Secrets and Scars: A Gripping Psychological Thriller (Fatal Hearts Series Book 3) (7 page)

“You could be right. But let me know if you change your mind.” He placed a hand on the small of my back, his touch melting away the aches in a part of me I could not see or touch.

When he touched me, an invisible cocoon enveloped me, protecting me. When he smiled, my stomach flipped. But I didn’t want to get ahead of myself. There was so much between us at the moment, so many kinks to iron out before we could see straight. For now, all we could do was depend on each other to survive.

“Come on.” I stepped away from his touch. “Let’s get to that village.”

“You’re not alone in this. You know that, right?” His voice mixed with the crunch of twigs and rocks beneath his feet.

“Actually, I am.” I turned slightly to toss the words over my shoulder. “I appreciate your help, but to a certain extent, I am alone. Once we get back home, I will have to deal with whatever comes my way on my own.”

He fell into step with me and wove his fingers with mine. I didn’t pull away this time. “You’re wrong. I know everything seems terrifying right now, but if you work with me, we’ll find a way, together. Like I said, HIV doesn’t have to be a death sentence. My uncle, Walter, is HIV-positive. He has been happy and healthy for thirty years now.”

Tears glistened on my eyelashes like diamonds as I turned to him. “I’m glad your uncle is okay. Thank you for telling me.”

“And you will be, too.” He tightened his fingers around mine. “Since I have some experience with HIV, let me help you, let me be there for you. It doesn’t have to be a burden you carry alone. I don’t love you any less.”

“I never, ever thought I’d say this about you, but you’re a good man, Owen Firmin.”

“Let me be good to you, Chloe Parker.”

“Let’s talk about this back in Boca Raton.” It was the only promise I could give him.

By the time we reached the top of what turned out to be a dormant volcano, the sun blazed high in the sky, the heat spilling over us like a hot shower.

Owen was right: we were able to see the small village—or was it a large farm? Thick farmland surrounded about five or six huts.

“What are we waiting for? Let’s get to it.”

Owen placed a hand on my arm. “Drink first.” He passed me the water bottle. I took a few sips and gave it back to him.

“Go ahead and finish it. I’m okay.”

“That’s not fair on you. You can’t let me have it all.”

“You deserve to have it all.”

I sank down on a rock, gulping in breaths of air. “You’re complicating things.”

He placed a hand on top of my head. “Things are only as complicated as you make them out to be. There’s nothing complicated about the way I feel about you. I love you. It’s as simple as that. Everything else is just details.”

“Okay.” I took another sip of water, focusing on the stream moving down my throat. I stood. “You’re right. Some things are simple. Right now, I want you to finish the water.” I pushed the bottle into his hands “It’s as simple as that.”

A low laugh rumbled in his chest. “I’m glad to see you still have that fire I love so much. Don’t let anything or anyone take that away from you.” He lifted the bottle to his lips and took a swig.

I turned my gaze to the sparkling sea in the distance, and watched the waves crashing and frothing on the shore. So far away and yet so near. I could almost reach out and touch the water, dive into its coolness, allow myself to be submerged, to be refreshed.

Would I ever be able to do that again?

We continued our hike around the rim of the volcano, in search of a shortcut to the village. I walked a few steps in front of Owen so he wouldn’t try to hold my hand again.

The more time we spent together, the more vulnerable to him I became. His touch was something I wanted, even craved, but I couldn’t give in to it.

After a while, I bent to adjust my sandals. My heart crashed when I heard the voice I dreaded the most. It slithered like a snake and wrapped itself around my throat.

I straightened up so fast, something popped in my back. My movements lacked energy as I turned to look behind me.

Alvin had changed since the last time I saw him—his hair was tousled and there were cuts on his dirt-smeared face. The venom in his eyes was like molten lava. His gun was pointed at Owen.

“You damn traitor.” He took a step closer. “You think you can steal my wife and not suffer the consequences?”

With each step Alvin took forward, Owen took one back, nearer to me, the way he had done when we spotted the snake.

