by Casey Hagen
Jake’s eyes popped open. Thick with the lingering haze of sleep, he blinked a few times. Finally remembering where he was, he smiled.
Reaching out, his hand found a cold sheet next to him. He glanced around the room, but stubborn silence greeted him.
He hoped to hell that she didn’t go back to her room after what had happened between them. He had no intention of being without her next to him ever again.
Not that it was only up to him, but yeah, he wanted Destiny.
He searched her room, a sense of foreboding crawling under his skin. With no sign of her, he tore through the place again as the blood he’d managed to control all week rushed through his system.
He headed for the entry, just to see no sign of her sneakers and Dodgers hat. He checked her laptop, the notepad, anything that might give him a clue as to where she had gone, but nothing.
His gaze landed on his wallet and car keys. Still where he’d left them.
The key to Diamond’s building was missing.
Fuck.
He dialed Dylan, clicked it on speaker, and almost went ass over tea kettle yanking his jeans up his legs.
“Guy, this better be an emer—”
“She’s gone!” Jake bellowed, pent-up rage toward Carter, toward the helplessness that had plagued him, detonated and exploded with the force an erupting volcano.
“I’ll call the team,” Dylan said, his voice a whole lot clearer than it had been just seconds earlier.
“Tell them to meet me at Diamond’s,” Jake said, shoving his wallet in his pocket.
“Are you sure?”
“Yup. Key is gone,” Jake said.
“Is it possible she went to train alone?”
He snagged his keys and ran to the elevator. “No. I thought something was off. She found out her mom is sick, and she was worried she wouldn’t have enough time to get home to her. Have Tex check Carter’s cell record. I’m willing to bet she called the son of a bitch.”
“How long has she been gone?” Dylan asked.
“Fuck if I know. The whole thing might already be over.” His heart lurched in his chest at the thought. “She might be—”
“Don’t you fucking say it,” Dylan barked. “She’s not. We don’t accept that unless we have no other choice. Got me?”
“Yeah.” The elevator door slid open, and he tore through the lobby and dodged parked cars in the lot to get to his.
A Honda Pilot sat parked where Destiny’s car had been. He laid his palm on the hood.
Still warm.
At least that was something. “Dylan? Hurry.”
Destiny waited until she was about a mile out from the old textile mill before she dialed Carter’s number…for the last time.
“Well, well, well, you’ve finally come to your senses, sweetheart,” he said, his voice saccharine sweet, but she knew the poison that lay beneath it.
“Is that what you want to call it? Me coming to my senses,” she said, rolling through the green light.
For the first time in weeks, she didn’t look over her shoulder. She didn’t worry about taming her naturally wavy hair. And she didn’t worry about the hat. Oh, she had brought it with her. She had it on her head, then caught sight of herself in the mirror and felt like a fool.
No more hiding.
She’d gotten her perfect moment; her body still sore, she’d carry the memory of that with her into whatever may come and know that for a brief time, she knew complete peace and love.
“Of course, and this time, you’ll learn, and you won’t run away again. You know you have a lot of making up to do to get back into my good graces,” he drawled.
“I have no interest in getting into your good graces. You’re never laying a hand on me again,” she said.
“Oh, now we both know that’s not true. You know I’m going to do whatever I want to you, for as long as I want, and you’re going to be my good girl. Aren’t you, sweetheart?”
The sound of his voice and that cheap endearment had her stomach turning over itself. “Meet me at the corner of Cherry Avenue and Skyline Drive. The old textile mill. You can’t miss it.”
“What do you think you’re up to?” he asked.
“Guess you’re going to have to show up to find out, sweetheart,” she said and clicked off the phone, her heart hammering in her chest.
She called Sean next and headed for the door while she waited for him to pick up.
“Destiny? What’s wrong?”
“He’s here,” she said.
“Where are you?” Sean asked.
She leaned her head back against the headrest and rolled her shoulders as she navigated the city at three in the morning. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters. You haven’t had enough time,” he said.
“Do you have everything ready?” she asked.
“Yeah, but—”
“No butts. If something happens to me, I want you to get that information to Jake Kincaid at Fierce in Long Beach. He’ll know what to do with it,” she instructed.
“Okay, but Destiny—”
“Can you give a message to my mother for me?” she said, biting the inside of her cheek to give her pain to concentrate on instead of the way her heart was breaking.
“Tell her yourself,” he huffed out stubbornly.
“You’re my attorney,” she reminded him.
“Dammit, Destiny,” he growled.
“Sean, please?” she whispered as she struggled to hold her shit together.
“I hate this.” He sighed, and they sat there in silence as the seconds ticked on. “What do you want me to tell her?”
Her throat grew thick. Her vision blurred from the onslaught of tears as she swallowed past the lump in her throat. “Will you, uh—will you tell her that she was right. I want her to know that. She was spot-on. And tell her I love her. I was trying to get back to her. Everything I did was so I could get home.”
