Read Heartwood Online

Authors: L.G. Pace III

Tags: #A Carved Hearts Novel

Heartwood (29 page)

“There’s more.” He announced and promptly left the room. The door was standing open just a sliver. I debated on following him out of the room while he was distracted, but I had Logan in my arms and I wasn’t sure what I’d use as a weapon.

Moments later I was glad I hadn’t, because he popped his head back in the room. “Come see.”

His hand was on the small of my back as we entered Logan’s room. Right in the center he’d set up a brand new Pack and Play for Logan to sleep in.

“Do you like it?” He asked, sounding incredibly childlike. I covered my mouth and burst into tears. For the first time since he’d walked into my kitchen, I was completely honest with him.

“Drae. I love it.”

Later, when Logan was down for the night, Draven appeared in my doorway. His hands were behind his back. A feeling of dread came over me, but I mustered up a smile. It was weak, but he seemed satisfied by it.

“I’ve got something else for you...since you’ve been such a good girl.” His blue eyes sparkled with mischief by the dim light of my lamp.

“You didn’t have to do that.” My voice sounded husky, but only I knew it was because my heart was in my throat. I had no idea where he was going with this, but I knew it was nowhere good.

He pulled a box out from behind his back. It was black with a familiar logo on it. Victoria’s Secret. I reached out to take it from his outstretched hand on reflex. Just before my hand closed on it he pulled it back, an irritated expression appearing on his face.

“Take them off first.” He demanded.

I stared at him blankly and then looked down at his shirt and boxers. I made to take off the shirt and it seemed to enrage him. “The wedding ring and engagement ring. Take them off.”

I should have said yes. Logic dictated that I should have done it without hesitation. I had been ready to strip for him just moments before. But the rings were different. They still symbolized that there was more to life than this rat maze Draven held me captive in. The clearest image of Joe’s mossy green eyes came abruptly to the forefront of my mind. His hands cupping my face, the way he felt inside me, his mouth on mine, his infectious smile when he held the twins.

My hesitation...that fraction of a second that I stopped to think about it, sent Draven over the edge. My vision exploded into a million colors and agonizing pain radiated from my temple. I cried out, and tried to blink to clear my vision. When I could finally see again, I was no longer on the bed. I was lying on the floor with Draven standing over me.

“You stupid little quim. Are you trying to play me? Is this some sort of fucking game to you?” He didn’t shout. He didn’t raise his voice. He sounded clipped and articulate.

The way he loomed above me was terrifying and I shielded my face on instinct. It did no good. He slapped me again, and caught me on the same side. Only this time was far worse. I blinked but I couldn’t see out of my right eye, and I wondered if he’d permanently damaged it.

Wheeling, he walked to the far side of the room and opened the door. He paused, and I was sure he was coming back for more. Clawing myself upright, I pressed my back against the wall for support. If this was it, if this was where I would die, I wasn’t going down without a fight.

Looking over at me he sneered and flipped the door shut. It clicked with an ominous finality.

“Do you know what this is?” He waved his hand in front of it like he was a model on a game show. “This is a Franklin Mayers lock system. Impervious to weapon fire short of a very large handgun. If I gave you a sledgehammer, you could beat on this for days and never break it.

Each lock has its own unique code. I originally installed them for my protection. If anyone got into the house I could escape into any room and they wouldn’t be able to follow me. Now? These locks are for you. They’ll keep you in your place. You think you can fool me? Think again, bitch. By the time I’m done, you’ll be begging me to fuck you. My every need will be your greatest desire. But not until you know your place.”

The way he said it turned my blood to ice. I opened my mouth to speak and he waved his hand at me dismissively.

“I’m done listening to your lies, cunt. What’s next? That you really
do
love me? You want to fall on your knees and please me? Save your fucking breath. How could I ever have believed a lying little whore like you?”

“Drae...please...”

He turned his back on me and clicked open the door. Then he walked out. Pivoting on his heel he stood and mocked me from right outside.

“Fuck you, Molly. You almost had me going with all of your fawning and bullshit. Well played, Doll.”

“Draven,” I tried to be firm, hoping to get some control back.

“Shut your mouth.” The dangerous edge his voice took snapped my teeth together just as if he had smacked it shut. “Let me lay this out in a way that even your half-wit mind will understand. The boy stays locked up at night. The only time you get to see him is before we eat. If you disobey me in any way...if I get so much as an upset stomach from your cooking...it will be the
boy
that suffers. Test me and I will lock you both in your rooms and leave you to die of thirst.”

