Soul (3 page)

I push my arms out, trying once more to pull at the dress. Finally, it breaks free, and I slam into a hard body. My eyes flutter open, and I’m no longer on the beach. The dank smell of must and mold along with sweat and man enter my senses, demolishing the ocean air and beach where Chase was in my dream. The sound of my breath is loud against the slick neck of a man. Not a man. My captor.

“Thank God you’ve come to your senses,” Daniel says into my neck kissing the column.

Nausea stirs in my belly. “What?” I heave against him realizing that the top half of my dress has been alternately cut and ripped open. Danny’s holding up a pair of scissors; they reflect the light of the single bulb above my head. Like a frightened animal, I skitter back, the pulley system above my head shrieking as metal grates across metal. My back hits the cold concrete. Instinctively, I cross my arms over my chest. The chill of the room seeps deep into my bones. With the top half of my dress ripped open, my breasts are exposed.

Daniel’s eyes run all over my chest. I swallow reflexively, trying to push the vomit back down to where it came from. If he touches me, I may throw up on him.

“You’ve always been beautiful, princess, but seeing your body like this, bare for me, reminds me of so many good times. Do you remember how I loved on you?”

I shake my head. “Danny, no, you do not want to do this.” I can hear the panic in my voice betraying fear and rejection.

He smiles wide. “Of course I want to. But, you’re too dirty. I brought you these.” He sets a package of baby wipes, a white tank top and a pair of booty shorts down on the bed. They could almost classify as underwear. “I want you to remove that fucking disgusting dress, wipe off your entire body, even
there
,” he looks down to where my legs meet, “and get all clean for me. If you’re real nice, maybe I’ll take you up to my motor home and make love to you in a real bed instead of this mattress.”

I gulp and steady my breath trying not to sound affronted. “When, Danny?”

“You just can’t wait to get back between the sheets with me can you?” He smiles wild and smarmy. It’s a smile I don’t recall ever seeing on him before. This is not the man I was in a relationship with for almost a year. This guy is cold, scary, and calculating. The Danny I knew was sweet, kind, and treated me like a fragile, priceless artifact.

“Danny, why are you doing this?”

His eyes narrow and his mouth purses into a tight bow. “You know why.” His gaze is white-hot fire and ready to burn through flesh. My flesh. “Obviously, the rich fucker manipulated and blinded you. You had diamonds in your eyes and forgot what a real man is. What having someone love and take care of you, the way you should be looks like.” He takes a few steps, pulls me into his chest. The chains clang as I’m slammed into his large body. “You will remember. No matter how long it takes. You’ll remember how good we are. How perfect it can be when it’s just the two of us.”

He yanks my head, and his lips are on mine. When he tries to push his tongue into my mouth, I bite down hard. “Motherfucking cunt!” He roars then backhands me. I fall onto the mattress, the side of my face pounding anew. “Clean yourself, get that dress off and wipe every ounce of your old life off of you; that is the last you’re ever going to see of it again. Because if you don’t learn real quick, Gillian, I’m going to get angry and be forced to teach you a lesson. Got it?” One of his knees hits the mattress as his hand forcibly drags my chin up to look into his eyes. The kindness I knew when we dated is gone. Hatred stares back. Daniel’s fingertips dig painfully into the bruised skin of my jaw. “Well?” he roars.

“Okay, okay, I get it. Thank you, Danny. I’ll get cleaned up,” I croak out.

“That’s a good girl. And eat your fucking food!” he spits, then pushes me back onto the mattress.

He storms to the door, opens it and slams it closed. I hear the lock clicking into place. The sound of that lock might as well be my death knell. Pain ripples through every surface of my face and down my chest. I block it out as much as possible and catch sight of a thin flannel blanket near the clothes. I grab it, toss the tank over my naked chest, and wrap my body in the blanket’s warmth. It isn’t much. Curling into a ball, I let the fear and shock swallow me whole.

Tomorrow, Daniel will rape me. I know it just as I know that Chase is doing everything in his power to find me. Believing that he will make it in time is useless. Today is day four. Daniel doesn’t look scared or worried that we’ll be found at all. As a matter of fact, he is rife with confidence. He believes beyond a shadow of a doubt that he is going to get me to fall in line. To be some ethereal representation of a relationship only he knows about within his mind.

The situation is bleak. I am dealing with a madman who not only wants me to love him, but also wants me to be this perfect vision he’s made me out to be. Only I don’t know what that is. I think hard. What would Dr. Madison say? It is possible he’d say that I should find a way to connect with the Danny I knew and the Daniel this man has become. Try to get him to remember the fun we had when we were together. Perhaps remind him what he is doing to me now goes against what we had in our relationship over a year ago. Might work. What else? Slowing my breathing, I close my eyes and let my thoughts wander.

