The Pawn (Shattered Series Book 1) (5 page)

        “If you weren’t determined to see this thing out to the end, you should’ve stayed out of it!” he exploded, pounding a fist against the desk. “Tell me, now, Angelo. If you want out, just say so.”

        “Damn it, think! Again, consider the long term ramifications, why don’t you? I mean, Addison has been neutralized, and he thinks that Olivia Lange is dead. Frankly, I don’t think that she should ever have to face that bastard again, regardless of circumstances. Things have calmed down. Don’t you think that it’d be good to end this charade before someone else gets hurt?” He blew an exasperated breath. “Get her a fake identity and let her live a life, for goodness sakes! Better yet, tell the woman the truth and let her go.”

        “No. I’m determining all the plays in this game. When the son-of-a-bitch is fully broken,” Jarrod said coldly, snapping the pencil in two. “I’ll be satisfied. Then, and only then.”

        “And you feel that involving Olivia Lange was the way to make that happen?” Marc inquired again “Sometimes, I wonder if there wasn’t a better course--”

        “What’s wrong with you, Angelo? Doesn’t your soul burn with the same vengeance?” Jarrod demanded, eyeing him across the space. “Have you forgotten what he’s cost you?”

        A pained look crossed his friend’s face. “Of course, I haven’t. I’ll never forget what that bastard did, and believe me, I understand your rage better than anyone,” Marc replied before hesitating. “But, Olivia Lange, she’s innocent in all of this, and we’ve made her a part of this war with Addison.”

        “What’s that old adage---bring your enemies closer? Well, Olivia Lange is my means to do that,” Jarrod quipped tightly. “In the art of war, there’s always collateral damage, and she just happens to be it. Yes, I know that I’m coming off as a cold-hearted bastard, but maybe that’s what I am---”

        “No, you’re not a cold-hearted bastard, even if that’s the way that you see yourself, or better yet, it’s the image that you want to project to the rest of the world,” Marc disagreed firmly. “But, I know you, man. For years, we’ve been close friends because of family connections, and since we were old enough to shit in diapers, I’ve known the kind of person you are. Somehow, you’ve built this façade, this careful apparition that you portray to everyone.”

        Sucking in a hard breath, he looked away.

        But, still, Marc continued. “A cold-hearted bastard wouldn’t stay by a comatose woman’s bed side if he didn’t feel anything. Nor would he spend thousands of dollars on the best physician to ensure that she receives the best care. Not only that, if he’s heartless, why would he jet set from the States at a moment’s notice just to return to her side? Let’s not forget the millions of dollars being spent on a dying man’s cancer treatment, and all the while there’s a concentrated search for alternative methods to save the man’s life.  A cold-hearted bastard, you’re not,” Marc said, shaking his head. “I’m a betting man, and I’m willing to wager that over these months, Olivia Lange has already wormed her way into your hardened heart, and you’re not as indifferent to her as you pretend. More than that, you’re realizing your mistake in involving her.”  Pausing, looking uncomfortable, a red flush stained his face. “It all makes sense, your insistence to take her from Addison---it runs much deeper than your vendetta against him. You have a more personal stake in this thing with Olivia Lange. These last months, you’ve been totally devoted to her and her care. And looking at you now, the way that you reacted when you got that phone call about her---Truthfully, I haven’t seen you respond to anyone like this since----”

          “Damn it, don’t,” Jarrod stated coldly. “Don’t even insinuate something of that nature.”

           The horror stabbed him.

           No, he mulled, it wasn’t even possible that he---

           Disturbed by the thought, he cut it off.

           Busying himself, looking away, he grabbed the stack of papers from the desk before leafing through them. But, still, Marc’s words echoed through him.

          “This vendetta against Addison---it won’t ever alter the ugly horrible facts or dark sins of that horrible day, Jarrod. All of the lying, scheming, hurting other people---no matter what you do, it won’t change things. And stop blaming yourself for what happened, it wasn’t your fault,” Marc suggested with a pitying tone. “So, end this farce now before someone else gets hurt, namely, Olivia Lange. All of this is just going to lead to more trouble.”

           No longer able to hold back his anger, he hurled the papers across the desk, sending them scattering across it. “Damn it, it’s too late for me to second guess things. It’s done!” he said angrily, pounding a hard fist against the smooth desktop. “From now on, keep your opinion to yourself and let me handle things!”

