False Security

by Angie Martin

  He picked up the phone to call his brother, Cory. He would need a bit more time off if he was going to figure out how to get Rachel away from King.

  Chapter Fifty-seven

  A bath was exactly what Rachel needed. She relaxed beneath the bubbles, allowing the hot water to soothe her aching muscles and relieve her tired mind.

  Shortly before she turned nineteen, Donovan suggested having both the bathroom and bedroom remodeled, as they had remained the same since she moved to the estate. Rachel declined his offer, and wondered if he would ever understand that his money, which could buy her the world and all of its material possessions, meant nothing to her.

  She simply wanted him. She wanted to wake up next to him every morning after sleeping beside him, something that had still never happened. She wanted him to whisk her away and marry her, announcing their love to the world. And someday, she wanted to have children with him, raise a family, and be a family. Above all, she wanted a fairy tale with him.

  But not long after he suggested the remodel, he struck her in the library. Then, what she thought would be an isolated incident, happened again. And again, and again.

  Her whole world changed that night, she thought. With the bathwater cooling, she lifted her head from the pillow. A thin layer of dissolved bubbles and soap coated the top of the lukewarm water. Paul would be back soon, and then she could tell him everything that was happening and seek some much needed words of wisdom.

  Stepping out of the tub, Rachel heard her bedroom door open and shut. Paul always knocked first, but sometimes Donovan came in without announcing his presence. Smiling, she dried off and slipped on her silky, black bathrobe. Donovan most likely wanted to spend time with her after the tense morning with Jonathan. She welcomed having time to not only spend with him, but also open up to him.

  Rachel opened the door to her room, expecting to see Donovan. Instead, Eric sat on her bed. Her eyes fell down to the knife he twirled in his hands. The blade glinted as he maneuvered the handle between his fingers.

  “What are you doing in here?” she asked.

  “Waiting for you,” he slurred.

  When he stood and started toward her, Rachel identified his telltale signs of ingesting too much alcohol. “I think you need to leave,” she said.

  “I think I’m gonna stay right here. I think you’re gonna give me some of the same action you’re giving King.”

  Rachel maintained her composure, despite the tense cords rising out of her neck. She glanced at her surroundings in preparation to defend herself against Eric. Wearing only a bathrobe was not ideal for the situation, but she still took several steps toward him. She kept her knees bent in case he attacked her. “This is your last warning, Eric. You better leave now before you get hurt.”

  She sensed movement behind her, coming from her closet. Before she could react, someone grabbed her arms and pulled them tight behind her back. “No, Rachel. This is your last warning.” She recognized Aaron’s dull voice, and he pushed her toward Eric.

  Her mind raced, but it seemed an impossible situation. She tried to keep the fear out of her voice so she could reason with them. “Look, it doesn’t have to happen like this. You’ve obviously been drinking and made a mistake. You guys can still go now, and I promise Donovan will never hear about this.”

  Eric grabbed a fistful of hair on the back of her head and pulled it tight to hold her head still. “He’ll never hear about this anyway,” he said.

  As he moved his head toward hers, Rachel mashed her lips together. She squirmed, but she couldn’t move her face away from him. He pressed his lips on her mouth, and she squealed and groaned in protest. When she continued fighting against him, he released her hair from his hand. “You need to loosen up a bit.” He reached his hand down and untied her robe. “Or maybe it’s better to keep you feisty.”

  Rachel gathered all the saliva she could into the front of her mouth and spit in his face. She clenched her teeth and said, “Donovan’s going to kill you the second he comes back, and I’ll make sure you suffer.”

  Eric laughed and stepped back. He lifted the bottom of his shirt and wiped his face. “King doesn’t scare me.”

  “But I bet he scares you, Aaron,” Rachel said, hoping to get through to the weaker member of the duo.

  Aaron remained silent, and kept his grip tight on her arms.

