Wild (22 page)

I licked my lips and relished the distraction, maybe it was a bunch of teenagers partying. I turned and headed back to my truck, tossing it into reverse and pulling out of her driveway. The girl that’d left me, the second girl in my life to shatter me, except now it was for an entirely different reason, and so much more painful.

I drove the few miles down the old road toward the lighthouse. There was one more house down at the end of the road before the small trail led to the lighthouse. My eyes narrowed when I pulled into the small parking area to find a shiny black Lexus covered in a soft layer of snow.

“What the fuck?” I mumbled out loud. Definitely not teenagers, not even a car anyone from around here owned. My boots sunk into the snow around me as I scanned the blanket of white for tracks. Nothing, which meant the car had been here for a while. Suspicious, without a doubt. The sky continued to darken as I made my way along the old trail to the lighthouse. As I broke through the trees and the shoreline opened up, I got a better view of the rambling structure and the small light that burned in the window. It still didn’t make any sense why someone would be here on Christmas Day.

I considered calling Hank, the police chief, but hated to interrupt him on the holiday if there was no reason for it. I picked my way along the old breakwater that was nearly crumbling. The ice and snow made it more than treacherous and I thought about turning back and just letting the cops deal with it. I finally reached the building and stood hidden at one corner when I pulled my phone out of my pocket and started to dial Hank’s home number. Just as I reached the end, a blow hit me in the back of the head and I landed on the rocks supporting the pier. I groaned and tried to press up on my arms before another blow landed at the back of my scalp and everything around me faded to black.

“Guy’s got balls, I’ll give him that. How many times did you let him fuck you, Natasha? You got a gold-plated pussy? Never with me. Like a dead fish underneath me whenever I had you. Only time I got anything out of you was when I tied you up like a cheap fucking whore and the fear in your eyes made my dick hard. So tell me, why’d he come after you? Your knight in shining armor. Let me tell you, Natasha, no one can protect you like I can. You know that; I did that for you. I fucking pulled you out of that hellhole in Ohio. An alcoholic father and a no-good mother. I took care of it, even if it wasn’t in the best interest of my career. I took care of you, and you repay me by fucking around with some backwoods fisherman?” He reared one arm back and smacked me across the cheek. Tears sprang into my eyes as I tried to stiffen against another oncoming blow.

My heart thudded uncontrollably. It felt like my ribs would crack and my heart would race right out of my chest cavity. Like it would lie slowly beating on the floor until the last beat thudded out, another victim to Jeremy’s abuse. Just one in a long line.

“Wait, Lane is here?” I screamed as realization dawned. It was then I lifted my eyes to watch the man I’d been running from, a crowbar in his hand, his fists trembling with rage, as he gazed out the small window.

He’d said I deserved the punishment. It was brutal, but I was foolish to think I could outrun him. I’d been running for months, stopping for a while in backwoods towns. It wasn’t until I’d come to Rock Island that I thought I could settle down. I’d so foolishly thought it was far enough away, but nothing would ever be. There would never be any escaping the man I’d promised my life to all those years ago, when I’d been young and impulsive, blinded to the monster that lived inside him.

“He’s here, but not soon enough. And I took care of him. The way the waves are pounding I imagine he’s already been washed out to sea.” A cold grin lifted Jeremy’s dark features. He’d sucked me in with his handsome and debonair face, perfectly parted hair, the sharp angle of his jaw, and long line of his nose. But what most didn’t see, what I didn’t decipher until we were well into our marriage, was the sinister glow in his eyes when he raged. It was like he took enjoyment from my punishment. I assumed he did, since he doled it out so often.

And he’d ended every punishment with taking me. Making me his again, and this time had been no different.

“Lane. What? What did you do?” I choked out as realization poured through my system. “Is he . . .?”

