip current and pull me out to sea. I’d been battling this overwhelming anger and sadness most of my life, and whenever I thought I was coming out the other side, something happened to yank me back under again. I knew it was dangerous territory to allow myself to be carried by these emotions, but I couldn’t stop the feelings overwhelming me. I’d only just managed to get hold of something that might help me, and yet here I was, sobbing my heart out on the bed. Currently, I wasn’t acting like a woman who would seduce and stab her kidnapper. I was being the woman who would give up and let whatever was destined to happen to her just happen.

  Doubt filled me. What the hell was I thinking, anyway? How was I supposed to take a six-feet-something man down with a goddamned pencil? I was crazy for even thinking it. All that would happen would be that he’d wrestle it off me, and I’d probably end up with my ass beaten, quite literally, for attempting such a thing.

  I suddenly felt heavy, as though my weight could sink right through the middle of the mattress, encasing me in it. Tiredness swept over me, dragging my eyelids down. I doubted Hayden would be back down today, anyway. Maybe it was good to give in to my lethargy and get some rest. I’d feel better when I woke in however many hours I had until Loretta brought me down my next meal.

  I’d start to put my plan into action when I woke.

  Chapter Seventeen

  I went out to the airstrip to make sure the plane took off without any hitches.

  It was a relief to watch the aircraft, together with the letter Jolie had written, climb into the sky and vanish from view. In a matter of a day or two, her father would have the letter in his hands—or at least would if the police allowed it to get through to him—and if he loved his daughter at all, he’d be trying to figure out a way to make her safe again.

  With a frown, I peered out to the bank of dark clouds on the horizon—a thick line of gray against the blue. The plane had flown in the opposite direction, so I wasn’t concerned about them hitting the bad weather, and they could normally fly
above it if they did, but the storm did look as though it was heading toward the island.

  I enjoyed a good storm. The house was built to withstand bad weather, and something about looking out across the ocean while the waves rose, palm trees bent in the wind, and rain slashed against the floor to ceiling windows excited me. I loved to watch lightning fork down into the ocean and hear the rattle of the glass in the window frames as thunder boomed and rolled overhead.

  Did Jolie appreciate a storm?

  For the briefest of moments, I allowed myself to entertain the idea of sitting with her at my living room’s bifold glass doors and sharing an expensive bottle of red wine as the majesty of the storm rolled across the island.

  A strange sense of longing tightened in my chest. It wasn’t her I longed for, or at least I tried to convince myself of that. It was simply company. I’d spent most of my life alone, and the only people I did have with me were the ones I paid to be here. It would have been nice to have found someone with whom to share everything I had worked for, but there had never been any point. I’d always known it was never meant to last, and I didn’t want to drag an innocent girl into my mess. That would have made me as bad as he was, destroying families to sate his own needs. I wasn’t about to do that.

  The storm looked as though it was still a couple of hours away. Turning away from it, I started the walk back to the house. I stuck to the unpaved road, following it as it wound its way across the island toward the house. It wasn’t as though I was going to meet any other traffic along the way. I’d only had the car brought around when we’d first landed because I’d still had Jolie bound and dopey from the chloroform. The walk itself wasn’t far at all.