Shattered Hearts: A Dark Romance (Bad Blood Book 1) Read online

  I didn’t know if it was the knowledge this was all connected to my father, or if it was the possibility Hayden might start chopping off ears, or fingers, or toes, but the shaking that had taken over my body refused to abate, and my heart raced. I tried to suck in a breath, but my throat seemed to have shrunk in size, narrowing to a tiny hole, and the air wheezed in and out of it.

  I’m going to die. Oh, God, I’m going to die.

  I dropped to my knees, clutching at my throat. Pressure built inside my head, and all around the four walls and ceiling closed in, making me feel as though I was about to be crushed down here. I imagined all the dirt surrounding me, and the huge property sitting above, and could see it all crashing in on me. The horrifying possibility that I might never see the outside world again suddenly became a reality. I might never lift my face to the sun again, or laugh with my friends, or see my family again. Deep regret filled me at my lack of contact with both my aunt and my younger brother. Though I’d spoken to my aunt recently, it had been months since I’d spoken to my brother. I didn’t even know where he was. He’d done everything within his power to push his past out of his life, and I guessed I was a part of that past.

  The panic I was experiencing refused to release its grip. I genuinely believed I might die from it, my heart huge and fast in my chest, my lungs burning, and all the while tears streamed down my face.

  I was utterly helpless, and there was nowhere I could go, no one I could call to come and help me. Maybe it would be better if I did die. At least then I wouldn’t have to face the torment and torture of whatever the next days or weeks in captivity held.

  Chapter Eleven

  I stared down at the photograph on the screen of my cell phone.

  I hated that I wanted to imprint every little detail onto my mind’s eye, so I’d be able to recall her beautiful face perfectly each time I closed my eyes. I was the one who’d taken her, and yet, somehow, I felt as though she’d trapped me.

  Was that how he’d felt? This addictive, powerful knowledge that another person was completely at your mercy. It was dangerous behavior, and I didn’t want to end up like that, even though I knew I was doing what I’d planned all along.

  I just hadn’t planned on having any kind of feelings for her except hatred.

  I needed to upload the photograph to my computer, and from there I would send it to the man I’d employed to print it out and mail it to her father in prison. I didn’t want it to come from any location that might be traced back to me, for obvious reasons. This photograph would just be the start. It would be enough to get the son-of-a-bitch worried, and I’d make sure there was nothing on the photo that would get the prison administrators’, who went through the prisoners’ mail, suspicions raised. The last thing I wanted was for the photograph not to reach him.

  He would wonder why his daughter had suddenly decided to send him a head shot. An unsmiling one with her eyes filled with a combination of fear and anger, and a graze on her cheek. I knew from Jolie’s talk that she hadn’t had any contact with her father since she was a child, so a photograph from her would definitely be unusual. Would he try to reach out to her? Phone her aunt, perhaps? When he did, he’d quickly learn that she had been missing for several days and he’d start to put two and two together and realize whoever sent the photograph were also the same people who’d taken her.

  Despite everything abhorrent Patrick Dorman had done during his killing spree, one thing was clear. No matter how many women he’d killed, he’d still worshipped his princess of a daughter, and she’d worshipped him in return. I was betting on the hope that he still harbored the same feelings for his estranged daughter and that knowing she was in danger would hurt him the same way he’d hurt so many others.

  The first letter he received containing the photograph could go either way. He might even consider, at first, that she was reaching out to him, perhaps trying to send him a clue about where she was being held and who had taken her. The second one, however, I’d make sure there was no mistake that he knew the letters were coming from me.

  She’d eaten lunch, so I would be able to offer her dinner as well. My stomach twisted in anticipation. I wanted to be near her, though I didn’t understand why. But I couldn’t just go down into the cellar and sit staring at her. I mean, I guessed I could if I wanted to—that was the beauty of being the ruler of your own kingdom, no matter how small. I could do whatever the hell I wanted. But deep down, I knew I was treading a dangerous path. This plan had taken a long time to put into practice, and wanting to be near her wasn’t a part of the plan. I hadn’t expected that part. I’d imagined her just being down there, with me taking what I needed from her, and Loretta making sure she was fed and clean.