Trying to find out why he’s the way he is would probably get me killed. Playing his game, attempting to be the perfect woman he believes I am in his warped version of reality, would likely be the best possible means for survival. Of course that option will also cause the most lasting damaging effects. There is no way I can ever willingly let that man put any part of his body in me. Now that I know what he is, who he is, just the thought of his hands on me forces the nausea in my gut to roil.

My stomach shudders and quakes, a physical earthquake inside. It’s too much. I barely make it up to heave over the side of the mattress before I’m spewing onto the concrete. It’s mostly bile and water, and it burns like I’ve swallowed a handful of razor blades. Violent, hacking coughs wrack my frame. Gradually, I’m able to take small, slow breaths, bringing my heart rate back to something akin to normal. I can still taste the vile stomach acid on my tongue.

Closing my eyes, little flickers of the dream I had earlier come back to me. Chase is back on the side of a cliff wearing his tuxedo. But when I hold my arms out to him during that dream he doesn’t come for me.

Chase doesn’t come for me.

Just a speck of doubt causes the tears to fall down the sides of my battered cheeks; the salt burns the abrasions on my skin. He’ll come for me. There’s one thing I know for certain in this world, and it is that Chase loves me. Together we forge an unbreakable bond that no one can destroy. Besides, Chase reminds me over and over when we’re faced with something challenging, or I feel the need to run away, that no matter what, he’ll always run after me, that he’ll find me and bring me home. He’s promised me this countless times over the past year.

I let thoughts of Chase, and how our life could be when he finds me settle the fear and allow me a moment’s reprieve from the filthy hell I’m in. With dry, cracked lips, I whisper a prayer over and over again.

“Chase, please find me. Please find me, Chase.”

T
he flight
to San Diego is just over an hour. Another hour without Gillian. Seventy more minutes that she is held against her will by a psycho. Both Agent Brennen and Thomas try to offer polite conversation. For the most part, I ignore them. Jack doesn’t even try. What he does do is ensure I have a tumbler filled with the amber liquor of the gods. The whiskey goes down smoothly but twists and churns in my gut. At some point in time, probably when I’m staring seemingly out the window, a turkey sandwich is set in front of me.

Is Gillian being fed?

“If her stalker claims he loves her…” I issue the statement into the cabin, but my eyes are directly on Agent Brennen. “He’ll feed her, right?”

The Agent clasps his hands and leans back into his seat. “Yes, I do believe he will. He will want her alive. Unless, of course, she fights him.”

Without responding, I stare out the window again. Unless she fights him. I smile thinking about my feisty redhead kicking, screaming, and throwing punches every chance she gets. She will definitely fight him. The miniscule moment of elation passes when it sinks in what he said. “What will happen if she fights him?”

The Agent licks his lips. I wait patiently, my body temperature heating from the inside out as real fear seeps deep into my bones. “Tell me,” I grate through clenched teeth.

“He’ll hurt her. Try to break her into submission.”

I close my eyes and lay my head against the soft leather.
I’m coming for you, Gillian. I will find you and bring you home.

The plane lands, and the four of us shuffle into the two vehicles. We could have taken the same car, but I need the space. With Jack, I can be myself. He doesn’t judge or share his thoughts and opinions unless asked. Over the years, we’ve experienced a great deal together forming a strong bond that goes beyond Jack’s service to me. He’s the only man I’ll ever trust to protect my life, and the one man whose opinion I trust above all others. I can always count on an honest, straightforward response regardless of the circumstance.

“Do you think she’s alive?” I ask him from the back seat of the SUV.

Jack’s eyes meet mine in the review mirror. “I’m afraid I can’t answer that. It would be speculation at best.”

“I’m asking you if you
think
she’s alive. Not whether or not you know it to be fact.” My tone is harsh, cold.

“Chase…” he warns.

“Why don’t you like her?”

Jack’s shoulders stiffen and his jaw clamps down as he maneuvers the car through town, to the outskirts where Daniel McBride’s land is located. I wait, watching the subtle nuance of the man I’ve come to know better than any other. My one true confidant, aside from Gillian. He’s considering how to respond to me and something about it makes me angry. Over-the-bend, pull-out-a-gun, and shoot-somebody type rage.

“You’re delaying. Why?” I finally ask.

He clears his throat. “Because you are taken with her.”

“Again. You’re evading the question. I’ve been taken with people or things before.”

His eyes find mine in the mirror, and he shakes his head. “Not like her.”