“Dead? I had no choice, Tasha. He followed you out here, tried to take you from me. You’re my wife.” Jeremy’s voice softened and some twisted, heavily manipulated piece of my heart ached with the pain I saw glimmering in his dark eyes. “I can only say you’re traveling overseas for so long. The press was getting suspicious. I need you back. I waited, had to bide my time. You knew I couldn’t come and get you until election season was over. But that’s behind us now. We’ll go home as soon as the storm clears, your boyfriend is long gone and behind us, and you’re back, mine again. We’ll go back to our old life. Try for a baby . . .” His hand came out to cup my cheek. “Just like you always wanted. Let’s do that, baby. It’ll be good for the press; they’ll eat it up.”

“Don’t touch me,” I growled and jerked my head away. There was only so much I could do. I sat bound in a chair, my hands wrapped with zip ties behind me, my ankles tied to the chair legs. Jeremy had been ready, been prepared to do what was necessary to get me back. I only imagined he’d dreamed of this night for months, plotting this exact moment when he’d finally get me back.

“You cunt. You think anyone else would want you? You’re a whore, Natasha. Running around the backwoods of Maine, fucking someone else when you’re married to a senator? You think I wouldn’t catch you just because you change your hair color?” He approached and rubbed a lock of hair that had fallen from my dirty ponytail. I could see what was happening, knew his patterns. This was the eye of the storm. He was calm, thinking it over in his head. The worst was yet to come.

“It’s all over now, baby.” He turned and whipped the small door of the lighthouse open to reveal a figure slumped over on the rocks, limbs splayed out unnaturally, waves licking at the fingers of one hand. The moonlight splashed across the rocks and a bright red knit cap lit up like a beacon.

Lane.

It was true. He’d come and Jeremy had attacked him. Taken him down, possibly forever. Suddenly, a world absent of the good and loving man who had tried so desperately to free me of my past seemed suffocating.

Tears stained my cheeks as I wondered if Jeremy would kill me too. He could spin it in the press that we’d gone on holiday and I’d drowned. I knew he could achieve it. I suspected that it wouldn’t have been the first time. Only I knew the circumstances around my mother’s death were questionable. Jeremy knew she’d hated him; knew she’d begged me to leave every time we spoke, and maybe he sensed I was getting close to doing it.

Killing her, orchestrating her death however he’d done it had worked. It’d put the fear in me and I’d stayed another two years before finally deciding to escape him.

I’d lied to Lane, or at least by omission hadn’t confessed the truth. I hadn’t
been
married, I still
was.
But keeping my identity a secret had been essential, for my safety and Lane’s. Little did Lane know that by researching, finding out what I’d had to hide, had put him in danger too.

Jeremy had had someone watching me for weeks. Watching me come and go from the library, staying the night at Lane’s house. Stupidity raged when Jeremy had told me everything he knew. He even had pictures of Lane and me together, sharing breakfast at his dining room table when we’d just gotten out of bed one Sunday morning. Kissing, embracing, smiling, loving.

Fear clutched at me, so palpable I could hardly breathe. I’d begged him to leave Lane alone, promised not to see him, do anything he wanted if he wouldn’t put a target on Lane’s head. I was so stupid to involve anyone else. And now Lane was another victim to Jeremy’s twisted rage and power.

Jeremy slammed the door on Lane’s lifeless body. Sobs wracked my body and pain ached in my throat as I caught the gleam of dark red blood on the crow bar he still held in his hands. Lane’s blood.

My throat contracted as I realized Lane was dead.

Jeremy would never have let me walk away. He was stealing me back, taking me home to play the perfect trophy wife. I would never escape him and the one person that had made me happy was now dead because of my foolish assumption that I could escape the monster I’d married.

“Wake up,” Jeremy grunted as he untied my legs. I peeled my eyelids open, frozen from the tears that had sealed them shut. I didn’t know how long I’d been out, just a few minutes, I thought, based on the angle of the moonlight flashing through the window.

