Defaced: A Dark Romance Novel (17 page)

He put himself away and shook his head. “That was a mistake.”

And he turned and left the room.

Lily curled up on her side, and then the magnitude of what had just happened swept over her. A sob burst from her throat and she wrapped her arms around her legs and let herself cry. So many years had passed since she’d given herself to a man like that, if giving herself was a right way of putting it. She wondered if Monster would have taken it anyway had she not offered herself up. The act brought back so many emotions. What had she been thinking? She was surely going crazy. But no, she knew her own mind, and her own body. She’d wanted him, and he’d wanted her. This might be an unorthodox situation, to say the least, but that attraction had been there since day one, and they’d both finally given in to it.

Twenty-two

Lily woke to
the sound of the world ending.

The explosion catapulted her from sleep, and she bolted upright in bed with a gasp. Her room was still intact, but the sound of the blast echoed in her ears. In the distance, she heard the crack of beams breaking, and farther sounds of things giving way and rubble crashing to the ground.

What the hell was going on?

Men shouting drew her attention. Was it Monster? But no, they were speaking in a language she didn’t understand. The pop-pop-pop of gunfire followed and she threw herself off the side of the bed, to hide on the floor beside it.

She prayed Monster was all right, yet she couldn’t help clinging to a stupid, irrational hope.

Perhaps they’re here for me. Everything he’s told you might be wrong, and these might be United States soldiers who have finally tracked you down and are here to take you home.

But they weren’t speaking English. Maybe they’d enlisted some locals to break down barriers?

No, she was being stupid. These were the people Monster had told her about—the reason he’d wanted his birthmark removed. They were the enemy, and she needed to remember that.

So then why did she keep clinging to the hope? And why was it even hope? Was that what she wanted after all? Now Monster had brought her back to life, did she plan on abandoning him to his fate, while she went back home and lived a regular existence?

She couldn’t think about all of this right now. The men’s shouting grew louder. There were several of them, at least.

Monster, where are you?

Lily hovered behind the bed, indecisive. She was glad she’d dressed herself again after Monster had left her bed a few hours ago. The vulnerability of having to deal with this while she was naked would have been too much.

Should she go out there and try to find him? Or would she be better staying right where she was? She wasn’t even sure if the door was locked or not. If it was unlocked, she couldn’t just stay here, hiding. Despite all her faults and weaknesses, she wasn’t a coward. She’d go out and face whatever was going on.

With her mind made up, Lily got to her feet and ran to the door. The sounds of gunfire had grown quiet for the moment. Her hand trembling, she tried the door handle. To her surprise, the handle turned and the door swung open.

“Shit,” she hissed.

Part of her had been hoping the door would be locked. At least then it would have allowed her to hide in the room.

Stop being such a fucking wimp.

Lily carefully eased open the door and peered out into the hall. It was empty, for the moment, with no sign of whatever had caused the sound of destruction that had woken her. Whatever occurred must have happened in the other wing of the house, above which Tudor’s quarters were located. She hoped the older man was all right. Despite their seriously rocky start, she didn’t want anything bad to happen to him.

Moving as quietly as she could, and keeping her back to the wall in case someone should burst out of one of the adjoining doors, she ran down the corridor, toward the main part of the house. The corridor opened up into the large entrance hall, and Lily drew to a halt and gave a gasp of shock.

Marianna lay crumpled at the bottom of the stairs.

Lily ran to her side and dropped down to her knees beside the other woman.

“Marianna?” she called, as quietly as possible. There was no response. “Marianna?” she said with more urgency.

Her eyes were closed, and Lily couldn’t see any sign of her breathing, or her chest rising and falling. Had she fallen down the stairs, or been injured in the explosion Lily had heard? She reached out to take the woman’s hand, to press her fingers against the inside of her wrist to feel for a pulse, but she snatched back her hand. A pool of blood crept out from beneath Marianna’s body, and Lily noticed what she hadn’t before—two gunshots wounds right beneath Marianna’s ribs.

Lily clasped her hand to her mouth. “Oh, God, no.”

She fell backward onto her rear, and scrabbled back, pushing herself along with her heels. Her feet had hit the blood, and she left streaks where she’d tried to push herself away. She realized her right hand was damp, and she glanced down to see a handprint of red against the white marble tiles.