  “That won’t work,” Eric said. “Aaron wants part of you as much as I do.” Grabbing the back of her head again, he pulled her head back until her neck was taut. Eric positioned the knife against the front of her neck and whispered in her ear. “But you better watch yourself, Rach. I have no problem slicing your throat open before you have the chance to scream for help.”

  He applied pressure to the knife. Rachel winced, and a soft cry escaped her lips as the blade bit into her neck. Warm, thick blood trickled from the burning wound.

  Eric pressed his fingers against the wound and coated his fingers with her blood. She cried out again with pain. He held his bloody fingertips up for her to see, then turned them around toward his mouth. His tongue snaked out and licked the blood off his index finger. He grinned and grabbed her face. Pinching her cheeks, he kissed her again.

  Rachel tasted her blood as he invaded her mouth. Reminding herself of the knife on her throat, she restrained herself from biting off his tongue.

  After he broke away from her, he said, “That’s much better. I knew you’d warm up to me eventually.” He kept the knife close to her neck and took a step away from her. He peeled back her robe, and Rachel’s insides curled away from her skin.

  “What have we got here?” He touched the tip of the blade to the nape of her neck. He swirled the knife in an S pattern down to her navel, his eyes swallowing every inch of her exposed skin. “Look at what King’s been keeping to himself.”

  If she could get Eric to back away from her, she could try to kick the knife away from him. Aaron would probably break her arm before she wrestled free, but that was an acceptable outcome to her when faced with the alternative.

  Eric used his free hand to unfasten the button on his jeans. “On your knees.”

  Bile rose in her throat and she stiffened her legs to stop Aaron from forcing her down.

  “Before you decide to try anything,” Eric said, “remember I’d love the chance to use this knife on you.”

  She struggled against him, but Aaron’s grasp was too strong for her to break free.

  “Get her down to where she belongs,” Eric said. “Just kick out the backs of her knees.”

  An idea rushed into her mind. She made eye contact with Eric. “You must be pissed off that I hurt you today.”

  Anger flashed across his face. “You got lucky.”

  “Think so? Then why don’t we fight again, right now? If I take you down, you and Aaron walk out of here and no one says a word.”

  “And if I win?”

  “You get what you came for.”

  “I’m already going to get what I came for.”

  She raised an eyebrow and showed him traces of a seductive smile. “Not willingly.”

  The corners of his mouth turned upward and his tongue flicked across his lips.

  “Damn it, Eric!” Aaron sounded panicked. “You said this would be quick!”

  Rachel kept her eyes locked on Eric’s while he considered her proposal. Having taken control of the situation, some tension flowed out of her body. There was no way he could beat her in a fight.

  “Let her go,” Eric said.

  “Are you crazy?” Aaron asked.

  Eric shifted his drunk, lustful gaze toward Aaron and narrowed his eyes. “I said, let her go.”

  Aaron released her. The moment she was free, she closed her robe.

  Her bedroom door burst open. Rachel turned her head and crouched on the ground. Paul aimed his gun at Aaron and fired two shots.

  Donovan shot Eric in his left kneecap. Eric fell to the ground, and the knife tumbled out of his hand. Donovan watched Eric writhe in pain
, and then fired a second shot into his right kneecap.

  Eric’s screams pierced the air, and Rachel’s hands flew up to cover her ears. He thrashed about on the ground, and Rachel couldn’t bring herself to look away. Donovan kicked the knife away from Eric before smashing the butt of his gun repeatedly on his head.

  Rachel crumpled to the ground with exhaustion, and Paul ran to her. He examined her neck, and his fingers probed the wound. “Are you okay?”

  Relief seeped from every part of her. “How did you know?”

  “I had a bad feeling about Eric after we left. When we got back, Tony told me Aaron didn’t show for rounds and Eric was drunk. I wasn’t sure where they were, and then I heard Eric’s voice in here so I got Donovan.” He touched her neck again. “How bad does it hurt?”

  Rachel didn’t realize how much the knife wound hurt until Paul asked. “It stings a lot.”

