What the Heart Needs (33 page)

“You probably thought it was so funny. You got the rich guy to fall for your young kitty.” Hannah almost snorted at Sally’s word for vagina. It was so infantile. So old-world. Who spoke like that? “But he is only a man. He has needs. Sexual needs. You were just a washrag to him you know.”

She looked up at Hannah as if annoyed at her silence. Then she reached out, grabbed an edge of the duct tape and ripped it savagely off. A yelp escaped Hannah’s mouth, feeling like the skin had been torn off her face.

“He’s going to end up with me. Not you. Not you. You just wait and see,” she said, turning and flying up the stairs.

Hannah sucked in a long held breath. Sally had been right. She wasn’t someone she would have suspected. Sally was… Hannah half-sighed, half laughed… Sally was just too old for someone like Elliott.

But the woman was clearly delusional. Unstable. And her life was in her hands. Hannah went to work again at her binds, crying and cursing as the porcelain dug deeper into her palms and the skin at her wrists finally gave up and broke. She could feel blood run down her palms and drip off her fingertips.

Time passed, a merciless silence wrapped itself around her as she struggled to break free. It must have been hours. She felt like she had been there for days.

The door flew open again and Hannah stilled the motion of her hands, tried to look innocent, scared.

“See?” Sally said, finally coming into view and Hannah’s mouth dropped open. “See now he will want me.”

“Oh my god,” Hannah said, her voice too small to be heard.

There was Sally, her usual straw-like blonde hair dyed black and straightened mercilessly like Hannah’s. And, Hannah realized feeling sick, she was wearing her clothes. The shirt James had sent her when she had spilled coffee on her’s.

“I was so mad when he gave you this shirt,” Sally said, making Hannah’s heart jump. Elliott? Elliott had sent her the shirt? “It looked awful on you with those big … breasts,” she spat the word like it was a curse. “It looks much better on me don’t you think?” her eyes shot up to Hannah’s. “I asked you a question.”

“Yes,” Hannah’s voice came out, crushed as if she had been strangled. “much better on you. Elliott will love it.”

A satisfied smile spread across Sally’s face.

Hannah tried to focus. Tell her what she wanted to hear. Placate her. Do whatever you have to do to keep her from getting angry. Hannah’s mind raced with the advice of a dozen television shows about kidnapping.

Sally’s hand reached up to play with her hair. Hannah could still smell the chemicals from the dye clinging to her. “I’m not a fan of this color. I had gotten used to the blonde. I dyed it that way after he married that Dan woman. He never noticed,” she said, her eyes looking angry, hurt.

“He never cared about Dan,” Hannah supplied, hoping it was the right thing to say.

“Just wanted him for his money,” Sally agreed, rolling her eyes. “Men can be so blind sometimes. But I hear they finally signed the papers this morning,” Sally said, almost to herself. “He gave her everything she wanted. Just to get her out of his life once and for all.” Then a weird look crossed her face. “For you. He wanted her out for you. You. You stupid whore!”

She ran at her then and Hannah helplessly pulled on her hands. The duct tape had rolled up but was still tight. With one last savage pull, she felt it dig into her wrists and one of her hands slip free. She pulled her arms from around her back with a cry of pain, but Sally was already there, slamming her against the beam.

Her head hit with a sickening thud and she felt her vision flash in and out, and her body sinking toward the floor. But then there were hands at her neck. Tight. Impossibly tight. She felt sick. Her throat constricting. She reached out her hands, grabbing at Sally’s face, scratching her skin. Hannah had the satisfaction of hearing Sally cry out in pain but her hands gripped tighter and Hannah could feel herself getting lightheaded. Her thumbs found Sally’s eyes and she pressed. Pressed.

And screamed, releasing her hold on Hannah.

She tried to run. Stumbled backward a few times. But then Sally was back again. Her fists swung out, catching Hannah on the jaw and sending her toward the floor. She hit the cement hard but she pulled herself upward, trying to scramble back. She was so close to the steps. She just needed to get to the steps.