“Oh!” she cried again, frantically wiping her hand on her shirt. Tears filled her eyes, and the scene in front of her blurred. She let out a sob and covered her mouth with both hands, terrified whoever had killed Marianna was still nearby and would hear her. Glancing around, wide-eyed, she expected armed men to burst out of the kitchen or living room and shoot her there and then.

Where the hell were they?

There was only one explanation—they’d gone after Monster.

She wasn’t helping anyone by sitting on her backside next to a dead body. Lily forced herself to her feet and tried not to look at Marianna. Quickly, she checked the living room and the kitchen, but both were empty. She needed to check the other wing of the house, though she had no idea what she would do if she found someone. She wasn’t even armed.

Lily paused, and then ran back to the kitchen and pulled out the biggest knife from the block. It wouldn’t be much defense against men with guns, but at least it was something.

The second wing was off the hall at the back of the stairs, a more recent extension that must have been added to the main bulk of the building. She ran through the adjoining hall, her heart pounding, every nerve ending on her body alert for any noise or movement. A sudden crack and another crash made her draw to a stop, a scream catching in her throat, and a moment later a puff of dust and dirt rolled down the hall toward her.

What the hell?

When she was sure no one was going to follow, she edged forward again. The dust caught in her throat and the back of her nose, and she started to cough. Terrified someone would hear her, she clamped her hand back over her mouth, trying to stifle her coughs.

She entered the space where the hall for the second wing should have opened out, but instead of more walls, she saw the grounds and ten-foot, barbed wire topped wall beyond.

The building itself was a mess. Most of the wall had vanished, as had part of the ceiling and roof. Dirt and bricks lay in piles around the carnage, more dirt trickling from the exposed brick wall that remained. The furniture was covered in red dust, as were the rug and floor.

Lily placed the back of her hand, the one holding the knife, to her mouth and nose, trying not to inhale any more of the dust, which continued to tickle her throat. There was no doubt in her mind that this was how whoever had killed Marianna had gotten into the house. They must have figured subtle was never going to work on a place as guarded and locked up as this one.

So where the hell was everyone? Where were all the security men Monster claimed were always watching the house? Had they all been killed?

Lily turned back the way she’d come. She broke into a run, her feet pounding on the dusty floors as she ran. Dirt caught in her eyes, making her blink hard against it, causing her eyes to water. She left the corridor and ran back into the entrance hall, toward the bottom of the stairs and Marianna’s body.

She slammed into someone and flew back from the impact. The knife dropped from her hand and skittered across the floor. A set of hands grabbed her from behind, and she twisted and lunged forward again, but the hands gripped her harder.

Frantic, she stared around.

Four men surrounded her, including the one directly behind her who had hold of her arms. They appeared Hispanic—Mexican, perhaps—each with the same dark eyes, coffee colored skin, and black hair. All of them held guns.

Suddenly, the threat of guns was a whole lot closer as the cold barrel of one pressed against her temple.

The man said something in Spanish.

“What?” she asked.

“She is American,” said one of the men in front.

“Yes, yes!” she cried. “I’m an American. I’ve been kidnapped.”

The man laughed and turned to his comrade. “The freak is into this shit, too,” he said, his English heavily accented.

“Please. My family has money. If you take me out of here right now, they’ll pay you a fortune to get me home.” She wasn’t sure where the words had come from. All she was thinking was that she needed to get them away from the house. They were obviously here for Monster, and from the explosion and the way they were armed—not to mention Marianna’s murder—she didn’t think it was a courtesy call.

“Your family has money, yeah?” one of the men said.

“Yes, plenty. They’ll be so pleased to know I’m safe, they’ll pay you whatever you ask.”

She didn’t know how she was going to tell them she had no family, and certainly no one who would pay any money to get her back again. Saying such a thing had probably just signed her death warrant.

“Please,” she begged. “Let’s just get out of here.”

The man behind her laughed again and pulled her arms tighter, wrenching her shoulders. Tears sprung to her eyes at the pain and her fear. She glanced down at Marianna’s body and choked back a sob. She wasn’t going to survive this.

A revelation suddenly occurred to her.

She wanted to survive. And it wasn’t just in a stubborn, ‘I won’t let this beat me’ way that she’d always felt before. For the first time, she found she was looking toward the future. She wanted to know if she and Monster would somehow find their way back to one another. She wanted to continue to work on his face, and make him the best man he could be. She wanted a future filled with passion, and excitement, and fulfillment.

She wanted to live.