           “You, stubborn jackass, if I hadn’t known you so long, and if I didn’t think of you as a brother, I’d knock the sense back into you,” Marc replied, angered, and his Italian accent was heavy. “But, seeing as we’re in this together, I’ll hold my peace. And oh, when you become buried in this mess that you’re making, I promise to dig you out.”

          “Don’t count it,” Jarrod disagreed, standing before shrugging the suit jacket on. “For once, I’m going to beat Addison at his own game. He won’t even see me coming.” He tossed the manila folder to him. “Here’s a list of the latest clients. I want you to run a background check on them. If they have any connection to Addison, we’re going to snap them in half before they even have time to blink.”

          “Are they legit?” Marc asked, already thumbing through the folder’s contents. “After all of the stunts that Addison has pulled, I’m leery of trusting anyone.” He snapped the folder shut. “And if we’re going to get this company back off the ground and to the top of its game like before, we have to scrutinize everything and everyone.”

                      “Exactly,” Jarrod nodded, studying him closely. “Any leads on the church explosion?”

                      “No. So far, it’s been a wild good chase.” Sighing, Marc shook his head. “We don’t have anything concrete yet, but just a string of dead ends that keep leading to nowhere. Still, it seems like an inside job to me, like Addison vs. Addison. But, what do I know, right? At present, there aren’t any rumblings on the street as to who the culprit is. Whoever did this, they have all their bases covered.”

                       “Well, it’s up to us to uncover all of them,” he quipped tightly, checking the flight plans on the cell phone. With a sigh, he looked at his friend. “It seems that I’ll be leaving town in a few hours. Want to grab a drink?”

                       “Sure, why not?” Marc shrugged, stopping behind him as they reached the door. “Maybe a little booze will awaken those dead brain cells in your head and bring back your common sense.”

***

                    Hours later, the moonlight illuminated the bedroom with a soft glow. Wincing, Olivia lifted a shaky hand to her temple before opening her eyes. The pain still throbbed, but it wasn’t as intense as before. She stretched a trembling hand out, and quickly noticed the bruises hadn’t faded.

                   A frown pinched her forehead.

                   How long had she slept?

                   It’d been hours since Dr. Roma had left, and after taking the sedatives, she’d been sent to a silent world of oblivion. Now, it seemed that evening had already arrived, and the house was as quiet as the sleeping dead.

                   She held her ring hand out.

                   The surprise filled her.

                   Now, an expensive engagement ring circled her finger.

                   “Am I engaged?” she wondered aloud, staring down at the huge rock. “Dr. Roma didn’t mention me being engaged.” And besides that, who’d been there while she slept and slipped it on her finger, she mulled, her anxiety mounting.

                    After pushing herself up, she shoved the white coverlet from her body and sat up in the bed. The surprise ran through her as she glanced down. When had she dressed in this? The thin light blue nightgown swathed her figure and reached her mid-thigh. The soft, frilly ruffles capped the sleeves and the hem, and the intimate piece was undoubtedly pricey.

                    Placing a trembling hand against her chest, she glanced around the room. The living quarters evoked a high level of intimacy, wealth, and class. But, still, she couldn’t shake off the suffocating feeling that the room evoked. “I have to get out of here,” she whispered, leaving the bed. The hardwood floor cooled her bare feet as she stood, and at once, the room zoomed out of focus.

                    “No,” Olivia gasped, reaching out to brace her fall, but only grasped the open air. Losing her balance, she cried out as she fell to the glossy hardwood floor.

                     As if on cue, the bedroom door flew wide open.
Dressed in a staid black dress this time, grayish black hair pulled back in a severe tight bun, the sixtyish woman hurried into the room. Upon closer inspection, she got a better view of the woman than she had the first time she’d seen here. And now, the strange woman seemed somewhat approachable.

                      Seeming like a caricature from a throwback 1940’s film, the woman peered at her with warm brown eyes that were complemented with a short nose and full lips. “Don’t be foolish,” the woman chastised, squatting down before her. “You are in no condition to leave this room, at least not until---” the woman’s face flushed guiltily as she cut her words off. “You need your rest. Here, let me help you up.”