“Dammit, Jack. Answer me? Why do you not like Gillian?” I’m exasperated and ready for a fight. My blood is pumping, heart pounding, and I feel better than I have in four days. Alive. I feel alive.

Jack’s brows narrow. “It’s not that I dislike her.”

“Then what is it? God damn it! Admit it. She has felt it since day one. You have avoided all conversation when it comes to her over the past year. And when I told you I was going to marry her, you didn’t congratulate me. You couldn’t even spare a handshake. As a matter of fact, you’ve never said a kind word about her. So what the fuck is it about Gillian Callahan…”

He cuts me off. His tone his tight, firm, and crackling with frustration. The only other time I’ve seen him break his titanium emotional exterior is when Megan fucked me over on our wedding night. “Gillian is perfect for you.” The words come out of his mouth sounding sour and bitter. “Beautiful, smart, driven and the type of woman every man with half a brain would bow down to secure.”

I’m about to lose my fucking mind if he doesn’t get to the point. “So what the fuck is the problem with her if she’s so damned perfect?” I lean forward and grip the back of the passenger seat in front of me digging my nails into the soft black leather.

“It’s not
her
. It’s what she does to
you
that I have a problem with.” His voice is a dull growl when he finishes. “Chase, that woman makes
you
weak.”

A
fter that revelation
in the car, I sit back and let the scenery roll by in swaths of black and midnight blue, splotched by flickering street lights. It is late, and down this path through the landscape, we haven’t passed a soul.

“Where are we headed?” I look down at my watch and realize we’ve been in the car for an hour. Sixty additional minutes that she’s been with him. I bite my tongue and hold in the desire to scream, roar, and destroy anything within a ten-mile radius.

Jack briefly looks into the rearview mirror. “The land is just outside of the Cuyamaca Mountains. Ideal place to hide if you ask me.” I nod. “Should be there in ten minutes.” Jack fiddles with the car and dials a number.

The buzz blasts through the silence followed by, “Agent Brennen,” delivered through the car’s surround sound.

“Agent Brennen, how do you want to handle this?”

Static crackles through the line as the agent fills us in on the plan. We’re going to park about a half mile from the property and walk up. If he sees any activity, he’ll call for reinforcements before we go in. Everything has to be by the book. Thank Christ he’s not in the car with us. I want to reach through the line and strangle him myself. By the fucking book, my ass. If I see anything suspicious, I’ll shoot first and ask questions later.

Jack ends the call and brings the SUV up to a covered area. “We’re close enough. The land should be just up that path,” he points through the window.

“You have your gun?” I ask.

“Guns? Yes.” He turns around and hands me a 9 mm. It’s the same gun I’ve shot a hundred times before. Jack has trained me well with this particular pistol, and at this moment, I’ve never been more grateful.

“Let’s go then,” I say while tucking the gun into the back of my jeans. I toss my suit coat on the seat, and Jack hands me a black zip up sweatshirt and Kevlar vest. Not my usual fine threads but it will do. Leave it to an ex-military sniper to know exactly what is needed.

We meet up with Agent Brennen and Thomas walking alongside the wooded edge. Eventually, we come to a clearing. It’s massive with woods surrounding the open space. A lone motor home sets in the middle of the wide enclosure. There are no lights on in the motor home.

“You two stay here; Detective Redding and I will go in first. Cover us from here. Stay hidden in that outcropping of trees. We’ll wave you over when the time is right.” Agent Brennen is efficient and tactical. He just earned a bit more respect from me.

Jack and I wait, guns drawn, and watch the two men creep onto the property. The moon is high and shines brightly on their exposed forms. A soft wind makes the leaves on the trees sway and sing a soft melody. Both Jack and I search for signs of movement. Thomas and Agent Brennen circle around the motor home, and I want nothing more than to storm the fucking place, open the door, and beat the shit out of the fucker who stole my woman, but I can’t. Adrenaline thunders through my veins making me hyperalert to every sound and subtle nuances of the woods surrounding our position. The snapping of a twig here, the rustling of an animal there, all coalesce into a myriad of sounds making my trigger finger twitch.

Agent Brennen opens the door to the motor home and goes in, Thomas hot on his heels. Nothing moves. Jack and I are dead silent waiting for something…anything to happen. I caress the trigger of my gun and lift it high, pointing directly at the motor home’s door. A figure emerges, my heart feels like it’s going to jackhammer out of my chest until the form enters the light of the moon. Thomas. His gun is down and he’s shaking his head. I slump against the tree I was standing near and take a few deep breaths. Jack is already in motion running across the overgrown grass.

