Stepping over her forgotten groceries, Grace began her search of the apartment, her heart in her throat and her cell phone in her hand. She’d learned by now that using it to call for help was pointless—she’d given up hope that anyone would help her—but maybe she could throw it at Tommy and stun him long enough to race for the front door.
Not for the first time, Grace wondered why he insisted on trying to get her back. With his money and his power, she knew Tommy could have any woman he wanted. It never made sense why he locked on her the way he had. She was almost sure that the only reason he hadn’t given up on her yet was because he thought of her as the one who got away.
And, she learned long ago, no one got away from Tommy Mathers.
When the stress and the anxiety and the looking over her shoulder got bad enough, Grace almost called him and begged him to stop. She almost gave in herself, knowing that he wouldn’t stop and the only alternative would be for her to
go back to him. At her lowest points, it seemed to make sense to her.
If she went crawling back to him, he’d stop chasing her. And then, once he got what he wanted, maybe he’d finally realize she wasn’t fit to be his stupid wife and trade her in for some other woman.
It could happen.
Only then she would remember the lengths he had gone—the lengths he continued to go—in order to get her to agree to becoming his bride. It was a battle between the two of them now. Tommy wouldn’t be satisfied with one night, or even a couple of dates. No matter his reasons, he made it perfectly clear that he wouldn’t settle for less than forever.
And that was one thing she couldn’t give him.
So she tried to run, and she tried to hide, even knowing that it was all in vain. It was, too. Because, here she was, clearing her kitchen before tiptoeing toward her bathroom, knowing that he found her again.
Just like he promised he would do the first time she got away.
And the second.
“I’ll never stop, Grace.”
It was a promise and a threat, and one she’d never manage to get out of her head.
A quick glance in the bathroom revealed it was empty. No package.
That left two more rooms to check: the unused guest room where she stretched and practiced ballet in the tiny space it allowed; and her bedroom.
With a shudder, she knew exactly where he would have left his gift. There was no way he wouldn’t have gone into her bedroom. She only prayed he wasn’t still in there.
Tommy wasn’t, but his final gift was waiting for her, just like the viscaria and the bracelet. He left the box sitting in the center of the bed she made that morning. It was a white box, the sort you get at a bakery when you buy a half dozen cupcakes. A red Christmas bow—more than two months early—was stuck to the top of the lid.
Grace felt a sudden tightness in her chest, her mouth going dry. The innocence of the second package somehow made what she was about to find inside even worse.
This was exactly the reason why she couldn’t force herself to go back to Tommy. He was her very own Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. One minute, he was kind and sweet and loving. That side of Tommy showered her in flowers and jewelry and praise. The next minute? Like flipping a switch, he could be both capricious and cruel. He could turn I love you into a warning.
Her hands trembled as she reached for the box. The bow toppled off the lid. She let it fall onto her bed. A piece of tape kept the lid closed. She used her fingernail to cut it, inhaling deeply before reaching for the lid.
The first thing she noticed was the smell. It was a strong odor, so pungent that her nose wrinkled. She caught a hint of something metallic, almost like rust, but it was overpowered by a meaty scent that turned her already nervous stomach.
It was the second package. Damn him, he knew that she wouldn’t be able to throw this one away. Because this one? It wasn’t a gift, even if he thought it was.
It was a threat.
Before she lost her nerve, Grace flipped the lid up. A flash of red caught her attention and she glanced up at it, seeing the letters scrawled on the inner lid. Tommy used a red marker to write one line:
My heart is in your hands.
That was all she needed to see. To look inside the box would be a mistake. And, yet, she found that she was unable to keep from looking down. Grace braced herself, knowing it would be bad. Tommy’s second packages always, always were.
She thought she was prepared. She wasn’t, and couldn’t help it, either. The fear and the shock swept through her before being ripped out of her in an ear-piercing shriek.
At the sight of the bloody organ nestled on the bed of cotton, she started to scream.
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