                   Giving a painful grunt, she didn’t protest as the woman helped her up, and still, her legs were wobbly as she straightened. The woman’s hold was gentle as she helped her back onto the bed, and then tucked the covers around her again. “T-thank you,” she mumbled, flushing red.

                   “That’s what I’m here for,” the woman said more kindly, offering a smile this time, and her accent was heavy. “If you need anything, just press the intercom button that’s located on the wall at the bed’s left. And I’m Rosa, by the way, and I’m here to assist you in anyway that you need.”

                    Without a further word, Rosa moved away from the bed, and then, the woman busied herself as she tidied things in the room.

                     Still, as she watched the woman, she couldn’t dispel the oddness of the moment. Who actually cleaned at this late hour? And why did it seem that the housekeeper was nervous?

                     The entire situation…

                     It was completely off.

                     “R-rosa…I need your help. Please,” she said quietly, staring at her from the bed. “Just tell me anything that will help me remember my past.”

                     Stiffening, avoiding her gaze, Rosa paused and stopped her fierce polishing. Then, she whisked the duster along the table again. “Don’t over-exert yourself, like I said, you need the rest.” The woman’s face was devoid of expression as she faced her again. “And I just work here. So, you’ll have to get answers from somewhere else.”

                     The panic rose in her again. “But, you have to know---”

                     “It’s not my place to say anything,” the woman said, clamping her jaw tight, and her posture was ramrod straight. “Now if there’s nothing else that you need, I’ll be on my way. Is there anything else?”

                     “N-no,” she murmured, shaking her head, and then winced as more pain shot through it. “Thank you.”

                     Without a further word, Rosa made a speedy departure.

                      As the door closed behind the woman, she fell back against the pillows. She stretched out a shaky hand again, and the diamond carat winked back at her. “I’m someone’s fiancée,” she mumbled tearfully. “But whose?”

Chapter 2

                    Jarrod paused on the pier and took in the grand scene. Even at this early hour of morning, the island home was a sight to behold.

                     All the lights were out, and the only signs of life were the waves crashing onto shore. Again, the satisfaction filled him as his gaze swept over the area. All of this---it belonged to him, he mulled, continuing his jaunt.

                     Laramie Rock…

                     A tiny secluded island that rested on Pica Bay in Central America…

                     Marked by fifty miles of beachfront, lined with palm trees and other island flora, the place was breathtaking. Like a stony outcrop, the area rose amidst the azure waters while the shimmering white-villa style home topped it. Proudly, the white villa-styled mansion stood, announcing its impressive presence in grandeur fashion. The home held three levels with small out-posted balconies on the left side at each floor, and the top level was especially impressive, holding a magnificent view of the entire bay area. At the east end of the island, the copse of green trees resembled a mysterious wonderland, and on numerous occasions, he’d spent hours upon hours exploring them.

                    The closest area to the secluded island with inhabitants was the Canyon Islands, a mainland that was approximately 75 miles away. And the only passage off Laramie Rock was by boat, and right now, the motor yacht and motorboat rested at the dock. On rare occasions, the ferry passed through at least once every six months with that mainly being on a Saturday.

                    Now, he was crossing the sandy beach, and again, he was glad that he’d donned the white shorts and polo shirt. Kicking off the sandals, he felt the warm sand as it meshed between his toes.

                    Dropping the duffle bag to the ground, he stopped his trek.  Taking a deep breath, he inhaled the fresh air.

                    This momentary freedom from the real world, he mulled, squatting down, and the waves lapped around his ankles, it was just what he needed to get his thoughts together.

                    His gaze shot to the second level of the home.

                    And for a moment, the guilt hit him hard.

                   
Olivia Lange…

                    Everything that Marc said was true.

                    The woman had no place in his war against the Addisons.

                    And the day he’d taken her…

                    How could he overlook the misfortunate events?

                    Apparently, someone else had a vendetta against Addison, and whoever it’d been they’d blown up the church that day, injuring many. Back home, in her world, everyone presumed that she was dead. For the past several weeks, he’d been trying to determine the new players in their war.