He clicked the door shut and I slid down the wall until my behind was on the floor. The adrenaline that had been keeping me upright slipped away and I collapsed. My uninjured face lay against the cold hardwood planks just inches from a large metal vent grate. Twisted stabs of agony settled into a dull throb as I struggled to pull breath in as sobs racked my body. The shadow in my vision scared the hell out of me. Something was really wrong this time.

I heard voices echoing up through the grate and sucked in a gasp. I felt my lip tremble, and opened my mouth to cry out for help but something made me hesitate. The other voice sounded familiar but the pain was making it hard for me to focus on identifying it. Using all my remaining strength, I scooted myself closer to the grate and listened carefully.

“I can’t believe it.” Draven whined. “She refused to take his rings off.”

“If you recall,
I
said you should have just killed her. You should have snapped her neck and left the carved up baby as a present for that fucking new husband of hers.”

The second voice was cold and clinical. Sudden, horrifying clarity came over me. I slapped my hand over my mouth, afraid my labored breathing would draw his attention to me. I silently rejoiced that I hadn’t screamed for help from whoever had produced that voice. Because it
was
Draven. Both of the voices were coming from the same man.


He’s
not her husband. I am. I love her, goddammit.” Draven sniveled, authentic anguish in his voice.

“She loves
him
.” The other said derisively. “That is,
if
she’s capable of love at all.”

“But I
want
her.” Draven sounded petulant. Like a toddler being told that the toy he wanted was too expensive.

“Then
have
her. Stop being a pussy and just
take
her. Then get rid of her so we can catch our plane and close on the beach house. We’ll hire a cook and a maid. Maybe we’ll acquire a half dozen peasant girls who like shiny things. With all that to keep you occupied, you won’t need her anymore. You’ll forget all about her in no time.”

“I don’t want to rape her.” Petulant Draven sounded incensed. “I want her to
want
to be with me.”

An exasperated sigh carried up through the vent.

“Oh for fuck’s sake. This is just ridiculous. All of my planning, crafting the timetable, setting up the shell companies and the new identity will be wasted if you keep thinking with your dick. Our flight is in three days. You have until then to amuse yourself with her. If she doesn’t bend to your will before then, indulge your carnal desires by force. Then we leave and burn the house down. By the time they sift through the ashes, we will be in a non-extradition country.”

My heart hammered in my chest at the casual way the monster below me discussed burning me and my child alive. I glanced up at the window and my mind stalled as I raced to formulate a contingency plan. Even if I somehow managed to get to Logan there was almost no chance of us being able to get to the ground safely. Not with the house burning around us. Below, the volume of the voices lowered in discussion and I focused to hear what they were saying.

“Or...I suppose we
could
take her onto the jet. It’s a private charter. If we keep her separated from the boy, it should encourage her to behave.” Cold Draven suggested. He seemed to be bored by the conversation.

“I like that idea. I’ll get her trained before then. But I might need your help.” Petulant Draven said.

“Fine,” Cold Draven replied. “If we groom her, she could be an enjoyable servant. But if she isn’t moldable, we take care of it my way. No arguments. Agreed?”

“Alright.” Petulant Draven said. “But the boy goes with me regardless. She cost me my child. She owes me a son. Even if Molly’s a dead end, I want him.”

“Seems fair. Then at least this whole clusterfuck won’t be a waste of time.” Cold Draven’s tone was conciliatory. “I’m going to sleep. Keep an eye on her.”

I started shivering uncontrollably and I wracked my addled brain for options. Draven was a ticking psychotic time bomb and I only had three days to find a way to defuse him and save my baby.

Tick tock.

 

 

 

 

 

THE SINGLE MOST annoying thing, in my experience, is the look of pity on another person’s face. I know why people do it. When faced with overwhelming pain, people tend to fall back into the familiar. The thing is sympathy makes the person giving it feel better. Half the time the person they are giving it to is too out of it to even notice. The other half of the time they want to punch you in the face.

I thought I was familiar with pain. Foolishly, I thought I had taken the worst life could dish out and survived. Losing a wife and child was brutal. The only thing that was worse than that was facing the possibly that it was all happening again.

The media circus didn’t help matters. Several news vans were parked up and down my street. The authorities made them stay on the sidewalk, but my entire neighborhood was in an uproar. At first, I thought the attention was a good thing; maybe the publicity would drum up a lead. Or maybe the pressure would cattle prod the investigators in the ass.

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