Monster (Present Day)

Monster coughed, his lungs filled with dust, and let out a groan.

What the hell had happened?

He tried to move, and became aware of a huge weight pressing down upon his back. Pieces of brick jabbed him in the spine, legs, and buttocks, hard and immobile. A white dust clouded his vision. It clung to his eyelashes and covered his skin, and when he choked and coughed, he could feel it coat his tongue and grate the back of his throat.

Where was Tudor? They’d been walking through the property together, discussing the recent issues of certain adversaries they were facing, when the explosion had happened, and then he’d woken up beneath the fallout. The other man couldn’t be far.

“Tudor?” he tried to call out, though his voice was as dusty as his surroundings. “Tudor!” he tried again, louder this time.

No response came back.

He tried to push up with his arms, hoping to shift whatever was on top of him. Something moved, falling from his back, but then seconds later a huge crash came from his right, causing another cloud of dust to burst up around him. He cowered away, trying to cover his mouth with his shoulder.

Monster froze as the dust settled again, worried if he tried to move again he’d bring another avalanche of building material on top of him. He couldn’t just lie here and wait for help that most likely would never come. He needed to get out of this, even if it meant the possibility of bringing more of the house down on top of him.

He knew exactly who was responsible for this. The Gonzalez-Larrinaga brothers had wanted to put a knife in his back ever since he’d killed their cousin ten years ago. It was a long-standing, bitter feud, only exacerbated by Monster’s refusal to meet with them face to face. For a long time, he’d believed that by conducting all his business meetings via video call, where he kept his face blacked out, had created some kind of enigma and mystery about him, which in turn led to whispers and fear. But recently, he’d been accused of being too frightened to meet with them face to face, and hence the reason he’d brought the woman here. Of course, he hadn’t planned on falling for those big hazel eyes and plump lips. He hadn’t thought just being near her would make him hard, or that he wouldn’t be able to get the thought of how gently she touched his face out of his head.

The thought of Flower made him renew his efforts. What had happened to her? He prayed to God she was okay, but with the Gonzalez-Larrinaga brothers having killed his men on the wall, and then blown up half of his house, he didn’t hold out much hope. But he did have hope. He had to. If he didn’t hope she was still alive, he might as well lie here and die himself.

Monster tried to move his legs, but they were well and truly pinned beneath a mound of rubble. He needed to get the top half of his body free so he could use his hands to free his legs. He wriggled his shoulders, and twisted from left to right, his whole body tensing each time something moved or fell around him. He was also conscious that one of the Gonzalez-Larrinaga brothers or their men could easily return and put a bullet in his head. He could only guess the rubble had hidden him from view when they’d first entered what remained of the property—either that or they’d already taken him for dead.

Where is Tudor
? Was the other man dead?

Gradually, bricks and rubble began to shift, but the whole process was taking too long. He didn’t know how long he’d been unconscious, but each minute that ticked by was another minute Flower might be lying hurt somewhere, or else the Gonzalez-Larrinaga men were the ones doing the hurting.

He gave a roar of frustration and burst upward, shifting the last of the debris from his back. More dust fell from his hair and into his eyes. He covered his mouth as another round of coughing wracked through his body. The spasms caused pain to lance between his ribs, but he ignored it. He could tell he wasn’t seriously injured—thank God—or at least the top half of his body wasn’t.

Monster got to work, lifting, dragging, and scraping more bricks and concrete from the lower half of his body. His nails tore, his palms bruised and cut, but he had no choice but to ignore any discomfort.

Gradually, he unearthed his legs until he was able to pull them free.

Tentatively, he flexed his feet and pulled his legs into his body. He’d have some serious bruising in the next few days—assuming he lived long enough to see it—but almost miraculously, nothing seemed to be broken.

Monster got to his feet and tried not to look at the destruction. This had been his father’s house, and it meant a lot to him, but it was only bricks and mortar and could be rebuilt.

Unlike people he might have lost.

Though he wanted to find Flower, he knew Tudor couldn’t be far. He’d been right by his side when the explosion had happened. Tudor might have been thrown away from him in the blast, but he would still be nearby. The fact Monster hadn’t heard any cries for help, or even groaning, worried him. It meant Tudor was either unconscious or dead.

Monster began to climb across the rubble, peering through any cracks in the hope of spotting the other man. He picked up bricks and dislodged debris, his ears straining for any sign of life.

A particularly large piece of the fallen wall gave way and Monster sucked in a breath.