                    Despite the hidden dangers, Marc and his men had followed his orders, whisking her away from the rubble in secret, and luckily, no one had spied them or had been privy to their actions. After being summoned by him, his right-hand private physician, Dr. Roma, had attended to her immediate needs at Widow’s Pointe, a secret hideout, on the south side of Atlanta, and then, she’d been flown here being under Dr. Roma’s strict care since then.  

                    In the beginning, when the revenge scheme had formulated in his mind, he’d done his homework, finding out everything and anything that he could about the woman that’d stolen his nemesis’s heart. With careful expertise, he’d insinuated himself into her life. And for little over a year, he’d spent time, getting to know her, developing a relationship built on solid trust.

       “Olivia Lange,” he said, lifting his gaze to the starry skies. “Why does some part of my soul feel like you’re my awakening?”

        Shaking his head, he gave a humorless laugh. Wasn’t he exactly kind of man that women were warned away from?

        But, amidst the pretense, he’d gotten to know
her
. Then, again, had his actions been a charade, he thought distractedly. A part of him…he couldn’t answer it.

        His thoughts strayed further.

        Twenty-eight years old, a struggling artist, Olivia Lange was a natural beauty inside and out. Though her work excelled those of most, she’d found it difficult breaking into the mainstream market. But, so impressed he was by her work, he’d bought a several of her pieces, paying more than her asking price. And her paintings, he thought, staring across the waters moodily, they evoked an intimacy that he recognized, though he didn’t want to. Not only that. She’d volunteered at the homeless shelter at least three days a week. And it was her inner spirit that was her most attractive nature, though he’d be lying if he didn’t admit her outwardly appearance was just as appealing.

       Naturally smooth skin, raven black tresses that reached her shoulders, light brown orbs, and a voluptuous shape….

        She’d light a fire in any hot-blooded male…

        But, he just wasn’t any man, he argued, throwing the pebble, and watched as it skipped across the water. And more than that, he had no real interest in any woman.

        At thirty-five years old, internally, he was just as lifeless as any dead man, he mulled, standing up.

        No longer did he hurt, bleed, or love…

                   
That’s why it was so easy to choose Olivia Lange as the pawn
.

                    Besides, there hadn’t been any other way to reel Addison in close, he argued silently. As the anger fired through him again, he stood, and then lifting the duffle bag, he trotted towards the house. Within a quick moment, he reached it and entered.

                     Taking a shaky breath, he looked around.

                     Quiet and dark, the beachside mansion showed no signs of the life except for the huge grandfather clock sitting in the entryway, and its pendulum ticked off each second with a steady swinging rhythm. Again, the satisfaction filled him as his gaze swept over the living space. A lot of blood, sweat and tears had gotten him where he was today.

                     Like a grand show, at the main level, the winding stairwell opened up the splendor of the mansion. Suppressing a yawn, Jarrod took the stairs two at a time. Upon reaching the second level, he stopped dead in his tracks. In the shadows, Rosa, the caretaker stood at the bedroom at the far end of the corridor, and a bizarre look played across her face. Strangely, she had an ear pressed to the bedroom door.

                     “Rosa, what in the hell are you doing?” he frowned, halting in his tracks. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

                      Startled, Rosa whirled around, and then, she scurried to him hastily. “Jarrod! I wasn’t expecting you until later this morning.”

                      “I can see that,” Jarrod noted, lifting a brow. “For heaven’s sake, Rosa, it’s 1:30 in the morning. Why are you standing outside Ms. Lange’s door at this hour?”

                     “N-nothing,” she stammered, swallowing hard, and couldn’t hide her uneasiness. “I was just making sure that she was resting well, and she hasn’t been.” A pitying look crossed the woman’s face. “For hours, she’s been sobbing, and it pains me to see anyone suffering that way. She keeps pleading for someone to help her. I think she’s having nightmares about her accident. I’ve been standing here, listening, not knowing what to do.” Then, she wrung her hands together. “And poor Meggie, she’s been restless with a fever. But, thankfully, it’s broken, and it hasn’t been long since she’s been abed. Finally, she’s getting some rest.”

                    “You’re exhausted. And
you
, need to get some rest,” Jarrod stated firmly, laying a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Thank you for taking care of things and helping Meghan get settled in. As always, you’re being a tremendous help to us, Rosa, and I just want you to know how appreciated you are.” He gave a rare smile. “I’m going to be staying for awhile, and I’ll be here to help take care of things, and that also includes Ms. Lange’s care.” After giving her a side hug, he gave her a gentle nudge towards the stairwell. “Now, go and get some rest.”