When I meet up with them Thomas’s shoulders are slumped and he’s pushing a shaky hand through his hair. “He’s not here, but it looks as though he’s been here recently. There’s food in a cooler that’s still on ice. Someone has definitely been here and may come back. We need to head out, set up a perimeter. It could be anyone. A squatter or someone he’s renting the land to.”

“Wouldn’t there be records of that?” I ask.

“Not if he takes payment in cash. We need to look into this, notify the authorities in the area, find out if the motor home is in his name,” Agent Brennen adds. “and the rest of you need to fucking sleep.”

“Yeah, man, when was the last time you got some shut-eye?” Thomas adds.

“None of your goddamned business. Jack, let’s get a hotel. We’re coming back at first light to search this place.”

Jack tips his chin up and follows me back out of the woods.

The closest hotel is a shit hole, but I imagine it’s a hundred times better than what Gillian could be living in. Jack insists on connecting rooms. Says he has a bad feeling, and I’ve learned not to question those.

Jack enters the room and sets two pills on the sideboard, along with a bottle of water and a sandwich wrapped in plastic. Looks like the same sandwich I didn’t eat on the plane. “I’m not hungry,” I say even though my stomach growls loudly.

His eyes narrow. “You need to eat, drink the water, and sleep.”

“I told you, Jack, I’m not fucking hungry.”

Jack grips my shoulders hard and brings his face closer to mine, closer than he’s ever come at me before. “Look, you know I’m not usually the type to tell you what to do,”—his mouth pinches tight and his lips turn white—“but if you have any hope of bringing her home, you need to take care of yourself. Eat, take the fucking pills, and sleep it off. At first light we’re back on that land and smoking out whoever has been staying in the motor home. Got it?” He shakes my shoulders as if he was shaking sense into me.

I grit my teeth and look hard into his eyes. They are ebony holes of anger, not at me but
for
me. I give a tight nod, pick up the pills, and chug back the water. In what feels like a minute, I’ve demolished the sandwich never having tasted it.

She better be clean and dressed for me. I can’t wait to burn that disgusting wedding gown. Today I’ll build a bonfire, shackle her, and have her watch while it goes up in smoke just like the memory of the rich fucker. Then, I’ll bring her into my motor home and prove how much I’ve missed having her body under mine. It will be perfect. I’ll kiss every bruise, cut, and scrape, showing her that I can worship her again. Just like before, only this time she’ll know the real me. Maybe I’ll even tell her my real name. She’d like that. Something no one else knows.

Kissing her yesterday was close to perfection until she bit me. Of course, that was because she was overtaken with lust. It has been well over a year since I’ve put my lips on her pretty pink ones. And her scent. Fucking hell, that vanilla lingers even after four days. Maybe she’s just that sweet, her body naturally creating the nectar to drive me wild.

I wade through the backside of the woods from my property. I’ve got my car hidden in a dilapidated barn on the abandoned lot next to mine. You can never be too careful. And now that she’s been missing for four full days, I’m sure all resources are being put to finding her. I smile to myself knowing they never will. If they didn’t figure out who I was before the wedding, they most certainly wouldn’t have since.

As I’m walking through the woods, the moisture from the early morning dew mists across my face keeping me cool. The trees give the air a rich, natural, woodsy scent. Reminds me of the good parts of my childhood. Running through the trees, climbing them, hiding from my father. The memories of him are always hiding just under the surface and being here has not helped me to forget.

My father and I used to shoot paintball guns in these woods. At seven years old, I was a professional. My father was better and ruthless. He didn’t allow me to wear protective gear. Said that I needed to learn how to be a
real
man. After a session of paintball in the woods, I’d barely be able to crawl home. Mom wasn’t much help. She’d clean me up, of course, or she’d end up getting smacked around, but she didn’t care that her child was hurt. I’d stand there naked, embarrassed, my entire body covered in black and blue bruises, red welts, and open sores. My father liked to use the stronger bullets and higher air speed toward the end of our game. A game. Shooting your seven-year-old repeatedly with hundreds of paintballs, was a game to him. One I lost every time, but not before getting in several of my own shots.

When I was ten, we stopped playing. I’d gotten as good as he was, and he ended up receiving as many hits as I did. One of the best days of my life was seeing my dad walking as if he was a cripple back to our home. Only my mother didn’t fare so well that night. He beat the shit of her, which she then took out on me the next day. Back then, I’d never hit a woman. Now, I know what women are. All useless holes to fuck, to shoot your wad in as many times as a wet pussy could take. Not my princess though. Her skin is white like an Angel’s. Her pussy is soft, pink, and snug. I shake with desire, recalling the last time I was inside her tight sheath.