“Dest—”
She hung up before he could say anything else. She couldn’t take the sound of his voice anymore. One more minute and she’d lose her nerve.
So she texted him instead:
Thank you, Sean. You were everything, and I can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done.
Her phone pinged, but she couldn’t bear to look at his reply.
She unlocked the door and flicked on the lights. All the signs that they had been there earlier had been carted out when they left, except for the obstacles they had set up since they intended on training her several more times before they were through.
Now she counted on them to give her the edge.
She paced the room, counting how many steps it took to get from end to end and across. She stared at the layout, pictured the configuration, and like looking for shapes in clouds, she settled on the image before her.
The old shed by the forty-foot oak tree with the tire swing hanging from the crooked branch at home in Minnesota. It was all right there before her and just like that, the layout burned into her brain. Lights on or lights off, she had this.
Headlights danced off the windows and she knew.
The moment had come.
She slid her shirt off, leaving her in her favorite jeans and tank top. She tightened the laces on her shoes.
She closed her eyes and sent up a prayer, and when she opened them, the devil himself stood in the doorway with that sinister look of demented glee on his face.
“Ah, there she is. What? No hug and kiss for your husband?” he said, his arms spread wide as he sauntered toward her.
“Let’s not pretend that you care about affection from me. We both know you’re only happy if you’re beating me. Or worse.” She looked at him, really looked at him, and wondered what the hell she had ever been thinking to walk down the aisle with this lump of nothing facing her.
He stood there in his chinos and silk shirt, as if he were God’s gift. His once thick, brown hair had turned salt and pepper and gone wiry in places, making it harder to control.
“Come here, Destiny,” he said, crooking a finger at her.
“Fuck you.”
The smile on his face slipped.
She grinned.
“You’re going to pay for that,” he said, baring his teeth.
If she didn’t know what he was capable of, she’d find him ridiculous.
She smoothed her hair back into a ponytail as he approached her and sidestepped when he got within lunging distance.
“You look like you’re getting ready for a fight, sweetheart.”
“Do I?” she asked with a tilt of her head.
He shook his head and flicked a piece of lint off his shirt. “You know you can’t win against me.”
“I know no such thing,” she said, lowering her hands. “Why don’t we find out, you sick son of a bitch.”
His faced reddened, and he growled before lunging for her, just as she expected him to.
She jumped to the right and circled around one of the obstacles, putting it between the two of them. She watched as he lost control, flew past where she had stood, and had to pinwheel his arms to keep his balance.
“God, and here I always thought you were so light on your feet,” she said, knowing the words would only spike his anger and for once, not giving a shit.
His chest rose and fell with his labored breathing as he glared at her. “You useless cunt,” he snarled.
“I’m sorry. This fight really isn’t fair. I mean, you’ve fifteen years on me. I’ll tell you what, I’ll stand here and give you one free shot. How’s that? I won’t make you work for it,” she offered.
His head reared back, and he glanced around them. “You’ll give me a free shot? I’ll take all the shots I want, you useless bitch.” He lunged again, and this time his closed fist came right at her eye.
She kept her feet right where they were and dodged with her head, catching his knuckle on her ear, then braced herself for the force of his body coming at her. The minute his shoulder caught hers, she twisted, making him ricochet off her before falling to the concrete floor.
He pushed up on his hands and knees, grunting as he did.
She reached up to her ear and brought her fingers down before her eyes.
Blood.
Flashes of blood from beatings past rolled through her. The echoes of years’ old cries sounded in her head.
The red streaks on her hand tried to suck her into another time, another place where she was weak and alone. A time where she thought her only choice was to comply to survive.
A time when she actually had convinced herself that she could change him if she gave him a child.
Pain exploded in her jaw.
She never heard his approach as memories assaulted her. Ears ringing, she fell to the floor. Blood filled her mouth.
Her head felt as though it were filled with cotton. The lights overhead stabbed her eyes. His muffled voice surrounded her, but she was unable to make out the words as confusion washed over her.
Where was she?
How did she get here?
A broken piece of tooth worked its way out of her gum onto her tongue.
Don’t make a sound. If you’re quiet, he’ll stop. Be a good girl. Stand up, stay silent.
She pushed up to her feet, careful to not make a sound, a haze billowing through her pounding head.
She blinked, bringing the room into focus.
The formation before her.
She’d been training.
She scanned the room looking for Carter, but she couldn’t find him.
“That’s right. Show me what a good girl you can be. I’ve trained you well,” he said.
The sound of tires squealing outside made her flinch, and when she opened her eyes, the majority of the haze had cleared.
Jake. Jake had trained her.
She didn’t have to stay silent.
She came to fight.
“Where are you?” she said, gurgling on the blood in her mouth. Spitting on the floor, she whirled around with her hands up to protect her face as she searched the room for him.
“Ah, ah, ah, I almost thought you were going to fall in line. I guess more punishment is in order.”
Feet pounded the pavement just seconds before the door slammed open, and Jake and his team burst in.