One of Tudor’s blue eyes stared out at him, as glassy and unseeing as the eye of a doll. A trickle of blood ran from the other man’s nostrils, and his skin was pale and waxy.

Monster had no doubt he was dead.

“Fuck!” he roared, spinning around to lash out at a pile of wreckage. “Fuck-fuck- fuck-fuck!” He punched a pile of bricks in his rage, pain shooting up through his knuckles. The pain helped to drive away his fury and grief. Tudor had been like a father to him in many ways—more caring than his own father had been. He couldn’t believe he was gone.

He needed to find her.

“Flower!” he roared as he left the destruction behind to storm through the wreckage of his house.

Her name is Lily Drayton,
a voice said in his head.
You should say her real name.

Fuck off,
he told it back.
Now wasn’t a time to start worrying about morals and bullshit like that. He needed to know she was safe.

With one wing of the house destroyed, he headed into the main body of the property. At the bottom of the stairs, a small body lay crumpled on the floor. His stomach lurched, the blood in his veins running cold. But then he saw the thick black hair and small stature, and realized the body wasn’t Lily’s but that of Marianna.

“Oh, Christ, no.”

He dropped to one knee and checked for Marianna’s pulse just in case she might still be alive. He felt nothing.

He’d cared for the older woman, even though he’d always managed to maintain his distance—just as he did with everyone—in the nine years she’d been here. In the end, she’d met the death she’d run from. He wished it could have worked out differently.

He noticed small handprints in the blood, further streaks where it looked like someone had skidded. Only one other person in this house had handprints that small. Where was she? Did this mean she’d been with Marianna when she was killed? Had they killed Lily as well? But no, that wouldn’t make sense. Why would they kill Marianna and leave the body, but not do the same to Lily? The idea of her body lying bloodied and growing cold somewhere was like a knife to his heart. How would he ever live with himself if something happened to her?

Marianna’s skin hadn’t completely cooled. She’d not been dead for long, which meant he’d not been unconscious for too long either. If Lily was still alive, and they’d taken her, he couldn’t be far behind them.

First he needed to check the rest of the house, and make sure she wasn’t just frightened and hiding somewhere.

Aware that his adversaries might also still be in the house somewhere, he ran into his office. He reached beneath his desk and clicked a couple of latches. The false bottom gave way, and he moved the piece of wood to reveal two semi-automatic handguns, fully loaded, together with four more clips of ammunition. He pulled both the guns and the ammunition from the catches which held them to the bottom of the desk, put the extra clips in his pockets, and one of the guns down the waistband of his pants. The other he kept hold of, fully intent on using it if he had to.

Keeping the weapon held out and the safety off, he ran around the house, checking each of the rooms. He ran to her bedroom, but the room was empty, her bedcovers tumbled and half dragged to the floor on the other side of the bed.

Quickly, he checked the bathroom, hissing her name. “Flower?”

She wasn’t there.

“Dammit.”

With no sign of her, and no body to be found, he could only assume the Gonzalez-Larrinaga men had taken her. Had they somehow worked out she was someone of importance to him?

Yes, they must have done. A white woman, obviously well educated, and classy. Of course she was important to him—though they might not have figured out exactly how important. Would she have tried to negotiate with the men, or would they have gagged her and prevented her from speaking? The idea of those men with their hands all over her sweet, curvy body drove him blind with fury. If they’d done anything to her, he’d go through the Gonzalez-Larrinaga house and kill mercilessly.

He needed to reach her, and that meant, for the first time in his life, he would leave the property he’d been a prisoner in—even if the latter part had been self-imposed—for his entire life. He didn’t know how he’d react to being out in the world for the first time, and letting people see his face, but he didn’t care. If people viewed him as a monster, then that was exactly what he intended on being. He would rip his enemies apart with his teeth if they stood between him Lily. And if he found her dead, he would drown himself in their blood and succumb to the madness.

He hated that he’d never learned to drive. He’d never had any need, having never left the property. If the time he lost having to travel by foot was what cost Lily her life, he’d never forgive himself. But he was strong and fit, and could run a six minute mile over distance on the treadmill. Though he’d never been off the property, he had the internet, and had spent plenty of time on Google maps. He knew exactly where the Gonzalez-Larrinaga brothers’ place was.

Monster made sure his weapons were in place and took a deep breath, and unlatched the front door of his house.

For the first time in thirty-two years, Monster left his property.