                     “Thank you, Jarrod. I sure could use it,” Rosa smiled tiredly. “Goodnight.”

                     “Goodnight,” he muttered as she passed him, and a short moment later, he heard her bedroom door as it shut.

                     Sighing, he blew a tired breath.

                     With Meghan here, how would he manage the situation? Or was it even right that she was even close to it?

                     In the darkness, he didn’t realize what an impressive figure he made. Standing at six feet, solidly built, of Italian descent, his handsome features were dangerously arresting. In deep waves, his dark hair fell along his face, complete with a chiseled jaw bone, straight nose, and naturally tanned skin. Yet, his dark green orbs were the most striking, and tiny flints of gold seemed to sparkle within them.

                    Starting, realizing that he was just standing there, he moved away from the stairs and walked along the corridor. At each end of the hallway, a bedroom stood, one a large guest suite, and the other, a large scaled room that’d been transitioned into an extra bedroom. Close to the guest suite, an additional set of short stairs led to the upper level.

                     Dropping the duffle bag, he headed to the closest bedroom.

                     The door was slightly cracked.

                     From the doorway, he watched as his six year old daughter slept.    

                     Like a little angel, she was nestled under the covers, and a tiny smile pursed her lips. But, still, even as the shadows played in the room, he could see her flushed features.

                     Again, he struggled to control his emotions.

                     Wasn’t Meghan the only good part of him that he had left? But still, wasn’t he too damaged to give her the love and care that she deserved and needed, he thought, releasing a frustrated breath.

                     Being careful not to awaken her, he pushed the door open further before treading into the room. “My little Poppet,” he whispered as he reached the bed. Then, as he knelt down alongside it, he grasped her tiny hand in his. “I love you, do you know that? While my world is endlessly crazy, you’re the one thing that grounds me. My only hope is that I will be the father that you need and deserve.” The burning tears smarted in his eyes. “But, I can’t let you suffer for my sins. In the end, I hope that I don’t end up hurting and disappointing you like I have everyone else who loved me. You deserve better than that, Poppet.”

                     Standing, he felt her forehead to check for any lingering fever, and to his relief, she was cool. As he turned to move away, her tiny hand clung to his. “Daddy?” she murmured sleepily. “Is that you?”

                    “Sshhh, go back to sleep, sweetheart,” he smiled down at her. “We’ll catch up in the morning. Ok?”

                     Nodding sleepily, already turning onto her side, she fell back into her slumber. Satisfied that she was resting peacefully, he moved away from the bed.

                     As he stepped back into the hallway, the dark shadows were splayed across the floor. And finally, even he had to grudgingly admit that fatigue was winning out.

                    His eyes shot to the guest suite.

                    That’s where his innocent pawn lay…

                    A heart wrenching scream filled the landing.

                    Before good sense won out, he found himself heading in that direction. As he drew closer to her door, her screams grew louder, and there was no denying the terrifying nature that filled them. With an unsteady hand, Jarrod opened the door.

                    After a brief hesitation, he entered.

                    As he stared at her, he was sucker punched, and the emotional war raged against him. The unwanted feelings surged like a wild torrent of rain, drenching the depths of his lost soul, and like a helpless moth, he was drawn to the forbidden flames.

                    The single word that he whispered was barely audible. “Olivia.”

                    But, rather than answering, she thrashed in the bed.

                    Unable to resist the pull, he left the open doorway.

                    The moonlight revealed his presence as he crossed the room, and he clearly sensed her unrest as he drew closer to the bed.

                     A wide shadow played along the bed.

                     And not even it could hide her distress.

                     Or her breathtaking beauty---

                   Across the pillows, her long dark tresses fanned along them like silk, but her flawless skin was ghostly pale.

                     Sweating profusely, twisting in the sheets, body arched like a bow, she was fully enmeshed within the nightmare. No! Please no!” Olivia screamed, and her fingers seemed like claws as she dug them into the sheets. “N-n-no, no…” Then, sobbing uncontrollably, she flailed her arms wildly, striking herself in the process. “Please---”