  “He didn’t...did he?”

  Rachel lowered her eyes and shook her head. “He would have if you hadn’t come along.”

  Paul laid his hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay, Rachel. He’ll get what’s coming to him, but I need to clean up your neck first. You need a few stitches, and probably something for the pain. I’m going to get my bag and—”

  “Paul,” Donovan said with a cold voice. He pointed to Eric. “Get him out of here and throw him in the trunk. We’re not done with him.”

  Paul stood and faced him. “Rachel’s seriously hurt and needs stitches right away.”

  “I’m sure she can take care of that herself. You and I have work to do.”

  Paul paused for a moment, but then took Eric’s arms and dragged him out of the room.

  Donovan stood over Rachel, and she hung her head low. He indicated Aaron’s body. “Tony and Joe will be down soon to help you clean up this mess. You are not to leave this room until this is all straightened out.”

  Rachel stared after him, long after he slammed the door shut. She didn’t ask for any of this, and she needed a chance to explain what happened.

  She retreated to the bathroom and washed off the blood Eric smeared across her face. She cleaned up the wound on her neck the best she could. The cut wasn’t as deep as she expected, but she did need some stitches. The pain started to set in as well. Paul would have to stitch her up and give her something for pain when they returned from dealing with Eric.

  From the way Donovan shot out his kneecaps one at a time, whatever they did to Eric would not be quick. For the first time, the thought of killing someone failed to bring her guilt. The blood tracks across her carpet from where Paul dragged him out brought her some comfort in knowing how much he would suffer before he died. Eric deserved every ounce of pain he was about to experience. She just wished she was there to savor it.

  After she dressed, she sat on her bed and stared at the hole in the back of Aaron’s head, grateful he had fallen face first. She tried to ignore the puddle of blood beneath him. She expected him to move, to come alive and start talking to her, but he remained motionless.

  How many times had she seen death before, actually pulled the trigger herself? This time was different, having known Aaron. She was sure what happened was Eric’s idea alone. Aaron was never anything more than Eric’s little follower, and he followed Eric right into death.

  Her bedroom door opened and Tony came in, with Joe right behind him. “Let’s get this cleaned up,” Joe said. He pointed to Aaron’s legs. “Rach, you take that end.”

  Rachel moved over to Aaron’s legs, with Tony right beside her. Every instinct screamed for her to stop what she was doing and run, but she kneeled at the end of Aaron’s body and slipped her hands under his stiff ankles. Movement flickered in the corner of her eye. She turned her head in time to see Tony’s gun descending.

  Chapter Fifty-eight

  Rachel’s first thought was she needed to take some aspirin. Her second thought was the jackhammer in her head was the least of her worries. Her blood ran cold, and she realized her nightmare was just beginning.

  Lying on her stomach and wearing only a pair of shorts, the air kissed goosebumps on the bare skin of her back. She tried to move her arms to push herself up, but an unseen restraint stopped her.

  She raised her head and looked toward the front of her bed. Rope secured her hands to the posts on her bed frame. She tugged against her binds, but the rope tightened around her wrists. She tried to move her legs to get into a better position to pull her hands free, but she was met with the same resistance as with her hands. Panic set in, but no matter how hard she tried, she could not free her hands or feet.

  Rachel rotated her head to the left, to the other side of her room. Donovan sat in a chair, his face almost unrecognizable beneath his anger. “You have lived here for thirteen years,” he said. “In that time, I have given you everything. Shelter, food, clothes, whatever you needed and so much more. I gave you me, Rachel, all of me. I love you, more than anyone or anything in my entire life.”

  Rachel’s face bunched up and tears stung her eyes. “Donovan, please, let me explain—”

  “Your recent behavior has been unacceptable, and the way you handled this situation tonight was inappropriate. I’ve lost two men over this incident. But what bothers me most is how informative Eric was before he died. He had a lot to say about Jonathan Thomas.” He spoke the name as if it contained poison.