  Flicking on the button for the screen that showed me the footage of the cameras I had placed down there, my gaze flicked between the split screens. For a moment, I couldn’t see her, and my stomach lurched, but then I spotted her, curled up in a ball on the floor in much the same spot as I’d left her. I frowned and leaned forward, trying to see better. What was she doing? Was she all right? No, of course she wasn’t all right. I’d kidnapped her and thrown her down in an underground room and told her this was all connected to her murderous father. How could she possibly be all right?

  My first instinct was to go down to her, but I resisted. I kept forgetting what she’d done and the part she’d played in this. Whatever impression she gave, she wasn’t some innocent little princess. I’d harbored a hatred for her for almost ten years now, and I wasn’t going to allow my feelings to change within twenty-four hours.

  Steepling my fingers, I pressed the tips to my temples, torn between my desire to drop everything and catch the elevator back down to her, and the sensible part of me that knew I had to stay away.

  With a frustrated sigh, I reached out and flicked the screen off. It was better that I wasn’t able to see her. I’d made sure there was nothing down there she’d be able to hurt herself with, so she was safe. I didn’t need to be watching her twenty-four-seven, even though I told her that was what I’d be doing.

  I needed to not go down there for the rest of the day. I’d get Loretta to take her dinner to her later, and hope Jolie didn’t try anything, and Loretta wouldn’t need to Taser her again. I hoped Jolie had learned her lesson on that one. No, the best thing I could do now was email the photograph I’d taken, set that part of the plan into motion, and spend the rest of the day in the office working.

  I managed to stick to my self-imposed agreement for the next few hours. My fingers itched to turn the surveillance screens back on, and every few minutes the draw of them called to me, and I had to fight to stop myself from sneaking a peek at her. But self-control had always been one of my strong points, and I resisted. For the moment, anyway.

  An email pinged into my inbox, and I clicked it open. It was a simple email of only two words that read: It’s done.

  I nodded in response but didn’t reply to the email. Instead, I clicked delete then went to my trash file and emptied that, too. I’d step out into the open eventually, but not yet. I didn’t want someone else to screw this all up for me.

  A knock came at the door. There were only a handful of people who shared the island with me, and they were all in my employment.

  “Come in.”

  Loretta’s head appeared around the door. “Should I prepare dinner?”

  I nodded. “For her, yes, and take it down to her. I’m going to go for a walk before I eat.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  She vanished again.

  I left my office to go up to my bedroom and change into something more comfortable. Cargo pants, a close-fitting t-shirt, and hiking boots. I might wear suits to work, but I had to clock off eventually.

  Still trying to keep my mind off the girl locked up beneath my house, I left the property through the front door and stepped off the side, following the same path she’d run the previous night—or it had been early morning by then. I traced her footsteps, right to t
he point where she’d fallen on her face, and kept going. The island was ten miles in circumference and would take me at least a couple of hours to hike around.

  The heat of the day had waned, but the physical exertion was still enough to make sweat bead across my back and form between my shoulder blades and trickle down my spine. By the time I got back to the house, my t-shirt would be ringed in dark sweat marks. Not that it mattered. She wouldn’t see me like that, and I could shower before I went back down.

  No, I wasn’t going to go back down today. I needed that distance.