“You’re full of shit. She was never meant to be your wife. You played her all along. You infected her with HIV, you stinking bastard.” The direction of Owen’s movements changed. Fear clawed my spine when he charged toward Alvin. I closed my eyes at the crunch of his fist as he slammed it into Alvin’s face.

The gun dropped from Alvin’s hands and slid out of his reach, bouncing off a rock on the ground. Owen darted for it, but before he could touch it, Alvin tripped him.

Owen fell face first into the ground only to flip onto his back again.

“No,” I screamed when Alvin dropped to Owen’s side, his fist catching Owen’s nose.

Blood.

No. No.

Owen could get infected.

Alvin’s bloody fist caught Owen’s jaw next.

I wanted to run past as they battled, to grab the gun and save Owen, but my legs had forgotten how to move. By the time the life returned to them, Owen lay defeated on the ground and the gun was back in Alvin’s hands. He stood over Owen, one leg on each side of his body. Owen’s face was turned to the side, his cheek on the ground. His eyes met mine, and I understood every word he didn’t say.

I’m sorry.

An electric current of fear raced through my entire body. My eyes pleaded with him not to give up.

“Look at you.” Alvin aimed the gun at Owen’s head. “You’re still the pussy you were in college. I gave you a chance to run, to be smart, but you didn’t take it. Now there’s no way out but death.” He punctuated each word with a wave of the gun, and each time, my heart came to the verge of stopping. I expected to hear a bang, waited for the jerk of Owen’s body as the bullet hit him.

Think, think, think. Do something.
My gaze swept the ground for something, anything that could be of help.

Alvin glanced at me and then at Owen. “No one fucks my bitch and lives. Why the fuck did you have to get in the way?” A shower of spit sprayed from his mouth, sparkling in the sunshine.

“She’s not… your bitch,” Owen croaked.

“Tell that to the bullet.”

My body tensed when I heard a click, one that signaled death. He was going to shoot. He would kill Owen, continue torturing me, and then kill me as well.

A flicker of rage expanded inside my chest, growing, extending until it reached my hands, the tips of my fingers. A shot of adrenaline rushed through me, pushed me to the edge of insanity, pushed me to act before I could think.

The sound of the gunshot hit my ears hard just as the rock I hurled at Alvin caught him above the ear. He reeled, and the bullet landed in the dirt next to Owen’s head.

He jerked his head toward me. Blood trickled down his jaw.

I wasn’t done with him yet. My hands curled into fists. My foot lifted off the ground. One step. Two steps. He was coming for me now, gun raised. Of course he would. I wouldn’t let it stop me. I had a plan. I pulled every ounce of energy from each corner of my body, felt it thumping in the center of my heart. His eyes widened when I shot like a bullet toward him, switching my run to a half circle moments before I reached him, barreling into his body with a scream that scratched my throat. The impact of my body knocked him off balance, just as I’d planned. He tried but failed to catch himself, to stop his body from tipping over the edge of the volcano and into the caldera, a tortured yell and his gun following him down.

I shook as I watched him fall, anger and terror swimming in his black eyes.

He landed with a thud twenty feet below. Then he lay still.

I didn’t waste time wondering whether he was dead or just unconscious. I ran to Owen, who was already getting to his feet. A quick look at his hands and face told me he didn’t have any cuts from the fight, and the blood on his face had come from his nose. No critical injuries.

I sent up a silent prayer of thanks and helped him up, traces of adrenaline still humming in my veins.

“He almost killed me. You saved my life.” He drew me into a hug.

I pulled away. “You saved mine first. Let’s get out of here.”

Chapter Fifteen

Was Alvin dead? Did he survive the fall into the caldera? We had no time to wonder, to discuss the possibilities. He had taken us by surprise, and we were more ready than ever to get off the island and as far away from him as possible. Nothing could stop us: not the stubborn heat, nor the thorns slicing our ankles. We held hands, and we ran. When we tripped, we picked ourselves up and continued on.

Our efforts were rewarded when we finally made it to the edge of the farm. Relief didn’t come easy, though; I was focused on the fire spreading through my chest as I attempted to breathe.

I clutched my stomach and looked over at an equally exhausted Owen, who was sweeping his sweat-damp hair from his forehead. One of his hands rested on the wooden fence.