His eyes connected with hers as he circled around to her side of the room.
“Jake,” she choked on the words.
He glanced to Carter who’d begun approaching her from the side and headed for her. “Stay with me, Destiny.”
“Oh, so that’s the way of it. She left me and in record time, she’s servicing you with that sweet pussy of hers.”
Josie circled the other side and at his words pulled her gun. “Let me shoot the bastard. I’d take great pleasure in parking a bullet right between his beady eyes.”
“Josie, no,” Destiny said as the last of the confusion vanished. “He’s mine.”
Fury and hatred distorted Jake’s features as he flicked a glance toward Carter. “Then finish it.” He glanced to the door and nodded at Dylan. “We’re going dark.”
Destiny’s ears buzzed the minute her vision disappeared with the flick of the switch. Her skin tingled with awareness.
“What fucking game are you all playing?” Carter yelled.
Destiny focused on the sound, the way it came from her right, but bounced off a barrier to reach her. With two steps back, she cleared the padding and took a shot.
Her fist landed against his eye socket, making him scream out in rage or pain. It didn’t matter to her. She just wanted more.
The sound jumped and skittered too much for her to choose a place to aim. Between his movement, the multiple barriers, and the pitch changes to his voice, she lost the grasp she had on their placement.
His hand locked around her ponytail as he yanked her head back. Her neck cracked, and starbursts shot off in her brain. She groped for something, anything to anchor herself on, but fueled with pure hate, she shook her like a rag doll before dragging her behind him by her hair.
Reaching up over her head, she clawed at his hands. Her hip slammed one of the obstacles, missing the padding altogether, her hip bone smashing against the metal frame.
“Destiny,” Jake called, his voice heavy with worry.
“I’ve got it,” she grunted out the words as her shoulder caught on another obstacle.
“Shut up!” Carter yelled before letting her hair go, spinning on her and kicking her in the ribs. “How do you like that? Want more?” he bellowed, kicking her two more times, making it impossible to draw air into her tight lungs.
“You remember what that feels like, don’t you, sweetheart? Remember when I kicked you over and over, crushing that life inside you? Do you remember the way if felt when that baby, broken and bleeding, slid out of you because you were too weak to hold on to her?”
He yelled the words over her, each word punctuated by the spit from his mouth hitting her in the face.
Which also told her right where the bastard was.
She reached up and locked her hands around the back of his head, giving him a hard yank just as she brought her knee up to make square contact with his nose.
She coughed and heaved with the effort before rolling away, clutching her sides.
His booted foot slammed down on the concrete next to her face so she rolled once more. He came at her again, one step behind her every time he brought his boot down; the near misses too much for his ego, leaving him growling with frustration.
His fist curled into her shirt, his fingers digging into her bra and the flesh of her breasts. He lifted her off the floor, dragging her right up to his face until she could make out the whites of his eyes.
“I’ve been too easy on you. You know what we’re going to do, I’m going to slice those sweet tits of yours clean off. We’ll see if that pussy over there letting you get the shit beat out of you wants you after he sees my handiwork.”
She leaned up with her head and sank her teeth into his forearm. Locked on his skin, she shook her head back and forth, doing everything possible to tear at his flesh. If she was going to die here, she was going to take him with her one pound of flesh at a time.
He backhanded her across the face and dropped her to the floor. Blood trickled from her nose, over her upper lip, and into her mouth.
The sound of his switchblade clicking open split the darkness.
The movement of air near her told her that he waved the blade wildly in the air.
She pushed to her knees and stumbled to her feet. Head, nose, and jaw throbbing, her ribs sending sharp, stabbing pain through her, she stumbled away catching her knee on one of the lower obstacles.
“Gotcha!” he shouted, slicing the blade through the air, catching her stomach.
She hissed and grabbed her shirt, the feel of blood slow to reach her hand, reassuring her the cut wasn’t deep.
“That’ll teach you to defy me,” he yelled.
He swung again, but this time, using his voice as a guide, she was ready and caught his wrist. With a flick of her hand she brought it up, ducked under his arm, and twisted, sending her hip into his groin, then jerked his arm down over her shoulder with a satisfying snap.
The knife clattered to the floor at her feet. She ducked, wrapped her hand around the blade, and waited.
“You want to die, don’t you, you—”
She drove the tip straight up, the blade slicing through flesh like butter. All of the words he spat at her the entire night, every time he made her suffer for his own amusement, the child he stole from her—never again. He’d never get to torture another woman ever again.
She’d send him straight to hell where he belonged.
She twisted the blade.
He gurgled.
Blood ran.
He fell to the floor, taking her with him.
The lights came on, the sudden onslaught of light blinding her. She turned her head to see Carter lying next to her, his throat working as blood flowed from the severed artery in his neck.
His favorite knife jutted from his mutilated skin at an odd angle, forcing his head to tilt to one side.
His gaze flicked to hers, the sinister look she’d grown used to seeing in his eyes gone.
He gurgled again.
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