  Even as I walked, I chuckled at myself. I sounded like a chick. My mood lightened the more distance I put between myself and the house—no, the more distance I put between myself and her. I focused on the breath heaving in and out of my lungs, and on the burn in my thighs, and the thump of my heartbeat. I thought about where I was going to step next as I got thicker into the dense, forested part of the island, instead of thinking about how she looked when she licked her lower lip. How was I going to manage weeks in the same house as her when it hadn’t even been twenty-four hours yet and I was already a mess? Something was going to have to change, but I had no idea what. Had I gotten myself all twisted up because I was keeping her captive? Would this be easier all around if I allowed her a little more freedom in the house? I’d had the cellar room specially built for her—not that she appreciated it, of course—but I couldn’t help thinking it was knowing she was down there the whole time that was messing with my head. If she was allowed to live freely in the house, maybe even on the island itself, would that cure the twisting knot in my gut?

  No, I couldn’t let her roam freely around the property. I was insane for even thinking it. She might not be able to get off the island, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t try, and trying might get her killed. Besides, if she was free in the house, she was bound to get her hands on a phone or computer at some point. Everything was password protected, but mistakes could be made, and she might learn them somehow.

  But she doesn’t even know where she is. What would she tell someone even if she did manage to contact the outside world?

  That was a very good point. She could call someone, but what would she be able to tell them? That she was on a small island owned by a rich man with dark hair and green eyes. No more than that. She was unconscious long enough to ensure she didn’t know how long the journey had taken, and placing her down in a windowless room meant she hadn’t even known how many hours passed between her arrival and the sun coming up.

  As the thoughts swarmed through my head, I reached the highest point of the island and stopped to catch my breath. From this location, I could turn in any direction and spot the blue of the ocean peeping through the trees. The beauty of the island stole my breath. Jolie might think she was in hell right now, but ironically, I considered it to be paradise. While other men might thrive in cities filled with skyscrapers, expensive cars, and multitudes of people, my soul only truly settled when I was here.

  The only thing that had ever been missing had been someone to share it with. There had been plenty of women over the years. Some, I’d grown a little fond of, but had quickly grown bored. Others had simply been a way of getting what I needed physically. I always made sure the women knew I was only in it for one thing. I saw in their eyes that they hoped they’d be the ones who were able to change me, but I knew they never would. Any imposition on my time had only been an irritant, and I’d never brought a single woman, other than Loretta, who didn’t count in the romantic female department, to the island. I couldn’t risk it. What if they asked too many questions, or, when the time came, were able to give a description of me or the island? That simply wouldn’t do. So, instead, I had spent the past twenty-seven years of my life without love. No, that wasn’t completely true. It had only been the past ten years that had been devoid of love. Before then, I’d had her, and even as a teenage boy, I’d understood that her love was the truest and most unconditional of loves, and even then no girl had ever measured up to her. But then she’d been snatched from me in the worst possible way, and the rest of my life had been dedicated to making sure the people responsible paid for what they did.

  Yes, I’d been alone here up until last night.

  But I wasn’t alone any longer.

  Chapter Twelve

  The man, Hayden, didn’t come down to me again.

  I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or annoyed.

  I was able to track the time of the day by what meals were brought down to me in my prison, and also by the change in lighting. When night approached, the lights were dimmed to allow me to sleep—though still giving me enough light to see—and then were brought back up at what I assumed was daybreak. Of course, I had no way of knowing if the timings matched what was happening outside, but they also matched the meals I was brought. It was stupid, but I learned to be thankful for them. It enabled me to give some kind of structure to my day, and without them, I thought I might go crazy.

  That bitch who’d Tased me was the one who brought the food down. I made sure I kept my distance when she did, retreating to the corner of my room and watching her mistrustfully as she placed the tray containing the meal on the table and then left again.

  The food also helped to break up the boredom. I eked out the meals, tasting every little morsel with nibbles, taking breaks between each mouthful, and generally trying to make them last as long as possible. I’d been provided with a DVD player, films, and books, but after hours of alternating watching movies back to back, and reading—though I struggled to concentrate on the words contained within the pages—I still found myself frustrated and pacing the room. I even longed for Hayden to return. At least he’d had a conversation with me and hadn’t just glared at me like the woman did and left. I’d never really appreciated how many human interactions I had during my normal day-to-day life. Even a simple thing like nodding at a neighbor or sharing a smile with the barista at the local coffee shop had been stolen from me. Perhaps I should be more concerned with my fear over what was going to happen to me, but right now my overwhelming emotion was one of boredom.