  He knew about Jonathan, about the kiss that morning. Rachel’s chest tightened and fear seized her heart. Her breaths came in short bursts. She tried to speak, but couldn’t form any words.

  Donovan stood up and moved toward the closet, where she could no longer see him. “Apparently, I’ve not made myself clear before now, and you’ve left me with no choice. I don’t think there is any other way to impress upon you that you are mine, Rachel. You always will be mine.”

  When he came back into view, Rachel’s eyes widened and fixed on his hands. One held a red rag. The other held a coiled whip, one she recognized from a case in the waiting room. Tears spilled across her face and onto the bed. “No, Donovan, no, no, no.” The words came out between sharp breaths, and her entire body ached in anticipation of the whip touching her back.

  She jerked against the rope to break free, but it only tightened more and cut into her wrists and ankles. Blood ran down her skin, but she kept tugging as hard as she could. Donovan watched her try to free herself without a word.

  Her muscles slacked from exhaustion. “Donovan, please, don’t do this,” she said. “I love you, Donovan. You don’t have to do this. Please, Donovan.”

  Donovan walked over to the bed and knelt down. He stroked her hair. “I love you, too, Rachel, and that’s why I have to do this.”

  The smell of liquor overwhelmed her as he spoke, and his glassy eyes reflected his intoxication. Rachel lost all hope of reasoning with him. In all her years at the estate, she rarely knew him to indulge in liquor. With alcohol and jealousy driving his rage, he wouldn’t listen to any rationale, nor would he be stopped.

  He kissed her cheek, and his lips lingered on her tear-soaked skin. He lowered his head and grazed her mouth with his. As his lips moved over hers, the tears flowed down her face, but she returned his kiss. She willed him to realize how wrong he was, to untie her, and just love her.

  When he parted from her, he stood up and his fingers traced the bare skin on her back with light touches. She usually enjoyed his fingers fluttering across her skin, but now it only served to set her pain receptors on high alert, as if he lit small fires on every inch of her back.

  “Please, Donovan,” she cried. “Don’t you know how much I love you and I’d never betray you? I love you so much, Donovan. Please don’t do this to me.”

  “But you’ve already betrayed me, Rachel,” he said. Anger flooded his voice and spilled out from his eyes. “That won’t ever happen again, not after I’ve branded you as mine. When you see my marks on you, you’ll be reminded that you belong to me and only me. No one else will ever want you, not after tonight.”
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br />   He forced the rag into her mouth. Her teeth clamped down on the material, and she screamed as loud as she could for him to stop, but no discernible words came out of her mouth.

  Donovan stepped back, and the whip rolled down from his hand. “Don’t worry, Rachel. It will be over soon.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut and her body stiffened. It’s a dream, she thought. It’s only a dream.

  Chapter Fifty-nine

  Pain. There was so much pain. Every breath she took intensified the burning until it was almost more than Rachel could stand.

  The first time the whip cracked across her skin, goosebumps covered her entire body in an instant and her eyes bulged with the force of the pain. It took some time before her voice reacted, and she screamed louder than she ever believed possible. Her binds cut into her skin around her wrists and ankles, and numbness claimed her back.

  When the whip didn’t immediately connect with her back again, she thought Donovan realized he crossed the line. Then he stepped over to her and touched her back with his fingers, running them along each side of the wound. He wasn’t rethinking his actions, but admiring his work. Then the whip came down again, over, and over, and over.

  At some point she passed out, but she wasn’t sure for how long. When she woke up, Donovan spoke to her, and then the whip had its say. She screamed until there was nothing left, and then her absent voice scraped like razor blades against her raw throat. Every so often, he would stop and watch her, half-naked and bound to the bed with her skin ripped open. Whenever he stopped to examine her back, she thought the pain would finally end, and then he unleashed his fury on her again.

  After he released the binds from her hands and feet, he raised her limp head from the mattress and kissed her like never before. He left the room with the bloodied whip, and she passed out again with the pain.