“Please, Jeremy, no,” I moaned as he worked on untying my wrists. I knew what untying me meant. He was going to take me again. Make me his all over again and erase any trace that Lane had been there. The pain shattered my chest when my eyes fluttered closed as he laid me on the old mattress and went to work pulling my jeans down my legs. He smoothed his palms down my thighs and then dug his fingertips in, adding bruises upon bruises that he’d already left there yesterday and the day before. He liked the evidence that I was his and his alone.

I clenched my eyes shut tight as he pulled the denim off my legs and tried desperately to imagine Lane’s soft hands working down my legs. His sensual lips kissing along my breastbone, his fingertips trailing up my torso. His gentle tongue invading my mouth and kissing me like he owned my heart.

In the last three days, I’d come to realize he did.

Fully.

I hated it.

I hated it not because I didn’t like loving him, not because I liked it so much, I couldn’t deny it. Couldn’t stay away. I hated it because I’d placed him in harm’s away and the entire fault lay on my shoulders.

“So fucking sweet. You’re mine, Tasha. Always mine. I hate that that asshole has been here, his dick inside you, his lips on you.” He thrust his fingers between my legs and I winced with pain. Jeremy was never gentle, never had been, but he’d been more painful than ever these last few days when he’d taken me. Or maybe I was just used to Lane’s gentle, loving touch, so gentle even when he was rough. So cautious, aware of only what I could take and what I was willing to give. He’d seen the path to my heart, even when I’d tried to lock him out. He’d seen it and taken it, and being without him the last few days, returning to the hell that had been my life the past eight years, had me aching with love for the man that had only wanted what was best for me.

I swallowed and a pained groan escaped my throat as my insides seared with pain. I clenched my fists into the mattress, trying to get control, willing myself to drift off to a safe, warm place in Lane’s arms. I tightened my fists around the mattress painfully until something bubbled up inside me. Rage overtook my body, claimed my system, had me gritting my teeth and refusing to let Jeremy take me again.

I had to fight. I deserved to fight. I couldn’t be Jeremy’s victim anymore, even if it killed me trying to escape. I opened my eyes, my jaw set and determined. I took in the sharp angle of my husband’s face as he tore his fingers in and out of my body, his eyes focused on where he plunged in and out of me.

My eyes darted around the darkened room, searching for anything to grab onto, anything to overtake him. He’d left the bloody crowbar out of my reach; he wasn’t stupid enough for that. The only thing nearby was the chair he’d had me tied to. An old metal chair was just inches from the mattress.

Jeremy’s head shot up, his eyes dark and haunted as he peered at me. “Missed you so much, Tasha,” he whimpered as he popped the button on his jeans and pulled the zipper down.

“I missed you too.” Tears pooled in my eyes as I gazed at him, trying to convey all the love I once thought I’d had.

“God, baby.” He lined himself up between my thighs, one hand clutching the flesh at my hip as he teased the head of his erection at my entrance. My fist twitched and my heart thudded in my ears, louder than the waves pounding the lighthouse, so loud it was deafening. I thought of Lane slumped just outside the door, bleeding, hurt, possibly dead.

I sucked in one quick breath. “Take me, Jeremy,” I moaned. His eyes flicked up to meet mine, before his head slumped, resting against my chest. I grabbed for the chair leg as quickly as possible and swung the lightweight aluminum around to connect with his large body looming over me. The blow stunned him and knocked him off me. I swung again, connecting with his head. He fell to the ground with a groan. His eyes darted around the floor, looking for the crow bar, undoubtedly. I zeroed in on it first, launching across the floor and wrapping one hand around it.

He grabbed at my ankle and pulled me back to him. I flipped and swung and connected square with his jaw. The smooth skin covering his cheek split and blood fell down his face. My brain emptied of all sense of reason and I continued to swing and connect with his body anywhere I could. I went into a violent trance as I took out all the pain I’d suffered at his hands, taking my mother, my life, my youth, my trust—for taking it and abusing me.