  Actually, that wasn’t completely true. The other thing I’d noticed from having a lot of time on my hands was my mind’s ability to turn the same question over and over in my head without ever reaching an answer.

  What had my father done to this man to make him want to do this to me? Was Hayden even the man who’d been wronged, or was he just someone other criminals paid to do their dirty work for them? Had he met my father in prison, or was he simply a contact? From the amount of money he appeared to have, I couldn’t help thinking Hayden was at the top end of the food chain. Men who had private jets and islands weren’t the kind of men who did other people’s dirty work. Which meant my father had wronged him directly, and as my father had been in prison for the last ten years, Hayden must also have shared cell space with him.

  I hated that what was happening to me now was tied in with my father. The man had already ruined my life, and now here he was ten years later, with him behind bars, and still he was managing to destroy everything for me.

  A low-lying fury simmered at my core, churning and bubbling away. I’d worked so hard to become more than the person he’d made me, and I’d still been reduced to nothing more than a girl in a room. When my anger became too much, I bunched up my fists and screamed at the walls and the invisible cameras I still hadn’t found. I wanted to break things, but there was nothing in the room to break. Even the bed was free of sheets, I assumed so I didn’t try to tear them to strips and use them to hang myself. Not that I had any intention of killing myself. I wanted to live, if only so I could kill every single person who’d been involved with my kidnapping. With the rage inside me, I knew I was capable of killing if I had to. My anger settled like a cold stone right in the center of my chest, and I didn’t even consider what remorse I might feel after the act.

  Maybe the apple hadn’t fallen so far from the tree after all.

  I COULDN’T
BE EXACTLY sure, but I thought two days had passed since I’d been taken. I slept more than I would normally but used the appearance of my meals and the lighting to keep track of whether it was daytime or night.

  The longer I spent down here, the more the shower called to me. I’d woken that morning feeling disgusting, and every time I lifted my arm, my body odor made me turn my face away. I’d checked the dresser drawers and noted they contained clean clothes for me to wear—nothing dressy, but jeans, tracksuit pants, and t-shirts. There was clean underwear, too, and, as much as I didn’t want to accept anything he’d provided me with, I knew I’d feel better if I changed out of my revolting clothes. The strange tang of my sweat was due to a combination of adrenaline and the chloroform working out of my system, plus not having washed for three days now. It wasn’t pleasant, and though I told myself it was a good way of keeping Hayden far away from me, it seemed he was keeping himself away.

  Where was he? Was he still in the house? On the island, even? Or had he needed to leave, to go and attend to some criminal business somewhere and that’s why he hadn’t come down? I couldn’t see any other reason he’d stayed away.

  The shower called to me. Not only did I want to feel fresh and clean again, I also longed for the drum of hot water on my face and shoulders, something to ease the coiled tension inside me. I’d already tested the water, twisting on the shower and putting my hand beneath the flow to ensure it ran hot. A cold shower wouldn’t have been much fun, but at least I wouldn’t have stank. But no, the shower was hot, and I’d been provided with a bar of soap and even shampoo.

  If Hayden had left the island, it meant he wouldn’t be able to go all peeping Tom on me if I decided to take the shower. It was one of the things that had been stopping me getting in there in the first place—the idea he might be watching via the hidden cameras—but if he wasn’t even here, I didn’t need to worry about it. Still, I hesitated. Were the cameras live feed only, or was he recording everything I did? If he was, then he might watch them later, on his own time. The idea creeped me out. He was a man who could clearly have any woman he wanted—and not only by kidnapping them—but I hadn’t missed the way he’d been with me. I recognized that hungry look in his eyes, and I was pretty sure it had something to do with the fact I was his captive now.