Then all she heard was screaming. Blood-curtling, savage wild animal screaming. She realized that it was coming from her. She was screaming for help. Screaming and screaming. Because out of the tiny rectangle windows she could see blue and red lights flashing.

Someone had found her.

Then Sally crashed down on top of her, grabbing her face on both sides. Hannah’s arms went up, grabbing Sally’s. But then Sally slammed her face backward. She had a second to realize her head was about to be bashed on the floor before it was and there was nothing else.

Twenty-One

She felt the drowning feeling again. It was the next thing she felt, the faraway underwater sensation. She felt herself coming up to the surface. Her eyes opened slowly, squinting at her surroundings.

Bright. Everything was bright and white. There was a window to her right. The sun was high in the sky, blinding. She looked down at her hands, which she found were gloriously numb, and wrapped in clean white gauze. She was in a bed with white sheets. In a pink and blue striped gown with a thin white blanket tucked around her waist. There was a needle and a tube sticking out of the crook of her arm.

A hospital. She was in a hospital.

The realization dawned and brought with it the memories of what had happened. The break-in. The fight. Her bloody hands. Drugs. The trunk of a car. More drugs. Waking up much like this, disoriented and tied up in a basement. Freaky Frankenstein Sally trying to dress like her. Her sore wrists. The police lights. Sally on top of her about to bash her head against the ground.

A hand came down on her left arm and she jumped, struggling away. A scream rose up in her chest but nothing came out, her throat raw and raspy from screaming before.

“Hannah. Hannah baby, you’re safe. It’s okay. You’re safe. I’m here,” a voice said at her side and she looked up from the hand to see Elliott there.

He looked tired, she realized. There were purple bruises under his eyes. His skin was pale. His suit wrinkled.

“It’s me,” he said, his voice calm and reassuring. “You’re in the hospital. Okay?”

Hannah felt her head nodding and realized there was something there. Her hands went up to feel, but she realized that they were bandaged too. She dropped them with a sigh.

Elliott’s hand rubbed her arm gently, trying to calm her. “You have a bandage on your head too. There needed to be some stitches but everything is fine. You’re fine. Scrapes and bruises. Your wrists were the worst but they have that all covered. Don’t worry.”

Hannah felt tears welling up in her eyes for reasons she couldn’t name. Overwhelming relief. The hangover from all the fear, the adrenaline. Before she knew it she was sobbing, pulling herself into a seated position, her body jumping with her sobs.

Then she felt Elliott’s arms go around her, his body coming up next to her’s and the bed making an odd sound at the extra weight. He pulled her against his chest, his hands gentle. “Shh. I got you, baby. You’re going to be alright. Nothing is ever going to happen to you again. I promise. I promise.” He said the words firmly, like a vow. Like a vow he intended to keep.

A nurse came in then, a worried expression on her face as she clucked at the monitors. She hit a button twice and Hannah felt herself falling into a dead sleep.

She woke up again later, clearer. Sharp even. Fully alert the second her eyes opened. The world outside was dark again and she realized they had drugged her to keep her calm. She had slept the entire day away. There was a gasping sound and Hannah found her parents next to her, their hands on her legs, looking at her with relief.

“Hey baby,” Moira said, her eyes tearing up.

“Mom. Dad,” she said, the words coming up like broken glass from being choked.

“Don’t talk,” her dad pleaded, his face looking older than she remembered. “Everything is alright. You have ten stitches on the back of your head. More on your hands and wrists. A dislocated shoulder. And your throat is badly bruised. It is going to hurt for a while,” he told her, his voice clear but wavering. Her amazing, stoic father. She knew she could count on him for a lowdown of events. “They got that lunatic. You’ll never have to worry about her again.”

There was rustling from the other end of the room and she saw a figure rising. Xander Rhodes, she realized with a start.

He winked at her. “Heya sweetheart. You’re a mess,” he said, smiling at her with his impossible amused, inappropriate grin.

“You look beautiful,” a voice protested, sounding annoyed. Hannah felt herself smile. Tad. “Unlike me,” he said and Hannah noticed the angry purple bruises under his eyes, the slightly bent curve to his nose. “Elliott did it. It was meant for him,” Tad said, nodding toward Xander.

