My stomach clenches. I know those faces. It’s the same couple in every picture.
Mary and Sheriff Fletcher.
“Fletcher helped you.” I glare at John.
“Of course.” He gestures toward the door with the gun. “Walk.”
I shuffle out of the room, flexing my hands to stifle the trembling. “Where’s Conor?”
“Living in my house. Fucking my son. Or… if Jake’s anything like me, he is fucking her.”
“He’s nothing like you.”
The instant I say it, I know it’s not true.
It’s hard to look at John without seeing Jake and Jarret in his face. The brown eyes, full lips, square jawline, symmetrical features—he’s sickeningly, disturbingly handsome.
Without the hat, he appears older, thanks to the silver peppered in his dark hair. He carries extra weight in his midsection, but his arms and legs are muscled and toned. Every time I’ve fought him, he’s overpowered me.
I step out of the bedroom and enter a large living area with a stone hearth. A couch and chairs face a wall of windows that overlook the lake. The back door leads to a deck, and the lock requires a key.
Straight ahead is the kitchen, and beyond that, an interior door that likely opens to the garage. Opposite the picturesque windows is the front entry with another lock that requires another key to exit.
Even if those doors stood wide open, I wouldn’t reach them before John filled my skull with lead.
He trails me as I pass the chairs, the couch, and…
I yelp and shuffle back, bumping into him.
Those are dead bodies.
On the kitchen floor.
Holy fuck, that’s the old couple that kidnapped me today.
With bullet holes in their heads.
Dead.
A chill grips my spine.
“Why?” I blink rapidly, my shoulders hunched and tingling.
“I promised them I’d get their son back. Problem is their son is buried, wherever my boys bury bodies.”
If Jake and Jarret killed their son, he would’ve been a hitman or a dirty creditor. I don’t feel anything for him or the parents who abducted me.
Erin died because of them.
I’m here because they sold their souls to the devil.
John has caused so much death and torment, and it won’t end. Not while he’s alive.
Hatred simmers like acid in my veins. I jerk away from him and back up, shaking and clenching my fists.
I want to run. I want to fight.
My gaze shifts to the pistol in his hand.
I want to live.
“I really don’t care if you hate me right now.” He advances. “You’re here because that’s what I want.”
“Fuck you, you sick fuck.”
“Damn, you’re beautiful.” He licks his lips. “Your feisty spirit, sexy eyes, tight body…” His slow perusal crawls over my skin. Then he softens his voice. “You remind me of Julep. She was such a firecracker. Huge brown eyes like yours, and a heart of gold. Being with her made me a better man. Then I lost her and…” His forehead furrows, and he rubs a hand over it, smoothing away the creases. “When I’m with you, I feel young again.”
“You’re a psychopath.”
His nostrils pulse, and he stabs a finger at the couch. “On your back. Arms over your head. Legs spread.”
Staring down the barrel of his gun, I know without hesitation that I’d rather die. I can’t bear the thought of him touching me, putting his despicable mouth on me, and unzipping his pants.
If I turn and run, he’ll shoot me in the back, and this will all be over.
It’s the only way.
My muscles tense on the verge of springing, but a soundless command holds me in place.
Live, my heart whispers.
A heart that’s tethered to a man who would feel my death like his own.
Lorne is out there looking for me, and his ruthlessness is an unstoppable weapon. He’ll find me. I just need to survive until he does.
Surviving means enduring the thrusting, panting pestilence of John Holsten’s lust.
“See that?” He points at a control panel on the wall near the front door. “Fletcher’s high-tech security system will sound if anyone approaches the property. If, by some miracle, Lorne learns your location, I’ll know he’s coming.” He wriggles the gun. “I saved a bullet just for him. Now get on the couch and open those legs.”
I sway beneath the weight of hopelessness, but my resolve holds steady. I’ll brave this with the determination to escape.
I’ll sustain by transforming into the woman I once was with him. The numb, robotic creature who detached and endured.
My pulse pounds in my stomach. My mouth floods with excess saliva, and my skin feels heavy and hypersensitive as it prickles and tightens against my bones.
I try to distance myself, but the feelings inside me are too deep, too human. I don’t know how to separate from a heart that’s so swollen and raw with love.
Lorne lives in my soul, always with me, and he’ll be with me through this.
I swallow, choking against the burning revulsion in my throat.