“You okay?” He breathed the words rather than spoke them.

I gave a small nod. Talking required energy I didn’t have. I placed my hands on my lower back and drew in a long, painful breath, hoping it would chase off the dizziness.

“We did it.”

His weak smile had a strong effect on me.

I turned toward the farmland, our temporary destination, sagging against the fence as sudden relief washed over me.

From where we stood, we could not see the huts, which were hidden from view by rows of lush plants that emitted a strong smell I recognized but could not place. I pressed the palms of my hands to my eyes and removed them again. My vision had cleared, and I recognized plants that stretched out in rows before us.

“You do know what those are, right?” Owen asked in a dusty voice.

“I thought I was mistaken.” The first time I encountered a cannabis plant was back in college, when another student was suspended for growing weed in his dorm room. But I had never come across cannabis being grown on such a large scale before.

“Nope.” Owen leaned in closer to the fence and touched one of the leaves, rubbing it between his fingers. “Definitely weed.”

“What should we do? Should we—”

“We have no choice. We’re here for one reason only. We’ll get in there, take what we need, and get out.”

“Okay. Let’s do it.” The thought of fresh water on my tongue banished the fear of getting caught. “How far do you think your yacht is from here?”

Owen rubbed his chin. “From here to the beach it should be around two to three hours. After that, it shouldn’t take us more than an hour to reach the dock.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad.” I undid my tangled ponytail, knotted strands of hair snagging on the elastic band, and retied it.

“But we have to get going. We should try and get to the beach before dark.”

The low fence was easy to climb over. Owen went first, and then helped me over it.

The moment my feet touched the ground, an invisible weight slid off my shoulders. On the other side of the fence, Alvin felt far away.

Exhaustion and thirst had dragged us down, and we had to hold on to each other as we trudged down one of the paths.

“Stop!” A warning voice behind us ordered, not even ten minutes into our walk.

“Shit,” Owen murmured.

Panic spurted through me as Owen and I spun around.

“What are you doing here? This is private land.”

The short, muscular man had dark brown curly hair that was tied on top of his head in a bun. The hair on the sides of his head was shaved. He looked to be in his early forties.

My gaze ran over his grey t-shirt and dirty jeans, stuffed into what looked to be secondhand combat boots. Both his hands were planted on a rifle, aimed straight at us. He was chewing something, maybe gum.

A cold knot formed in my stomach that pulsed with each step he took toward us.

“Put your hands up.” Owen dropped our now empty burlap sack to the ground. He lifted his hands, palms facing outward. I followed his lead.

The man stopped walking about six feet away from us, dropped the rifle to his side, and stood with his legs spread apart, feet planted firmly to the ground. His chocolate eyes studied our faces, eyebrows meeting in the middle. “I asked you a question. What business do you have on my land?”

“We didn’t come to bring you trouble. We need your help. Someone is trying to kill us.” Owen injected strength and boldness into his voice, but I heard the tremors, felt the cracks between the letters. I hoped the stranger didn’t.

The man bent his head to the side and narrowed his eyes as his gaze traveled from the top of my head to my sandals. I gritted my teeth so tight my jaw ached. The man’s eyes told me he didn’t believe Owen. Time for me to step in. Maybe he would listen to a frightened woman.

“He’s telling the truth. My husband is a murderer. He's after us.” Alarm bells still rang inside my head. Alvin couldn’t be dead.

“Chloe, don’t.” Owen’s voice was firm, but I refused to listen. He had risked his life enough for me—now could be my chance to save us both.

“If you don’t help us,” I continued, “we’re going to die. Please help. I’m begging you.”

The man spat his gum into the cannabis plants. “I hate liars. How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

“He hurt me… my body. I have proof. I can show you the wounds on my back.”

“You came from there?” The man glanced in the direction we came from.

“Yes,” Owen replied. “Her husband almost killed her, but I got to her in time. Now he’s after both of us. We’re not asking for much. Just some food and drink, then we’ll be on our way.”

The man made a sweeping movement with his rifle from back to front. “Walk.”

Hands still raised, we turned and walked. He and his rifle followed us.