Hannah nodded, glancing around quickly. He wasn’t there. She had a foggy memory of crying into his chest in the hospital bed. But maybe that had just been a drug-induced dream.

“He just ran out for a few minutes,” Moira said, noticing her daughter’s change in expression. “He has been here the whole time. He called us from the ambulance with you coming from… well anyway. And he was here hunched over your bed when we arrived. He’s paced the floor into disrepair I’m afraid,” she said, smiling at her daughter. “That’s one fine man you have there you know.”

Almost as if on cue, Elliott stepped into the doorway, looking shocked at the scene in front of him. There was a box clutched in one of his hands, the top flaps half open.

“Well then,” Moira said, standing and gesturing toward the others. “We are all going to go grab a coffee downstairs.”

Tad kissed her on the cheek on his way out, promising to bring a portable dvd player and chick flicks for them to watch the next day.

Xander winked at her as he passed, slow, cocky. “Catch you around, sweetheart.”

Her mother blew her a kiss and promised to be back in twenty. Her father offered her a tight-lip smile, eyeing Elliott as he passed like he was some scientific specimen.

Then just like that, they were alone. The silence hung heavy. Hannah noticed the uncharacteristic slouch in Elliott’s shoulders. “Hey baby,” he said, his voice sounding sad. “I got something for you.” There was a sheepish smile on his face as he came up to the bed, setting a hip on it and placing the box on her lap.

She went for it with her bandaged hands but Elliott’s hands were there first, pulling the flaps open. Hannah’s face lit up with a surprised gasp. There nestled in the cardboard box was little Ricky. Alive and well.

Elliott reached into the box, taking the rodent gently between his hands. Ricky let out a few quick, happy squeaks as Elliott held him up for Hannah to see. “Tad mentioned that she took him. I asked Xander to have his cop friend bring me back so I could get him for you.”

Tears welled up and spilled over. “Thank you,” she said, sounding strange and raspy.

“Don’t thank me. This was all my fault…”

“No,” Hannah said firmly. Her bandaged hand reached out and landed on Elliott’s leg. “It wasn’t. She was crazy, Elliott.”

Elliott looked down, his eyebrows pulled together. Struggling with some emotion. Ricky squirmed in his hands and he placed him back in the box. “James is going to come pick him up and take care of him until you’re better. He had all sorts of these weird things growing up.” Hannah was about to speak when Elliott’s head turned toward her, his eyes falling on hers. “Hannah… I… I love you.” he said, the words full of all their heavy ramifications.

Hannah’s mouth fell open, her heart swelling in her chest. She put her hand up to the side of his face, the white gauze making him look even paler. “I love you too,” she admitted, sure of nothing else in the world.

Elliott smiled, a weak but hopeful smile. He leaned forward, holding her face between his hands and kissed her lips as if she were glass.

“Hey I have some good news,” he said, his smile warm and his eyes bright.

“What?”

“Well I find myself with an opening for an office manager position…”

Hannah’s laugh was instant and contagious.

Maybe he wasn’t so impossible afterall.

Epilogue

Hannah sat on the edge of their bed pulling her shoes on, trying not to seem overly suspicious. Elliott was dressed, his hair still damp from the shower.

It had been three months since crazy Sally kidnapped her. Elliott had stayed by her bedside day and night for a week until she was released and then informed her that he had already moved all of her possessions into his house.

They had settled into an odd domestic ease. Hannah walked downstairs the first morning to find that his fridge was actually fully stocked and she had taken up cooking seeing as he wouldn’t allow her to return to work.

“I don’t see why we have to do this,” Elliott said, grabbing his wallet and stuffing it into his pocket.

“Well because you need an assistant to run your errands.”

“But you…”

“Will kill you if I have to pick up your dry cleaning without a thank you anymore,” she cut in, smiling at him. She knew he was trying to keep her under his thumb, worried unnecessarily about her safety. “I love you, but I’m not fetching your coffee anymore.”